Marek took another sip of the golden cider. It was warm – ice seemed to be in short supply – but the taste was still sweet and crisp, if perhaps a little too sour.
He was sitting at a thick, wooden table in a tavern close to the docks. The whole place was abuzz with talk of the fog, and dark, lit only by a handful of weak lamps that were scattered throughout the large room. It stunk of sweat and spilled alcohol, and was warm in that way places get when there are too many people too close together. The floor was slightly sticky, no matter where he stepped. He supposed some things never changed.
Across from him, Rulio was talking intently to a man, while also enjoying a cider. Marek had discovered common ground with the Captain through their dislike of beer. The other man, however, was enjoying a large glassful of the stuff, which sloshed and foamed with every sip he took. He was dressed in an officer’s uniform much like Rulio’s, though his was a navy blue, with white detailing around the edges. Rulio had introduced him to Marek as ‘Big Earl’ Beaumont, the captain of the Blue Sun and the Blue Eagle Crew. An old friend, it seemed. He looked older than Rulio, was solid of body, and his large head was topped by a messy mop of strawish black hair. A shaggy beard wrapped around the lower half of his face, and was currently damp with beer. His eyes were small and slightly sunken, but darted around keenly as he sat and talked. He had run into Rulio here by chance, and had been talking loudly to him for the past ten minutes.
“It’s going to hell, Rulio, it’s all going to hell,” Marek heard Earl declare, before gulping at his beer.
Rulio nodded. Marek shared the sentiment.
For the past couple of days, he and Rulio had been staying in a small cheap room on the second floor of a run-down establishment on the outskirts of the Port. It turned out that after buying his new ship, Rulio now had very little money left. Marek had his share of the funds they’d gotten after turning in their mission, but Rulio told him not to waste it on a better room.
It felt wrong, to be sitting around when Beck was out there somewhere, but rationally they had no choice. Even Marek could see that going against Graves again with just the two of them was completely senseless. In the hopes of finding some new crew members, Rulio had put up posters offering work and a position in the crew, but so far there had been scant response. The only serious interest had come from a very short young man, who must have had some form of dwarfism. Despite his impassioned pleas to join the crew, Rulio had dismissed him out of hand.
Rulio had also taken Marek down to the firing range each day since they had arrived, running him through various drills and the aspects of marksmanship. Already, with just a few hours of proper target practice now behind him, Marek was feeling much more confident – against stationary targets and in perfect conditions, at least.
“Have you been in it yet – the fog?” Earl was asking.
Rulio nodded.
Earl shook his head, his eyes glazed. “Ah, we just got back from a supply mission ourselves. Through the fog we went, to some fuckin’ island outpost, and back. Saw no sight or sound of trouble, mind you, but I was completely on edge the whole time. Hands were shaking, like this-” he held up his hand and made it tremor dramatically. “Couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Not a thing.” He relaxed his hand. “And only now that we’re back do I begin to hear of all the shit that’s been going on, all the crews that went in and haven’t been seen or heard from since.” A visible shiver ran through his body. “I mean fuck, Rulio – I’m glad I didn’t know any of this when I was out there, or I would have shaken myself right off the ship.”
Marek stifled a smile. He already liked Earl and his over-the-top personality.
Rulio did smile at Earl’s story, but his face darkened as he began to give an overview of their own experiences in the fog.
Earl’s face grew paler as the story went on. When Rulio got to the fight against the dogs, Earl shook his head and clutched his beer closer. Finally, Rulio told him of Beck’s abduction.
“That bastard Roland’s trouble,” Earl said with a growl. “Always trying to make a name for himself. There’s no sense of camaraderie with that one. Carries on like he’s some kind of damn fool gunslinger in the wild west.” He glanced at Rulio. “A lot’s changed since the days you two were sailing around together, eh?”
Rulio nodded.
“Yeah, times have changed alright,” Earl finished, taking in another mouthful of beer.
“Yet the Port Authority still tells us nothing.” Rulio added.
“Ha! You’ve got that right. Why do we still put ourselves through all this, I wonder?”
“Well, what else would we do?” Rulio set down his half-empty glass of cider and leaned forward towards Earl. “Pack ourselves into a boat and storm some beach? Or perhaps go and make bullets and planes in a factory?”
“Ah, well when you put it like that…” Earl sighed. “Forget it. Privateering’s the only way to go.”
Rulio nodded and took a measured sip of cider. “It is getting a bit out of hand, though. I don’t know if there’s even such a thing as a routine supply run anymore.”
Earl considered this. “Well, aside from my constant unease, our mission did go off without a hitch. Although, with what I’m hearing about some of the other crews, as I mentioned before… you might be right, Rulio my friend.” He took a swig of beer. “Say, have you heard about these fancy new fog-dispersal units they’re going to be trialling soon?”
Rulio was silent for a moment. “I did hear someone mention that, before we set off for Obelisk.”
Earl nodded. “I bet that’s what all the missions will be gearing towards now. Doesn’t sound too bad though, I suppose.” He belched. “Do you think they’ll work?”
Rulio scoffed. “I hope so.”
Earl suddenly seemed to remember Marek was at the table, and stared across at his empty glass. “Come on, Marek! Another cider, what do you say? You deserve it, after all the nasty business you’ve been through – my shout.”
Marek smiled. He could definitely do with another one. “Yeah, alright. Thanks, Earl.”
“You are most welcome. You’re a good kid, Marek, I can tell. Yeah, you’re going to go far.” Earl leaned forward and slapped him approvingly on the shoulder, then stared at the silver ring on Marek’s finger. “Lucky bastards…” he mumbled, lifting his hand up to look at his own bronze ring. “Although no one can say you didn’t earn it. Ha!”
The conversation ebbed and flowed for the next hour or so, with Earl variously laughing and shouting, while generally continuing to decry the Port Authority and many other things he wasn’t fond of, while Rulio listened and offered his own commentary every so often. Marek was largely quiet, and took advantage of the opportunity to absorb all the information Rulio and Earl were discussing.
When Earl eventually left and Marek and Rulio set off back to their room, they had both downed several more glasses of cider, and were struggling to keep one foot in front of the other.
By the time they got back to their lodgings a few minutes later, Marek was feeling a bit more alert, but his head was still fizzing.
The room they were staying in was just that – a room. There were two beds pushed against the walls opposite the door, and a small kitchen area on the other side with a tiny dining table.
Rulio walked over to his bed, stumbling slightly, and threw himself down on it. Marek sat on his bed and rubbed at his temples, and then Muno leaped up with a chirp and made himself comfortable amongst the jumbled blankets at the foot of the bed. Marek leaned over and gave the kitten a scratch behind the ears, and the sound of mellow purring began to fill the room.
Muno already looked a lot bigger than he had when they’d first found him. How long had it been? Marek struggled to count back the days. Today was the tenth, and they had found Muno on the third – so it had been exactly a week, although it didn’t seem possible that the past week had only been seven days. Either way, Marek didn’t exactly know how fast kittens grew. He decided to ask Rulio.
“Rulio?”
There was no answer, and now that Marek was focusing, he could hear slow, deep breathing coming from the other bed. He sighed, gave Muno another gentle scratch, and then lay down. He could hear the wind whistling in through the windows and out between the edges of the bedroom door, like so many transient ghosts.
He closed his eyes. It wasn’t too difficult to imagine being in his bed back at home. Still, he found it strange how quickly he had accepted his new reality. The faces of his family and friends were easy to recall, but they now seemed larger than life somehow. They were like caricatures, trapped in amber just as he had last seen them. Maybe this is what it felt like when people died. Not that all the people close to him were dead… although he couldn’t even say that for certain. He still didn’t know what had happened to put him here, or why. Or if there even was a why.
All the questions he was ruminating over were just as unanswerable as ever, and most likely pointless. He reminded himself that all he could do was make the most of the situation he was in. And he was glad to have chanced upon what seemed like a great group of people, who were willing to help him learn.
He sighed again, and worked to slow his breathing. He needed to sleep.
Certainly, he missed his family and friends, but he would be lying if he said he also missed the world he had come from. There was nothing else for him there.
Marek squinted against the laser-thin beam of light that was lancing through a gap in the drapes straight into his eyes. He groaned, still half asleep.
“Beautiful morning,” Rulio said from over in the kitchen area. Marek breathed in, and smelt eggs and bacon. He smiled. It seemed that true classics transcended time and space.
After pulling on his clothes and opening the blinds, he took a seat at the small table. Rulio slid a plate full of fluffy scrambled eggs and sizzling rashers of bacon down in front of him.
“I tried to do fried eggs,” Rulio said, “but I couldn’t get them right. Sorry.”
“No – this looks great,” Marek replied. His stomach growled.
“I think it beats heated rations, anyway.”
Marek smiled. “Yeah. Although Beck might not agree.”
They both chuckled, but their faces fell as they remembered. Marek piled a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
“Today, I thought we’d go and see how Keresi is doing first.” Rulio said, changing the subject. “And then we can do some shopping for you.”
Marek nodded and swallowed. “Sounds great.”
They continued to chat intermittently over breakfast, and then Rulio piled the dirty dishes next to the sink. “We’ll sort these out later,” he said dismissively. Apparently, he also wasn’t a fan of washing up.
Marek pocketed his funds from where had stored them under his bed, then bundled Muno into a blanket and placed him in an empty canvas backpack, leaving a small gap at the top so the kitten could poke his head out and peer around at his surroundings.
Their room was poorly insulated and had already warmed up significantly since he had woken up, but when Marek stepped out onto the street he was smacked by a proper surge of humidity.
As they walked to the hospital, the weather’s compounding impact became ever more disgusting and all-encompassing; he was on land, yet it seemed like he was trying to move underwater. The air was thick, a physical impediment. He felt long trails of sweat sliding from his neck down his back.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
They had brought their canteens, but after five minutes Marek’s was already nearly empty. He shook it in disbelief and groaned. “Jesus. This is not right.”
Rulio chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Remember: the more you drink, the more you sweat.”
Marek scrunched his face in confusion. “I – what?”
Rulio just laughed.
By the time they reached the hospital, Marek’s back was drenched entirely. He needed a breather, and collapsed onto a bench in the lobby.
“What’s with this heat all of a sudden?” he asked Rulio once he’d caught his breath.
Rulio smiled. “You’re looking at it the wrong way, Marek. Today isn’t hotter than usual, the previous week was colder than usual.”
Marek’s eyes widened. “Dear God.” He wiped a fresh sheen of sweat from his forehead. This humidity was madness.
“Welcome to the Pacific,” Rulio said with a wry smile.
They had visited Keresi the day after they got back, but he had been under the influence of so many drugs that it was clear he didn’t know what was happening. The nurse had been changing his bandages; his left arm was a patchwork of black bruises and angry red spheres of raw tissue where the dog’s teeth had punctured through.
He had been more lucid the following day – which was yesterday – and that was when Rulio told him what happened to Beck. Marek had expected the big man to explode, but he had just sat in silence while he listened. Maybe it was the drugs and his own situation, but Keresi had seemed almost on the verge of tears. “We have to get her back,” he had said quietly after a while.
“I know, K.” Rulio had replied. “I want that more than anyone. But right now, it’s just me and Marek. We need more crew to have any chance against Graves. That’s what I’m working on.”
“Good… yes, good idea. Graves needs to be dealt with carefully.”
Rulio had nodded, his face a restrained storm.
Today, Keresi was propped up in bed eating something out of a bowl. He smiled when he saw them walk in.
“Ready to leave?” Rulio asked him.
Keresi chuckled. “No, not just yet.”
“Have they been taking care of you?”
Keresi nodded. “The nurses here are really something else.”
Rulio smiled and cocked his head. “Oh? Found yourself someone to settle down with?”
Keresi flushed. “Ah – no, well, I wouldn’t go that far.”
“But there’s one in particular?” Rulio prodded.
“Yeah.” Keresi seemed more serious now. “There’s one.”
Rulio put a hand on Keresi’s shoulder. “I’m glad, K. I’m glad you… that you made it through.”
“Ah, it was nothing.” Keresi waved his hand.
Marek didn’t know how bad Keresi’s injury had really been, or how close he might have come to some worse fate – and he didn’t really want to. But something in Rulio’s manner towards him now hinted at it.
“Have they given you any idea when you’ll be fit to leave?” Rulio asked.
“Yeah, they told me about a month. Tentatively. Though, they don’t know how tough I am,” Keresi said with a wink, and flexed his uninjured arm. “I’ll be out before then, don’t you worry.”
“I look forward to it,” Rulio said warmly.
“Yeah, I’ll be fit for action soon enough,” Keresi reiterated with a confident smile. “But until then you’re going to need to pick up the slack, eh Marek?”
Marek nodded. “I know.” He pursed his lips with determination. “I can do it.”
After visiting Keresi they made their way to the docks, where various shops were also located. Rulio seemed keen for Marek to treat himself now that he had some funds of his own, and Marek was happy to oblige, although he had nothing particular in mind.
The first place they stopped at sold guns, but they all turned out to be Class-restricted, and Marek could just get his provided Silver loadout firearm from the Armoury for free before they set off. It seemed pointless to spend his money here.
The next shop sold clothes, and it was here that Marek found the first items that took his fancy. After taking his time perusing everything on offer, he settled on a better utility belt, which offered more storage and was constructed of supple stitched leather instead of fabric, and a set of robust oiled boots that the shop attendant assured him were waterproof. No doubt, he’d be putting that claim to the test soon enough. Lastly, he purchased a dark green synthetic resin-coated raincoat. Rulio told him the rainy season wouldn’t start until December, but Marek decided it was better to be safe than sorry. And at any rate, it should help to keep the damp out whenever they ventured into the fog again.
The last store they went into was a small place that offered a range of gadgets and accessories. Well, perhaps gadget was too strong a term – this was 1942, after all, and the ‘gadgets’ were still mechanically constructed. Even so, a lot of them were appealing. Marek left with a sturdy steel compass that had a flip-open closure, as well as a flashlight and a Zippo lighter with a black crackle finish.
On the way back to their room, they ended up going past the Expedition Office. Rulio stopped outside and stared wistfully at the door. “Graves must be coming back to get a new mission, if he hasn’t already,” he said, rubbing at his chin. “Either way, the mission register will probably tell us a lot about his activities. We really need to see what he’s up to, but… I’m not sure of the best way to go about it.”
“Could we just go in and ask?”
Rulio walked past the doorway and surreptitiously glanced inside. He shook his head as he walked back to Marek. “It’s a different clerk. If it was Ford, I might have risked it.”
“We’ll just wait for Ford, then?”
Rulio rubbed at his chin again. “We could.” He exhaled in a rapid sigh. “But I want to get a move on. It’s been three days already. At least this is something we can try and do while we wait for some new crew members to come along.” He sighed. “Although what we’ll do if no one responds to the job offer…”
“They will,” Marek said quickly, though they both knew he was just saying it to be supportive. “Anyway, let’s work out how to get to the mission register, then.”
They both fell silent as they tried to brainstorm.
“Maybe some kind of distraction?” Rulio said after a while.
Marek nodded slowly, trying to look as astute as possible. “Could work.” He couldn’t think of anything better.
Rulio’s face narrowed into a frown. “Do you smell smoke?” His nose was crinkling.
Marek breathed in. Sure enough, there was an undercurrent of smoke in the air. He nodded.
“That’ll be it,” Rulio said, and pointed behind Marek. Marek turned and saw tendrils of dark grey drifting out of the doorway to the building next door. From his backpack, Muno meowed loudly.
As they looked on, a man burst out of the building, and glanced around in panic before running into the Expedition Office.
“Hey!” they heard him shout from inside. “HEY! FIRE! We could use some help out here!” He sprinted back out with the bewildered-looking Expedition Office clerk in tow, and they disappeared into the burning building.
The timing couldn’t have been better.
Rulio glanced at Marek, then jerked his head towards the now-empty Expedition Office. Marek nodded, looked around as inconspicuously as he could to make sure the coast was clear, and then slipped inside.
He crossed the distance to the clerk’s desk in what felt like slow motion. His pulse was pounding. The mission register was still right in the middle of the desk, open to today’s date. Marek glanced down, feeling his heartbeat loudly in his skull now. There was nothing on the page to do with Graves. He flicked back a few pages, scanning as quickly as he could, until he found what he was looking for, then flicked back some more to confirm the date. Satisfied, he ducked back outside. He could still feel his heartbeat in his neck and head as the adrenaline began to dissipate.
“You got it?” Rulio asked. He was trying to look casual, but looked rather shifty instead.
“Yeah,” Marek replied. “Graves was here, yesterday. Turned in a mission – there were no details for that – and then took on a new mission. A supply run to…” he closed his eyes, recalling the details, “… the outpost on Vanua Lava, in the Banks Islands.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm his pulse.
Rulio smiled. “Vanua Lava… yes, I know the place. Good work. We’ll set off as soon as we can.”
Marek smiled, feeling quite pleased with himself.
Next door, the fire seemed to be almost under control. Smoke had stopped drifting out of the doorway, and there was now a small crowd of workers standing outside. It seemed that only the Expedition Office clerk and the man who had been shouting were still inside.
“We just need more crew?” Marek asked.
“Yes. Although I might have to work something else out if we can’t get any.”
They both turned to look as two figures emerged from the building next door. The clerk dusted himself off as he walked back into the Expedition Office. He looked unsettled; putting out a fire probably hadn’t factored into his plans for the day.
The other man walked straight towards them. His clothes and face were discoloured with soot. Marek and Rulio stared at him. He was smiling, as if he was in on some joke that they weren’t aware of.
“Did you find out?” the man said.
“What?” Rulio said.
“Did you find out?” the man repeated, as if that was any clearer.
“What?” Rulio said again. He was looking more and more annoyed.
“Where Graves is going.” The man held out his hand. Rulio stared at it indifferently until the man put it down again. The man shrugged. “Fair enough. Name’s Seren – saw your poster back at the dock. I heard about your adventures in the fog, but decided to follow you for a bit to be sure you were worth my time.” He smiled. “Then I overheard you talking about your little problem… thought I might help out.” His smile became a grin. “Consider it a job application.”
Rulio glanced in disbelief, then gestured his head towards the still-smouldering building. “You did that?”
Seren gave a slight, knowing shrug.
“You set a building on fire?” Rulio asked. His voice sounded slightly higher pitched than usual.
Seren waved away any concerns as to the potential severity of what he’d just done. “Ah, I had it all under control. Everyone’s fine.”
Rulio sized him up, looking uncertain. “You’re a bit crazy, huh?” Marek couldn’t tell if he was impressed or concerned.
“Hey, it might come in handy out there,” Seren countered. “Most everything’s getting a bit crazy now, seems to me.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“I think we should let him join us.” Marek suggested quickly. This guy looked like he knew his stuff.
“Well, your timing was very useful,” Rulio said, “But do you have any relevant experience?”
Seren nodded. “I was in the military for a time, and I also crewed on a privateer ship for a couple of weeks.”
“You were in the military?” Rulio asked.
Seren nodded again. “Got my sharpshooter badge at Camp Blanding last year, but it wasn’t for me, in the end.” His head twitched. “Too restrictive.”
Rulio’s face was abstruse. “Well, you’ll need to be able to follow my orders.”
Seren smiled mischievously. “I’ll see how I go.”
Rulio’s eyebrow shot up, and his mouth contracted with the faintest shadow of a smile. “Uh-huh. And what about the privateer ship you crewed for?”
“Well…” Seren grinned. “That was in the service of one Roland Graves.”
“Bullshit,” Rulio replied instantly.
Seren chuckled. “Black uniform, silver hair? Obsessed with his revolvers?”
The expression on Rulio’s face was obvious enough.
“Yeah… that’s what I thought,” Seren said, looking pleased with himself.
“Why did you leave?”
“We didn’t click. Call it a… difference in approach.”
Rulio mulled this over. “And how do I know you’re not a spy, then?”
Seren looked incredulous. “Well if that were the case, why wouldn’t I just not tell you that I knew him?”
“True. Unless…” Rulio began, his eyes narrowing, “Unless you told me in order to make me think that you weren’t a spy, because you knew that I would think that you wouldn’t tell me that if you were a spy, and you knew I would suspect you were a spy…”
Seren rolled his eyes. “We could go on with that line of thinking all day. Do you want my help or not?”
Marek knew they had little option but to accept Seren.
Rulio considered the matter for a few moments longer, probably so he wouldn’t seem too desperate. “Alright, you’re in,” he said. “Provisionally.”
They sealed the deal with a shake of hands.
“To answer your question, we did find out where Graves is going,” Rulio continued, “and we’ll be heading off soon, after we stop past the hospital and stock up on our Class loadout items. What Class are you?”
“Understood,” Seren replied. “And I’m still Bronze Class. I parted ways with Graves shortly before they began this new system.”
“That’s alright. We’ll get you ranked up in no time.”
“Sounds good. This is exciting!” Seren exclaimed. “Although you’re not the most observant people. I didn’t exactly try and mask the fact that I was eavesdropping on you. You should work on that.”
Seren wasn’t wrong – the events on Obelisk were testament enough to their general lack of environmental awareness.
“Noted,” Rulio replied flatly.
“I’ll meet you at the docks at sunset.” With that, Seren turned around with a wave of his arm, and Marek and Rulio set off towards the hospital.
----------------------
Rulio found himself lost in thought again as they walked. He felt cautiously optimistic. At least they had some intel on Graves now, as well as a new crew member. He could finally do something. He would have liked a couple more crew members, to weigh the raw numbers in his favour – but if Seren was indeed a marksman with military training, then he could easily be worth two or three regular privateers. Still, his apparent connection with Roland was troubling… but what choice did Rulio have? Every minute he spent waiting in Port Authority was a minute more that Beck was at risk.
Rulio sighed. He’d just have to keep an eye on Seren. Time was running away from them, and he had to act.
Keresi was sleeping deeply when they returned to the hospital, and Rulio didn’t want to disturb him. He spoke to the attending nurse, and told her to pass on a message to Keresi whenever he woke up – We’re going to get Beck.
The nurse nodded her understanding, bouncing the loose curls of her cherry-red hair. Rulio thanked her, and then they left. Marek hoped that Keresi would be fully recovered by the time they returned.
From the hospital they made their way to the Armoury to capitalise on their new rank and stock up on ammo.
As it turned out, the Silver Class loadout was largely identical to Bronze Class. For the personal loadout, the only difference was an upgrade from the .32 ACP Colt M1903 to the more powerful .45 ACP Colt M1911A1, along with an accompanying change in ammunition – six magazines offering a total of forty-two pistol rounds, a slight increase from the forty rounds on offer previously. The ship’s loadout was also exactly the same, except for the addition of a Thompson submachine gun and eight magazines, containing a total of two hundred and forty .45 ACP rounds. Rulio still had his own Thompson; he’d give Marek the new one. If everything went pear-shaped, the boy would likely find it easier to do some damage with the rapid-firing Thompson, rather than one of the Garands which called for a more accurate eye. While Marek’s marksmanship had improved noticeably over the past couple of days, he was still a far cry from where he needed to be.
After they had collected everything, Rulio passed the new Thompson over to Marek.
“Take good care of it,” he said with a smile, “and try not to shoot me.”
Marek took it carefully with a look of reverence, slung it over his shoulder, and was visibly chuffed during the entire walk back to their room.
After packing their things and checking out of the room, they made their way back to the docks where the Steel Turkey was berthed.
“You’ve improved a lot since we’ve been here,” Rulio said to Marek as they entered the docks. “But we’ll need to play it carefully when we catch up with Roland.” He squinted up at the setting sun. “I’ll get Seren to do anything violent, if it goes that way – you’re strictly backup.”
Marek nodded as they rounded a corner and set off up along the timber dock towards the Steel Turkey, which they could now just see in the distance.
“The plan I’m currently leaning towards is to use-” Rulio immediately lost his train of thought as he saw the young woman standing on the dock next to their ship.
She was wearing a smart dark green military uniform, though instead of pants she wore a long, pressed skirt. Her hair was dark brown, nearly black, and had been pulled into a tight, high ponytail. Even then, her hair fell almost to her waist, and hovered against the small of her back. Rulio heard Marek draw in a sharp breath.
The girl looked at them expectantly with visible pride on her youthful face as they approached.
“Can I help you?” Rulio asked.
The girl’s face fell, ever so slightly. “I’m – I’m Elayna. Elayna Larkwood.” She turned her nose up, regaining her composure. “I believe you were notified that I would be accompanying you, going forward.”
“Oh. Yes.” Rulio was taken aback. He hadn’t even considered a connection between the Port Authority’s observer and the girl now standing before him. She wasn’t old. A moment later, he realised with some embarrassment that McEnroe had actually only ever told him her name, and then his own assumptions had filled in the rest.
As it turned out, the real Elayna looked a sight better than the dull old lady he’d conjured up in his head.
“Well? Where are we going?” Elayna asked impatiently, and crossed her arms.
Rulio sighed. He could already tell she was going to be trouble.