Several hours later, Moriah and Shaskie entered the camps’ main cavern, Moriah pushing a cart topped with several bulging bags laid over a brimming load of ore and crystal. As usual, activity ceased as Ker pushed the cart across the main cavern and entered the depot.

A guard spotted the two scramblers immediately and strode over to them. “Ker, use the special counter. In fact, for future reference, no matter what you bring, you are to go there, even if it’s nothing but dirt.” He pointed at an empty counter off to one side. Moriah did not look at him, merely turning and walking over to it, Shaskie following behind, her tail lashing back and forth under the pressure of the guard’s attention. Guards were bad and should be avoided at all costs. She did not like having them spotlighting her friend like this.

A different head clerk from before stepped to the other side of the counter. He glanced at the guard but jerked his eyes forward again. His hands trembled, sweat dribbled down the side of his face and he was breathing harder than a moment ago. Moriah plopped the three bags onto the counter, her expression as dead eyed vacant as always.

The clerk took a steadying breath and calmed down. Dumping the bag’s content onto the processing counter, the man froze for a moment in surprise even though he was somewhat prepared for something unusual. His eyes narrowed. He could already tell the ore was of the highest quality, excess rock cut away to leave behind only that of worth. Swallowing and wiping the sweat from his brow, he forced the presence of the guard from his mind. He dared not make a mistake. The head clerk did pause once as he processed the submission to look at Ker, swallowing. It crossed his mind that the weird anomaly of a human-looking girl might actually have earthen fae blood in ascendence. That or some equally unlikely phenomenon. How else could she consistently bring such high value ore?

After tabulating the deposit, he stepped back and addressed the guard, his eyes lowered. He truly disliked dealing with the guards, as much as any of the miners did, but the mere presence of Ker brought their attention no matter what and not to acknowledge them would be the riskier path.

“Sir,” he indicated the terminal screen.

The guard moved casually so he could see, but then he took a step toward the screen and adjusted it so he could see better. “Sweet mother,” he muttered, glancing at the two small miners, but then focusing on Ker. “Wait here for a moment,” he commanded and then he took a step back. Several long moments of silence passed before the guard stepped forward again and addressed Ker. “Ker, you are hereby exempt from daily and weekly quota, just keep bringing stuff like this when you do make deposit.”

Moriah stared ahead at nothing, not giving any indication she heard the guard at all. Shaskie said, “Understood sir. What about me?”

“You just keep Ker safe. Keeping her alive and making drops is your quota.”

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“Understood sir,” Shaskie said, a bit of trepidation in her heart. Ker fought deadly wars with crystal ferrets and such like. She really did not want to be responsible for the crazy girl’s well-being.

The clerk put Ker’s deposit into a box and the guard took it away personally. Once he had left the cavern, Ker turned and left with Shaskie walking beside her. Ker’s eyes never glanced to the side or even twitched. Crossing the main room, her relief knew no bounds once they made Klorachamol’s cave.

As soon as she entered, Jenna pounce on her, picking her up and hugging her and kissing her. “How did it go? They didn’t give you any trouble, did they?” Shaskie explained what happened in the depot and what the guard said since Moriah still maintained the dead eye persona.

“I’ll be damned,” Jenna shook her head. “I didn’t think that kind of thing ever happened.” She grew serious, “But be careful. The guards do not always play with a full deck. If you’re too much in their thoughts, they may do something bad.” She shrugged. “But what can we do?”

When Jenna first hugged her, Moriah once more sensed the fae woman’s hag, even through her dead-eyed state. Or perhaps it would be better to say, she saw Jenna’s resident hag in a completely different way being without the normal distractions and reactions she normally possessed. The difference was subtle, but ever so significant . Jenna’s hag did not try to hide. Instead, its tentacles openly pervaded the woman to such a degree it threatened Moriah’s equilibrium. She would have pulled away, but she really did not care, like at all.

Yep, that hypnotism really was quite effective.

Two days passed, Moriah and the others staying clear of the camp within the distant caves set up as Moriah’s semi-permanent residence. Jenna continued to brood over Klorachamol’s absence, and Moriah thoroughly picked up the loneliness from the woman. Thus, when the man in question returned that day without warning, Moriah threw her arms around him in a spontaneous welcome-hug.

Moriah almost died for real as the agitated assassin reacted, the blow to her body knocking her back against the far wall hard. “Urk,” the girl-child grunted, coughing up a bit of blood. She slumped to her knees and held her stomach. She looked up at the assassin with a confused expression.

Klorachamol shook his head and sighed, “Girl, don’t ever attack me like that, or you’ll die early.” His eyes found what they were seeking and he strode over to Jenna, who stood from her rock to greet him with a hug and passionate kiss.

Breaking her lips free from his for a moment, Jenna ordered everyone out of the cavern. Jenjen immediately marched across the cavern, Shaskie dangling by the scruff of the neck and complaining loudly. Jenjen grabbed Moriah by the wrist and hauled her behind him as he passed her.

“But why do we have to leave,” Moriah demanded as she stumbled along behind the implacable dwarf.

“To them be privacy granted,” Jenjen answered.

“They haven’t needed it before,” Shaskie countered, dangling loosely as she apparently had given up all struggle. “You know this is really undignified, don’t you, you vig vully.” Only her mother had ever carried her about by the scruff of the neck, with the occasional exception of Jenna, who sort of counted as a mother anyway.

“The rules of the Jenna and the Death Master need no logic,” Jenjen said. “But upon the Jenna commands, leave we must.”

When they returned to the cave several hours later, all seemed normal again, both Jenna and Klorachamol in more stable moods. Not stable, per say, but normal stable for them. When Moriah gave the assassin a careful and well announced hug, she found even Klorachamol’s hag had returned to its normal strength.