As far as tours went, this had to be one of his most gratifying. More a rescue effort than the complex, multi-layered approach to warfare the United States government had to respond to these days.

He suspected, however, that notion was more due to ignorance on his part than anything else.

Earth had a storied history of complex warfare. Why would this place be any different? Especially with magic involved.

No. People were people, no matter where they lived. War was, unfortunately, one of their byproducts.

Demons, however, felt more like a natural disaster than something perpetuated by people. Killing them sat much easier on his conscience. Killing them while actively saving children?

God, he felt good about that.

Tired, but good.

[Searching… Searching… Searching… Error: Connection not found.]

They made it to the next town just past dusk. Doneil had ridden ahead to secure lodging, the rest of them accompanying Lionel and the girls at an easy pace. Ginny, Lionel’s sturdy horse, pulled the caravan steadily along a well-laid track that wound through a dark fringe of woods on the town’s southern reach, the sound of its creaking wood and grinding metal rims seeming loud in the darkening scenery. By the time they’d turned down the last farm lane and caught sight of the first multi-story buildings that weren’t barns, the sky above had turned a dark blue, richly speckled with stars.

And, damn it all, they were familiar, too.

Even his feeble knowledge of the night sky could recognize the Big Dipper, and the triple-star belt of Orion.

He’d rarely seen quite so many of them, though. Later on, once the sunset colors had fully gone from the sky, he’d see even more, too. Likely the arm of the galaxy, if he was lucky with the clouds.

The first time he’d seen it here, he’d done nothing but stare.

Well, stare, and then get interrupted to go raid a demon lord’s mountain lair.

No satellites, though. Or airplanes.

Just stars. And planets, he supposed, though he couldn’t tell which was which. They were supposed to move differently, right? And—the brightest ‘star’ in the mornings… wasn’t that actually Venus?

He wondered if this world had the same setup as his own Solar System. So far, it seemed pretty even. One sun, one moon, stars in all the right places, a night-day cycle that corresponded with the one he’d grown up with…

[Searching… Searching… Searching… Error: Connection not found.]

Yep. Definitely no satellites. Or, at least—none that wanted to talk to his HUD.

No familiar strangers with HUDs, either.

He wondered what had happened to them. Had they simply gone out of range? If so, were they still almost within range, or had the day’s travel taken them both away from each other?

Was the other person looking for him, too?

They must be. Why wouldn’t they?

Then again—why hadn’t they reached out to him when their HUDs connected?

Had they really just gone out of range?

He hoped he’d get to find out. Just the fact that he wasn’t alone—that all this wasn’t some elaborate, extremely extended hallucination—

It lit a fire in him.

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He had to find out.

They crossed a bridge, wound their way up a sleepy track, then made their way to the stable at the back of an inn. Doneil joined them within a few minutes, helping the young stable hand lift the collar off Ginny, the horse who’d been pulling the caravan, then inspecting the claw lines that had been wounds earlier in the day, his fingers glowing with magic.

He’d wondered why they’d put the horse back on the caravan at all, but had to remind himself that Doneil’s magic fully healed things. The walking had probably been good for it.

Plus, it had become apparent that Terry, his own horse—and likely all the other horses his group was riding—really sucked at cart work. Even the short walk they’d done to bring the caravan to the stream earlier had made that obvious. Terry kept spooking at the caravan behind him, then spooking again when his initial spook made the whole thing lurch loudly and pull against the back part of his harness.

Clearly not trained in harness work.

Soon enough, they had the horses—and caravan—put away and, after a quick wash-up, the eight of them faced each other across a set of tables in the common room with a pair of waitstaff fussing over the girls.

“Demons!” One woman exclaimed loudly. “Oh, sun and stars! Thank the—” Here, Matteo’s language ability failed him, though his HUD tagged one word as a possible pronunciation of one of the area’s deities. “—you are alive.”

He lost most of the conversation after that, the speech moving too swiftly for him to string the words together—and he was tired. After the fight, he’d elected to walk alongside the caravan for most of the way, stretch out his legs from the long rides. Now, all of his muscles were tired, his joints were aching, and he was one headache away from a hangover.

When the waitstaff gave him a flagon of beer and set a bowl of fantastic-smelling stew in front of him, he decided he would not be moving from the chair for a while.

He pushed all the HUD’s apps and warnings out of his visual range, picked up a spoon, and tucked in.

******

Levine was a sleepier town than Erlin. Less connected, Catrin supposed, and older, its main industries less in need of fast delivery times than the relatively young flower-growing fields they’d passed through on the way into the other town.

Levine’s industry was older and more ingrained. Wool. Hay. Berries farmed in the nearby marsh, along with rice and crawdads. Medicinal plants collected throughout the year.

She’d learned all this in the early afternoon from Lionel and his girls. Charla had been quiet at first, only speaking up to correct one of the others, but Emilia and Tilly chattered more than the birds and squirrels the caravan had passed, and they apparently crossed the area fairly regularly.

They’d grown subdued in the past few hours. Tired. She could see it in their face.

They also kept looking at her.

They hadn’t, Lionel explained, seen many rnari. Not this close, at least. And they’d seen even fewer female warriors, which explained why they were looking at her more than they’d looked at Doneil.

Either that or Doneil’s friendly demeanor had completely satisfied their curiosity of him in the few hours they’d spent with him.

He was away again, she noticed. Chatting up the kitchen staff. Again.

This was going to be a habit at every single inn they visited, wasn’t it?

Oh, well. She’d pulled the man from an apparently intense desire for culinary achievement. He could do what he wanted in the off time.

He wasn’t Undersworn.

If she wanted to worry about someone, she ought to be worrying about Nales.

She glanced in his direction. The prince had the same air of tiredness as the rest of them and, for once, he didn’t have his nose in a book. He didn’t droop over his bowl—he was too upright for that, he always was, as if proper posture had been so ingrained into him his body couldn’t conceive of any other way to be—but, occasionally, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

He also hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Prince Nales’, but as ‘Nalis Benek’, who worked as an agent of the Lorkan crown—and that, therefore, it wasn’t his money that had paid for their rooms, but surplus from the crown stipend.

A flimsy, laughable disguise. Catrin wondered how many times he had used it.

When Tilly loudly announced that he had the same name as one of the princes, he smiled and told her his mother had thought it was lucky to name him after the royal.

Lionel, however, had gone quiet after that. Watchful. Eyes slipping between her and Nales, the calculation and realization evident.

It was, therefore, not a surprise when he stopped her in the hallway after dinner and, with a light touch of his hand on her shoulder, directed her through a small door leading to a small, unoccupied hall.

She didn’t break the hand. Nor did she flinch.

Perhaps Doneil was right. She was getting better.

He glanced about, checking they were alone. Under the red burn of the day’s sun, his face had gone pale. His focus slipped back to her, and the blood fled even more, along with his stare.

Afraid, she realized.

He wetted his lips nervously and began. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you all. You saved us. If you hadn’t come along, we’d all—my girls would’ve—”

He cut himself off, wrangling with emotion, the blood returning to his face in a deep blush.

She waited.

“Doneil told me you were headed to the marsh to search for strange things.” He chanced a look at her face. “Have you been there before?”

“No,” she said.

He flinched, almost as if surprised to hear her speak. She ran her mind back through the day. She had spoken in front of him, hadn’t she? Surely, she had…

Yes, she had. But not very much.

And Lionel’s first introduction to her had been on the near-business end of a charging, leaping rnari.

“There’ve been some odd tales coming from there, as of late. You and the agent should speak with Karel. He runs a magic shop on the other side of town, down by the river. People tell him things.”

This town had a magic shop?

She definitely wanted to visit.

“Thank you,” she said. “We’ll be sure to do that.”