Things got quiet after that. Threadbare returned to the tent without argument, while the returned crew rested, told their Captain of the things they'd seen and dealt with in the dungeon, and ate. Only for a bit, then it was back in, this time to try and farm copies of the parts they'd seeded.

By the sound of it, it was some sort of forbidden sealed site dedicated to old ones. Which meant tentacles, attacks that drained sanity, and Things Man Was Not Meant to Know. Which was fine with Anne, since all of her crew down here were female she figured it'd be less of a risk.

And when Anne was down at the dungeon entrance organizing the first squad, Renny crept out from under one of the rugs.

“You got really close to the edge of my range a little while ago,” he whispered. “Did everything go okay?”

“Anne noticed something off about me,” Threadbare responded, taking care to face the back of the tent in the hopes of muffling his voice.

“Ooooh... I was afraid of that,” Renny hugged his tail. “Which sense?”

“She said the light was hitting me funny. So, sight, I'd suppose.”

“That's a problem, especially in mountains where the peaks break up how the sun hits you,” Renny pondered the problem. “When I can't see how the light interacts with the illusion, I have to take a guess on how it affects things. It's all a trick of perspective, you see.”

“I don't, but that's okay,” Threadbare said. “But we need to find a way to keep you near me, to keep it from happening again. What's your effective range?”

“About a hundred meters.”

Threadbare blinked. He took a look back at the walk they'd taken.

“I followed you to the edge of camp, then hid among the boulders,” Renny said. “But you were pretty far out there, and they were watching the direction you'd gone, so I couldn't get too close. I think you were out of my range for a little while. That's why things started degrading.”

“It wasn't very degrading overall. Just dangerous,” Threadbare rubbed his head. “You can't turn yourself invisible?”

“I can, but I'm splitting my concentration between making myself unseen and unheard, and making you look like Cecelia. And these are very perceptive pirates.”

“Then we need to make sure you stay close,” Threadbare decided. “Maybe... hm. Perhaps I can carry you on my head?”

He'd done that before, with Dracosnack. Though technically the dragon doll had been sewn to his head. It had been more like a hat that could occasionally bite people than a necessary illusionist, though.

Renny gave it some thought. “I don't think so. Both of us together are larger than Cecelia. I could adjust for that, but it's easier to make something small look bigger than it is to make something big look smaller. And if anyone tries to touch the illusion and their fingers hit me first, then they'll figure out something's wrong very quickly. Tactile effects are easy to spot when the visuals don't cover them adequately.”

Threadbare thought for a bit, and was on the verge of offering up some more ideas when shouts came from outside, and Anne bellowed back “What? Well that's a fine bounty! It be our lucky day!”

Renny dove under the rug a few seconds before the tent flap burst open, and the first pirates swaggered in.

They offered nods and small bows and tilting their hats before dumping engine parts on the floor of the tent. Threadbare carefully sorted them, pulled out the parchment he'd used to count the initial parts, then marked the updated results as the pirates headed out once more.

Once they did, Anne made her way inside. “How's that for results? This dungeon be hungry for souls... it's rollin' out the welcome mat, as far as treasure goes.”

“It's not bad,” Threadbare said.”You thought it would take a few hours, and we're getting parts now. But we're going to need a lot more before we have enough to proceed.”

“Well, that's not the only reason this be our lucky day.” Anne held up a pouch that glowed a faint golden hue.

“Yellow reagents?” Threadbare guessed.

“Aye. The dungeon be so happy to see us that it's crying tears o' gold. And crystal, besides!” She jiggled the pouch, and stones clacked together. “D'ye think this be enough for a few golem crew?”

And in that instant, Threadbare had a glorious idea.

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It would be risky, yes, but it had the potential to make this journey a lot easier.

“Let me see,” he said, taking the pouch from her and sorting through it. There wasn't quite enough to make even a toy golem, not really, but that was fine. “Oh, definitely,” he lied. “But I'd like to ask a favor.”

“Oh? I just handed ye a good wallop of booty, and ye ask for a favor?”

“Well it's going to be used up when I do this, so it's not really mine.”

“Point.”

“I'm used to having a helper around. I can use this to make a toy golem, but I'd like to keep it as my servant and guard. It would make me feel much more comfortable. And I'd be happy to make more golems for you once we get more components.”

“Ye drive a hard bargain...” Anne stood, paced, and picked her teeth. “Ah, what the hell. I can always steal more later. We'll see what the dungeon brings us, then!”

“Thank you,” Threadbare said. “Also could I borrow a sewing kit and some red cloth from someone?”

Anne went and collared the crew before they could head back into the dungeon, and a quick whip-round turned up the appropriate tools and materials. She watched him sew for a bit, stitching paws, a rotund body, and a tail, before getting bored and wandering back outside to do “Captain stuff.”

And the minute she was gone, Threadbare popped a claw, ripped open his body, and stuffed the components and most of the cloth inside. It made him feel a bit lumpy, but it would do until he got back to the ship. A quick mend put him right, and a few quick words to Renny got the little fox on board with the plan.

“Animate Toy Golem!” Threadbare intoned, and then whispered, “Glowgleam.”

Light pooled around his paws, and Renny stepped into the middle of the tent, holding himself perfectly still.

Behind him, the tent flaps rustled and Anne peered through. “A fox?” she made a face. “If that's a joke, it ain't a funny one, Lady. If it ain't a joke, yer taste be questionable.”

“Are the old stories about warring beastkin tribes true, then?” Threadbare asked.

“Nay, it's just every fox I've ever met has been an arsehole,” Anne sniffed. “Dated one, once. He thought he was clever. Spoilers; he weren't.” She lifted her shirt, to show a red and white fur lining on the edge of her belt. “But it's more than his memories that keep me warm at night...”

“Be that as it may, this is a golem that looks like a fox,” Threadbare said. “He'll behave. Please don't skin him.”

“Hm? Nah...” Anne bent and ruffled Renny's fur. The little fox wobbled underneath her strong hand. Then Anne frowned. “Furry? Odd. I thought we just gave ye red cloth.”

“The process changes the materials sometimes,” Threadbare said. “Form affects function.”

It wasn't entirely untrue, but Anne rolled her eyes. It was clear she didn't believe him at all.

“So long as I don't find meself missing any furry belts or other mementos, I don't care whose bunk ye stole a fur blanket from. Just mind yerself in the future. If I hear trouble, well...” Her hand squished Renny's plush head, denting it severely before she let it go and it popped back into shape. “Might be I'll let any offended parties have a go at ruining yer toys.”

“I understand,” Threadbare said. And he did. She was demonstrating that she had something to take away from him now, if he misbehaved. “I'll be good.”

“Let's hope so,” Anne said, and headed out once more.

The passing hours blurred together. The pirates came and went, getting a little more bloodied and torn up each time. But they dropped off loads of parts and the occasional enchanting reagent or crystal with each trip, and soon they were up to an engine and a half. Threadbare kept a quiet count of how long it took them between trips, and used the time to update Garon. He passed on the landmark he'd spotted, the ruse he'd pulled, and a few other details he thought might help.

And then Garon had a wonderful idea.

GARON HAS ISSUED A NEW DECREE!

“Bide. Glub says you're still partied with him. Want a volunteer crewman?”

Threadbare's eyes went wide.

Indeed, that was one of the things that he'd been holding in reserve, if things got REALLY bad. He was still in a party with Missus Fluffbear, and most of the group from his last adventure.

Including one non-sentient golem that he'd deemed to valuable to leave without a party...

But that one was a stopguard against utter disaster, a card not to be flipped until he had nothing left. Whereas Glub, now, Glub was an Explorer. And probably very, very handy at finding his way around the wilderness, identifying landmarks, and helping lost teddy bears explain their surroundings to concerned rescuers.

“Simple Decree. Please tell Glub I'm ready when he is then let me know.”

Within minutes the reply came back, and Threadbare smiled. He went to the tent flaps to let Anne know that he'd “gotten enough components,” for a proper golem, and prepared to teleport his party member to him with Call Golem—

—and a loud explosion shattered the mountain sky.

Threadbare looked to Renny, and the two of them ran outside as what looked like a flashing tear in the sky snapped shut, sending motes of light dancing down among the peaks.

“What sorcery be this!” Anne bellowed, snapping out of her camp chair, and stalking toward the dungeon entrance.

She was almost bowled over, as the last dungeon crew pelted out, bloody, battered, and... smoking? Yes, all of them were singed quite badly.

But Threadbare had been learning faces and names, and all of them were still alive, all still accounted. Whatever they'd run into hadn't been lethal... yet.

And then another figure emerged from the entrance.

She was a dark-haired elf woman, clad in a resplendent gown of green traced with gold runes. A high collar rose from the back of it, and she wore a golden crown studded with sapphires and diamonds. A crackling silver staff blazing with golden energy flickered between her white-knuckled hands, and her hair floated wild and uncombed in the static that rose from her. Her eyes were wide, darting around the camp, taking it all in...

…and settling on Threadbare.

There was a look of recognition in those eyes, recognition and relief, and the energy racing along the woman's staff slowed, and grounded itself in the dark water to either side. Steam hissed up from the black pools, and she slammed the end of the staff to the ground.

“What manner of witchery is this?” Anne whispered, and though her voice was low, the elf's ears twitched toward her, and the mage regarded the bunnykin solemnly.

“Who be ye!” Anne barked, finding her proper swagger again, and cocking the hammer back on a pistol as she slowly aimed it up...

“My name is Midian,” said the elf, before her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground.