Orenda sat at the table in the room where Gareth had been laid out watching Sonny ladle soup into bowls set out for himself, Mary, Orenda, Anilla, Junior, and Falsie. There was a sixth bowl as well, but it seemed to be more of a gesture than an expectation.

“Still no word from Draco,” Falsie said, “That means that either he hasn’t found her, or he’s decided to stick with her.”

Orenda nodded.

“That poor Sarya girl went out looking too,” He went on, “Didja know that?”

“No,” Orenda said, more than a little alarmed, “Why would she do that?”

“Because she can claim to have lost a slave,” Mary Sue said matter-of-factly, “If someone has found Bella and is holding her hostage, Sarya can claim ownership of her. We’re so close to the capital she can say she’s a traveling minstrel. I like that girl. I think we can trust her.”

“I like her too,” Orenda said, “I wish she hadn’t lost her wagon and… everything.”

“I worry that the head injury may have done something to her brain,” Mary Sue said. “She’s loud and jittery all the time.”

“No, I think she’s just like that,” Anilla said, “After the aid and potions I think she’s actually fine. She seemed like she recovered pretty fast!”

“The other girl, Barbra Allen,” Sonny said, “Seems like a good person to have around. She’s hearty enough to help with the harvest and the clean-up. She… did not care for me, though.”

“Did you hit on her?” Junior asked. He had his glasses flipped down and was tinkering with something in his lap.

“No,” Sonny said more defensively than absolutely necessary.

“Oh my god,” Junior said, “You’re fucking blind, you dumbass.”

“What do you mean?” Sonny asked.

“I mean,” Junior said, still without looking up, “That she obviously prefers the company of women, you absolute dumbass.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Sonny asked.

“Because I’m not an idiot,” Junior shrugged, “And I don’t try to bed everyone who comes through here. You have no tact.”

“I’m gonna dump this on you,” Sonny said with no emotion, and lifted the bowl of stew he had just poured over Junior’s head.

“You better not!” Junior hissed, “I swear to god, Sonny! I swear to god!” He raised the screwdriver in his hand as if it was a weapon, and Orenda wondered if this was normal sibling interaction.

“Stop it!” Mary Sue demanded, stood, and grabbed the bowl from Sonny to slam it on the table, “Act like you have some sense! We have guests!”

“They’re family,” Sonny said dismissively, and went back to distributing the food.

“Anilla,” Orenda said quietly, “Wed, Bed, Behead- the Brigaddon boys.”

“Oh,” Anilla said, and thought for a few seconds, “Let’s see… most of them are so young. I think perhaps… wed Junior, he seems as if he’s quite intelligent and he has a lot of neat things in his workshop that I think he would let me use. Bed Sonny, because he seems as if he needs it to calm his nerves. And behead… the one we met who hurt Gareth and killed their father.”

“I think I would switch Sonny and Junior, for mine,” Orenda giggled. She needed something to break the tension, some little anything to take her mind off the corpse, her missing friends, and Gareth’s injuries.

“Why?” Anilla asked.

“I don’t know,” Orenda said, “I actually feel as if I perhaps shouldn’t have started this game. They all think of me as their sister.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Here you go,” Sonny sat a bowl of the stew in front of her. It was a sort of vegetable stew, but she was delighted to see the spices floating in the broth. She took a bite and felt the warmth flow through her, tasting hints of pepper and cinnamon. She had missed real food on the road. Thank god at least one of the Brigaddons knew how to cook.

“You all seem to be in rather good shape,” Orenda said, “That is… you’re strong and have a high stamina.”

“Thanks,” Junior said, “I mean that’s a lie, but thanks.”

“What are you even doing?” Mary Sue asked him, “Put that away. Don’t tinker at the table.”

“Is that my gun?” Falsie asked.

“Hm?” Junior looked up at him, “No, I mean, I don’t imagine it’s yours. I took it off Big Gary over there. I studied this thing all last night. I think I’ve found a way to make it more efficient, now that I understand what it does. You can really streamline the loading mechanism if you actually make the… arrows? Little lead things. You could make a cylinder, if I can calculate it properly, that could contain every part so it could be reloaded much faster. You wouldn’t have to measure out the gunpowder every time if you made them from some kind of premade mold and used just enough to fire the projectile behind the actual projectile part, all housed in some kind of casing. Also, if you made them pointed rather than round, even if it was a rounded tip, you would likely do more damage because it would do piercing damage rather than bludgeoning damage and you wouldn’t need as much power behind it to enter the body.”

“You’re right,” Falsie said, more than a little impressed, “You got a good head on your shoulders.”

“My daddy always said that my mommy had to have been smart,” Junior told him without looking up, “He said that we sure as hell didn’t get it from him.”

“You have gunpowder!?” Mary Sue asked, “At the table!? Junior, put it away! Take it to your lab now!”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Junior stood and walked out of the room.

“The reason,” Orenda said, “That I comment on your strength is because I’ve never been much in the way of exercise or sport. But it occurs to me… that if I’m going to go after the Emerald Knight, if I’m going to fight him, I probably should try to hone my body in some way. I probably should try to be strong, flexible, and develop some sort of stamina for myself.”

“That’s… actually a good point,” Mary Sue told her. “Do you know how to fight at all?”

“You mean physically?” Orenda asked.

“She killed a demon,” Falsie told them, and their eyes widened.

“Perhaps,” Orenda said, “I think we don’t actually know for sure. But no, I mean… that is, I know how to cast, and the crew of the Burned Roc has tried to teach me a little in the way of street skills, things like stealth and picking locks, but I don’t actually know how to physically fight. And, as I would rather not die instantly upon facing the Emerald Knight, as my father apparently did, I would like to learn.”

“I can teach you to fight,” Mary Sue told her, “I don’t like to brag on myself, but I was taught by the three time cage fighting champion of the world. But the thing is, Rendy, a lot of it is going to be building up your body. You can’t really learn anything until you’re in shape. And most of that is just… living. Once we get the nursery clean, you can help with the harvest.”

“How long does that sort of thing usually take?” Orenda asked.

“Months?” Mary Sue said as if she wasn’t sure, “Years?”

“I don’t have years!” Orenda said, “The Emerald Knight is going to attack the fire continent! I have to catch him before he can!” She took a deep breath trying to calm herself, “Perhaps… perhaps if he leaves before I get to the castle that would make it easier to get the artifact.”

“Artifact?” Mary Sue asked.

“Yes. My staff tells me that there is an artifact held in the castle- it says that the reason it doesn’t work is because it needs the artifact.”

“I mean,” Sonny said, “I reckon the reason it don’t work is because it’s made of sterilite. Which is just a shitty thing to make a mage staff from. It talks to you?”

“Yes.”

“Kinda seems like maybe something it ought not do?” Sonny questioned, “I don’t know that I trust any inanimate object that starts talking. Maybe it’s a trap? Trying to get you into the castle?”

Orenda had not considered this possibility. The staff had never acted as if it outright meant her harm.

“Maybe we don’t do shit that staves we find laying around in old temples tell us, is all I’m saying,” he said as he sat down, “I don’t know how the hell they’d have good advice to give, even if they meant well. The thing hadn’t seen the light of day in how long? How the hell would it know what it was talking about?”

“I don’t know,” Orenda said, because it was true.

“Thesis fuck!” Gareth screamed, and every head shot in his direction.

He had tried to sit up, holding himself on the one arm he had, trying to clutch at his torso with his stump, “Where the fuck is my hand? Where’s my goddamn mask? Why does my voice sound like shit? Why do I hurt this goddamn bad? Why hasn’t anyone gotten me a drink yet knowing I hurt this goddamn bad!?”

“You’re awake!” Orenda jumped from her position at the table and ran to throw her arms around him. He leaned heavily into her and she felt how weak he was.

“I think I tore something,” he said in his croaky, ill-used voice. “Rendy please, please for the love of god, get me my hand and my mask. Where’s Bella?”

Orenda tensed up. She didn’t know what to tell him.