Radast turned to look at Bernt, and only then did he realize that he was supposed to do the talking. Somehow, he’d expected that he was just supposed to be there to symbolically lend his support. He cleared his throat. It felt strange to talk to her like this, with everybody watching them

“Have you managed to find Ed already? They said he should be somewhere nearby, as long as you’re still anywhere near where the rest of your pack was. One of them grabbed him, right?”

Jori scowled. “Yeah, I saw it. It was Gegrenoth. I killed him days ago! I couldn’t believe that he was back already. The duergar warlocks must have summoned him back almost immediately.”

Bernt gave her a grim smile. “The Solicitors just tried to summon him. They say he’s dead. Properly, I mean.”

Jori cocked her head to the side in surprise and looked over at Josie, who nodded in confirmation. Then she nodded firmly. “Good! I didn't like him!”

“Do you know where the rest of your pack are? Can you find Ed?”

“I’ve been looking. None of the demons I asked knew about a mortal in the hells. But I will find them, I know where to go! Varamemnon rules a city called Varadon. Or he is the city. They weren't very clear. Nuros is one of his servants, so he must come from there. The weaker members of the pack will be outside somwehere, searching together to gather souls for their master. Stronger imps like Gegrenoth work alone.”

“How long will that take, do you think?” Iriala asked. “Can you find him in a week?”

“Varamemnon is mighty and his territory is vast,” Jori said. “But rumors spread fast, I think, and mortals don’t normally come to us whole.” She looked from Iriala to Bernt, and then and looked pointedly down at the circle at her feet. “It will take longer if you keep me here long.”

Radast cleared his throat, apparently annoyed that he was being ignored.

“Rest assured that we will return you in short order. The purpose of this summons is to provide you with supplies for our errant archmage. He’s going to get hungry soon, assuming he didn’t bring any rations of his own, which we can’t assume. Will you agree to bring him what he needs?”

Iriala stepped forward and held out a satchel, which the imp accepted wordlessly. Jori’s nose wrinkled as she sniffed at it, then opened the top to look inside. Unsatisfied, she reached in and drew out a package of food. “Are there spicy wraps? I will bring the Great One this food, but I want spicy wraps!”

The archmage looked confused, but Radast only nodded. “We will add some spicy wraps for you. I’d also like to check in with you in three days’ time, and again every three days after that until we can extract Archmage Thurdred. To that end, you’ll be required to seize him during transport to draw him back into this plane – essentially the same process by which he was taken.”

Jori blinked. “You can bring him back?”

“We simply need you to seize hold of him at the appointed time.” Radast clarified.

Bernt could practically feel the wheels turn in Jori’s mind as she processed this information. Then, she turned a calculating gaze on the Solicitor in front of her.

“I will not – I need his help. You can summon Ed back when we are done.”

Rock solid confidence radiated from Jori through the bond, accompanied by a measure of relief. If he was interpreting it correctly, she’d worried that they would bring Ed back too soon.

Bernt wished he could talk to Jori in private for a few minutes. He could guess why she wanted Ed’s help. She was planning some way to break her packmates free of Nuros’ control – probably by killing the fiend that had bound them. He wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after that, but he guessed she would try to get them summoned into the material plane. Considering her aversion to the Solicitors’ pact requirements, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon, nor anywhere that the Solicitors had any real influence.

But why was she suddenly in such a hurry to get this done? She hadn’t expressed any real urgency before.

He tried to convey his questions to her through their bond, but either he didn’t do it right or Jori couldn’t parse the clunky method of communication. She threw him a confused and slightly annoyed glance before turning back to Radast, who was watching her with narrowed eyes.

“What do you require?” he asked after a moment.

Jori scowled. “I’m not trying to haggle with you. I will help Great One Ed and give him the food. You can have him back when we’re done! Then you can help me, too!”

“What manner of help?” Radast asked in exactly the same tone as before.

“I want to stay here!” Jori demanded. “You will agree to let me remain in Halfbridge. Ed will vouch for me, and so will you and the Great Mage.”

“You know perfectly well that we aren’t able to offer that. As I already explained to you, your prior arrangement already relied on an untested legal argument. There simply is no legal basis I can use to justify your presence here so long as you refuse to be appropriately pacted.”

Jori’s eyes narrowed, and Bernt felt anger flare in her chest at the warlock’s use of the word “appropriately.” She opened her mouth to retort, but only a small hiss escaped before Josie interrupted her.

“We could sue for an exception!”

Radast turned to look at her, startled at the suggestion. Then he pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. After a few seconds, he frowned at her in bemusement.

“Based on what? The law is clear – she’s grown too powerful. Class 3 demons are classified as imminent threats to Beseri civilians and infrastructure by default. We’re required to deport them without delay.”

“It doesn’t need to be strictly a legal argument.” Josie countered. “We could argue that she’s due consideration for extraordinary services rendered to the kingdom against the Duergar. Or I could file for a legal review to test whether her deportation was legal in the first place – there was some legal ambiguity there. It could force the Royal Magistrate in Teres to reconcile the law, and it might come out in Jori’s favor.”

“What ambiguity?” Radast said, sounding curious and annoyed at the same time.

“Jori is a registered government employee.” Josie explained. “She draws a salary. We’re not a government organization, so by deporting her, we’re preventing her from performing her duties to the count, and by extension the crown. That’s a crime, just as not deporting her would have been. If the Underkeepers sue, or if we file a request, they can’t ignore it. In fact, it’s more likely to succeed if the Underkeepers sue either us or the government directly.”

“Hmm,” Radast hummed in consideration. “It’s technically a conflict, but I doubt there’s much chance of it coming out in Dzhorianath’s favor. She had a contract signed by Archmage Thurdred that explicitly required her not to advance to class 3 on pain of deportation, after all.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Josie waved away his objections. “True enough, but that wasn’t her employment contract. I helped her negotiate it. If I go in person, I can make sure they don’t ignore the details. It’s all there if–”

“I want it!” Jori interrupted excitedly. “Josie will go to tell the king that his law violates the obligations of his servants. She must do her best to get a favorable result. In exchange, I will return the Great Mage Ed. I will bring him with me when our task is complete.”

Josie started to nod, but Iriala put a hand on her shoulder, shaking her head.

“Not good enough. You’ll pass messages – unaltered messages – between us and Ed. And, at the very latest, you’ll agree to return Ed by the time that Josie returns from Teres, regardless of the judgment she brings with her.”

Jori grinned. “Done!”

Then, without waiting for a response or any further warning, she disappeared in a burst of violet flame. Bernt flinched. She hadn't bled on the rune circle to activate it this time. How did it work?

Radast fixed Iriala with a level stare. “You should have argued for a shorter time frame, archmage. Unless Josie is rejected outright, she could be arguing this case for as long as it takes them to rewrite the relevant laws – potentially both employment law, and the relevant restrictions on demons. It could literally take years.”

Iriala grimaced and sighed. “Well, at least the imp probably doesn’t know that.”

Bernt looked over to Josie, who returned his gaze with a challenging look. He smiled at her, trying to convey the gratitude he felt without saying anything in front of Radast. Bernt knew that Radast regarded him with suspicion, and it would be problematic to imply that Josie had been doing anything but helping the Chief Solicitor reach a deal.

He’d misjudged her badly and he was only now realizing it. Bernt still didn’t understand how the Solicitors could justify the wild rumors that they were spreading about Jori, or how Josie could defend them. But at the same time, it was clear that Josie, at least, was trying to find a way to help. In fact, he suspected that she might have been planning her legal contingency for some time. Had she already been thinking about this moment when she’d helped Jori negotiate for pay?

And could it actually work?

***

The tunnel down to the Undercity had been repaired so quickly that it almost seemed as though nothing had happened. The walls where the Duergar had broken in were smoother now than they’d been before, and too clean, somehow. There was also more traffic, mostly human evacuees from the Lower District still making their way down to register for a place to stay.

The lines in front of headquarters stretched halfway around the cavern, and Bernt didn’t expect them to get any shorter in the foreseeable future. He was making for the tunnel into the Goblin quarter, toward his house, when someone seized his shoulder.

Bernt flinched and whirled, manaburn already pooling in his right hand. The man who’d grabbed him stared with eyebrows raised, but he didn’t look scared. He was short and thin, wearing an old and ragged robe that had been white at some point.

“Whoa there!” he said in a friendly tone. “Just saw your uniform there, don’t mind me. I was wondering if you could direct me to a young man named Torvald from your organization?”

It took Bernt a second to compose himself, but he extinguished the fire and straightened.

“Sorry. Who are you? We don’t give out information regarding our colleagues to the public.”

"Oh, right!” he grinned easily. “My name is Finian. I’m an errant priest of Ruzinia and I’ve been Sent.” He emphasized the last word in a way that suggested to Bernt he hadn’t been sent by another priest, or his temple. This was not the sort of business he wanted to get in the way of.

“Right. Okay.” Bernt nodded. “Come with me. We'll go find him.” No matter who he was, Bernt couldn't just let him run around the building unsupervised.

Finding Torvald was easy – the paladin had flatly refused to take a day off despite his concussion and Fiora wasn’t in a position to turn down a willing hand. Still, she’d put him on desk duty. As the son of the City Guard Commander, Torvald was both educated and familiar with city-level politics. That made him one of the few people in their organization qualified to properly sort and prioritize the mail and various work requests that continued to pour in – war or no war.

Torvald, unlike Bernt, immediately knew who the priest was when they entered Ed’s office. He rose from the archmage’s chair with a broad smile and held out his hand.

“You’re here so soon – I had no idea you’d be so quick! A real Ruzinian priest! You’re the first one I’ve ever met.”

“I was in the area.” Finnian replied with a shrug. “These things have a way of working out. It comes with the job.”

“Great!” Torvald said. “Uh… what happens now? I mean, the goddess told me to expect you, but what’s next?”

Finnian reached into his robes and drew out a small bottle. “I anoint you as a paladin, and you go and follow your Calling. It’s not complicated. Just kneel down.”

Torvald knelt, looking up at the shorter man. “Can I choose? A man I know was pulled into the hells by a demon. He can't get out. Can we help him?”

“We go to those who are most desperate – wherever the goddess leads.” Finian said, shrugging. “Your friend’s situation will not go unnoticed. She has many hands and She sees far. It is not for us to guide her.”

Carefully, he tipped the bottle and poured a golden-colored oil on his head. Bernt nearly stopped him – he was making a mess – but stopped himself. You didn’t interrupt holy rituals if you valued your life. Ruzinia wasn’t known for being a vengeful goddess, but nobody in their right mind would prod at a deity to see what happened. When the bottle was empty, a soft golden light rose from Torvald. Bernt suddenly had trouble breathing, as if the air was too thick.

“Torvald, son of Righmond. You have brought hope to the hopeless in the name of the goddess. Will you go where She leads you and shelter those She holds in Her hand?” The priest said, his voice reverberating oddly, as if it were coming from the very stones all around. His voice wasn't loud, but Bernt guessed that it carried far.

“I will.” Torvald said simply.

And just like that, the light winked out and Bernt could breathe again. The paladin’s head jerked up and he looked around, surprised. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

Finian tucked the bottle away and smiled. “No, that’s it. Ruzinia’s not very wordy. Too much work to do. Congratulations, you’re officially a Ruzinian pilgrim. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime. Now, if you don’t mind, I have another appointment a few days north of here.” With that, the priest turned to go.

“Wait!” Torvald called out. “What do I do? There’s no temple here, and Ruzinians don’t join the military…”

The priest didn’t slow, he just called over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll know!”

Torvald looked from the retreating priest to Bernt, who shrugged at him. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure those evacuees out there are feeling pretty desperate to get their paperwork filed. Maybe you’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

Leaving the paladin to it, he made his way back out of the building to help Nirlig combat the ever-growing lines of people looking to move into the Undercity.

***

Bernt turned on his back to find a more comfortable position and drew his blanket around himself more tightly. He stared up toward the smooth ceiling of his home where a flickering perpetual torch spell flickered in the air. It was nice having semi-permanent lighting like this, but he couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy it.

On the one hand, he felt relieved after the days’ events. Worrying about Jori had felt like being swept down a river with no control over what was next. The meeting had been like finally finding solid footing. Jori had a way back, and so did Ed. This morning, he’d been floundering, trying to find anything remotely resembling an opportunity to hang his hopes on. Now they had one, but it was sinking in that it might still be a long time before everything could go back to normal.

Since finishing his education at the academy, Bernt had largely thought of himself as someone who did things alone. Someone who lived alone, often worked alone, studied alone and usually ate alone. But that hadn’t been true. Jori had been with him for the majority of that time, even if she hadn’t been quite sapient yet – especially in the first year.

Now he was alone, and he hated it.

He couldn’t sleep, for one. That was a problem, because he had another long day ahead of him tomorrow. He could just tell that something wasn’t right. A fire should be burning in the stove, and Jori should be curled up against it. It wasn’t supposed to be this godsdamned quiet.

Flinging the blanket off, Bernt rose and crossed the room, loading scraps of wood into the stove. It was wasteful, but he didn’t care. Not today. With a quick cantrip, he lit the fire and went back to bed.

The fire crackled slightly, and the smell of wood smoke tickled his nostrils.

It wasn’t the same, but it was better.