Ranvir awoke to someone throwing him on the ground. Gasping in short hard breaths, Ranvir’s limbs spasmed from impact. Every breath drove a spike of sharp pain into his chest, causing his head to swim.

Though he couldn’t understand the words, Ranvir could recognize the cursing tone as hands grabbed him on either side. Then he realized they were torturing him. With a coordinated grunt, Ranvir was heaved into the air. His arms lifting, shifting, and pulling on his ribs.

He screamed in pain.

Or that’s what he intended. All the came out was a weak wheeze as his head rolled on his shoulders. He was pulled along rapidly, both of his tormentors speaking rapid nonsense as Ranvir struggled to breathe.

He wasn’t sure for how long this went on, before suddenly one of them cried louder and he almost slipped from their grasp. Ranvir jerked in his other captors grip, a black deafening blanket of pain settling over his mind for several moments, before someone helped him again.

A new person, someone bigger, grabbed him up in a princess carry. Ranvir didn’t register much more, his head still swimming from the concoctions of pain and asphyxiation.

More murmured words, more cries, then the suddenly the light changed. Things slammed open and closed; he was indoors. Consciousness faded again as his new carrier set him down on something solid.

He didn’t know how long it took for him to regain his awareness enough to examine where he was, but it felt like hours. Moaning, he tried to sit up only to feel hands around his forehead holding him down.

“Don’t get up,” An older woman’s voice said, her accent odd. “You’re still very much injured. We’ve done what we can, but we need a doctor to take a closer look at you,” blinking his eyes open, Ranvir let the old fingers lever him back onto the table he was lying on, “That’s better. Just your luck that he’s in Crotenus right now.”

“What?” Ranvir managed to get out, before the older woman offered him water. “Crotenus?” the word felt odd on his tongue, it didn’t come out right compared to when the woman had said it.

“It’s a city a few days travel north of here,” she said walking into his view. She had gray hair, tied into a long braid that went all the way down to her hips. She wore a loose dress hid her form; her kind but clever eyes observed him intently. She only wore a single adornment in the form of an earring, which glowed a soft gray light. “I’m sure your wife will want to know as much as you do,” the woman said disappearing.

Ranvir couldn’t immediately muster the energy to turn his head and follow her movements, his mind stuck on other subjects. Wife? My wife? He shook his head slowly, “I don’t have a wife.”

“Well, she’s carrying your child, isn’t she?”

Ranvir blinked his mind refusing to work properly, “Well, yes but—“

“Scandalous, is because of her age? Is she too old?”

Ranvir’s mind tried to follow her but it was too clogged with the things he’d seen in the last day. Behind him a door opened, footsteps soon shuffled in. Words, both in a familiar accent and the stranger new one, filtered to Ranvir’s ears.

“How’s he doing?”

“What happened to him?”

“Calm, calm,” the older woman said. Soon she appeared again, behind her followed Pashar and the stranger they’d met on the road. Ranvir weakly reached for Frija, before he realized Pashar’s arms were empty.

“Where?”

“She’s sleeping in another room,” Pashar said looking at him intently. “Was it the ribs?”

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The older woman nodded, “It appears he has a minor puncture on his lung. I’m not a specialist, though I have some minor training. He should survive until the doctor returns tomorrow.”

Pashar nodded, seeming to deflate slightly.

“I understand you,” Ranvir realized with a blink. He was breathing easier now and the pain was fading quickly. He didn’t know what the older woman had done to him but he was already feeling a lot better.

“Oh yes,” the woman gestured as if embarrassed, “I’m so sorry, we have done a poor job of introducing ourselves. I am Ione Frástis,” she grabbed the younger woman’s arm, “and this is my unmarried grand daughter Amalia Frourós.”

Said granddaughter tore herself free from Ione’s grip smiling tartly at Pashar, “Nice to meet you,” she turned to her grandmother, “I got to go.”

“Don’t be rude,” Ione said reaching for Amalia again, but the girl had already slipped away. The door slammed behind them making Ranvir wince at the sound, surprisingly he didn’t hear Frija begin crying. “What a shame,” Ione murmured before laying a meaningful hand Ranvir on the arm, “she’s a little lacking in social skills but she’s a good girl.”

Ranvir smiled politely at her, “How is it that I can understand you?”

Ione gave him a grandmotherly smile, “I see she’s not the only one with a slight lack of social skills,” Ranvir blushed but didn’t avert his gaze. Now that his mind was finally clearing of pain, other issues were pressing in on him incessantly. No politeness was going to keep them at bay. “Oh, I worked for many years as a translator, even had quite a few years at the court.”

Ranvir exchanged a glance with Pashar, who seemed somewhat more understanding. “They have powers here too,” she said eventually, “though they are different.”

“Different?” Ione asked, “I realized I didn’t know your language but I’ve not done much adventuring in my own time. Where were you from again?”

Pashar gave him a stark glare that made Ranvir shut up before he could even open his mouth. “We’re not from around here,” she nodded towards Ranvir, “He was working on a new use of his powers that resulted in us getting thrown through space. We landed on a road not far from your village.”

“So you’re Foreigners?” Ione challenged. She seemed to realize after a moment that Pashar wasn’t going to crack under her glare so she turned it on Ranvir.

He squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. He’d never done well under a parent’s condemnation, it appeared that counted doubly for grandparents. Finally, he shrugged.

Ione sighed and patted her dress, “So if you’re not from Korfyi, then where are you from?”

“A smaller country,” Pashar said evasively, “I’m not sure if it would translate to one you’d understand.”

“Try me.”

“Elusria.”

Ione nodded, “How long have you been Braced?” she asked suddenly changing the subject.

Pashar narrowed her eyes, “Since I was fourteen.”

“You lie well,” Ione said nodding approvingly at Pashar. The smoke tethered didn’t react, she simply stared back at the older woman with an eyebrow raised. “But you made a mistake.”

“Oh?”

The outline of circle generated behind Ione, just a few finger-widths wide. Slowly, more thin bands grew until she had a dozen concentric rings behind her, ranging from pure white to a middling gray. Ranvir tensed but didn’t dare approach the white-hot packet of energy burning in the back of his mind, however, Pashar seemed unperturbed.

“All Braced share a few things,” Ione said gesturing with thumb behind her at the disks, “One of those is the name of our worldshard, our home.”

Pashar grunted in affirmation, “This country isn’t called Korfyi,” she said slowly closing her eyes.

“No, we’re in Limclea,” Ione gave her a soft smile, “But it was a good attempt. And it is smart to play with all your information close to the chest. I assume your… powers are different from ours, not just in specializations, but wholesale.”

Pashar nodded slowly, “From what I understand.”

“Which isn’t a whole lot, but more than I would expect, I bet,” Ione said nodding with respect at the younger woman. “You’re not the first Foreigners to come to Korfyi. There was a time—back when I was young woman ignoring my own grandmothers advice—when Foreigners were relatively common. Not so much anymore, however.”

Ranvir nodded. From what little he’d been able to garner of Latresekt when the creature had been inside his tether-space, he’d suspected they’d landed on somewhere else entirely. Not only that, but that it’d guided them to a specific location. He decided that information might just be for his and Pashar’s ears only, at least for now.

“I’ll give you the basics, then,” Ione said. “You’re in a new world, don’t take anything for granted. If something seems too good to be true, then it is too good to be true, that counts double for Amanaris. If you’re going to remain here—which seems likely—then you’re going to want to learn the Fiyan, even if you brought enough precious material to pay for a translator you’re better off just learning the damn language. And finally, if you have any questions don’t be afraid to ask. Rather look like a fool than be a fool.”

Ione gave them a moment to let her words seep in, before she nodded to them, “Now it looks like I’ve got to go close cracks with my granddaughter, can’t have her running off angry,” with that she left the room leaving at least one of the inhabitants feeling quite confused and uncertain.