Chapter 123

Gula POV

The needlessly tense negotiation finally ended with a turn away from the desk and a brisk walk out of the double door with the steel-clad Orc in front. Bellog was on my right and coughed with a strained smile.

“Orbal, dear. I’ve always wanted to try magically grown beer and guards know the best taverns like a second home.” Bellog asked sweetly.

“Orbul.” The guard corrected. “And you know my craft well. A visit to Garren’s Brew is long overdue.”

“Yes, my apologies.” Bellog offered as the woman's black hair flowed with our turn left towards another split in the hallway.

No matter how much metal the woman was wrapped in, it didn’t slow down the expectant glee in our new guide even as the previous attendant took a right. The maze-like nature of this place left me mentally unfocused around the third bend.

“It gets better on the ground floors away from the Council sites.” Orbul put in as we squeezed into yet another elevator.

More empty hallways with their lack of scent and accompanying stairs that all stretched on for a seeming eternity. Eventually, we found our way to the doors leading outside. The bit of cold seeping in came on full blast when the double door was pulled open. We took a left on the stone road, moving around a few others leaving the mountain domain that had taken the last hour or so of our lives.

“Is suffering a virtue for the Cradle residents?” Bellog half-yelled over the soft wind. “Would having a connecting tunnel network deprive them of coveted black fingers or is it just too much effort?”

The guard only shook her head as we walked around a large cart being pulled by a horse and green driver. Those red eyes turned to Bellog, meeting her gaze with a steady gait that matched her measured words.

“Such a web would make it too easy to take other areas. Assuming the humans get through the gate, we would still have the highest peaks. Besides still allowing the evacuation of lost holdings between the towers, that advantage gives our archers and ballistae a critical role in defense. Something they can’t use in tunnels.

If the tools on hand were backs and picks like Crasden’s, assuming a lack of ability could be correct. But this isn’t Crasden, an outpost of the Waveborn, or any other holding. My city is the product of the humans greatest talents and molded to nurture ours. Everything you see here is the way it is because women far smarter than any of us, with more magical and mundane resources than we could ever dream of having, deigned it to be so.” The guard stated, close to anger but the pride in her home obscured the emotion.

Bellog only nodded at the correction. As awkward as it made the conversation, I was left even hungrier to see what this place had to offer. The walk down the wide stone street between two huge mountains took only a minute more before our guide finally turned to one of the doors.

A quick pull on the handle unleashed a small chorus of chatter. We came into a house-sized room sporting two wide doorways leading further into the mountain on each side with a huge open rectangle in the back middle showing wider crowds beyond. Its ceiling was dotted with four mana lamps and showered everything below in a golden glow. The passerby under the warm haze was numerous, sporting pants and shirts or dresses, all done up in an array of browns, blacks, and grays. Despite all their differences in dress and hairstyles, all those close to the door gave pointed looks of irritation at being doused in winter’s breath.

Some were looking on with eyebrows raised in interest, while others furrowed their eyebrows in disapproval. None of the attention was directed towards me or Bellog. Instead, it was the Kelton men who were bearing the gazes of my kind. If any of the onlookers wanted to get closer or had any interest in them as men, none came forward to declare it as I knew some had in Crasden.

Orbul moved past her charges, her steel and station repulsing any who stood still. Our position following her was resumed with most continuing their trip elsewhere. A few kept on staring but they sported no armor or weapons to merit any potential danger. Which couldn’t be said for the metal square sticking out of the floor that went unseen until it nearly sent me into the floor.

“Caps for the bars used to keep barriers in place,” Orbul explained as I straightened back up with a casual wipe across my coat. “Making everything a maze or a fortification wasn’t something even the humans, with all the magical crafts they could want, attempted. Having big slabs of metal and wood that can lock into designated spots is a compromise to allow our lives some comfort.”

A quick glance around let me see several pairs of the metal caps around various doorways and near the outer exit. All avoided by feet who knew their spots as traffic kept up at full speed. Orbul moved us along with any people in our way giving us a wide berth.

The first step through the wide rectangle entrance revealed an array of shops along the walls and around the main staircase in the center. That walkway ascended up the far corner like a small mountain with off-ramps for the second floor until it reached the third floor where the stone on the sides rose up to serve as a guardrail. Cloth drapes hung over the stone rails, dousing the otherwise plain walls with reds, blues, and purples that almost reached the floor below.

Unlike outside, the spirit of chaos that infested every market was found here. A cacophony of chatter, pot banging, and footsteps dissolved into an audible jumble that had no distinct element. To the left and right were paths between the shops marked with red bricks in the smooth stone where no stall blocked traffic.

A waft of searing meat floated from a bar on the left. It was the first time my nose had stirred since arriving and a quick look presented some decent-looking tables and a serving woman laying down a platter of steaks and stews for a waiting couple.

“No” Orbul stated, now several feet behind me.

I had taken several unthinking steps toward the restaurant with my more attentive Kelton guards around me.

“The best places are those out of the way and still just as busy.” The Orc called as several passersby went between us.

The notion that you could have multiple destinations for a meal was a gaudy thought I had only just digested in Crasden. Any rules about such things were totally foreign to me and I should listen to someone who knows the ways of navigating those choices. It didn’t make it any easier to walk away from the sizzling meat and hearty smells. Obrul took us right along the vein of traffic.

Red bricks weren’t any softer on the feet than regular stone, something my soles were beginning to complain about. That didn’t stop me from perusing what was on offer. At every square shack of wood around the middle was a woman sewing, cutting, or plying some dried fruits to those strolling by. Any business involving flame was kept to those hewn into the stone walls, with my right ear filling with the clanging of metal and the clanking of kitchens.

As we turned the corner in the brick road to move left directly towards the stairs, I noticed the lack of offense my nose typically endured in crowds. It took me by surprise, as the only place that had provided such widespread access to bathing was the Base. Crasden had some facilities for it, but the water was a cold hell and in such high demand that most, save a well-connected smuggler captain for example, couldn’t habitually use them.

Our passing a barber brought us onto the large staircase. Traveling up its slope would be a tax on the thighs. Doing it after having walked to Ferrag’s office was voluntary torture. When the middle section having the off-ramp for the second floor came close, I offered a silent prayer to the Christian god and all the spirits to please let this be it. Contrary to all expectations, they answered my request with Orbul taking a left at the small bridge.

The chorus of the market lessened as we moved onto the second-floor walkway even as the tight traffic kept up. We kept going past various merchants until the main source of traffic presented itself. Ahead was another open bar, though this one took up both sides of the corner it resided in. Red cloth was nailed into the wall from both corners making it look like a tent top. From the outside, I could see the crowds inside were packed into every table.

Getting closer made it clear that getting a seat would be difficult. I puckered my lips with Orbul’s step through the open doorway and onto the wooden floor that marked the establishment's territory. Picky eaters didn’t last long in the swamps and I couldn’t conceive of a meal that was worth waiting an hour or more for.

The tables on the left side were all thick oak and sturdy chairs being cleaned and almost immediately reused by new patron groups. So high was the demand that no table was taken up by a single Orc, even when it was apparent the others at the meal knew nothing of each other. We were not meant for such confusion as Orbul took us along the right side. This section had a long wooden counter taking up the right serving as a proper bar with more tables opposite.

“High access. A guest of the Cradle from Crasden.” The guard called to a waitress donned in black dress and white arms.

The blonde Orc looked behind the steel breastplate towards us. Red eyes washed over me and Bellog, but there was a sour pulling of the lips when the Keltons were looked over. A sharp chin was pulled up in defiance.

“No cocks up there. That place is for women of note, not those looking to sling their worms.”

“Ferrag disagrees. Guest rights were extended to all.” Orbul refuted with a casual manner, seemingly having expected the objection.

The server's jaw was set in a grind. A moment passed until one Orc sporting the same dress came up behind her. A muscular woman in her mid-30s, with a white head cover that bound black hair going down her back. Her gold eyes above pronounced cheekbones had some faint amusement, though the flat mouth above a strong chin showed no emotion.

“Crasden, you say.” She said in a light tone, making the server turn to her with thinned patience. “A cold place with some eccentricities and a good start for my misspent youth. Making it all the way through the seas, bandit lands, and bloody plains was hard on my feet, even when I was your age. A rest at our best seats, and a good meal, is in order. In exchange for some tales from the tunnels of my years gone by.”

The offer was met with a wave of nods. As upset as the server was, she didn’t defy her boss. With a tense bow, she turned away from us and towards a staircase on the right. It was a bit dark at the top, but I couldn’t see much as the fur coat of the Kelton man in front of me obscured everything but the wood walls and matching stairs.

At the top was an open room of dark oak wide enough for two tables on the right and left. Both were long enough to hold ten seats. What drew my eyes was the red upholstery in the chairs not just in the back but also the armrests. Combined with the white tablecloth, it was clear this was a place designed for those with the manners and decorum of richer blood than mine. Purple curtains along the stone ceiling ready to be dropped for the privacy of those lucky enough to be seated here cemented the impression if the fact that it provided a topside view of those on the lower floor didn't.

“I’ve spent more than a week in a ship with someone always around a corner or near my hammock,” Bellog announced as she moved to the left. “A little illusion of privacy would be appreciated.”

Our reluctant server moved to unfurl the curtains. We were soon cocooned in a world of purple with only faint whispers outside to tickle the ears while the server left. Bellog sat on my direct right while Orbul sat on my left towards the curtain, working off her plate armor and arm guards before setting them under her seat. We both took off our holstered swords and placed them on the table leg right of us. I looked behind me to see two of the Keltons standing directly behind me while the other duo stood near the stairs, seemingly looking out for any forces attempting to rush the room. It took a moment to establish a spirit connection with the brown-furred man on my left.

‘The meal is open to all. You guys can at least sit after all that walking.’

His white spheres looked down at me.

‘When your ship came out of the skies like a bird, my family was picking around the bones of some dead beast. The prospect of frozen and hopefully only slightly turned meat ended up giving them a better life than I could have ever dreamed. Mine isn’t even the most generous story from among the crew.

If one of the people responsible for saving us died because we were cutting meat or tearing bread, some of our people on the boat may beat us into joining them. If that person is the wife of the man who is most responsible for our children still drawing breath, it would be better that we drove our swords through our chests. That could never be as painful as seeing the look of disgust on my wife’s face when she finds out I failed those who saved our pups.’

I gave him a shaky nod. These Keltons were a grim lot but damn could they rip their hearts out and give it to you when they wanted to. A bit of shame fell over me as I realized none of their names were on my tongue. The thought to ask came but I spent so long figuring out how to ply the question that the server returned with a tray of small bread loaves.

“We serve a variety of teas in addition to beers of varying tastes. Smaller dishes are served before the main course and spiced shrimp is what the fishers have brought us today.”

“Your simplest beer. On the lighter end, I’m not looking to stumble out of here.” I answered.

Bellog nodded, as did Orbul.

“And the gentlemen?” She asked with no hint of the previous hostility.

Apparently passing into sacred territory brought forgiveness for past feuds. The amnesty flowed in both directions, with the Keltons calmly nodding.

“Four beers to go with extra chairs for the men by the entrance.” The rough voice announced behind me.

A slight bow was all she gave our group before making a retreat. Orbul leaned back into her chair with a lazy stretch. My two dining companions reached forward to take a brown loaf of steaming bread and a toothed knife to ply it with the accompanying butter. As I reached across to do the same, an electric sensation ran across my right arm. The accompanying voice was far more feminine than expected.

‘I’m sure you're thinking about the tension back with Ferrag.’ Bellog asked with a tired tone.

‘Fresh bread is currently at the front of my mind. Some explanation about that could be a good side to the coming meal.’

‘Do you know about the church's stance on catching mages?’ She asked even as her teeth tore through the soft bread.

‘Yeah. They’re against it. Can’t say I disagree. Having every human army drop down on my head is an unnerving thought.’ I answered with complete honesty.

‘And if you were in a fortification that had won out against all previous comers? One where no humans lived to report on your workings and you could go decades without anyone outside being wiser to the tide of Orc mages brewing within?’

I bit my lower lip in thought. From a purely tactical view…. It was tempting. The most dangerous prizes always were. As I wrangled with the question, our server came back with a tray of wooden mugs frothing with liquid goodness. She placed one down in front of me and a long sip of light ale brought my musing to a close.

‘Depends, like everything else in the world. Mages are too valuable for one to go missing without notice. If the humans have good reason to think they’re dead and not come looking for them…. Maybe.’ I responded with a grasp of one of the loaves and tearing off a piece.

‘Pff,’ Bellog huffed in my head while she took up her mug. ‘More nuanced than the church and Cradle. One wants their God to lead the way with no fuss from Garren and the other would take every risk on sight of a man with mana in his veins. What do you think would happen if the people here found out such a man was going to be mere feet from us on a constant basis?’

The crunch of baked crust covered the background whispers as my nostrils filled with the smell of a bakery. Faint hints of honey mixed with the bread on my tongue, but I was too distracted to give the exquisite loaf its due.

‘A lot of discussion. Hopefully nothing more.’ I offered.

Bellogs sharp chin pulled with her forced smile.

‘We need more alcoholics in the world.’ She mused with a swirl of her mug. “People who don’t see anything beyond their next bottle. Those types can be reasoned with. Grand purpose robs women of flexibility and makes any compromise treason. I don’t think the Cradle or the church will force things through swords, but they think they’re saving our species and destiny is a drug that makes all actions hard to predict.’

Our third party probably wouldn’t escape that same criticism, but I wasn’t going to try another foray into clever verbal sparring. Fortunately, the server came back.

“Do you have any preferences for the meal?”

Orbul looked between us.

“I’ll trust your discretion,” I announced, to an agreeing nod from Bellog

“The spiced shrimp,” Orbul ordered with a smile to the server. “And three servings of the mustard sauce steak.

The waitress bowed and turned away. I was taking another swig of beer when more black dress fluttered by my right. It was the black-haired woman from earlier, moving to take the seat at the opposite end of the table.

“I believe we agreed to food for stories.” She announced to the table.

“And stories you shall have,” Bellog replied. “More’s happened these past few months than years before.”

“Oh?” The headmistress asked with a raised black eyebrow.

From there Bellog recounted the Mist pirate's attacks. She first emphasized the surprise and mayhem before getting to the proper siege of the second attack. I didn’t need to hear the story, I had lived more of it than she could explain. All the panic, stress, and one particularly relaxing night. The words barely registered in my mind as I focused on the bread and beer, though her recounting of my taking on orphans did merit a closer listen. Bellog managed to verbally mislead enough that she got to the end without using words like ‘Magical crafts’ or ‘Plant mage’. If our host detected the deception, she didn’t press it.

“Well, it appears my old home is going through some rough times.” She said with a lean back into the chair. “Still, it’s nice to see the priests are still doing what they can for poor girls. And present company included in that charity.”

I accepted her nod while more of the beer slipped past my lips. When the mug was put down, I finally participated in the conversation.

“You say priests like they are something unrelated to you. The dress you have here is very similar to what they had. I can’t say they served beer at the orphanage or any other buildings, but I may have not been looking hard enough.”

She let out a full laugh, clutching the black cloth covering her belly as a tear ran down her left gold eye.

“No. They don’t keep anything stronger than tea around or in their bellies. Despite that, the contrast of black and white always…. I can’t put down what it is, but the clash on the eyes really stuck with me. I’d have been a tailor if my first job wasn’t in a kitchen.”

“Never thought to spread the….Word as they call it?” Bellog asked with a casual smile.

A small shrug met the question as our host straightened in the chair.

“Good people, but the bible is too focused on the inferior species. Am I supposed to follow a God that doesn’t so much as mention my people?”

My lips puckered at the words.

“What do you mean?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“All the prophets are men. Any women mentioned are all human. Are there any-”

“No.” I interrupted, “I mean the inferior species bit.”

Those gold eyes looked confused, like I had asked the color of the sky.

“We are the superior race. They spend so much to kill us off, yet Garren’s craftsmanship was too immaculate to be undone.”

The tightened grip on my mug went unnoticed, letting me control my breathing at the hated name without distraction. She put up her right index finger for emphasis, those golden eyes bearing the patience of instructing a child.

“One. That’s all that stands between us and being the top predator. They’ve hunted us since our inception and succeeded with our lost brothers. All because they know, in the deepest pits of their hearts, that our ascension is inevitable. Despite all the armies, laws, and constant, unending attacks we endured.

Now we grow in poor soil here and elsewhere. Even after everything they’ve thrown at us, we still live. One magical man and all that effort is nothing but tears. We can make more mages in a year than they could in decades. All our people need to finally flourish is for one male mage to get lost in the woods or stumble into a patrol without his poison.”

“A grand vision that has yet to happen. We don’t know how getting an Orc mage army going will turn out yet. The humans may stomp it out with numbers no matter how long we prepare.” I countered.

“The fact they need such an overwhelming advantage proves our superiority. If we had started on a more even footing, would the humans still be the leaders in this relationship? If they could have our talent in passing magical talent, would they refuse it? No.” She finished with a soft shake of her head.

“There is another smear in the painting.” I offered with a relaxed shrug. “If the humans died out, we’d go with them. How can a superior people be totally dependent on an inferior one?”

The black hair along her back shifted as she leaned back.

“The only thing that doesn’t rely on other species is rocks. If all the animals, grains, and fruits died out tomorrow, the humans would soon follow. Does that mean a human is less valuable than a potato?”

“No.” I answered.

For all my hesitance, the thought was surprisingly intoxicating. I had known the math of why the humans did what they did, yet the idea that our ability marked us as inherently better hadn’t been chewed on. It seeped into all the past images of men on the battlefield and their looks of loathing. A soothing balm over the ache caused by the scorn of our collective fathers.

None of us could hold up against my husband but if in the grand scheme all things were equal…. Even if we were superior, did that ever reflect in our treatment of each other? Did me being an Orc get me any special consideration from my kind? The aches wouldn’t be denied, my past memories of neglect pushed against the tide of warmth from this notion of inherent greatness. Still, the idea was a potent one. If I had been born here, loved by the other green women and not spat on for my grandmother’s failing, maybe I would answer the sweet call.

And I didn’t have an untold millennia-old husband getting ready to upend it all, of course.

The bar owner took my silence for an opportunity to get out of her chair while I pushed the feeling of the conversation into a corner somewhere in my memories.

“New tales from an old place are entertaining, but the days when I could indulge in chatter all day passed when I bought this place. The meal will be on me, as promised.” She said with a pointed look behind me.

The first indication of food was the smell. Meat mixed with…. Something vaguely spicy. Our server stepped up and placed a plate of meat in front of me. It had the shape of a steak but any bits of the charred flesh had to peek out of a yellow sauce sporting cracks of black pepper. Taking up my fork and knife, I cut into the slab. It was sliced through to the plate with a single thrust and even that felt a bit too forceful for such a delicate thing.

As I was bringing the odd-smelling bite to my mouth, our server placed a full platter of shrimp still in the shell. Their sauce was dark and the promise of heat coming off them was pure black pepper.

“The point of a small meal being brought out first,” Our host put in with a flared nose as she walked past Bellog and up to the server. “Is to sharpen the appetite. Having it with the main course makes it a side dish. Unless I decided to have spiced shrimp for an accompanying plate and wrote it wrong on the board. And served it wrong for the past week. Did I?”

I turned to see the blond Orc biting her lip under her better’s withering gaze.

“That is an issue in the kitchen. They were brought out in the order they were given.” She said petulantly.

A small smile stole over the host's face.

“At least they didn’t pay for this. But it appears my establishment is on the verge of collapse. A good day to you all.”

With that, they both left us.

I finished the fork's journey with an eager bite. It was spicy, sure, yet there was another flavor. Something….Herbish? I couldn’t put it to anything else that had crossed my lips. Well, aside from delicious. The fatty meat was balanced with a faint hint of vinegar from the rich sauce. It was indulgence on plate that I struggled to not eat too quickly. When the steak was mysteriously half gone despite taking several swigs of beer, I plucked one of the shrimp to try and slow down a demanding stomach.

A pull on the shell sent black liquid over my hands. My glance down confirmed I still had better manners than a pig as the resulting spray stayed on the steak's plate. The water bug was fully undressed and placed between my molars.

I offered my mother a silent apology.

Her fish stews and breads were good, but this was…. Heaven on the tongue. It was everything I had ever dreamed about during lean nights. Far beyond her meager cooking.

A judgment delivered with all the love of a daughter.

Any thoughts about the war of species or my mission here dissolved into background noise. Bare manners were kept as shells piled around the edges of the platter. The slaughter of the sea life was only interrupted by the occasional bite of steak or a swig of beer. When the last shrimp was stripped bare and the final slice of steak savored, I laid back with profound satisfaction.

My stomach was full beyond need. At some point, I didn’t need to eat more save for the taste. In the swamps, that would have never happened. Not just for a lack of coin. This feeling of sluggishness. Of blessed contentedness. It was not the feeling someone always ready for battle should have.

Not one to have if you were on a mission to save innumerable lives, either. I turned to the right, my dining companion Bellog leaning back into her chair with similar satisfaction.

“See?” She said coyly. “Guards know the best places.”

“Indeed,” Orbul agreed. “If you ever come back, let’s do another dinner. This price agrees with me.”

A small chorus of chuckles went around the table.

“They make meals to go.” She continued. “I think your guards would find the filled breads almost as good.”

Before the man behind me could go on about honor again, I turned to the server coming with a pitcher filled with what my nose told me was a hot tea.

“Some filled breads for my men.”

She nodded, sending her blonde hair swirling with her placing several cups in front of us.

“Meals as rich as these are best ended with a tea. Tricks the mind into thinking the affair was a healthy thing.”

I offered no objection. A surprisingly mild herbal drink washed down the fatty goodness. When the last drop was gone, we all got up. Orbul donned her armor and led us back down the stairs. The beer had barely any punch to it, leaving any sluggish movement down to the meat and spice. On the way out of the shop, the four Kelton men were handed a fist-sized loaf of bread each, smelling of fatty meat and herbs. If it wasn’t their only meal and I wasn’t bloated, I might have asked for a bite.

The trip back was more merciful than the one coming with its downward staircase and lack of aching feet. We made it out of the market and back in front of the double doors leading to the outside.

“Anywhere else?” Orbul offered in front of our group as some passing Orcs moved around us, though none dared the bitter elements by going past our group.

“I want to check with Ferrag. She should have the prices ready by now.” Bellog cut in.

“I want a decent bed. Maybe I’ll visit the forges tomorrow.” I announced with the occasional crunch of bread around us from the men.

Our guide smiled with some slight relief.

“Those are both in the same complex. The accommodations are on the first floor, so we’ll head there first.”

With our destination agreed upon, the double doors were pushed open. Somehow the wind got worse and with the sun having spent more time in its grave, the icy wind had a particularly nasty bite. It didn’t get into the core of warmth and coziness still lingering from the meal even if it made my eyes squint and fingers involuntarily retract further into the coat. The Kelton’s were a bit better off, but this cold was at the edge of what I felt their tolerance was.

Whatever meager traffic had been on the road before had since cleared away. It was us, the promise of a shivering death in every gust, and small stings of residual spice on my lips. The weather didn’t bring down my mood as we continued on for a few more minutes in what increasingly felt like an open tunnel with clouds of snow blowing overhead. Orbul eventually came to a stop and took one of the door handles. Coming from a different angle, I saw a metal plaque on the right side of the door. It was probably what identified the structure within but stiff fingers spoke louder than curiosity. The wide hallway of black and grey stone hadn’t moved since we last visited. Moving towards the blank wall at the end where it split was a bit better this time with a belly full of indulgence and lungs filling with merely cold air. Another difference this time was the left turn taken at the end.

A single right turn at a four-way split saw us go down a hallway with doors on both sides that had me thinking it was the residences.

“Is this walk a lot simpler or did I already forget the path here?” I asked Orbul.

The cheek guards of her helmet flapped with the head shake.

“Putting the rooms past the maze of hallways is just asking for trouble and we don’t have the guards to be watching over every visitor. The toilet and washroom are at the end of the hallway, so if they go somewhere else here…. It’s probably to do something we didn’t agree to. They’re all the same, so pick whichever is most convenient.”

I complied by pushing on the door directly to my right. Before getting it totally open, a black-furred Kelton put out his hand to block my path. Another quickly went inside to check everything out. Orbul gave the men an appraising look that ended with an approving smile.

A minute of waiting for the inspector to look around ended when he came back with a simple nod. My now unobstructed step forward brought me into a decently sized room. The floor was the same grey and black stone, but the bed on the left was all wood with a white blanket and grey pillows. Across the room was a desk with a mana lamp above and a simple chair.

“It’s been a pleasure, Orbul.” I announced to the group with a turn outward, “But I’m afraid I need to sleep this pleasure out of me.”

“And I have a negotiation to attend,” Bellog said with a pointed step to the left.

Orbul gave me a slight nod before taking off with her last remaining charge.

A glance to the right revealed another mana lamp to the right of the door. Back at the Base, these were mere tools. Here they were priceless cultural pieces and a death sentence if hidden in one's bag. A gentle finger traced over the cold crystal until the indent was carefully pressed. Golden rays poured over the room with the close of the door. I hadn’t anticipated spending a night here, leaving a rather grimy morning ahead of me.

Some nights had been harsher in ending and far less pleasant in the meal before rest, so I didn’t feel particularly bad when worked myself free of clothes, turned off the light, and slipped between the chill sheets. Sleep came and went without incident, save for the fact I felt the urgent need for a toilet before I had even opened my eyes.

I quickly put my clothes back on while trying to recall the placement of the latrine. When I was up to the door slinging on my fur coat, Orbul saying it was at the end of the hallway came back to me. Just outside the door were two Kelton guards on either side. They looked at me but said nothing as I almost ran to the right. A door at the end of the line presented itself with a blue color on the back wall. Opening it revealed a toilet on the left with a small alcove to the right sporting a running stream along the wall and a small trove of towels above.

My time becoming presentable was mercifully short. A bar of soap was provided in the towel alcove and even sporting yesterday's clothes, I felt fresh enough to meet the day. Coming out into the stone hallway, one of the Keltons immediately sent an electric sensation across my arm.

‘Bellog came by late last night. She said the refugees should take all day to arrive, she completed the negotiations with the items coming in tonight, and, most importantly, there is absolutely no reason to wake her up.’ He said with a bit of uncharacteristic humor at the last bit.

A smile forced itself across my face. There was a lot happening and none of it required me.

‘I want to check out the forges. Leave two behind to mind Bellog.’ I ordered through the spirit connection.

I walked forward with the sound of two people following behind me. Our movement was unimpeded by other guards as we took a left followed by a right. In front of the double doors was a few of the steel clad guards moving about and a few younger girls in brown pants and grey shirts clutching stacks of pages. The youngest of them looked at us with interest while everyone close to or past their teens spared us nothing more than a passing glance as we moved out into the cold morning.

Beams of sun carried through the open air of what must have been a rather late morning. The feeling of open sky distracted me for only a moment before I noticed some Orcs walking by who had the same looks of wonder and unsteady steps that I did.

“Excuse me,” I asked one of the passing guards. “Which way to the forge?”

“The grand smithy is on the right side. It has a large wooden slab above its door to let out heat. I’m not sure why they bothered giving the place a sign.”

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We gave each other a polite nod before continuing along our journeys. In the relative warmth of morning, the true life and scale of the Cradle presented itself. The ropes between the towers now had a constant stream of boxes and buckets going between them. Even without the small crowd of refugees moving along the right side, the press of traffic was almost as bad as the underground. Impressive considering that the road was almost thrice as wide as any street back in Crasden.

None of my former passengers in front of me recognized their former captain. Too busy taking in the amazing sights or trying to stay warm to look back. I walked in silence with my guards, just taking in the light breeze and occasional drift of snow from above.

When the road ahead took a slight rise, I noticed the right side door at the peak had a wide window five feet above it spewing steam. After a good minute of walking, we came up to our destination and went in with no ceremony. The room inside was large, sporting some couches along the right, a wide open entrance further into the mountain on the opposite end and a long desk on the left that had small towers of paper being tended to by secretaries all clad in grey dresses. A glance up didn’t reveal the window above the door, only more mana lamps giving off golden rays like those outside.

I approached an older woman sporting a grey bun and strict-looking gold eyes.

“Hello, Ferrag said I would be allowed to view the forge’s workings.”

She looked up while her head still faced downward.

“Kelton guards. The smuggler captain?”

I nodded.

“We were informed of a possible visit. There is a viewing bridge above where you can see the smith's work. No dangling over the rails and not even Ferrag could compel an on-the-ground tour, so I wouldn’t waste our overseer’s time asking.”

A drawer was pulled beneath her desk.

“Here,” The secretary announced with an outstretched hand bearing several necklaces of yellow cloth that had a wood medallion with the scratching of a fish. “This allows you to go anywhere with a yellow or blue smear along the door sides. Anyplace with red is off limits to you and the guards will not be gentle in throwing you to the ground nor quick in their interrogation. The observing area for inquiring parties is on the staircase directly ahead.”

We each donned our cloth necklaces, making sure to have them prominently displayed below our necks. The secretary was already going back over her paperwork, so I started the journey. Moving through the traffic got us under the entrance and into a divesting point for the various points of the forge. On the left and right were doors at the end of a small hallway while a staircase ahead led to a higher level. Metal plagues showed the destination beyond: Ore storage on the left and lunchroom on the right.

The one containing my interest was in front of me. A wide staircase leading up to a double door with yellow-painted sides. Unlike the other directions, it was empty save for two guards around the front. They spotted us as we came up the stairs but said nothing until we were on the cusp of arm's length.

“Guards or guests?” The one on the left said with a skeptical look in her red eyes as she perused the Keltons.

“Guards,” I answered.

“Any other weapons on hand? Weapons discovered during the inspection that you didn’t tell us about will be seized and that will be the least of your problems.”

“We have none. Right?” I asked, just to be sure.

The men all nodded.

One of the guards stood back while the one talking ran her hands up and down our clothes. When the last of us was finished being searched, the guard gave a satisfied nod.

“Swords stay in their holsters.” She declared with a walk back to the door.

One black-furred Kelton on my right raised an eyebrow.

“If we come under attack, they’ll be coming out.”

“Fair.” She stated with a nod to her friend.

They opened the doors leading into a room a bit larger than my office. Couches and tables along the left and right gave the area an air of relaxation that clashed with the constant banging of hammers.

And it was hot.

Not relative to the freezing winter where I would only have to wear a coat. It was a sweat-inducing heat. The source of that and the hammering appeared to be the open door ahead leading onto a bridge. I took off my fur coat and laid it on the wooden table to the left. A brisk walk forward brought the pounding to a crescendo.

The bridge was above a wide stone floor dotted with grey domes laid out in strict lines. Each was attended by an Orc sporting thick leather aprons and equally thick gloves that almost went up to their elbows. All the smiths were two or three inches of hair away from being bald, leaving the glistening sweat on foreheads or scalps to be mostly absorbed by a bandanna. The atmosphere was rather oppressive but if the workers felt the same, they paid it no mind as they hammered various pieces on their anvils or placed them back into a dome sporting an intense red glow.

What none of them were doing was getting fuel for their fires. The magical legacy of this place, no doubt. Our forge back at the base had the magical advantage on them, with its metal magic crafts. For all of Eli’s gifts, however, the sheer scale of what laid before me dwarfed anything we built in the frozen rock further north. Looking further left and right, the golden glow of the mana lamps in the ceiling revealed rows of domes that went on for so long that the edges became blurry.

A sound that suddenly cut through the smiths below was the long grind of metal ahead of me. At the end of the stone bridge was an iron door with red paint along the sides. It was a good distance away yet the pudgy woman who came through was easy to spot.

She was bald with long ears that stuck outward. Not that the white bandanna covering her head would let any hair loose. Brown pants with streaks of black matched her grey shirt yet neither were as dirty as the leather gloves. None of those streaks reached her round cheeks nor the stubby chin. Her approach was a bit wobbly but she got in reach all the same.

“Hello,” She yelled over the hammering with a friendly smile that matched her red eyes. “You’re the one who gave my girls such a busy morning.”

I nodded with a walk forward. When we were in arm's reach, I put out my hand.

“I would argue that it was Crasden who put a good deal of it on your backs.”

“PFF!” She scoffed, removing the right glove before returning the handshake. “Those who don’t like the work don’t last. Miners, though? The western region probably has some choice words.”

“Are you the overseer I was told to not disturb?” I asked as we pulled our arms away.

“No, thank Garren.” She said. “Hela has that burden. Poor old Leelan is just below her and that means I deal with anything that comes up but doesn’t threaten the function of our forges.”

“Well, I hope my curiosity isn’t a burden on your schedule. I’ve worked in a forge before and wanted to see what human magic could do. With a single road through the mountains and cramped rooms everywhere, I’d thought I would be seeing-”

I waved my hands around towards the vast open space and constant clanging of smiths below.

“Not this. Do you have a lot of business with our kind elsewhere?”

An amused smile peeked out between those bulbous cheeks.

“How large do you think the Cradle is?”

The rough estimates I could onjure weren’t worth anything because everything was hidden in the mountains.

“I haven’t been to the city center yet, but-”

A barely suppressed chuckle escaped her thin lips.

“My apologies, lady-”

“Gula.”

“Gula.” She intoned before continuing, “This isn’t a city, like say the Mound in the Bloody Plains. This place holds the government but I know the south has most of the food, both grown and bought from elsewhere. The western region has the richest ores while the east has some wood-growing crafts with the accompanying labor and tanneries. This is the smaller of the sections and I believe we hold a number close to a million Orcs.”

My eyebrows furrowed at her explanation.

“Do you keep the tanneries warm with magic as well?”

Another laugh tried to work its way up the woman's throat but this time it stayed there.

“They are far enough south that they stay warm on their own.”

That….was past Crasden, at least. The Cradle was probably larger than the swamps and that was mostly muck and grass.

“So where does the Cradle lay between all the human territory?”

She bit a thin lip for a moment before nodding.

“I have a map that worked its way to me through the chain of markets if you want a look.”

I nodded hard enough to send my black hair back and forth. She walked off through the red door and returned in short order bearing a large rolled paper, carried in bare green hands with the leather gloves tucked into a left pocket. When she unfurled it, the map was as large as my arm.

“Now,” She intoned with a small cough. “This is not an objective piece, as the Bodding lands are called the ‘Imperial Chancillary’. An indication that this map maker was of a movement in the kingdom wanting to sever all ties to Rodring and their history. Despite the painter's political preference, I’ve been told that it is generally accurate save for the poison coast and a few other points. Though I have no notion of just how deficient it is in that department.”

“It’s missing entirely,” I stated with a pointed finger along the southern coast that matched a slight rise in the number of hammers on metal.

Things were a bit squashed compared to lived memory, Passtoons Watch was spelled with an e, but the general form of the north-east was correct. They even had the bits of rocky wasteland further north where the Base was. There was a lot of things to make me think the map was reliable based on my travels but a few glaring errors called everything into question.

Still, could I say the Dwarves weren’t east of this place called ‘The City’ and north of the ‘Beast Coast’? Was I an authority on the Fairlands, something I had never heard of till now? Someone went through the effort of painting all these things down and had gotten enough right that I was inclined to take the rest at its presented value.

“Well, that’s another issue with it.” She said with some disappointment.

“Oh?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“The Elves are a bit farther away. The land between these three mountain ranges is all desert save a passage just below us that remains Rodring territory. I believe that Holy Well and those plains with sticky grass are a bit further up, as well.”

I took in the paper, trying to commit as much to memory as I could.

“And the unmarked mountain range going up to the ice is, of course, us,” Leelan said with a pointed finger to the brown peaks running up from the snowy portion down past the desert and into the greener sections of the map.

“I was told the humans were making a place to produce Orc mages. Did they need such a sprawling city for that? And all the supplies for it besides?”

Those chubby cheeks broke out in a smile.

“There is enough plant crafts to feed us if we kept it to the northern and smaller western sections that was here when we gained control. Expanding into the southern and eastern section left us dependent on outside sources of food. The trade from outer regions pushed us from being a snowy refuge into the foremost domain of our kind. All long before I was inflicted on my poor mother.”

She chuckled for a few seconds, filling out the rhythm of the hammers.

The sheer scale of this place was pushing into my brain with some strain, so I tried to undo the image with questions.

“Feeding what is essentially a city spanning multiple regions would take a lot of farms. How have the humans not starved you out?”

This time I got a small nod.

“As grand as it would be to have it all be full of houses and markets, that isn’t the case. The middle of the mountains is mostly roads and large pulley systems to move goods between sections.”

That only mildly deflated the sense of awe. The response I decided on was the one a smuggler would have.

“Sounds like I’ll have plenty of business here.”

“I hope you do,” Leelan said with a large smile. “It’s been too long that we’ve had a proper chorus going.”

We looked out over the bridge to the smiths below. Here and there metal took on the shapes of swords, door hinges, utensils, and every other tool between. A closer inspection of the work in this middle part made it clear the pieces were unfinished as they were handed to a forge on the left by a young Orc. My eyes drifted further along until they rested on the domes closest to the wall. Save any bits of leather or cushioning for a wielding hand, the metal tools were completed at this final anvil and placed in a cart.

“Have you got it?” Lellan asked excitedly.

I turned right and, sure enough, the smiths against the far right wall were working with simple bars of metal taken off a cart pulled by an apprentice.

“Do you really have a forksmith?”

Leelan leaned over the rail, laughing so loudly the smith directly below stopped a blow into a rough breastplate to look up. The chubby Orc took only a second to recover even if a few tears still lingered in those red eyes.

“Indeed we do. They’re not as specialized as you’d assume. Each of those girls down there has to make at least five items, at each stage of construction. But some are better at certain trinkets than others and those who find their niche are handsomely rewarded.”

Feeling quite clever, I turned back to her.

“My lungs aren’t filled with ash nor do I see carts of charcoal. I assume that means you use magic crafts but wood blocks for heating spells that melt metal don’t sound long-lasting.”

Leelan gave a steady nod, seemingly getting serious for the first time.

“Another reason our smiths are so well paid. Anything that works with magical items will get you a few more silver, even if it’s the same labor as someone working without them. The ones we use are crystals that spew flame. And no, I’m afraid I can’t show you one.”

It wasn’t a great loss. We had better back in the Base yet there was something special about this place. The fact it was solely the domain of our kind, not shared like in the swamps or the Waveborn, made everything here unique in a way I couldn’t quite explain. Maybe mother would….

Oh shit.

For a moment, I wasn’t a wealthy smuggler of immense power and now influential in multiple governments. Nor was I married to the greatest mage who ever lived. My ears filled with the song of the swamps insects as I came through the hovels door, treading with absolute silence as I tried to keep my late arrival unknown to the woman who bore me.

I forgot to tell mother about this trip. She wouldn’t do anything like a raid on the Cradle and someone probably told her what happened through the radio. A very thorough tongue-lashing was still certainly possible for forgetting in the first place.

“This is certainly bigger than any forge I’ve worked in.” I offered with a small smile. “A visit to the ore section was going to be next, but ships don’t just sit still and do nothing like I thought they did in my childhood. Certainly not in the middle of a change in cargo.”

Leelan gave me a small bow.

“I heard you’re from Crasden.” She said in not quite a question.

No reason to keep that a secret presented itself, so I didn’t.

“My newest home and the source of as much headache as opportunity.”

She bit her lip with a clear struggle on how to continue. A deep breath came before Leelan released the words.

“Too many years ago, a captain decided to take a risk on getting here for a good trade. Most end up serving as housing for barnacles, this one did not. A smaller boat that didn’t carry much but left with enough coin to justify the trip. And my daughter.”

“Willingly?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Leelan winced at the word despite keeping a stiff lip.

“Very much so. Our parting…. Was not on good terms. Something I would like to amend.”

She produced a piece of paper from her back pocket.

“I wrote down her name, Beleen, and a thorough description of her appearance.”

A quick perusing over the words brought the image of a brown-haired Orc with long ears and a splotch of light skin on the back of the left shoulder. Well, I suppose it made sense that the second-most important person here wouldn’t give personal tours without additional motivation.

“Were they headed towards Crasden?” I asked.

“That’s what they said.”

There was some hope in her eyes. Faint, but still there.

“Based on the time I’ve been in these freezing lands, I’ll warn you that there’s a slim chance she’s both alive and still in the region.”

“I know.” Leelan moaned with eyes wincing in pain. “The trip there alone…. But I must try.”

I could only nod at her resolve as I put the page in my front shirt pocket.

“The Crasden government is a constant feature of my day. Handing this off for a search in their records or the memory of the dock officials is the best bet.”

A sigh of relief escaped her thin lips.

“And what will the inquiry cost?” Leelan asked.

“Nothing. It’ll be a minute-long conversation on my end and a messenger girl running around on theirs. Should the extremely small chance we get her trail occur, we’ll discuss compensation then. Sailors don’t work for free, no matter how hard I try.”

Leelan shook her head with a wobbly chin.

“T-thank you, Gula. Know you have a friend here in the forge.”

She gave me a slight bow before turning around to match my turn. As I departed the only place that had brought me proper heat in weeks, I looked up to see an open vent in the ceiling near the back. It was the last little mystery of this place and I had somewhere else to be. The bridge was quickly put behind us and the coat retrieved from the table. We got a respectful nod from the guards as we went down the stairs to the main area. Yellow necklaces were returned and the outside door pushed open. I only just managed to get the coat on before winter gave me a welcome-back slap across the face.

The walk down was a bit treacherous with the occasional cart in the way, but we made it onto the regular section of road without incident. Trekking down the artificial mountain alley was downright peaceful, with the wind settling into a gentle, icy breeze. I had a general notion of where the door holding Bellog and my last two guards were. It turned out that the mental map was unneeded, as two Kelton men and a tired-looking Orc between them stood in front of the double doors. Bellog dipped her head towards us in a nod only to have the fur cap on her bald head slide down over those red eyes and knock off the copper glasses.

“I hope you weren’t as careless in the negotiations.” I teased as we started walking further along the wide road. Those pink lips puckered with both irritation and amusement as she readjusted the cap and placed the spectacles back on.

“Even if I was drunk, fevered, and half-dead, I’m better at the table than you. Ferrag squeezed me like a grape in the press. If it had been your lack of social grace pitted against her, we’d be paying her to move their goods.

As promised, I secured you a bit over twice your rate for her goods. After all the bills were paid, here is the remaining portion for your pay.” Bellog announced with a presentation of the leather sack.

I took it and immediately felt the difference in weight. My fingers loosened the chord and then upended it into the open right hand. No gold. A lot of silver and some copper, but that warm glint was absent.

“Told you to enjoy it.” Bellog prodded with a smile.

This immature back and forth was unbecoming of women entrusted with our station, so I merely nodded to the trio. They followed behind me towards the carriage site without another word. Our approach to the gate was impeded by several carts carrying metal goods of every description.

Their drivers gave me raised eyebrows, though none regarded us with more than a look as we passed ahead towards the gate. The guards above remembered us and lifted the gate to let us through. Now out on the open plains save slopes on both sides, winter blew through my clothes on full blast. Not quite as bad as the night before yet the air was no less agonizing for my lungs.

The drifts of snow around the gate had been cleared to expose the smooth stone floor of black and grey rectangles. Workers moved a bit easier for it as they loaded up the cart from last night with pickheads in crates. One of the women in the back overlooking the workers spotted us. Her shouts to the women in her charge couldn’t be heard over the wind, but the cargo wasn’t being loaded into the carriage when we came up to it.

“There’s enough room in the back.” The Orc said.

We moved up to the open door of the carriage. A look at the now exposed underside in the morning light revealed how it was being moved. Just below the round plow in front was a rope nearly as thick as my arm. It was a bit slack as it reached down a wide slit in the stone. To the left was a shaft of metal jutting out of that same slit, jagged and twisted from some accident long ago. A similar piece hanging from the carriage underbelly made it clear that it was supposed to line up to be one whole. The ravages of time left the only remaining connection between them a single thread running through the center of each.

We walked inside to rows of crates on the right where the pickheads were being loaded. When the last Kelton guard was beside me on the left wall bench, the Orcs resumed loading the carriage back up. Their labor was finished in a few minutes with the last addition being another guard in thick fur coating and covered face. She didn’t spare a word for us before moving near the front of the carriage. When the last crate was placed with its kin on the floor, the guard went to the front and opened that hatch to pull what sounded like a rope.

The expected jerk sideways occurred as she moved to sit back down. Whatever mechanism was pulling the rope beneath the plow, it could apparently handle loads several times what we arrived in as the carriage kept up with the previous day's speed. There was nothing left to do, save get comfortable on the freezing wooden bench.

It was only when my head was against the wooden wall that I remembered the free breakfast left behind. That rapturous dinner last night was staying my hunger, even now. Yet who knows what delights I might have enjoyed in the mountains. The call of indulgence rang through my soul in a deep yearning yet when we got close to the seaside town, the bitter cold won out. No warmth would be found on the ship but there was no wind to strip meager heat from the skin either.

Eventually, the cold room came to a slow stop. The guard opened the door before leaving. Two Keltons went out first, then it was my turn. Before even making it out onto the snow-laden stone, I could see a small crowd of refugees to the left while workers were waiting to unload cargo. As soon as the last Kelton stepped past them, the workers sprung into action, taking out the crates in a line that ended at pulled carts further to the right.

The wind wasn’t so heavy that it obstructed the square houses. Not that any traffic was moving between the abodes to appreciate it. Moving up to the town and through empty streets, I couldn’t help but envy the watchers here even with salt filling the air. A posting that was spent watching empty seas and dead lands had to involve work like drinking, card games, and finding the best spots to lay on the bed. We were the first real disruption in years. If the coin was even half decent, it would be the dream job for me and the guys back in the swamps. Before the chance to change the fate of my entire race came along, at least.

Bitter breeze was kept bearable with the buildings take the worst of the blows. When we were halfway through the town, soft crashes of waves soon grew too loud to be obscured by the wind. The stone dock was straight ahead and it was only as we passed the last house that the churning ocean opened into our peripheral vision.

The plank was down for the sailors to bring on the crates resting at the dock. Once we came up to it, the sailors donned in heavy coats let us pass upward. Bellog gave me a nod before almost running to the right and below deck. I could only return the gesture to her back.

As we moved left and went up the wood steps, I established a spirit connection to the Kelton man behind me.

‘I’m going to be on the radio with Mother. Stay outside the door on rotation.’

No refusal came.

The approach to the door was agonizing with the mix of sea air and winter chill. Leaving the guards to endure it was only acceptable because I knew they had fur and survived worse with less fat and rags for clothes.

Going inside presented the office untouched since yesterday. I hurried to the back, closing the curtains, placing my sword against the desk drawers, and moving the chair off the hidden hatch. The odd box was quickly picked up and worked over while I made my way to the bed on the left. That missed red blanket wrapped around my top, chilling any residual warmth but still holding the promise of some heat later on. I took my shoes off before sliding my feet underneath the sheets.

The next minute was spent adjusting to a more comfortable position. At some point, I had to acknowledge that delaying the conversation would only make it harder. Bringing the circle of metal mesh on the radio to my lips, I pressed the button.

“Gula, reporting in. Finished.”

Dead silence stretched for a few seconds before a crackle came through.

“Was there any trouble? Finished.”

No raised voice. Feeling a bit better, I coughed before speaking.

“A lot of information about this place and how stupid the humans are here. Oh! I also met this woman in the forge. She’s looking for her daughter who went off to Crasden some time ago. Gonna give her description to the government in Crasden, see if we can pick up any leads. Not expecting anything though. Finished.”

“I’ll have to meet the mother someday. We already have so much in common.”

My eyes went straight up while my lips pursed. I may have offered that one right to her, but it was still a bit much. As thankful as I was that this miracle device let me make whatever face I wanted, it probably wasn’t a good habit to get into.

“Bellog came in and was waiting for me to leave. I didn’t have any chance to radio in.” I put in defensively.

The silence between us festered for a moment before Mother’s voice came back through the metal mesh.

“I thought you marrying an ultimate mage meant I wouldn’t need to worry about you coming back ever again. That all these miracles and magical tools could at least protect….Maybe some things are just destined to be permanent.”

This was worse than I could have possibly imagined.

“Mom….I-”

Any response died on my tongue before I could finish it. A second passed as I tried to find the words.

“Bah!” Mother huffed. “But you did have some adventure underground. If we’re going to relive old days, let’s at least have the good parts. Finished.”

I was only a bit relieved to move the conversation elsewhere even if I did it with some enthusiasm.

“I found out the reason why the humans made this place. They were going to make Orc mages in order to fight some demon things on a coast west of here. Finished.”

Dead silence followed for only a second.

“Shit. Between that and that healer mage leader in Crasden using us, I can’t help but wonder if something in the water here is scrambling the human's brains.”

I bit my lower lip as a distant memory was pulled from the depths.

“I don’t know. It could be that they just enjoy playing with gators. Remember when they bred Orcs for ears back home? Finished.”

“There’s a night and day difference between that and intentionally using our magic-endowing gift. They’re not playing with gators, they’re going up to one in a lean month and sticking their head in its mouth. Finished.”

That brought my thoughts to the one presented at the feast. Licking my lips at the memory, I could only press myself further into the bed.

“Mom, do you think we’re better than the humans? Finished.”

“Well, our time in the swamps saw them putting up huge castles as we lived in mud huts. I can’t say I ever felt we were the predator. Finished.”

“I mean if all things were equal. We had the same numbers, same lands, same resources. Would we come out on top because we’re the better species? Finished.”

Silence came through the box for a few seconds before crackling back to life.

“I guess it depends. One of the species has to be the best, like how steel is better than copper or the bear is stronger than a wolf. But no one is better in water than the Frojan and I’d say the Keltons fare the best in this frozen torture.”

I kept the slight chuckle down at her bitterness and didn’t interrupt.

“Overall….I’d guess the humans are the superior ones. They have the most land and the biggest armies. If we were destined to overthrow them, you would think it’d have happened by now.”

An objection danced on my tongue, defending the position I didn’t hold. The words stayed there. It was hard to argue against present reality in favor of possibilities. Especially when I had only wrangled with the issue for less than an hour broken up over days. It felt like a good end to that part of the conversation, so I moved on to the next.

“And how has the captain life been treating you? Is it different for those in the sky? Finished.”

A low grumble came through the radio.

“I feel like I’ve got fifty new kids. Some have no sense of self-preservation and dangle around the sides while others can barely walk by the rails. And the spitting. It’s gotten to the point where I’ve started slapping them on the back of the head every time I see one of them leaning over the side.”

My appreciation for Geoff and the others rose a few levels along with a rueful smile.

“Aside from that? Fingers always feel a bit chilly but the fire enchantments and thick clothes make it tolerable. Is it any better on the seas? Finished.”

“I haven’t slept out of my clothes in almost a week save last night.” I put in with a tired sigh while I stared at the wood ceiling. “The men can spit over the side as much as they want and Geoff wrangles all those who need it. Aside from that, I’ve been holed up in my cabin.

The high lady of Crasden advised me to make no public appearances. People who know what’s going on will start trying to convince me to take on a daughter or themselves. That would lead to questions about why so many desperate officials were visiting my office. Finished.”

“Not looking forward to telling them no?” Mother asked with an amused tone that somehow carried through the metal.

“I signed up to save my species and some lost souls. Deciding which kids get a spot on the last boat out….”

Silence crept in again as I struggled to parse out my feelings. Which mother took advantage of.

“Hey, even if it comes to that, you’ll have many more people thankful for you than not. We can’t save everyone and they have no right to expect otherwise. It was your ship that brought food when it was desperately needed. You’re a great person and far better than any daughter of mine should be.” Her voice cracked a bit at the end.

For a moment, I thought the radio crackled but no, it was sending the clear tremble of approaching tears in her voice. I furrowed my eyebrows at the box, trying to send the worried look through the box.

“It’s…. As good a daughter as you’ve been a mother. Never hit me or took any coin out of my pay for some indulgence.” I offered.

More silence. A few seconds passed before Mother’s voice came through the radio.

“It means a lot to hear that. You were an easy one to raise. Most nights, anyway.”

My smile matched the mirth in her last sentence.

“Well, I’m pretty sure one of those nights will save our people so, even then I’d say it was worth it. Finished.”

“I can’t point to which night led to me being a bird but so far it's been a better life than on the ground. Finished.”

“Can’t argue with that. Finished.” I agreed. Last night's fantastic dinner would have to be left unmentioned. We were both going through a difficult period and such distraction in her thoughts would only make things harder for her. My mouth opened to start talking about the massive forge when a knock came at the door.

“Lady Gula, Bellog wants to talk about some new issue from the Cradle.” A rough Kelton voice called through the wood.

“A moment to get decent,” I yelled back.

“Love you Mom, my work is calling. Finished.” I whispered in the radio as I pushed open the sheets and scattered the residual heat around the room.

“You too. Finished.”

With that final word, I turned off the radio and rushed to place it down in the hatch. When I was getting back in the chair, the rough Kelton voice yelled again.

“Bellog is emphasizing the importance-”

“Fine! Let her in.” I bemoaned as I got comfortable in the leather upholstery.

She bursted through the double doors, her red eyes furious and teeth bared above the thick fur coat.

“A spy!”

My hand went to the sword kept by the desk almost as fast as the adrenaline flooding my veins.

“Ferrag is all but sending an inspection aboard.”

The hand moved back to my lap while I raised an eyebrow at her.

“When was that agreed upon in the negotiation?”

Her thin nose flared while the anger simmered to only disdain.

“It wasn’t brought up. Moving refugees between us doesn’t need so much as a warning. And I can’t argue since that provision is what let us arrived unannounced.”

I meshed my fingers together with a lean against the desk.

“Is there anything I can do? My word is final on the ship but if these….”

“Desperate women looking for home and sustenance in their ‘sister’ settlement.” Bellog huffed with a forced smile.

“Get on land, I don’t think I have any authority save in my own warehouse.”

She put a hand to her forehead, her eyes staring into the floor for the answer.

“We can’t solve this. Even if they had an accident, they’d just send more. If it gets out that we were killing their spies it would blow up our relations at the worst time. The best we can do is try and time the ship coming back with the release of the news that we’ll be living under the plant mage in such a way that we can dig in and get settled before they start applying pressure. They’ll send strong letters and ambitious heralds demanding action but people will be too worried about staying among the living to listen for a while. After that…. I think I’ll be supporting the efforts to put the church near the plant mages house.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Eli would need some extra protection but between me, the Council, and the church he should be fine. Still, one moment of opportunity is all it takes. Come to think of it, has Eli ever killed an Orc? Nothing in my memory said he did. I’d have to make sure he knew I wouldn’t be upset if he had to when we got back.

“Is there anything else?” I asked with a small smile.

“No. A few more hours of bringing the goods and spies on board and we’ll be good if what Geoff said is true. Of course, we should keep discussions about Crasden to a minimum. Including among the crew.”

“Agreed. I’ll make sure the men are told as much.”

“If you ever find the time.” She intoned with a small smile. Her red eyes made a pointed move towards the bed, with the ruffled blankets and shoes that hadn’t been put back on beside it.

Bellog did a light bow, keeping her cap on this time, and moved backward out the door before I could deliver a rebuttal. If it was any warmer, I’d be tempted to go out and deliver a scathing rebuttal. The freezing chill in my feet still made me get up and get the shoes. By the time the last one was donned, Geoff came in with the report for the shipments.

An hour passed in what felt like a blink. Getting everything in order and placing cargo in such a way that anything heavy falling wouldn’t crush skulls was tedious but it allowed me the excuse of seeing our guests. They were clad in simple shirts and pants with a pack each. Even as they lay in the beds, their eyes took in everything with an intensity that had nothing to do with desperation. They looked at the Frojan who stayed below deck with some interest but made no trouble. Plunging into the politics at play was about as appealing as jumping into the frozen sea outside, so I let them be while I helped make the ship ready.

The little nuances and needs of departure came to me with weeks of practice until the sails were finally unfurled and the gentle motion of the ship became heavier than the idle pushing of the waves in the dock. As interesting as the town and mountains beyond were, curiosity had already been sated once, leaving its call for a farewell viewing weaker than the warmth of my blankets.

I felt more than a little disappointed at the dinner of fish stew, that herb-smelling steak and juicy black shrimp still lingering in my memory. The food, like my raised standard of eating, was eventually gulped down. Over the course of a week or more, I had plenty of time to readjust expectations. Bitter, finger blackening chill gradually fell to mere freezing until the time for departure came once again.

Getting out of the cabin brought me a view of rocky coast along the right side of the ship. Boats were hoisted over the side and crates brought above deck in preparation for offloading. Maybe it was that much warmer here or some of that Kelton toughness had rubbed off on me, but I felt fine in the cold sea breeze with only a fur coat over the red jacket and white shirt. Bellog had suggested offloading the goods first with herself in tow to give the Council time to react to the news. I agreed, as did the sailors who helped get her in the boat and lowered it with their burden of crates. This was going to be a slog without a dock to directly offload onto, so I left the transfer to the men who were paid to deal with it. The second transfer involved a single Kelton carrying a page describing Leelan's missing daughter to the Council.

What I had expected to be a few hours of silence at my desk was interrupted after only one. The Kelton man I sent with the copy of Leelan's page came in with barely a knock. His ragged breathing sent clouds of mist from between his brown-furred lips. That and the small streak of blood on his white shirt made me push aside his breach of manners.

“Bellog said to stay on the ship, Lady Gula,” he said with a dip of his brown-furred head.

I kept my questioning gaze on the red staining his chest.

"A trip on the rocks, Lady." He offered with a twitch of his ears behind brown horns. Something I guessed was a sign of embarrassment.

“And this confinement is because?” I demanded.

An electric sensation went across my chest.

‘She said the plan has hit a bad snag and it happened in a way that has gotten more people aware of it than is desirable. It would be better for all involved if you stayed aboard for a few days at least. As Nersa had stated in the first meeting.’

'How much of that was your advice?' I asked with thinning patience.

'It was all her words, Lady Gula.' He answered, doing that weird sideways head bob typical of his kind with the last.

'Fine. Did you deliver the page?'

'I did. It was hard since several Orc officials waylaid me before the guards intervened. The crowd would be worse if all our people didn't stay just out of the tunnel with the Council workers bringing the goods below. Staying on the ship is a good idea as I can't imagine the stampede if you were there. And that is my advice.'

My fingers strummed the cold wood while I wrangled with the reality that I wasn't going to be leaving this ship for another week.

'If that's all, you are dismissed.'

He gave me another head bob and turned to go out the double doors.

Expected, yet no less infuriating for it. There was nothing to be done but ponder on what would be considered a 'big snag'. I doubt they would tell me what it was since they didn't in the first correspondence. Still, I was working with the plant mage and the Orcs mining under his home. The former would tell me if he knew of it, as distasteful as mixing our couple time and work was. With nothing left to do, I resumed working the papers and figures for the ship. Which was apparently going to be my home for a very long time.