10.38 E

(Trigger Warning. Click here for details.)

 

<Huge announcement! We have plushies!>

Erin Solstice and Rags of the Flooded Waters tribe have appeared in Earth! Or their likenesses have? That’s right, thanks to an exclusive deal with Stitchworks, we will be selling plushies of characters of The Wandering Inn! First up, the [Innkeeper] of chaos and the smallest Goblin of her tribe! These plushies have been endorsed by Octavia Cotton and permission has been not ungranted by all parties in plushie form!

I hope you enjoy them and the others we plan to launch!

Ships to: Most of US, Canada, Australia, NZ, UK, Europe, Singapore, and more

Not available in: CT, MA, PA and OH — we’re working on it for next release.

Please note: These are display collectibles for ages 14+. These are not toys, and are not suitable for children. 

 

Order now:

https://store.wanderinginn.com/products/rags-collectible-plush

https://store.wanderinginn.com/products/erin-collectible-plushie

 

 

 

 

On the continent of Baleros, along the southeastern coast, there is a grand jungle unsettled by any major civilization. It’s about a fourth up from the tip of the southern edge of the continent, hot, humid year-round, and known by [Sailors] as a shipwrecking nightmare.

There’s no one around for hundreds of miles. The ships that sail from Baleros might see survivors if they hug the coast, but it is a rare thing for any ship to take the longer route instead of utilizing currents crossing the open sea.

In the dense jungles inhabited by magical creatures there is a tiny, hidden village, nestled amidst a clearing of trees, past the great swamp that gates access to their home. The village is barely a hundred feet across, hidden by magic, and the folk are even smaller.

Little homes dot the ground, almost like a hodgepodge of junk from someone’s backyard. A pumpkin sitting next to a boot, a tiny clay oven—each one a home. A fairy tale to Tallfolk.

The Fraerling village of Dretonamis. Even their clothing is fanciful to the imagination of Tallfolk in their cities. The strolling Fraerlings wear insect parts or pieces of nature converted to clothing. They have cloth and [Weavers], but no huge industry. No cows; a few Fraerlings ride ‘giant aphids’, which are big enough for the six-inch tall people to move around on. A hidden settlement of people that could be erased in a moment by the wrong monster or natural disaster.

Yet Dretonamis has endured longer than most Walled Cities. Longer than many Fraerling cities. It is a pocket of the world that has passed through entire ages unnoticed and forgotten—which is how the inhabitants prefer it.

Today, there are two visitors. Four, technically, if you count the hamster and beetle.

They have been here just over a month. By now, everyone in the village has met and talked to ‘the Human’ or ‘the Goblin’, who are equally novel. Equally frightening. Equally interesting, but left alone mostly. No one’s business except Eurise’s, the protector; Fantim’s, the [Mayor]; and anyone who wants to get involved with them. Both in need of healing, so good for them. Equally equal.

Until today.

Today—all the Fraerlings are disturbed from their usual cycles of gathering what they need to survive and thrive. They stand, staring up.

Up at the green moon that fades as the sun rises. The same as yesterday when they saw it glow. No matter how much time passes, the truth doesn’t change:

“It’s cracked.”

That’s the appraisal of Gollesume the Great, one of the higher-level magic-users in the village. The [Wizard] puts down the enchanted spyglass he’s created with a dewdrop and a piece of rolled up grass. No glass; he doesn’t have time to make the perilous, week-long journey to the beach just to harvest sand for it.

“Reckon that’s a bad sign?”

Macnest the [Armorer] is peering up at the moon with a few other senior members of the village. Vrilla, the [Angry Druid]; Roja, the [Explorer]; all of whom are discussing the matter. Gollesume scratches his chin. He’s shaved his beard recently, and he regrets it. So does everyone else.

“No telling. My bet is it’s another damn [Archmage]. It’s always some idiot with a spell.”

“Reckon they’re turning off magic again?”

“I sure hope not. Those bastards better not do it during my lifetime.”

Macnest turns to Gollesume, rubbing his head with one of his hammers.

“Why are you so certain it’s a [Mage]? Aren’t you a [Wizard], Gollesume?”

“Absolutely. I know my kind. Idiots with magic. Also, how d’you hit the moon without magic? What are you gonna do? Shoot an arrow at it?”

Roja is chewing on a piece of the nali-stick she found the other day, enough for a month given her size proportional to it.

“How high’s the moon? I never thought about it. Never thought it could get hit, actually.”

This time, Vrilla speculates as she tilts her head back. Her hair is braided with thorny vines, which don’t seem to bother her.

“Pretty high. Bet you a Level 70 [Archer] couldn’t hit it.”

“I reckon that is high. Think this means another continental war’s breaking out? Mage war? Species war?”

“I sure hope not. I guess we’ll find out the next time a big city makes contact. Think it’s got to do with Miss Human and Miss Goblin after all?”

“Seems far-fetched.”

“I dunno. I heard someone ripped her chest apart.”

“That was an exaggeration. Bowom said she’s fine.”

“Bowom said she’s ‘in one piece’. Not the same. ‘Specially not for a [Mad Doctor]. I heard there were witnesses. Not just Miss Goblin. The Goblin King returning?”

“Right, but our strange Human being part of…that?”

Everyone stares up at the moon again. A common phenomenon happening across the world right now. But the Fraerlings are more sedate than other species. Why? Well, after a moment, Roja slaps her thighs briskly, and everyone starts.

“The moon’s cracked. Damn shame. I liked it. You tell us if that means anything bad, Gollesume. I’ve gotta get the rest of that nali-stick dug up. Anyone want to help me? I’ll cut you a big piece before we get it to the Oven.”

Vrilla thinks on it, then nods.

“I could do that. Macnest?”

“Pass. I’ve got to work on that iron lump. Everyone wants new tools.”

Gollesume taps Macnest on the shoulder urgently.

“Oh, I could use a new pot—”

“Write it down on my ledger. But I’ve got fifty people with orders after all the other supplies.”

“Macnest, we’re neighbors. Cut me some slack…what if I made a [Mana Familiar] to help you out?”

“Well, the last one nearly burned my forge down because it couldn’t count how much charcoal to put in the fire, so no—”

And they’re gone. Dispersing, because they can’t fix the moon. Not unconcerned. In fact, Vrilla and Roja run into Gollesume and Macnest within two minutes of leaving their discussion. They meet in front of a leafy cottage, the most ‘normal’ structure present. Twigs and leaves reinforced by a stone mix, and two circular twig windows like eyes.

A hamster is sitting outside the cottage on the little wooden steps, nibbling on a seed. He has one eye and a permanent glower. When he sees the visitors, he stops nibbling and looks up. No one gets near the Battle Hamster. It’s a known, touchy creature, unlike the placid Corumdon Beetle, who is quite content to help plough fields at this very moment.

“Hoi there. How’s Miss Erin doing?”

Roja calls out to a pair of Fraerlings sitting on the porch, also nibbling on seeds. Brawlers, Zemmy and Mera, a local pair from the other villages. The two glance up and wave.

“Uh…”

Zemmy begins and trails off. He nudges Mera, who nudges him back. He scratches at one bare arm, then his worn-down training outfit, which is a sleeveless vest that exposes a lot of muscle—and scars.

“She’s present? Maybe.”

Vrilla frowns, concerned, trying to peer through the windows, but they’ve been shuttered.

“Mentally?”

Macnest tilts his head.

“Healthy?”

Mera clarifies.

“Physically. Y’know, in her pavilion-thing. Ulvama’s keeping an eye on her and whatnot. It’s—well—”

She trails off and kicks Zemmy. He opens his mouth.

“It’s bad.”

The Fraerlings peer at each other. They ask a few more questions. The Battle Hamster sits there, chewing on its seeds. It stares at them and at the cottage. It only moves when Vrilla walks over to knock on the door, and then the Hamster tenses.

Just a bit—but that makes the other Fraerlings wary. The Battle Hamster swivels towards the door, then backs away for a second, fur on edge.

And they realize it’s not because it’s protective of the cottage and warding them off. The hamster gets to all fours as the door opens, and someone—a Goblin with green skin and glowing magical paint on her arms—murmurs to Vrilla.

After a few moments, the door closes. The hamster waits, then goes back to sitting. The Fraerlings mill about, then disperse.

Zemmy and Mera turn and peer at the door. They wait as well.

It’s today. It’s always today.

In the southeastern section of Baleros, past the swamps and in the jungle, there is a village of Fraerlings and a single cottage on the edge of the village. Inside the cottage is an [Innkeeper]. Or…was.

Somewhere close by, and infinitely far away, is a pavilion in the middle of the void. A piece of reality spun off for a single purpose, with only one working entrance. The empty void stretches in every direction, blacker than the depths of the ocean, and a single gazebo with flaking white paint sits in the center of it all, connected by a brick path to the door.

There’s a chessboard in the center of it. The [Innkeeper] sits there. She’s wearing clothing of Dretonamis: grass fabric, woven sandals. Scars have faded on her, and her hair’s begun to regrow. But it remains discolored; the burns on her wrist and neck are still raw.

There’s a bandage on her chest. Her eyes are vacant until they focus, now and then, on the chess pieces in front of her.

She’s waiting. Someone she loves is dead.

Again.

Erin Solstice was healing in the strange village that took her in. Resting.

Today, the pleasant dream ended. She feels like she’s woken up.

Her hands are clasped together.

They’re shaking.

 

——

 

Erin didn’t know where the month had gone. It felt, to her, like barely a week had passed. But the calendar didn’t lie. She supposed it was because she’d been…slow.

Slow to do anything, really. Ulvama had been running circles around her, and she’d barely done anything. But each day had been—

Not taxing, but ‘at capacity’. That’s how Erin had thought of it. She could have done more—had done, to get this far. But when she’d finally gotten to Dretonamis, she’d discovered that finding food for herself and picking out a pillow to sleep on could take most of her day. Obviously, there was more than that—she talked to the local expert on furnishings, observing how they used aphid fuzz—which was really a weird, soft wax—to pad the surprisingly comfy pillows, and getting your own food in the village often involved gathering it.

But that took an entire day. Before you knew it, she was yawning, and that plan of inspecting her Skills or reading maps to figure out where they were and how to get back to civilization was a job for tomorrow. Or in a few days.

Ulvama had conspired with other people to do it. Well, the Fraerlings had conspired to let both women heal. Bowom, the [Mad Doctor], had a surprisingly wholesome approach to healing. To him, it was existing in peace. No troubles but what you took on.

A month of it had been—something. Something important. Something Erin had thought of as good, and it was encapsulated in that first week when they’d attended the festival. Just being able to walk around and enjoy things, winning the stuffed hamster plushie that was always on Ulvama’s bed next to her numerous pillows.

No inn. No job. No war or anything else. Just zoning out as she watched Fraerlings live their lives, occasionally helping or watching them do their own things, like Bowom reattaching a leg onto an aphid’s body. Zemmy and Mera fighting each morning.

Healing.

Then, Erin had felt the Goblin King at the door to her garden, and he had ripped through her sanctuary. Entered her inn along with something rotten and dead. And then had come the beating of great wings and the announcement.

 

<Mythical Quest – Keep The Wandering Inn Safe Until I Return.>

Optional Condition (Impossible): Don’t let anyone we love die.

<Optional Condition failed.>

 

That was it. That was everything.

It said it all. She didn’t know who or how, but it didn’t matter.

She was awake. The dream she’d had while she wasted time in Dretonamis was over.

“Who?”

She didn’t know. The [Innkeeper] had no clue, only the very edges of her connection with The Wandering Inn. What she could feel was…it was standing.

Not much more. It had been damaged; she’d felt that, like a distant wound, but not as bad as it could have been. She’d felt it fall to pieces before, and it wasn’t that. The [Garden of Sanctuary] had…healed. Or it was still being used. That meant the inn was intact, and in theory, some people were alive.

Or maybe they’re all dead and it’s empty. Would I sense that?

The thoughts crept around her consciousness as she sat there, clasping and unclasping her hands. Staring at the chess pieces. Ulvama had told her it was nonsense and that she’d sense it if the Flooded Waters tribe were gone.

The Goblin King was dead. The [Shaman] was almost positive of that. She had said there had been a Goblin Lord. A strong one.

Two?

No answers. Erin was a continent away from home, bereft of her [World’s Eye Theatre]. She couldn’t know…except that she could.

She was here, in the place that had all the answers, in theory. The [Pavilion of Secrets] was designed for answers. And yet, whatever had plagued The Wandering Inn was spreading here. Erin felt it, vaguely.

Her head rose, and she stared across the void. Not back the way she’d come, the door that let her enter and exit. Ahead…towards the vast doors that waited for the worthy.

The…next place. Sheta’s final Skill.

Was it different? Erin Solstice couldn’t tell. The door appeared the same, but something was—off.

“It looks fake now. Is there anything past that door?”

It made her feel like she were staring more at the idea of a door than one with something behind it. Like a cartoon where the person ran into the fake tunnel or door. Was it gone?

Why? How?

What had happened?

Answers. She had to have them, but the [Innkeeper] was sitting without. Waiting—an oddity. When her vigil was finally broken, someone entered the [Pavilion of Secrets] through a door and sat down.

Pavilion-Erin seemed much like the real thing, but her clothing was what Erin had worn before embarking on this journey. She kept the scars, the discolored hair, but she was more like the Erin who had left Izril.

A mysterious being, conjured to act as a guide or, perhaps, lawkeeper in this place. Someone who was meant to aid or challenge Erin—the [Innkeeper] wasn’t sure of her exact role. Enigmatic, mysterious, possibly dangerous. Normally, she wore a mysterious, unsettling smile and seemed to know what Erin was thinking before she asked.

But the [Pavilion of Secrets] didn’t look as confident as usual. She was—unsettled. And it had taken its time to investigate Erin’s request. Again, unusual.

“Well?”

Erin sat up, and Pavilion-Erin made a show of sitting down. She fiddled with the chess pieces, then glanced over her shoulder.

“Well?”

“—Something’s happened. I made inquiries, but things are in chaos.”

The Pavilion-version of Erin spoke in a low, direct tone, but she fiddled with the queen chess piece much like Erin would do when she was uncertain. The [Innkeeper] blinked and sat forwards.

“You said you know everything.”

“I don’t know everything. I’m a version of you. I have access to a great amount of things. Or I should.”

The Pavilion seemed defensive. Erin stared at her.

“Who is dead? It’s a simple question. Find me—tell me who passed away.”

Something was wrong with Erin. Her heart was beating a touch faster than normal, but her stomach wasn’t writhing. She was cold. Not physically, but just—still inside.

Someone she loved was dead, and she wasn’t feeling it. She knew it was true, but she wasn’t weeping or even raging. She was just still. Waiting.

I am a monster.

The Pavilion of Secrets avoided Erin’s gaze. She spread her fingers on the table.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not—”

“I don’t know!”

The snap came out fast, and the [Innkeeper] paused. The Pavilion’s hazel eyes flashed.

“I can’t find out who. And when I ask the—the overseer, it won’t tell me. I’m restricted. I don’t have a direct line to the top anymore.”

Two things stood out to Erin about that statement. She engaged with the—easiest—first.

“The top. You mean the Grand Design itself. You could communicate with it.”

“Yes…I had a kind of loophole in case I needed it. Because I, this Skill, is so unique. I didn’t employ it. Much. But this is the exact circumstance when it would be needed. It’s not working. I’ve been blocked off.”

“Why? Is the Grand Design malfunctioning?”

Another long moment of hesitation. The Pavilion of Secrets glanced at the door she’d exited.

“If it was—it’s resolved.”

“What’s that mean?”

Now, the Pavilion was getting testy.

“I don’t know! It’s just a suspicion.”

“A suspicion that the Grand Design was malfunctioning? How can you not know?”

The [Innkeeper] was leaning over the board, voice growling, eyes narrowed. To her surprise, Pavilion-Erin leaned forwards as well. Her eyes narrowed too, and she balled up a fist around the queen piece.

“Listen, idiot. I’m a part of the Grand Design. How does the gear of a clock know when the clock malfunctions? If there was a—a crisis, neither you nor I saw it. And it’s resolved. What is clear is that a number of things have changed. My access has been limited. And—other elements have been altered.”

Her eyes swung to the great double doors, and Erin spoke.

“The palace? The thing Sheta referenced. What happened?”

“You’re not cleared to know that yet.”

Erin Solstice wondered if she could pull Pavilion-Erin over the table and punch her face in. The Pavilion of Secrets must have read her mind, because she bared her teeth.

“No violence here. At least, that kind. I’m doing what I can for you. When I say I can’t explain, I really can’t.”

Silence as the [Innkeeper] digested this. Then she sat back.

“Okay. Okay, let’s forget about that for a second. Who died? Why can’t you figure it out? You can summon anyone I want to talk to, right? Or did that function get erased?”

She waved a hand vaguely, but her doppelganger shook her head swiftly.

“It’s still there.”

The [Innkeeper] frowned.

“Then if I ask for—”

“It’s not working. Everyone you care about is there.”

Silence. Erin Solstice was confused. She paused, bit a lip, then spoke.

“So Lyonette, Mrsha, Numbtongue, Nanette—?”

“All there.”

“The Horns? Fetohep? Jelaqua? Seborn? Relc? Klbkch? I—Ryoka?”

“All there. All alive, yes. I can tell the difference.”

“Ryoka’s not in your system, though, right?”

The Pavilion of Secrets hesitated.

“No…but it’s not a problem. They’re there. And before you ask, yes, everyone’s here and living. I know your mind. Bird. Ishkr. Even the ones who’re less important to you. I checked them all, even Liska! Selys, Drassi, Palt, Imani, Kevin, Rags, Calescent, Peggy, Redscar, Rags, Tessa, Ylawes—everyone.”

Erin didn’t feel well. She wasn’t thinking straight, and this confusion wasn’t helping. She glanced up at the [Pavilion of Secrets].

“You put Rags on there twice. Are you malfunctioning?”

The glower she got was pointed and a touch uncertain. Erin hesitated.

“Fine. What if I ask someone…”

“Be my guest. Give me a name.”

Pavilion-Erin waited, clearly fed up with the 2nd degree about her capabilities. Erin opened her mouth. She hesitated.

Who to ask? Lyonette? It would be easy to call her this moment and ask—

Hey, it’s me. Who’d you let die? How did you mess it up?

No, that was—insane. More like…

What went wrong, and how was it my fault? What consequences found you?

The dungeon? The Goblin King? Why the Goblin King—

Erin’s head hurt. She felt sick. Pavilion-Erin eyed her.

“You’re not well.”

“Shut the fuck up. Get me…get me…Ly—I don’t want to ask her. I don’t want to know.”

She had to know. But it was like being wounded and not knowing how bad. If she did know—what could she do?

Who do I have to kill? How many of them? 

So far from home. The [Innkeeper] put her head down and breathed. In and out.

“Give me…Rags.”

Rags made sense. Rags was a Goblin. Goblin King appeared. She’d know something. Explaining this to her would be hard. Explaining why she hadn’t made contact—

She had to know. But the [Pavilion of Secrets] didn’t respond. Erin raised her head.

“Hello? Rags.”

She glared, and the [Pavilion]—hesitated.

“Wh—hold on. Which…? Wait. Hold on.”

She pressed her fingers against her temples. This time, the [Innkeeper] grew actually concerned.

“Rags. What’s the issue?”

“I’m h—there’s something wr—hold on. What does ‘recategorization’ m—”

Then the [Pavilion of Secrets] froze, and for a second, everything turned off. The gazebo vanished. The fake Erin vanished. The [Innkeeper] hung in the void for a second time as everything malfunctioned.

—Then it snapped back to normal, and Erin leapt to her feet. She backed away from the table as Pavilion-Erin stared ahead, then jerked back and focused on her.

“What was—”

“What was that?”

“I don’t know. I just got contact from above. Something needs recategorization. I’m not getting a response. Hold on—”

The other Erin held up a hand, but the real one was backing away towards the door out. Whatever was going on, she didn’t want to be in the Skill while it was being fixed. Pavilion-Erin shouted at her.

“Wait!”

Erin Solstice strode away. She hesitated at the door and glanced back. The copy of her stood there, hand outstretched. Then everything flickered, and for a second, a vast Harpy was standing there.

The Empress of Wings, the preserved copy of her, stared at Erin Solstice, and the [Innkeeper] locked eyes with Sheta. The mouth opened.

The [Innkeeper] left.

 

——

 

It wasn’t about the answer of who, or even how, that mattered, in one sense. In one sense, it absolutely mattered, especially if it was…many. But in another, it didn’t.

Someone was dead. A terrible thing had occurred. If this were a wound, it would be straightforward. You stopped the bleeding first, then tended to the rest.

In this analogy, the bleeding was Erin herself. Her being in the [Pavilion of Secrets] meant that no one could help her. It was the riskiest place for her to be, even if it gave her answers. She had almost died in there once already.

Ulvama didn’t want Erin going in there again, so she was relieved when the [Innkeeper] came back, answers or not. She needed answers as well, but the [Innkeeper] was a danger to herself right now.

In fact, the first few minutes of Erin’s return saw Ulvama acting as a [Firefighter]. The [Innkeeper] was aflame with black fire.

“Water! Water!”

A localized shower of water barely did anything to the flames as Ulvama used her magic, and Erin stomped on the fire until she realized the flames coating her body were just spreading. Ulvama shouted at her as the Goblin grabbed a bucket.

“You stay there! Make the flames stop!”

“Don’t touch them—”

Ulvama wasn’t about to touch the flames of hatred burning on the ground. The water hissed and turned into foul steam as she threw open the windows, and Zemmy and Mera rushed in and nearly made the mistake of trying to stomp them out. However, after about six minutes of throwing water, they were finally left with charred floorboards and a wet Erin Solstice denuded of flames. Then there was sweeping the water out, explaining to concerned Fraerlings, and asking Erin what had happened.

Both fire and the [Pavilion of Secrets].

“I don’t get it. I’m losing control of my—my Skill more. It’s like it’s getting harder, not easier.”

Erin stared at her hands. She’d managed to suck the flames back inside of herself, and Ulvama handed her a towel and tried to wrap another one around Erin’s dripping head—Zemmy had thrown a bucket of water on her. The [Shaman] speculated.

“The higher-level you are, the more powerful your Skills. When you first made it…how strong was your fire?”

“Uh—tiny. I could barely do a palm-flame. I didn’t know how to do it, and it was just sadness fire. Pelt noticed it, but I think it was only because he was so high-level. Although I did set fire to his forge…”

Erin stared at her hands, and a wisp of blue flame appeared, teensy. Ulvama slapped her hand.

“Don’t do more flames.”

“Sorry. But now it’s all hatred. I’m not…I don’t even know what’s happened. It just came out.”

Yeah, there are a lot of reasons that could be the case. Ulvama bit her tongue as she tousled Erin’s head. The [Innkeeper] squirmed, so Ulvama smacked her head.

“Stop moving.”

“I can dry my hair.”

Erin snatched the towel, embarrassed, and Ulvama sighed. She watched Zemmy sweeping water out the door—it was black and sooty—and reflected it was going to stink tonight when they were sleeping. They’d have to keep the windows open, and maybe she’d cast a charm to air it out.

One problem at a time. The [Shaman] was thinking of how to respond to Erin, and here was the thing. Ulvama had a rich internal life. Most people saw her and assumed she didn’t have that much of a personality. Which was fair; she did like lazing about and eating food.

But she was also the former [Shaman] of the Mountain City Tribe. A place where what you said could be dangerous, and she had been a Molten Stone tribe Goblin before, educated by someone who had truly known Goblin culture: Anazurhe. Over her life, Ulvama had learned what you didn’t say was very important.

Words were important. Honesty…maybe important. Ulvama was no Redfang who said it like it was and damn the consequences. Because ‘how it was’ was subjective. Truth was hard, sometimes. If you had a Goblin who was killed in a feud with another Goblin, did you tell their friends or lover who had done the killing? Or was that a good way to get two Goblins dead?

That was just basic stuff. Ulvama was used to touchy, powerful Goblins—again, Tremborag. But also dangerous Humans who noticed if the Goblins got too intelligent. Obviously, the Fraerlings were good, and Erin was trustworthy, but—

If Ulvama was going to speculate honestly, she might have said that Erin manifesting her hatred flames was an unconscious self-defense reflex after her time in Roshal’s clutches. Which was fair. Or perhaps it was her preparedness to murder whoever had killed someone she loved. Again, very understandable, but not helpful.

Or perhaps this is her hatred towards herself. In which case, she might be burning her own body with the flames. And we’re only lucky it’s the black fire, not the invisible flame.

Or—her soul was cracked and the Goblin King had destabilized her, so she was losing control of herself. Ulvama didn’t know, and she felt like any of these things weren’t productive to say, so what she said was:

“Don’t make more flames now, okay? You get dry. Then we get food.”

Erin said:

“What? No. I need answers.”

However, Ulvama had her methods, and she poked Erin in the side, squinting.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I…this isn’t the time.”

“Food is important. Everything works better after eating.”

Ulvama was big on food. Not just because she had been hungry too many times for her liking. Food solved a lot of problems. If there were a 5-step plan towards solving things, Ulvama’s #1 would be ‘eat something’, then go from there. Besides, it kept Erin from being alone with her thoughts, which was a good thing.

Keep her occupied. Distracted? Maybe not distracted, but…occupied.

Who was dead? Ulvama was terribly afraid it was bad, but part of her wished Erin hadn’t known. She’d been healing. It had been good.

The [Shaman] knew bad things would always come, always, even after the worst. But dead gods, sometimes she hated thinking like a Goblin. Here in Dretonamis, you could almost forget it.

 

——

 

Food was a good distraction because it led to a racism, which, in this case, was a net positive in Ulvama’s opinion. It was a very funny thing. All the poor [Cook] did was serve them some caterpillar meat, which Erin hated.

Ulvama wasn’t big on bugs herself, but the Fraerlings knew which bugs actually tasted decent, and if you fried anything with enough oil, it tasted good. Anyways, the comment was something like, ‘it’s almost as green as you, Miss Goblin’.

Which made Erin upset. Ulvama had just grinned until Erin almost climbed through the serving window to ask what that meant. Getting her settled took time, but it did distract her from the thoughts of the inn.

“Erin, it not that bad.”

“He was talking about your skin tone!”

“Yah. I’m green.”

“But that’s—”

Erin was definitely not in a good headspace right now, so Ulvama let her talk, which involved an explanation of how Earth Humans had problems. It was sort of an Earther thing. They always talked about their home and how, despite having machines and all this technology, somehow it was just as bad as this world.

With Crelers. ‘You have Crelers, but we have climate change!’

Anyways, Ulvama got the point, but she did pat Erin on the shoulder.

“Erin, maybe that bad. But he did say sorry.”

“Yeah, but—”

“He also likes me. He didn’t say, ‘hey, how much are your ears worth’? Or, eh, ‘sorry Ulvama, we don’t have any babies for you to eat’. Or, ‘hey, you damn monster, here’s food you deserve.’”

“Right, that’d be bad. I would have definitely hit him if he said that.”

“Yah, but he didn’t say it.”

“But he still said—”

Poke. Erin jumped. Ulvama enjoyed poking non-Goblins. They had funny reactions. She smiled as Erin broke off mid-rant.

“Maybe it not good. But this is the nicest place I’ve ever been to for Goblins. Don’t…fight them and make them hate me more.”

“Hate you more? But I—”

Erin twisted around and saw the [Cook] peering out the window at the two of them eating food on the bench. She hesitated, and Ulvama whispered.

“Now he scared of saying things about the Goblin. Maybe he’ll think the Goblin’s dangerous?”

“I was the one who bothered him, though…”

But the Goblin got the blame. Erin wasn’t stupid. She hesitated, then got up.

“I’ll apologize to him.”

“Hmm. Can you do it without scaring him?”

“Of course I can.”

Ulvama peered at her. The Battle Hamster, who’d plodded over to join them as was his wont, stared at Erin. The [Innkeeper] rolled her shoulders.

“I can! Watch me!”

She marched on over and did a decent job. Ulvama chewed on some crispy caterpillar skin as she saw the [Cook] relax and accept the apology. Like that, Erin forgot about the news for a moment.

Hurray for racisms. Ulvama did appreciate Erin being ready to fight a [Cook] in her defense. She was…well. A silly Human. Who cared about Goblins this much? Ulvama had kept waiting for her to slip up when they’d met. She’d known that this was all a kind of mask and Erin would snap and reveal how she really felt about Goblins or why she wanted their help.

But it never had. One of the things Ulvama had been dead wrong about.

She just wished…Ulvama poked at her caterpillar skin as the Battle Hamster sniffed at it and then glared at her for not getting something he wanted to eat so he could steal her plate.

She wished she’d met Erin long ago. So perhaps a younger Ulvama wouldn’t have had to live as long as she had and believe a Goblin would never be able to trust anyone. But then, she might as well wish to have never left the Molten Stone tribe. For all the terrible events to have never happened.

In a sense, perhaps it was the one silver lining for all those moments—she was the [Shaman] who had lived the life of many regrets and pains. It might help Erin avoid the same. They’d been spared the worst of Roshal. With luck, Ulvama could keep this moment from breaking Erin in half.

And she could break. Ulvama had seen it. The [Innkeeper] wouldn’t shatter into pieces like some people did. But she’d break another way. Like she’d been with the ants or after the Goblin King.

Sitting there, shaking, black flames on her hands, swearing to murder him, unable to strike at him from across the world, blazing until she was nearly consumed by flames, only stopping when Ulvama grabbed her shoulders and the flames began to burn the Goblin.

Breaking—like a piece of glass, all jagged edges until she smashed herself into smithereens. She could kill a lot of people before she died, Ulvama was sure.

…But there was nothing to kill. Nothing to fight in Dretonamis, beyond the odd monster or wildlife. No one knew they were here.

In a way, Ulvama supposed this was a nightmare for Erin. She watched the [Innkeeper] sit down and poke at her caterpillar fry. The [Innkeeper] had to face herself, literally and figuratively. Life sent you lots of enemies, but this was one of the few that Ulvama thought Erin Solstice might not be able to beat. Not without a little help.

 

——

 

If the Ulvama Plan For Everything’s #1 rule was ‘eat something first’, step #2 was also universal.

 

Step #2: Do some dancing.

 

Dancing was good. Dancing let you get emotions out. If you were sad? Sad dance. If you were angry? Angry dance. Even if it was running around in a circle punching things, dance.

Normally, Ulvama never shared the dancing she did with anyone. It was one of the things she had decided no one needed to know about, thank you. Erin was, again, an exception, and so were the Fraerlings. The [Innkeeper] had no real outlet that was physical—punching someone in a brawl every full moon didn’t count.

Plus, she liked dancing. And she had been so terrible at her physical rehabilitation, Ulvama had made her dance just to help the idiot.

“Ti, fa, sif, keta—now turn, turn—hah!”

Ulvama was showing Erin another move as she tried to keep the [Innkeeper] from focusing on the inn after food. They weren’t doing too much because a full stomach and exercise didn’t work well together.

“One, two, three, four, one, two—what’s three in Goblin again?”

“Sif.”

Erin gamely copied Ulvama pivoting around their cottage on the mostly-dry floor. It was a nice place that the Fraerlings had helped put up for them; Ulvama had a room, Erin had a room, and the Battle Hamster had a little den. But for the burn marks, cozy. Nowhere near as furnished as a city room, but Ulvama liked the aphid-fluff pillows.

The trick to the move was the hip-jab at the end. Ulvama watched as Erin repeated the motion and tried the maneuver, but she was entirely awkward.

“No, no. You look like you’re trying to body-slam someone. Like this. Hej!”

Ulvama demonstrated, and Erin half-glanced at her.

“Like this? Hah!”

She…did more of a hip-slam that would have gone great if the purpose was to attack the foe. Ulvama eyed her.

“For someone who likes dancing, you’re okay with your feet. Terrible in other ways. You never use your hips?”

She did a gyrating motion, and Erin blushed.

“Hey! I hula-hooped! In middle school. Once.”

“I don’t know what that is. But it sounds stupid. Try again. Like this—no, no. Like this—”

Teaching Erin dance moves was an interesting problem. She had the class, and she was actually fairly intuitive with a lot. She was a good fighter, and that translated into footwork, but there were weird gaps in her understanding of dancing. Nor did she pick it up easily; she was entirely awkward, and it took work to get her into the zone.

Work that was clearly not going to come out of her current state. Also! Ulvama kept showing her, and Erin would only half glance at her. They even had dance clothing Vrilla had made for them as a sign of hospitality! Very nice clothing made out of different colors of plant matter woven together.

Since it was hot in Baleros, Ulvama had asked for a lightweight garment that only covered her upper body, letting her stomach air, and leggings that went down to her knees. Erin had gotten clothing that seemed far less fun; more like her jeans and t-shirt combo, which was the limit of her style.

Anyways, she finally got Erin to pay attention to the move, but Erin still wasn’t doing it, so Ulvama tried to explain.

“Not like that. Like this.”

She grabbed Erin’s waist and tried to show the [Innkeeper], but Erin jumped.

“Hey! Stop that!”

“Well, move better.”

Unfortunately, the [Innkeeper] wiggled too hard and wouldn’t let Ulvama guide her. Exasperated, the Hobgoblin let her keep trying to move and wondered whether this was unique to Earthers, Humans, or just Erins. Ulvama watched Erin, arms folded, and had to admit the [Innkeeper] was sort of doing it. But she just wasn’t getting the point of the dance.

“You’re doing it okay. But it’s being in the right place, not doing it correct. You have to be more…what’s the word? Alluring. Yah.”

“I don’t want to allure anyone.”

Erin grumbled, going pink-cheeked.

“It’s the dance! You don’t have to show anyone—I don’t! But you should do the dance right!”

Ulvama glowered, and Erin gave her one of those looks that said she was hitting her Erin-limit, whereupon she would get more obstinate or try something chaotic. She did an exaggerated motion for Ulvama.

“There. Is that good?”

“Huh. Yah, that okay.”

Ulvama blinked. That was better. Erin went red-faced, and Ulvama grinned.

“That almost charming. You wear better clothing and you could do okay! As a backup dancer. With music.”

“Gee, thanks, all my hopes and dreams in this world! You don’t have to be nice.”

Erin wiped at her brow, and Ulvama realized the Human didn’t believe her.

“No, no. It is good. You think too hard about how you look. If you changed your clothing and…hmm…no, nevermind.”

She broke off her train of thought somewhat awkwardly. It was hard to actually imagine Erin wearing a version of the clothing Ulvama wore. Let alone getting her into it—the Hobgoblin didn’t imagine Erin would pull it off well. It didn’t fit Erin. What kind of dress or dance would fit the [Innkeeper]…?

After a moment, Erin wiped at her brows again.

“Well, unless we’re dancing for the Battle Hamster, I don’t feel like I need to worry about it. Next?”

“Oh, right. Uh…say, what you want to do after this? I was thinking we go out.”

Ulvama didn’t want Erin stewing on the inn thing. Unfortunately, that reminded the [Innkeeper], and she half-turned to the table where she’d been sitting.

“I was going to check on the [Pavilion].”

“Maybe you give it more time? It was fixing itself, you said.”

“It’s been an hour. Forty-five minutes. I have to know. Don’t you?”

Ulvama hesitated. The [Shaman] bit her lip.

“Yah, but…”

But what are you going to do if you know, Erin? Torture yourself if someone’s dead? What good will it do us, aside from regrets? We’re trapped a continent away, and whatever it is, it will only hurt.

We have to know. But we can’t do anything. It’s a needle we’re going to stab ourselves with. I don’t want to let you do it.

At the same time, if it were Mrsha, Rags, or…Ulvama knew Erin had to ask. So she lowered her hands.

“Okay. Ask. But don’t take too long. Fifteen minutes, promise?”

“I need longer than that.”

“Thirty minutes. Only thirty—”

“I might need to ask longer.”

“Thirty. Then check in.”

That was something else Ulvama had insisted on after the last near-death call. Erin sighed, but agreed to thirty minutes. And Ulvama—well. If you were waiting and nervous, dance.

Dance, dance—she started moving across the floor in far more intricate patterns than before, and only the Battle Hamster, occasionally padding in and out of the cottage, watched. She didn’t mind that. She liked the grumpy hamster. But these dances…no. Not for people, not for other Goblins. Some of them were beautiful, others sensual or intimate. They were beyond Erin’s level of skill anyways, but Ulvama hadn’t shown her them, even to impress her. It would be too awkward.

Many things were odd about having a Human like Erin for a ‘Chieftain’. Easier and more difficult. She wasn’t like Tremborag. Tremborag—had been simpler. More painful, but also easier in a way. Erin was complex.

It was probably that Ulvama wanted Erin to actually be better, not just maintain order and be a strong Chieftain. Not just because she was the only person who could help Ulvama go home. She was like a strange baby bird. One who was brave and cared about Goblins—who could fly and had beautiful, wonderful Skills.

She’d flown straight into Roshal, her first true storm of the kind Ulvama knew. Different from monsters or armies. It wouldn’t be the last. Tougher. Ulvama had to help Erin be tougher, more ready to survive.

…She wished, after meeting this young woman, that there could be a way or a world in which Erin wouldn’t have to face those darker moments. But that was a silly thing for a Goblin to dream.

 

——

 

Erin came back after twenty-five minutes with a sour expression.

“Okay, I went through the entire list. Nothing. She’s glitching out.”

“Uh?”

People said Goblins weren’t good at language, but Goblins spoke two languages and everyone else only did one. Plus, Ulvama had found you could get a lot across with a few words. To her, needing more than just a few seemed like a real flaw in other people’s ability to express concepts. Erin elaborated.

“She keeps listing Rags twice, and she swears no one I know is dead. We did the list, and I…didn’t call Lyonette. I was thinking of Ishkr, but I ran out of time. I’ll—I’ll contact them now.”

Erin looked pale-faced, and Ulvama glanced around.

“What if you—went for a walk first?”

“A walk. Ulvama—”

“Maybe no one’s dead.”

“I’m going to ask. Ulvama, I have to.”

The Goblin opened her mouth, exhaled, then nodded.

“Okay. Okay, but…you come back right away. Tell me. Promise? Twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes unless I need to—I’ll be back within the hour at most.”

Then she left. Ulvama didn’t dance this time. Instead, she went over to the hamster. He was punching his little nest of pillows and bedding into shape. She hugged him. Erin didn’t like the hamster, but Ulvama knew even if he grumped at her, he was treating her like she was part of his tribe. He sniffed her cheek, then held still as she hugged him hard.

They waited.

 

——

 

Seventeen minutes and nine seconds later, Erin came back. This time, she was rattled.

“What—who—”

“I don’t know. I don’t…”

Erin sat down. Ulvama rushed over as the Battle Hamster curled up in his bedding and stared at Erin warily. The [Innkeeper] sat and tried to explain.

“I asked for the most qualified person to tell me what happened. Which was…Mrsha.”

“Mrsha?”

Ulvama’s heart began to pound worriedly. What had that silly child done this time? Erin nodded.

“There was something—I got her. But she wouldn’t—she kept asking me how I was, and she wouldn’t tell me who died. Only that there was the—the [Palace of Fates]? I think the pavilion was freaking out. So I asked Lyonette after that.”

“And?”

The [Innkeeper] sat there for a long moment. Staring ahead blankly.

“She just—watched me. Then she asked why I hadn’t contacted her sooner. Which…she told me the quest was mistaken. Not to worry about it. Ishkr said the same thing.”

“Do you think they’re lying to you so you don’t worry?”

Because I’d definitely do that. Erin’s head rose, and she gave Ulvama a blank look. Her face was like it had been when Ulvama had first been found by her. That silent gaze like when she’d gone after Rabbiteater. Empty, but not gone. Distant.

“No one can lie, but they’re not telling me everything that happened or the order of events. I think Lyonette’s angry at me. I…I think someone did die, but maybe they were brought back? Could you do that with CPR or…? It sounds like it could have been a lot worse, though. There was a Goblin King. I don’t get how that happened.”

At this point, Ulvama was reminded that a Goblin King had emerged when one should have taken at least another few centuries to appear, and she began to ask about that.

“Who was it? How in Izril? Was it Greydath? A Chieftain of the south? Uh—uh—Naumel? What about a Goblin from the island?”

She couldn’t think who’d qualify. And how had they died? Goblin Kings were—well—incredibly hard to kill.

Ulvama remembered the last one. She hadn’t joined Velan’s rampage, but she remembered Anazurhe meeting with his representatives and the feeling that had swept Izril. His rage and hatred had pulled nearly every Goblin after him; Anazurhe’s own tribe had been filled with desertions despite her trying to keep them with her.

“They wouldn’t say.”

—The mystery grows deeper. Now Ulvama was equally confused. Keeping the death from Erin was one thing, but the nature of the Goblin King? She began asking questions, and Erin gave Ulvama a cut-down version of what she’d gotten.

This [Palace of Fates]. Faerie Flower roots. Alternate…timelines? Erin was having an easier time wrapping her head around what was going on, but it was clear she was shaken.

“Why do you think they won’t tell us who it was?”

And again. Ulvama thought it was a sign Erin was in distress and still healing, because the [Shaman]’s brain gave her a very simple answer.

Because it was someone we know, Erin. But I don’t see how. Even Numbtongue is far too low-level, even if he hit Level 40. But it was someone we know.

She didn’t say that. Instead, she forced a smile onto her face.

“Okay, maybe you ask again in a bit. They were busy, right?”

“What? Yeah. They were all dealing with the aftermath…”

“Then we give them one day. If they say no one died, maybe it’s true? You and I will, uh—let’s wait. Let’s go out!”

“I’m really not in the mood to go out.”

“Well, you’re not sitting here and doing nothing. Come on. Maybe we go sit in hammocks or something.”

Almost everyone in Dretonamis had hammocks. A brilliant cultural phenomena that Erin, of course, claimed Earth had. Ulvama doubted that. She hadn’t seen any hammocks in The Wandering Inn; the first time she had seen Erin in a hammock was when she had made one for transporting Erin. All this suggested to Ulvama that Erin was either lying or had no taste.

Either one could be true.

 

——

 

Hammocks were a bad idea. After five minutes of watching Erin stare blankly into the distance, Ulvama decided they needed to occupy the [Innkeeper]’s brain. So she turned to one of the few people she thought she could, well, trust, even in this friendly Fraerling village.

“Eurise!”

The [Retired Explorer] was Dretonamis’ guardian and a Level 50+ person, making him exceptional no matter the species. It was apparently a rule that if you had a village, you had to have someone above Level 50 to guard it at all times.

…Which really went to show you that Fraerlings had levels beyond other species. Even if he was tiny, Ulvama had seen him take out a giant monster by himself. But she trusted him because, well, he’d helped save Erin.

He was having lunch, and she wrapped her arms around him and grinned as he jumped. He twisted as she whispered.

“We need help with Erin.”

She waved at Erin, who had turned her head as Eurise frowned.

“I heard she set fire to her house…? What’s the word about the Goblin King?”

“He dead. Bad news from home, though. Maybe not bad news? Can you think of something to distract her? Otherwise, she just looks like that.”

Well, Erin wasn’t staring at a wall right now, and Eurise scratched at his head. He was going grey, but he was wiry. Ulvama patted his arms and shoulders, fascinated by a Level 50 [Warrior]’s body. He shoved at her, laughing.

“Stop that. You’re worse than Zemmy and Mera.”

“You have a weird body. Is fun.”

It was a sign she liked him; Ulvama was very careful about not giving other species—or her own—signs of flirtation unless it was because she was doing it on purpose. But Eurise was interesting. His class was interesting, and he was relatively unaffected by her charms. Which made it fun to try.

He thought out loud as he scratched at his chin.

“She could try a nali-stick. Roja dug one out, and all the kids’re all over it. Rare treat. We’d plant them, but it’s not worth the effort fighting things that want to eat them.”

“Eh, she’s had one.”

“Damn you Tallfolk. I forgot. Eh…everyone’s talking about the moon. There’s a Thinker’s Talk happening soon, but it’s just not that interesting in Dretonamis, usually.”

He meant for Fraerlings. Ulvama considered most things they did interesting, but she waited. They needed something to really get Erin’s mind off the inn. Eurise snapped his fingers.

“Roasted cats, why not just make it someone else’s problem? Ever since the festival and the monster, we’ve had an invite to show you around the other villages. Wyewesshi’s closest. Remember Zinni?”

Ulvama recalled the old grandmotherly woman.

“The [Rancher]? The Level 50+ one.”

“That’s her. She’s got a massive aphid ranch, and Wyewesshi’s in the middle of a flower meadow, not the forest like us. It’ll be a sight. There’s lots of bugs around too, so you might want to take Zemmy and Mera. They’re always having to fight off bees or some local pests.”

Ulvama was interested at once, both as a distraction and because she had really wanted to see the other Fraerling villages. But of course, there were risks.

“How dangerous is it?”

“Trek or village? The trek isn’t that bad. It’ll take you three hours if you can run like Zemmy or Mera, but you’ve got the beetle. Slap a speed spell on it and you’ll get there, and I doubt most critters will tangle with it. As for the village…there’s always bees buzzing around and ants, so it’s a place where you have to scrap a bit more than Dretonamis. But it’s probably safer with all of Zinni’s herds around. I’m only where I can be; she can protect a lot more.”

Interesting. Zinni was a [Rancher], but Eurise trusted her village more? Ulvama wanted to know what that looked like.

“You sure we can go now?”

“Sure. Actually, we should tell Fantim. He’s touchy about that kind of thing.”

Eurise heaved a sigh, and Ulvama sighed too. If you had to count Fraerlings who didn’t like Ulvama and Erin—well, Fantim, who was pretty much the mayor of this village, was the one person.

 

——

 

“I don’t like it. She’s unstable after the Goblin King ripped her chest open or something, isn’t she? Bowom, did you clear this medically? Don’t cause trouble for our neighbors.”

Fantim had one of those expressions that suggested that no matter what, he’d never be happy with the state of the world. It could just be he only wore it when he was around Erin, Ulvama, or Eurise, though.

“She’s fine. I mean, she is partly her inn, so when you get down to it, is there a problem with her being ripped in half? Put a few nails in her and she’s good as new. I actually wanted to know if she’d survive having her heart removed. Ah, well, I can only dream.”

—Then again, when you had people like Bowom the [Mad Doctor] around, perhaps you did get stressed as the leader of Dretonamis. Everyone glared at the Fraerling, who folded his hands together innocently. He had a cockroach leg instead of his Fraerling right one.

“What? Maybe in ten levels. I’m telling you, architectural immune systems are fascinating. Here I am with a marvel of medicine in front of me and she doesn’t have the courtesy to be dead. So I have to practice ‘ethics’.”

He made air-quotes with his fingers. He was…probably joking and playing up his class.

Probably.

The [Mayor]’s scowl only intensified. Fantim pointed at Erin, then Eurise.

“As far as I’m concerned, Wyewesshi’s invitation wasn’t an open ‘come-as-you-please’. They’ve got troubles up there. I don’t want to add to them or bring them here.”

“Aw, c’mon, Fantim. They send Zemmy and Mera here all the time. ‘S only fair we send them some shit now and then too.”

“Hey!”

Zemmy and Mera chorused as Eurise drawled, and Fantim rolled his eyes.

“Those nuisances aren’t the same as Tallfolk, even shrunken ones. I want to hear from their [Mayor], Whihena, that she’s on board, and Zinni.”

“Argh. Fine. I’ll send Zemmy with a note.”

“Aw, I have to run there and back?”

“Shut it.”

Eurise went to cuff Zemmy, who ducked, and Fantim grumbled.

“Ask them if they have trouble with the damn raiders. It’s been…how long since they bothered us? Eight weeks?”

“Closer to nine, but sure. I heard they stole some aphids. Zemmy, Mera, what’s going on?”

The two [Brawlers] stopped arguing who’d do the run there, and Ulvama’s ears perked up. Raiders? She recalled something about that, but it was fascinating to her now that she’d lived in Dretonamis a month.

Crime amongst Fraerlings? Erin herself had been distracted since the idea was proposed, not that interested, but ‘raiders’ got her to pay attention.

“They stole about four dozen of Zinni’s best aphids. She’s kicked up a real fuss, but that was the big one, Eurise. Mostly, it’s just theft. They were trying to shake people down until we jumped them once, but they got away.”

Zemmy rubbed at a scar as Mera nodded and spat.

“Bastards.”

Since they were in Fantim’s house, that earned her a glare from him. Erin raised a hand.

“How bad are these raiders?”

To Ulvama’s surprise, all the Fraerlings waved this off, even Fantim. Eurise answered her with a grimace.

“Not bad. Nothing like what you Tallfolk get.”

“But they’re raiders…so they raid?”

Mera pursed her lips and nearly spat again.

“Yep. They steal aphids, things, and cause trouble. They’ve got a base, but no one’s figured out where they are. Zemmy and I keep searching for it so we can beat them all down, but, eh. Most’re Level 30 at best, so they wouldn’t put up a fight.”

Eurise nodded at the two [Brawlers].

“They’re problems for Zemmy and Mera, not me or Zinni. If they were real problems, they wouldn’t exist.”

That had a note of finality to it, and Ulvama shivered a bit. She imagined that if it were anything like the Bloodfeast Raiders, Eurise would end them as fast as he’d gone after other monsters.

But that begged the question…why suffer these raiders? Well, Fantim grumbled, but he eventually gave his assent, conditional on agreement from Whihena. And Zinni.

“She’s the equivalent of Eurise, so don’t get on her bad side. Especially you.”

He poked Erin a few times in her shoulder, which neither Erin nor Ulvama appreciated. She brushed his finger aside.

“Why do you think I’ll cause trouble? I’ve met her. She was nice!”

“It’s my job to worry about people like you and Eurise. You, Ulvama, keep her in line.”

Fantim pointed at the [Shaman], who found herself in the surreal modality of being trusted to be the responsible party for the first time…ever. By a non-Goblin, at least. She saw Eurise heave a huge sigh, but he didn’t actually argue with Fantim much. Which was surprising given their clear disparity in levels and reputations, but it was how Fraerlings operated.

She liked it. For all the Fraerling was a grump, his role and hers felt a bit similar. Then Ulvama had a thought.

“How long we going for?”

“Might as well do a few days. Take in the sights. Get some aphid fluff for us, and eh, you should bring some of that iron we dug up.”

Fantim nodded at once.

“That’s right. Someone run and tell Macnest to produce all he can while Zemmy and Mera run the request over. You should take his works, some of the nali-stick, the dragonfly jelly…”

Ulvama and Erin exchanged glances as they realized this was becoming more of a chore than they thought. But it was busy-work. Ulvama began involving herself in the process, trying to drag Erin into helping.

“Erin? You want to do this?”

She was willing to call it off if Erin really needed time, but the [Innkeeper] just stood there.

“They didn’t want to tell me because Mrsha said she was afraid of what I’d do. But I should at least know, Ulvama.”

She sounded hurt as she stared at her wrists, massaging the skin. Ulvama bit her tongue.

The last time you heard about someone in trouble, you fought the entire Bloodtear Pirates’ armada and killed a [Prince]. She patted Erin’s shoulders.

“If everything’s actually well, maybe let it be for a little bit?”

Erin didn’t move. She kept staring at her hands.

“Something happened, Ulvama. Something big and momentous and terrible, I think.”

“I know, but you have to heal.”

Erin kept staring at her hands.

“It messed up even the [Pavilion of Secrets]. How? I think it might have…destroyed the [Palace of Fates]. Can I trust the pavilion again?”

Ulvama hoped so and said it. If they lacked that, they truly were without intelligence.

“What makes you think it’s breaking?”

Erin gazed up, and her eyes were so hurt that Ulvama decided they needed a distraction or she’d sink back into the same moment she’d been in since the raft. A month at sea of torturing herself and living off of Ashfire Bee honey…this month of rest hadn’t been enough to begin to heal all that or what had come before. Erin whispered.

“She said Kevin when she was listing the people alive to me. Kevin’s dead.”

And to that—Ulvama said nothing at all. She just hugged Erin briefly, and that seemed to distract the [Innkeeper] enough. They made plans to go to Wyewesshi, and Zemmy and Mera raced off, competing to see who would sprint there and back faster. The Battle Hamster went with them and apparently beat both.

Three hours later, Erin and Ulvama left with a loaded wagon pulled by the Corumdon Beetle.

 

——

 

The appearance of Ulvama and Erin in Wyewesshi caused a stir unlike anything Dretonamis had experienced. Partly because—and Ulvama and Erin had not known this—Wyewesshi’s population was younger than Dretonamis’ by far, and larger.

If the two had asked Zemmy and Mera, it would have been obvious as one of those things that ‘everyone knew’, but clearly, the two visitors would not.

Wyewesshi existed in a literal meadow of flowers, the compact buildings nestling up invisibly among the blooming forest around them. Again unlike Dretonamis, the village was constructed of dense plant matter that was still alive; they were grown into each other and interwoven until the resulting plant-houses were tough and resilient, forming semi-irregular apartments that mixed with larger buildings, like Zinni’s range encircling the entire village.

It was, in fact, exceptionally beautiful to ride towards the village Mera called home; Ulvama and Erin saw a field of flowers fighting skywards. It wasn’t as dense and oppressive as the true jungle could be; there was a profusion of flowers, but because of the size of some of the quasi-sunflowers or other widespread leaves, it meant that plants below would be starved of sunlight and led to that forest-like feel from the Fraerling perspective. Slender stems of flowers reaching upwards and providing shade even in the hotter mornings.

Oh—and it meant bugs.

Lots of bugs.

Springtime meant they were all out. Tiny bee varieties, flies, dragonflies, fruit flies, midges, beetles, and bugs for which Erin had no names. Some clung to the stalks of plants sucking nectar, others buzzed around pollinating the profusion of blooms.

Others ran into a local breed of Venus flytrap and were eaten. Because Baleros fought back. Against everything; even the plants took out insects, like the vast dripping bulbs of one plant that were so porous that insects would land, be trapped in the nectar, and sink into the plant where they were slowly consumed.

…Mostly, though, there were flowers and cuter bugs. Not that Erin had a thing about bugs, it was just that they didn’t look pretty up close. And it was actually very pleasant, because even with a few of the larger and more dangerous predators that might take a bite out of a Fraerling—the presence of the Corumdon Beetle, terror of ecosystems, meant that a large spider or centipede decided to make tracks when they saw it lumbering around.

That was one reason Wyewesshi was more populated: all these flowers meant an abundance of food and resources from the insects and plants. Nectar and pollen were edible, depending on the plant, and if you could stomach dining on insects, you had a feast.

The second factor that made Wyewesshi a place to live was just Zinni herself. The protector of the village raised bugs; she was a [Rancher], but Erin and Ulvama hadn’t gotten what that meant. Because, you see…they didn’t know how big aphids were supposed to be.

Aphids were usually so small they’d be a speck on a finger, tiny even for a Fraerling at six inches high. However, the aphids that Erin and Ulvama had seen could get up to four inches in height, big enough for a Fraerling to ride.

That was a truly gigantic aphid. Mind you, most here were one inch to three inches tall at most, but their profusion and the other creatures that Zinni raised allowed Wyewesshi’s population to live both in comfort and protection.

They were everywhere. Flocks of bounding aphids raced up flowers, or the other creatures that Zinni raised, like pillbugs (again, overly large), were herded towards grazing sites. Or processed for food and parts.

“Aphids! Who knew they were so useful? What can you do with them?”

Erin and Ulvama were besieged the moment they drew within range of the village as children ran out to see the giant beetle, who clacked his mandibles uncertainly at the crowd and big insect population. Far more young people than Dretonamis. Mera hollered back.

“Everything! You can milk ‘em, get their wool, eat them, ride them—and they grow like gnats! Some of ‘em are even born pregnant. Grandaunt Zinni says they’re dumber than rocks, though, and she hates wild ones. They get into her flocks and ruin the breeds.”

“What? That sounds—so they’re like cows?”

“I dunno what a cow is, but sure! Hey, clear a path, you lot!”

Dretonamis was a far different village to Wyewesshi. The Fraerlings there were much more inclined to give each other privacy and pursue their own lifestyles, hence their houses. This village lived closer-knit and had younger Fraerlings. You might even move here if you were raising a family and wanted the security; in time, you’d then move out to Dretonamis or Ellecmia, the third village nearby.

Ellecmia lived underground and had mushroom farms. Zemmy had told Erin and Ulvama that of the two villages, Wyewesshi was the better choice.

—However, the Human and Goblin hadn’t been prepared to be celebrities after Dretonamis! Part of that was because they’d earned the trust of the Fraerlings for helping fight off the monster attack and their month of dwelling amongst the Fraerlings. The other half was down to personality, the quirks of Wyewesshi—and the fact that Erin could exchange Fraerling food for Tallfolk food.

Certainly, they were a striking quartet with the tame Battle Hammie, the Corumdon Beetle, and, well, Ulvama. Erin was more plain, even if she had interesting quirks of her own, but Ulvama was green, a Goblin, and…fascinating.

A few covert watchers noticed her and pointed her out as they slowly made their way into the village to meet Zinni, who shooed people and little beasties out of the way to say hello.

It was a good distraction. Erin was so engrossed with staring around, gingerly petting aphids on the head, and trying to refuse some of the gnarlier bug-based foods being served her she didn’t have time to think about the inn except in brief moments, and Ulvama was all too keen to rush her around with Zemmy and Mera’s help.

The most interesting part of Wyewesshi was probably Zinni, when you got down to it. A Fraerling village changed with its protector, and she was the oldest of the three by far.

 

——

 

Erin had never seen Ulvama get flustered before, but it was a fascinating thing and only happened when Zinni gave Ulvama what was, for lack of a better word, a grandmotherly treatment.

Probably because the Hobgoblin had never had a grandmother taking care of her before. The first thing Zinni did was give the two a brisk embrace, shoo people away from them, including the [Mayor], and tow them with one arm each.

“I’ve got a guest room set up. Have you two eaten? And how are you doing for clothing? Eurise didn’t mention a thing to me, which means he’s forgotten. And are you wearing enough, young woman?”

She poked Ulvama in the stomach; the Hobgoblin still had her dancing outfit on, which she claimed was fine given the weather. Ulvama blinked.

“What, this? This is good clothing.”

“Your stomach’s bare. Which I’ll grant you might enjoy, but you won’t if a prickler midge gets burs stuck in that stomach of yours! Not to mention you’ll burn; we’ve got more shade than Dretonamis, but we’ll be outdoors, not shaded by the foliage. There’s a gel at least. What’s this skin paint? And what’s your name again, young woman? Has anyone been giving you trouble?”

“Uh. I—I’m Ulvama. [Shaman] of the Flooded Waters tribe. It’s my magical paint.”

Ulvama seemed like she wanted to cover up out of embarrassment, but Zinni gave her a warm smile.

“And it is splendid. How do you make it? A [Shaman]? We haven’t had one of those since I was a girl. A nice fellow; he got us all out and about, very organized. I imagine you’re very lonely without your tribe.”

“Uh—uh, I’m fine.”

“Mhm. I’m sure you are, and you’ve been quite brave to make it here. Now, what do you enjoy eating…?”

Defeated by Zinni’s hospitality, Ulvama and Erin quickly found themselves being given spare sets of Wyewesshi-style outfits, which, to Erin’s mild disappointment, weren’t farmer-style at all, at least how she imagined them.

Overalls, plaid, and boots? Try something more like molded ‘hard’ clothing, rather like armor, with spiked work gloves and similarly spiked shoes.

Which was a bit confusing until Erin saw Fraerlings scaling the flowers as easily as could be; their gloves and shoes let them climb like bugs, and the padding on their armor saved them from encounters with bugs or just falls. They were happy to leap to the ground and light enough it didn’t hurt, but after several times of an aphid leaping into you you’d be glad of a bit of protection.

“They’re my life’s work. Giant wooly aphids. Regular ones look soft, but it’s not nearly as useful. Mine can be used for cloth, rope, anything.”

Erin was fascinated to realize that these aphids really were the product of one woman. She had to ask—

“Why aphids, Miss Zinni? Mera said you have problems with wild ones?”

Zinni’s face screwed up instantly with the wrath of someone only too happy to explain.

“Wild aphids get born with wings sometimes, and they’ll jump over the fences and then ruin the entire stock. Little bastards. They’re dumb as can be—I didn’t breed ‘em for intelligence. As for getting more interesting breeds, getting actual, usable fluff out of them took ages. Getting my second breed working, Leaphids you can ride? Another ten years!”

Erin and Ulvama felt like they were talking to an obsessed person, rather like Pisces ranting about undead. Ulvama made a hmming sound of confusion.

“Why not just raise other bugs?”

Zinni calmed down somewhat and gave the Hobgoblin an approving smile.

“Well, because I specialized in aphids when I was younger, and all my Skills kept me there. Besides, even if they’ve got flaws, they’re not temperamental, and they’re good at breeding and fairly loyal. I could have done weevils. They’ve got hair. But—hah! You ever tried to tame weevils? They’re little bastards. I’ve got some other insects, like flying stink beetles, but they’re more guardians. Don’t pet them. They spit.”

The temperament of aphids mattered, it seemed. Not that Erin had ever considered taming either, but Zinni was only too happy to show them around the ranches and point out different aphid breeds.

“Don’t try giving them orders. They only understand me and the higher-level [Ranchhands]. The Leaphids are clever enough; they’ll carry you about fast. I got their breed down the last half of this decade. I might have enough for each village before I die. As for the regular stock, well—they’re friendly, but they jump.”

And those hops could cannon one into you at enough force to bruise if it happened too many times. Still, the hoppy, green creatures were the cutest bugs Erin had ever seen, which made Zinni snort.

“Oh, cute? I suppose that’s a different perspective for you. Tallfolk really eat no bugs? I can’t imagine you’d keep them from your food…”

“We don’t like to think we’re eating bugs. It, uh—I like yours!”

The [Rancher] wasn’t fooled by that and swiftly altered the meal plans for the night to more plants and vegetables, which made Erin embarrassed. But Zinni was brisk, and as she’d said to Erin at the festival—

“You’re guests, and even if you weren’t, you’re a Tallfolk and like me. An [Innkeeper], an [Explorer], a [Rancher], and a [Druid]. Though Seidmorre’s the least pleasant of us lot. He lives underground and won’t go about, even for a festival.”

She meant Level 50+. Erin’s ears perked up.

“What’s he like? I mean, what does he do?”

“Tends to fungi. If you visit, you’ll find walking mushrooms everywhere. It’s a local pact with nature. I can’t stand them myself. They’re touchy and odd. It’s why Zemmy always came here to play with little Mera. My herds make sense. I care for them, but they’re still animals.”

That was also the difference between her and a [Beast Tamer], Erin realized. There was no Apista-level intelligence in Zinni’s creatures. They were livestock, and she corralled them and the town with clear authority.

“Aw, great aunt! It’s not playing, it’s a pact—”

“Yes, yes. Your hitting-each-other rule. I’m sorry, Mera. Now, why don’t you show these two around? I’ll be about, but I have to tend to the flocks. There’s an aggressive bird that’s been hunting near here, and I want to keep an eye on it.”

Which implied Zinni was usually on the watch for threats when not tending to her many creatures. So, Erin and Ulvama found themselves being shown how you milked an aphid. Within moments, they were sipping aphid nectar. Too sweet for Erin, but she pretended to like it. Don’t ask where it came from.

“…This is so crazy.”

Erin forgot about The Wandering Inn for a bit as she felt at a wooly aphid’s side. Unlike the other breeds, it had fur covering it; you could pull it out since Zinni had raised hers to be extra-wooly. In her lifespan, she had done what generations of breeders had managed with species on Earth: the wooly aphids shed their coats and lived off of plant sap. Like cows, they were an ideal animal to raise.

“She’s so incredible.”

“She’s a bit bossy is what she is.”

Mera lowered her voice, and Zemmy nodded, but neither [Brawler] would badmouth Zinni in front of her. Ulvama still seemed a bit shell-shocked by her treatment. Erin hid a smile as Ulvama poked at her stomach-covering shirt.

“She, uh, she’s very motherly. Does she have kids?”

“Great grandkids. Tons of ‘em. She’s had a few partners over the years. Never married any of ‘em, and most’ve her kids are helping with the ranch. Except for a few idiots. Like Mera.”

“Hey!”

She punched Zemmy, and he swore and threw a haymaker back; used to the brawling of the duo by now, Ulvama and Erin took it in stride.

The Battle Hamster was the least happy to be here, incidentally. The Corumdon Beetle seemed as amiable as ever, wandering off to sample the local plants with some Fraerlings, but the Battle Hamster had hissed at Zinni, then hid behind Ulvama when the [Rancher] told it to behave. He had curled up into a ball and was ignoring the children’s attempts to entice him out with treats.

“I like Dretonamis more myself. I grew up here, and it’s all too close. But fun, I guess. We’ll climb a few flowers and taste pollen; that’s good for a day or two. Oh, and we can go riding the Leaphids!”

That did sound like fun. Erin smiled—and then thought of the inn. Her smile vanished, and she walked along, staring at the cup of aphid nectar. She sipped it because she was thirsty, and it was tasty.

But the motivation to enjoy it was gone.

“Just come back to us first. Tell me how to help you, and I will. But don’t worry about us, Erin. I wish you’d summoned me before this. But when you wish to talk, I will be here.”

That’s what Lyonette had said. And that look in her eyes had been so dreadful. Erin had apologized, but she hadn’t said who—

“Erin? Erin, do you want to ride a Leaphid?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

Erin came back to reality, and Zemmy hesitated, but Ulvama turned to Erin and nodded.

“Yah, let’s do it. Come on, Erin.”

She took Erin by the arm and pulled her to the big aphids with even saddles. Erin got into one; it wasn’t like there was the same danger as a horse given their relative sizes, but she wasn’t feeling it. She knew Ulvama was trying to distract her, but—

“Yeehaw. This is so—whoa.”

Erin mumbled as they began to bound across the ground. It was not like a horse at all. Leaphids leapt like grasshoppers, and that meant you had a dizzying moment of acceleration, then you’d soar towards your destination until gravity took you down.

It was…sort of relaxing. One big jump, then you flew. Erin had no control over her aphid, but Zemmy and Mera did. Ulvama was almost as hapless and looked slightly panicked.

“H-how do you make it stop?”

“Just dig in your legs like this or—whoops!”

Ulvama screamed as she bounced higher, and Erin grinned despite herself at Ulvama’s face.

“It’s Fraerling rodeo, Ulvama! Giddyup! Whoa—”

She found herself flying and caught up with Ulvama, who shouted back.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, those are just, uh, horse things. Yeehaw, giddyup. It’s silly.”

The [Innkeeper] grew instantly embarrassed at the southernisms she was spouting, but Ulvama just gave her a sidelong look, then bared her sharp teeth.

“Yeehaw?”

She tried the sound out, and Erin laughed.

“Well, close. But you’d need a big hat, and then you wave it and shout—you don’t actually do that in real life. I’m almost positive.”

“I’ll get a hat and try it. Mera, Zemmy! What do you say when you ride aphids?”

“Not that! We say tons of cooler things. Like wyda-haiiii!”

Mera stood up in her saddle and waved her arms as she took off. Zemmy turned to Ulvama and Erin.

“I think it sounds stupid, but they do say that. And they love racing these buggers. I like running more.”

“Racing them? How fast do aphids go?”

Conversation on aphid was hard. You alternated between yelling at each other and holding on while the aphid was jumping to avoid biting your tongue. So you talked in bursts. Zemmy grinned.

“If you think this is fast—see the gatherers over there? They leap from flower to flower—you can go a lot faster, but it’s hard as shit—and look down there! You gotta be careful of flying bugs or birds, but we’re pretty safe here—hey, Mera, how fast can you go on these buggers?”

She shouted back as they caught up to her.

“Racing ‘round here or in general? They’re not the best for long-distance. Zinni’s working on that, but you can zip across this place like a bolt ‘a lightning. See, the trick is you bounce from stalk to stalk. ‘S really complex, though, but then you never touch the ground. Zinni can do it pretty far, but one of her granddaughters is a master [Rider], the catbitch.”

“Uh. Sounds like you don’t like her. Isn’t Zinni your aunt, Mera?”

“Sure, but lots of Zinni’s kids suck. No one’s supposed to have favorites in Wyewesshi, even if you are the protector’s family, but everyone knows she’s sweet on us. If it weren’t for her favoring Matha, I’d have punched her face in already.”

Erin exchanged a glance with Ulvama as Zemmy nodded along, scowling. The two [Brawlers] were normally quite amiable for all they fought. Anyone they didn’t like must be a character.

Erin could see how Dretonamis appealed to Zemmy and Mera. It allowed a bit more independence, and she suspected Zinni’s overbearing personality might get on her nerves. Then again, she might just be hospitable.

Erin…wasn’t in a good state of mind to really be enjoying herself. The [Innkeeper] turned back to Ulvama to say as much and saw the Hobgoblin was watching her.

“You want to go back, Erin? We don’t have to ride.”

She was really trying to help. Erin forced a smile and changed her mind.

“I—no. Lyonette said they were really busy, even if I could talk to them with the pavilion. Not ready to talk yet. I’ll—give them time. Zemmy, Mera, I can ride a bit. Is there anything cool around here?”

The two gazed at each other and chorused.

“Bee raiding. Want to beat up some bees?”

“…Huh?”

 

——

 

Technically, it was more ‘flying insect raiding’. Since you could raid wasp nests too. And—Erin hadn’t known this—most bees didn’t produce honey. Only a few varieties did. Nor did they have nests as big as honeybees, not by far.

However, insects in this world did have qualities unique to them, such as a proclivity for gathering bits of magical stone or magical plants. So a job for people like Zemmy and Mera was to find nests and, well, beat up the insects while stealing their stuff.

“So you’re thugs.”

“What? No! We leave them alive, mostly. We just beat them down, steal their shit, and wait for them to get more.”

“…That’s a [Thug], Mera.”

The Fraerling was astounded by this, possibly because the villages didn’t have crime that organized. It certainly explained why they liked the Battle Hamster so much; their job was pretty much the same as its was.

At any rate, they were showing Ulvama and Erin some nests they raided when a gaggle of younger [Riders] caught up, begging to come along. Then they became a hopping herd as they badgered Erin and Ulvama with questions and to show off their Skills.

That wasn’t actually so bad. Erin showed them her hat and a few Skills and promised to trade some food that night. She was more worried Ulvama would get overwhelmed, but she seemed to enjoy the attention—and the questions about her skin paint.

“You think it’s nice?”

“It’s so different! Can you show us how to make it? We’ve got tons of nectars and ingredients!”

Ulvama got interested, then, and nodded. She addressed a very excited Fraerling girl of maybe… fourteen? Nanette’s age, Erin thought.

Was Nanette okay? She’d ask tonight. The [Innkeeper] grew pensive, but listened with a half-smile.

“I can put some on you if you want. Tonight? If you let me use some of your ingredients…”

That reminded Erin about her Skills [Infuse Color] and [Drain Color]. This was a bright place. She wondered if the flowers might be very useful.

“Zemmy, Mera, are there any really vibrant flowers I could experiment on? I might use my Skill on them if it’s fine for me to, uh, kill a few.”

“Flowers? Sure, we’ve got lots! Plenty of colors! What kind you want?”

Ulvama’s head snapped around, and the Fraerlings began shouting about the prettiest flowers they knew of. Erin wondered if they could combine that with pollen tasting. Maybe not. Experimenting with edible food was probably not the first move she should make, but then maybe…

“If you can make something cool out of colors, why not some blue? There’s a bunch of ‘em over yonder, and some blue spider bastards. We always find a few chunks of magicore in their webs. Let’s head over!”

Zemmy pointed excitedly, and Erin began to think what blue could be good for. Blue water? What would that do? Blue…stone? Blue sand? She realized the materials needed to be better too.

“What would combine well with blue, Ulvama? What do [Alchemists] or [Shamans] use?”

“Eh. Pollen maybe? Depends.”

The Fraerling girl waved a hand excitedly.

“What about aphid wool? We have lots!”

“Now that’s interesting. Can I make a garment out of wool if I give it color?”

It might help if we have to leave here. Because now Erin was thinking of it—they had to go.

Right?

She didn’t…want to bring it up, especially since Ulvama seemed so happy. But the inn. She had to find Ryoka, Rabbiteater, and Nerry for that matter.

They’d taken too much time. Ulvama was smiling and glancing at the children who wanted to learn her techniques, but she kept glancing back at Erin. As if she could read Erin’s mind, she began asking the kids to show her how to ride. Then to Erin’s horror, she asked for a hat—which wasn’t like a cowboy hat at all—and she reared back in the saddle.

“Let’s ride faster! Yeehaaaaaw!”

Erin covered her face as the Fraerlings copied her. She saw Ulvama’s aphid do a series of mini-hops forwards, then one big leap that took her above the height of the flowers.

“Go, Ulvama! Come on!”

Mera shouted, waving Zemmy and Erin to come on. Erin tried to kick her aphid in the side. She swore it farted, and Zemmy grumbled as the Fraerlings shouted and whooped. They took off ahead of him.

“They like bugs too much here.”

Erin sort of agreed with him, but she listened to the ‘yeehaws’ and the other cries in the air. What was it?

Wyda-hai! It actually worked if you shouted it right. Erin heard a chorus of the shouts from above her and then voices. Then—

A scream. Erin’s head snapped up, and then there was another, not of excitement. Zemmy turned his head as an aphid fell, and the girl who’d wanted Ulvama’s magical paint screamed.

“It’s them! Zemmy!”

“What? Who?”

“The Cottontails! They’re coming—”

Then Erin realized the shouting wasn’t just from her group, but coming from the side. Her head rose as she saw shadows flitting over the ground. Not many—a dozen?

The Cottontail Raiders. It was such a stupid name. Zemmy began swearing as Erin’s heart began to beat faster.

“Ulvama!”

She shouted upwards, but Erin didn’t know where the Goblin had gone. She’d jumped high, and Fraerlings were landing, some leaping off their aphids to dive down. They were shouting for Zemmy and Mera.

“Those idiots! They’re raiding now? Erin, stay down. Mera!”

Zemmy urged his mount upwards, and Erin saw the Cottontails now, bounding from stalk to stalk like Mera had described. They were riding practically horizontally to the ground, and moving far, far faster than Erin had expected. She reached for her side, for…

Her knife. She didn’t have it. Erin had no weapons at her belt. No knife, no Densecore stone—

She’d forgotten to stay armed here. She cast around, then made a fist. Fire. She could conjure it. But where was—

“Ulvama!”

That was Mera’s voice. Erin instantly tried to get her aphid to leap towards the sound of the shouting, swearing [Brawler]. The aphid was nervous, though, and only did small hops.

“Ulvama?”

Then Erin heard the Hobgoblin shouting in a panic. Someone fell from above, swearing and punching. Mera hit the ground, leapt back up, knocked from her aphid. She pointed up.

“Erin! They’re going after—”

Oh no. No, she felt like she was in slow motion. Erin heard Ulvama’s voice, then, shouting.

“Erin! Erin—!”

They were going after her. Why? Erin grabbed the aphid’s reins.

“Up! Come on, up!”

It bounded upwards, but too low to clear the flower canopy. Erin saw a shape blur past her. A figure riding one of the Leaphids on a custom saddle. They had a mask over their face, Erin realized. A crude, painted clay one, like an insect—

Erin kicked out, but she was way too far and the figure moving too fast. They were leaping upwards, and Ulvama—

A bloom of light. Magic. Erin shouted as she landed and tried to get the aphid to jump.

“Ulvama! Jump down!”

Was she panicking? It wouldn’t hurt her, but—Zemmy was up there, shouting.

“Get off her! Ulvama, cut the ropes! Cut the—”

Ropes? Erin dug her knees into the aphid’s side, and it leapt. She went up and saw Ulvama for just a second. The [Raiders] had something—spiderwebs—all over her and her aphid, and they were trying to jump away in a cluster, six of them.

“Ulvama!”

Erin saw the Hobgoblin shouting, trying to get free, eyes wide in terror. Erin inhaled, and the flames burned her lungs. Then she hesitated. Ulvama was there—

Her aphid was falling. Erin shouted as the group jumped. She tried to make the aphid move, but it tried to toss her. She landed on her back as it leapt away, afraid of her, and then got up.

“Stop!”

Her [Loud Voice] Skill shook the flowers, and everything bounded away from her. The raiders whirled, then continued to leap away. They were laughing, Erin realized. Laughing—until one shouted and there was a triumphant cry.

Zemmy kicked one of the figures out of the saddle, and they fell towards the ground. They landed—not hard, and they were scrambling up when Mera charged into them. There was a shout, a female voice crying out as Mera twisted one arm up, and Erin saw Zemmy trying to chase the others, but far too slow compared to their speed. Erin was standing then, and Ulvama—was gone.

A single Cottontail Raider lay on the ground, swearing.

“Let go, let go, Mera! Matha will beat you and Zemmy into the ground if you don’t let go—let go or I’ll tell Zinni on you!”

“You idiot, your gang’s crossed the line!”

Mera was shouting as Erin strode over. Zemmy landed, swearing, and Erin Solstice gazed down at the young woman struggling as her broken pottery mask lay in front of her.

She couldn’t have been more than eighteen.

Cottontail Raiders. Not a threat, Eurise had said. Erin put the pieces together.

Kids. Teenagers.

Zinni’s granddaughter.

It didn’t matter. They had Ulvama. Erin saw the raider staring up at her, eyes alight with curiosity, not fear.

“Is that the Human? Hah! Matha’s gonna be mad we missed her!”

Erin felt at her belt. Ulvama.

She needed a knife.

 

——

 

The moment she realized they’d grabbed her and she couldn’t get free, Ulvama feared the worst. No matter how fast Erin got here, and she would…

Stupid. You let your guard down and it happened. Even here. Stupid!

She was shaking as they leapt with her and the panicking aphid from place to place. They were fast, efficient, and chattering excitedly. Ulvama got pieces of their conversation; the webs she was in were insulating her from sound pretty well.

 

“—ot her! Did you see the other—?

“I think Zemmy got someone. Do we go back and—?”

“Mera. Let’s tell Matha—”

“Look like? She’s green! —lin?”

 

So they’d grabbed her because she was a Goblin. Ulvama tried to think of a way out of the net, but she was webbed up, and she had no knife. No knife, no tools.

Stupid. All her magical paints were configured to keep her cool or for protection. She could cast an offensive spell, but she’d risk hitting herself, and if she hurt them…

Wait. Survive. Surviving was so difficult.

She felt like she was aboard the ship again. She had to breathe. Just wait for Erin to get here. Wait—

It was safe to say that Ulvama’s fears only kept mounting throughout the relatively short ride. They were moving fast, so she couldn’t have said how far it was. For a Tallfolk, not far at all. She suspected they were just out of the flower field, if that. Thirty minutes later, they stopped, and she heard voices shouting.

“Matha! They got Fenmi! It was Zemmy and Mera!”

“Didya get more Leaphids?”

There were more shouts, and the voices—young, Ulvama thought—were shouted down by a female voice, annoyed and triumphant.

“I got Great Grandma’s best one yet. You should see it jump! I told you to stay away from those idiots! Now we’ve gotta grab Fenmi—did you get both of them?”

“Just the Goblin.”

“What?”

More arguing and voices. Ulvama was jostled as they put her down, and she tried to think. Was it possible they wanted her as a ransom? That was unexpected, but preferable to anything else. But she didn’t like the next line.

“Take her to the spare rooms. I want to talk to her.”

Shoving and being jostled about. They didn’t unweb her, just rolled her and the aphid into what seemed to be a storehouse, then cut her loose. Ulvama didn’t fight as they pulled her out; the poor aphid was terrified, and they worked with surprising gentleness to avoid breaking its slender legs.

They were all—kids, Ulvama realized. At their base, they took off their masks, and they ranged from barely older than the girl Ulvama had been talking to to their early twenties at most. She held still and waited as they told her not to run.

How long until Erin got here? Could she find her? Could Zinni? But that name—Matha.

Ulvama was doing the same calculations as Erin. But the end result didn’t make her feel any better, or the fact that the leader of the Cottontail Raiders was female. Age really didn’t matter when it came to committing horrific acts. Goblins didn’t live long at all, and Tremborag’s Goblins learned fast…

The raiders kept peering at her, excited and whispering. One asked her name. Ulvama kept her mouth shut and backed up against a wall, moving into a corner. They had to grab the aphid, which was now panicking, and the trio who’d unbound her dragged a chair and table into what looked like a storeroom full of pilfered goods.

No windows she could escape from. Just one door, and the walls seemed to be…clay? Ulvama tried to put a shaking hand on the wall as she eyed the teensy windows in the ceiling. Could she break out? Not right now.

—And she had no time. The door opened, and the leader of this group of young Fraerlings came striding in. She had a mask that resembled a dragonfly’s face, and two other subordinates flanked her. When she pulled the mask off, Ulvama saw a face somewhat like Zinni’s.

She had reddish-black hair, an impertinent, cocky grin, and swaggered around in a riding outfit adapted for the aphids. She carried no blade that Ulvama could see, and she had no scars on her face. When she saw Ulvama squeezed into a corner, her face grew confused, and she beckoned.

“Hey, you can sit in a chair, y’know. Did those idiots give you a rough time? I told ‘em to be careful. You’re our prisoner now. Do you know who we are?”

She waited. Ulvama weighed a response against silence.

Better to say something rather than make them angry. She spoke.

“The raiders who raid the villages.”

“That’s right! Cottontail Raiders! And you’re looking at Matha, the leader herself! We’re the outlaws who can steal even from rabbits! See that jacket? Made from a hare’s tail!”

One of the two young women flanking Matha burst out, indicating the jacket that Matha half-flexed with a cocky smile. Ulvama’s stare…intensified.

Stealing cotton from the tail of a rabbit. She supposed that was the kind of thing only a Fraerling would boast of, or a very weird [Thief]. The Hobgoblin said nothing, though.

Something was—off. Ulvama had been captured before. By Humans, other Goblins—she had told Erin that, in the cages of Roshal’s ship, which felt like they were around her now. She wasn’t even bound with manacles, but she was shaking—

Something…Matha glanced at her, then whispered to a subordinate.

“Hey, get her a blanket. I think she’s cold.”

“In this weather?”

“Shut up and do it. Hey, you can sit in a chair Miss…Goblin. You are a Goblin, yeah?”

“Yes. A Hobgoblin.”

“Cool.”

Matha breathed the word, eyes lighting up. She hesitated, then came over and squatted a bit, at a distance. Ulvama stared at her as the other two Fraerlings peered at her face.

“She’s got red eyes, just like the stories.”

“Shut up. Don’t stare. You’re bothering her.”

—Ulvama realized a bunch of faces were peering through the doorway, even the windows. They backed up when Matha glared at them. Then Matha sat back on her haunches. She hesitated, then cleared her throat.

“So, I bet you’re wondering why we kidnapped you and all.”

No. Ulvama said nothing, but her puzzlement grew as Matha glanced at her subordinates. They were nudging her, then whispering. She hesitated, coughed, then slicked back her hair, which she’d cut very short. She adjusted her jacket again, then gave Ulvama a huge, cocksure grin.

“So, uh, what’s your name? I’m Matha, and this lot’s the only Fraerlings who aren’t cat-stupid with laws and regulations. We’re a lot more interesting than anyone in the villages. Sorry about kidnapping you. D’you—fancy a drink? Because I’ll buy you one. We have money and drinks.”

Her voice cracked on the drink question. Then she held out a gloved hand and blushed faintly. Ulvama stared at her. Then at the other ‘raiders’. The one who’d gotten a blanket held it out; she had spiked blue hair and tried to elbow her leader aside.

“I’m Lantis. A [Raider Rider]. I’m the second-in-command over here. You want something to drink? Or just—hang out and talk? Your arm-paints are ice cool. Do you do them yourself?”

Then they were all fighting to introduce themselves and assure Ulvama she wasn’t a captive—just a guest they wanted to get to know. Ulvama—after the terrible, terrible fear in her heart abated enough for her to breathe—realized her mistake.

And theirs. She finally moved out of the corner as Matha offered her a hand up.

“Sorry if we scared you. I told them not to freak you out, but they’re all idiots, and Zemmy and Mera are dangerous. So…what’s an attractive Goblin like you doing in the most boring part of Baleros?”

She tried to lean on one of her friends, and Ulvama opened her mouth.

No words came out right away. Just general incredulity. She watched as several other Cottontail Raiders tried to flirt with her, and then her mental stupefaction gave way to fear and concern again.

Because she’d realized she wasn’t in danger, at least, not immediately.

…But Erin didn’t know that.

 

——

 

People liked to pretend Erin was a mystery, and she in many ways was—Ulvama didn’t pretend to know all of what went on in her head. She was a very original, fascinating person, and not just because she liked Goblins.

The surface read of Erin’s silly, bubbly personality was obviously false; Ulvama had seen through that the moment they’d met. She hid what she really thought, much like Ulvama herself. Of course, the parts she let leak out were revealing—and who she had become was also revealing.

A Woman of Fire or, as the old [Witches] and [Shamans] would have called her, eh…Vizikashónu? It meant something, but Ulvama had forgotten some of the old stories she’d learned as a child. Women who’d taken on the power of flames, much like the People of Metal.

A firebringer, like Maviola El. A [Witch]. And—Erin had remained an [Innkeeper]. The other two things weren’t actually as strange as the latter. Flaming [Witches] were common. Just look at Anazurhe and her entire aesthetic. Or your average [Witch] when a mob found them.

It was when someone didn’t immediately grab at glory or power that Ulvama was surprised. Everyone was a Tremborag, deep down. They just didn’t have the power he had wielded. But Erin was like…

Pyrite. Another Goblin who’d annoyed and fascinated a younger Ulvama, and who had caught the attention of that other mystery. Greydath of Blades. It was hard for Ulvama to guess what any of them were thinking, but that wasn’t to say Erin was unreadable.

For instance, as Ulvama sat in her ‘guest quarters’ in the Cottontail Raiders’ base, picking at the aphid wool blanket they’d given her, she had a very concrete idea of what Erin was thinking and what she was going to do.

Namely: Ulvama has been kidnapped, might be being assaulted now. Therefore, I should murder everything in a straight line from me to her.

The [Shaman] appreciated that line of thinking, generally speaking, but it was abundantly clear to her now that her terrifying captors were less of the Bloodfeast Raiders’ type, and more…she glanced up.

“Idiot children.”

A few of the peeking Fraerlings ducked away from the door. One waved, grinning cheerily as Ulvama balefully eyed the waving Fraerling with a bow made out of carved wood.

That’s the biggest longbow I’ve ever seen in my life. It was half again as tall as the Fraerling. Ulvama wasn’t even sure how you were supposed to fire it, but she supposed the strength of a Fraerling meant it was somewhat feasible.

However, its wielder was a girl who looked no more than seventeen, still had acne, and for all her swagger, had that awkward quality about her, such as banging into the doors as she kept forgetting she had the bow on her back. She had green hair cut short in the style of her leader, Matha, and insect mandibles made into a crown around her head. She bounced around like one of those little dogs Drakes kept, all energy and excitement and not a hint of menace in her.

Clearly, she thought this was a big game and the raiders kidnapping Ulvama was a great way to make friends. Her face fell as Ulvama glowered and pulled at the strands of aphid wool on the blanket.

“Is she still mad? She keeps glaring at us.”

“I bet she’s mad Suvvie and the others kidnapped her. Did they jostle her about?”

“Maybe she’s hungry? Hey, miss, are you hungry? We’ve got—what do we have?”

“Acorn oatmeal?”

“Yuck, don’t give her that. She’s our guest. Do we have any fried spidersac eggs? They’re really nummy.”

Yep. Kids. Ulvama closed her eyes. Her panic and terror over what she’d thought was about to happen was fading slowly, leaving her mad and upset, but no matter how she looked at it—these idiot children playing at runaways weren’t evil. Just stupid.

If Erin kills or hurts them, she won’t forgive herself. So Ulvama had to deescalate the situation and get word to Erin before someone got stabbed. So, she stood up as she finished working on the blanket. She felt at her pockets and the belt pouch that Veerni had given her as a present, then spoke.

“I want to leave. Or send a message. Where’s your leader?”

She strode out the door of the storage room, and the gaggle of Fraerlings followed her.

“You can’t leave! You just got here! Matha’s breaking in the new aphid.”

“Then I want to send a message. Can anyone here cast [Message]? Or take a letter from me to…Wyewesshi? Is that closest?”

It was the longbow Fraerling who waved a hand.

“Yep! We’re only thirty minutes away from—”

Everyone kicked her instantly.

“Aithe! Shut up! Do you have eggs in your brain? She’s our captive! She’ll tell Zemmy and Mera where we are! Or worse—Eurise!”

“You’re so stupid, Aithe. This is why no one likes you.”

“I’m sorry! She asked, and I just said—”

Ulvama focused on Aithe, picking her out as someone she could probably get answers from. Or manipulate.

Every group has the silly one. The one who’s kinder or softer, or thinks she is. If they had me locked up and were worse, she’s the one I’d beg for help. I can probably trick her into helping me…

No, I’m too new. They’ll notice. If I had time, I could use her; right now, it’s best to just get information.

She sidled over and, following a hunch, grabbed the girl’s arm.

“I’m Ulvama. And you’re Aithe? Can you take a message for me?”

She smiled, showing the Fraerling her teeth, and Aithe went round-eyed. She stuttered.

“I—uh—I can’t! I mean, not right now. Wyewesshi’s searching for us since we stole Zinni’s best aphid. But once a day or two passes, we’ll tell them you’re our prisoner! Don’t worry, we’re really nice. And Matha’ll probably let you go.”

Someone muttered from the side.

“Yeah, right. Not so long as she thinks she’s got a chance.”

Ulvama’s eyes narrowed. She leaned over, and Aithe gulped. The Fraerling glanced down at Ulvama’s chest, then back up at her and went bright red.

Yep, she’s interested in my body. Easier.

“What about a [Message] spell? I really have to tell my friend I’m okay.”

“A what?”

Ulvama’s hopes were dashed as she recalled Fraerlings might have advanced magic, but they lacked some things. Like [Message] spells. Aithe glanced around, and someone pushed past the others. One of Matha’s top lieutenants, who had a wand and the look of a [Mage]. She was shorter and had spectacles and a self-important expression.

“Hi, Miss Ulvama. I’m Qole, Matha’s left hand. We don’t have [Message] spells in Fraerling villages. That’s Tallfolk magic, and everyone can trace it. I reckon I could learn it, but the spellbooks that teach it are off limits. But if you need magic, I’m your [Sorcerer]! I can cast Tier 4 magic.”

She stuck out a gloved hand, and Ulvama blinked. Another kid. She was older than Aithe, but Tier 4 at Qole’s age…

Damn Fraerlings. I was a genius for casting Tier 3 magic at her age. Ulvama glowered.

“Well, I need someone to send a message to Dretonamis, then. Saying I’m fine. I’ll write it myself.”

“No can-do, Miss Ulvama. They’ll just try to capture us since they’re probably searching for you. Relax! No one’s going to hurt you.”

“I’m not worried about my wellbeing. My friend—Erin—she’s going to come after me. She’s worried about me.”

Qole exchanged a glance with the others, which was excited rather than nervous.

“The Human? That’s great! We wanted to meet her too.”

“No, not great. She’s going to try and rescue me.”

“Right, so we’ll capture her. Even if Zemmy and Mera come around, we’ve beaten them and we’ll do it again.”

That statement got less enthusiasm from the group, but Aithe nodded along confidently, and Ulvama took a breath. She didn’t miss the way Qole, and several other Fraerlings of both genders, were eying her.

Which was interesting, in a vague way. Ulvama knew Drake and Human cultures, and what they called Turnscales were hated and outcast, but Goblin tribes varied. Tremborag’s Mountain City tribe had copied their views from Humans, mostly, but Molten Stone—where Ulvama had grown up—hadn’t cared who you loved.

Well, Ulvama didn’t really feel like being flirted with now, but she was a [Shaman], and influence was influence. It also explained why half the raiders were fascinated by her—outside of the Goblin thing. Again, she had a thought.

Easy to make them fight. Sleep with one and the others get jealous. Or just flirt.

…No. Not now, not needed, and not enough time. Bad idea, but I could do it.

I don’t have to do it. Erin’s coming. She reminded herself of that. Normally, there was no one.

“Erin isn’t going to be kidnapped, Qole. She’s dangerous. She’s over Level 50.”

Qole’s eyes widened with excitement rather than alarm.

“She is? Even better! We can handle anything she does, don’t worry. We raid old Zinni all the time, and even Eurise can’t catch us!”

I bet Zinni doesn’t want to actually go after her granddaughter, and Eurise described you as harmless pests. Ulvama’s teeth were grinding together as she tried to work through the others’ confidence. Then she had another thought.

It’s been, what, forty minutes? If I were Erin, the first thing I’d do is use the [Pavilion of Secrets] to make sure I was well. I can tell her I’m okay. So…why hasn’t she contacted me?

Erin described the effect of the [Pavilion of Secrets] like a split in time. You went in, had a conversation, and while time passed for you, the person on the other end would nap or experience the interaction in the blink of an eye once it was done. A part of them would be talking to you, but it didn’t stop them from living their lives.

But Ulvama hadn’t been summoned, which implied a few things.

Either Erin was panicking so much she wasn’t using it, or the Skill was still malfunctioning, or…Ulvama recalled Erin talking about people she hadn’t been able to talk to, like Nereshal of the Blighted Kingdom. She narrowed her eyes.

“Okay, another question. Am I being warded by magic?”

This question provoked a sparkle of excitement from Qole, who puffed out her chest.

“Noticed, did you? That’s right, not even the olds in the villages can figure out where we are! I made a wardstone myself; it’s why no one’s ever found our base.”

Everyone nodded as Ulvama glanced around and saw a hanging stone. Now that she looked around, the Cottontail Raiders’ base turned out to be a literal treehouse; it was built into the side of a branch, somewhat ramshackle wood buildings propped up on struts of wood hammered into the tree. It seemed very fragile, but Ulvama supposed everything was lightweight.

A stone inscribed with glowing runes was hanging from a little net above the biggest building, and Ulvama had to admit it was pretty powerful. She eyed it as Aithe piped up cheerfully.

“That’s right! No one can find us! Except that time Zemmy did. And the time we stole old Gollesume’s spellbook and we had to change bases again. Or the fire when—”

Qole flicked fire at Aithe, and the bow-wielding Fraerling leapt back with a shout of alarm. The [Sorcerer] glared, then turned back to Ulvama.

“So no messages, sorry. No one is going out of the base either, unless Matha says so. We already had one of our own caught.”

“Aren’t you worried she’ll tell them where we are?”

Qole waved this off.

“What? Fenmi? We’ll break her out in a day. Old Zinni never managed to get anyone to squeal.”

“Uh huh. Well, I can see you think everything is going to go fine. Are you the smart person in the camp?”

“I’m the brains, yep.”

Ulvama peered at the other raiders, who might not have been on-board with her attitude, but weren’t going to fight her on it.

“I suppose, by comparison, you are.”

Qole’s confident smile turned into slightly narrowed eyes. She eyed Ulvama up and down again, then stepped forwards.

“Just because we’re hospitable raiders doesn’t mean we’re gonna tolerate rudeness, Miss Goblin. I thought you’d be more interesting and like us. Aren’t you bored out of your mind after a month with the olds in Dretonamis? We’re more fun here. Want us to show you around?”

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. Ulvama gave her a straight-faced look. Yep. Idiots who thought they lived boring lives. She sighed, then took Qole’s hand. The [Sorcerer] started, then watched as Ulvama lifted the hem of the tunic Zinni had forced her to wear.

She put Qole’s hand up the front of her tunic, and the [Sorcerer] went bright red as her hand touched Ulvama’s breasts. She yanked her hand back as if she’d been scalded.

“What was that for?”

Ulvama’s smile was slightly sinister. It was the smile she gave people she was considering biting the ears off of. Aithe stared at her open-mouthed as the [Shaman] leaned forwards.

“I want to speak to your leader. Very prettily please?”

Qole hesitated, and then her eyes slid towards Aithe. The other Cottontail Raiders gazed at each other. Kidnapping this Goblin?

A great idea.

 

——

 

Matha was bouncing around from branch to branch, breaking in the aphid she’d stolen much like someone broke in a horse. It was certainly fast; even the other aphids seemed smaller and slower by comparison.

But she stopped when Qole hurried over to call out to her. Ulvama waited, arms folded. Aithe kept peering at her and fidgeting. So did a lot of the other Fraerlings.

Everyone wanted the same things in the end. Right now, Ulvama needed to get word to Erin that she was okay. So the straightest route to someone like Matha was simple. Men and women were alike across species. Not the same, but they both had ways you could use them.

Of course, I don’t have to. If I do it wrong, it gets—bad. Have to be careful. But without charming one, all of them can be bad.

It’s not like that this time. Probably. I have to see. They always show what they want if they can get it. All it takes is one and they stop being nice. Careful—be very careful now—

She watched Matha’s reactions like a hawk, but without showing it. Planning the next part carefully. It would all depend on Matha, and thus far, she reacted like how Ulvama expected.

Matha listened as Qole dashed over, and whatever the [Sorcerer] said, it wasn’t what someone else blurted out. Matha’s head spun around, and then she began to argue with Qole and hurriedly got off the aphid.

Seems like I don’t even need to use magic or anything else. Ulvama hid a dark smile. Then she turned to Aithe.

“Do you share rooms or does Matha have her own house?”

“Um. That’s hers.”

The Fraerling archer had lost her eager smile. She pointed to the biggest hut, and Ulvama began to walk towards it. The green-haired girl followed her, hopping along because her bow was so big even walking normally was hard.

“Um—um—Miss Ulvama?”

“Call me Ulvama. What?”

She gave Aithe a less-toothy smile, and the Fraerling hopped from foot to foot.

“I’m, uh—Matha’s acting tough and cool, and so is Qole, because they think you’re the coolest thing that’s ever come to the villages. She really likes you.”

“I can tell.”

“R-right. But you don’t, um—you don’t have to—we kidnapped you, but we’re gonna let you go. Okay?”

The girl appeared nervous and turned a shade redder as Ulvama pulled the door to Matha’s house open. The [Shaman] turned and gave the Fraerling a second, longer look. Then she took a step back and rubbed the Fraerling girl’s hair.

Yep, dyed. Ulvama found some of what seemed like a green pollen on her hands. She sniffed it, then smiled at Aithe.

“Don’t worry. I’m in control.”

Aithe opened her mouth, confused, and then Ulvama slipped inside Matha’s rooms. She pulled something out of her belt pouch and waited.

Whatever Matha expected when she entered her own rooms, finding Ulvama in it, sitting on her bed, threw the raiders’ leader. She hesitated, then made a show of striding in.

“Hey there, Qole says you want to get a message to your friend and that she’s gonna be mad. Relax! I’ll get word to Wyewesshi—tonight. Some of the girls are gonna scout it out to try and free Fenmi.”

Ulvama smiled at Matha as the Fraerling hesitated, then awkwardly pulled up a chair.

“Uh—like my place?”

It was a room furnished with hand-made furniture, lower-quality than Dretonamis, probably all made by the raiders. A few pieces seemed stolen, and there were trophies of insects and animals on the walls that Matha had probably slain herself. Ulvama patted the bed.

“It’s very comfy.”

“Uh—glad you like it. I’ve never had any complaints!”

Matha’s cheeks were slightly red. She stared at Ulvama’s chest, and the [Shaman] leaned forwards.

“I don’t like being kidnapped. Erin’s very worried about me. Qole told you she’s level 50? She needs to be told I’m well, understand?”

Matha bristled at Ulvama’s tone slightly and spread her hands.

“Hey, I’m sorry if we scared you, but no harm, no foul, right? I’ll send word tonight. We’ll shoot an arrow with a letter—”

“Not tonight. Send someone now. Do it as a favor to me and I’ll like being here a lot more. Can you do that?”

Matha hesitated, then shook her head.

“Listen, we just hit Wyewesshi, and I bet Zinni’s pissed. I could send someone to Dretonamis; it’s only an hour if they hop fast. But they’re probably on the lookout too, and dodging the olds—the old folk—is hard. Your friend will worry for a few hours, that’s all.”

“She’s not going to worry. She’s going to try and kill you.”

This time, Matha blinked, and her face went slack. Then she grinned.

“Well, once we straighten the situation out, I bet we’ll get along. That’s why you and she are interesting.”

Ulvama sighed.

“I think you don’t understand the words I’m speaking. I don’t mean, ‘she’s going to try to kill you’ like…punching you or being angry. She is going to try and stab you to death or burn you alive. I’ve seen her kill people before. She stabbed a [Prince] through the heart for a friend of hers. She’s going to do the same thing for me.”

Matha’s eyes went round, confirming that she hadn’t ever done the same. Innocent, innocent…Ulvama saw her hesitate and hoped—but then Matha burst out excitedly.

“A [Prince]? An actual [Prince]? This is when you were Tallfolk, right? Who? How? So you’re [Warriors]? She is? They said she was an [Innkeeper]?”

Dead gods. Ulvama closed her eyes a second. She actually hadn’t ever run into this…this…innocence. For all Fraerlings fought every day against huge creatures, there wasn’t the same awareness of darkness that Ulvama knew. No murderers. No crime on the level a city got.

Okay. She decided to move onto Plan B. Ulvama sighed and got off the bed.

“She is an [Innkeeper] who’s very good at fighting. I’m a [Shaman]. From Izril. I come from a Goblin tribe. Erin has an inn.”

“Right. I knew that. We hear things from the villages. We would’ve come sooner to pick you two up, but it’s hard to get anyone in Dretonamis. We knew you’d probably visit Wyewesshi, so we were waiting. [Shaman]. That’s neat. Qole will want to ask you about magic. I’m an [Insect Raidrider]. I’ve killed a few big monsters myself. I even had to take out a viper once, solo.”

She puffed out her chest before realizing that might not mean much to a Tallfolk. She eyed Ulvama’s magical paint.

“Nice, um, paints. Do you make them yourself?”

“Yep. I help people. Enchant them. If you’re going to keep me here, maybe I’ll do some of the others.”

Matha twisted around as Ulvama walked past her, glancing around the room.

“That’d be cool. Everyone really wants to get to know you. Listen—I know you’re upset, but let us make it up to you. We’ll get a letter to your friend, and we can, uh, talk. Qole said you, uh—is there anything you need? Because if you’re down to hang out, I’d definitely like to get to know you, but no pressure.”

She gave Ulvama a winning smile, and the [Shaman] peered at her as she raised her brows. She wore a slight smile.

“Maybe. I just wanted to make sure I explained why I was very concerned. Is that armor enchanted?”

She poked at it, and Matha self-consciously removed a piece of the armor that was much like the clothing from her village.

“What? Oh, yeah. Qole can enchant stuff. Not long, but it’s all wind resistance and stuff. Well, anti-resistance so we can hop faster. And toughness. Can’t forget it…uh, want to see? Like I said, I know the kidnapping wasn’t cool, but we’re outlaws. Zemmy and Mera are just idiots who’ll fight us on sight. So, um. Sorry.”

Ulvama nodded as she turned the pauldron over. She saw Matha turning to peer up at her and then glanced down.

“I was very scared.”

“I, uh—sorry. I told them to be careful.”

Ulvama handed the pauldron back to Matha, and the Fraerling fumbled with it. She stepped to Matha’s other side.

“They were, I suppose, but I was terrified. I thought I would be in very great danger. And that’s why Erin has to know. Do you understand? Erin and I just escaped Roshal. Do you know…who they are?”

“Roshal? Never heard of ‘em. We know some of the big nations and stuff. Y’know, the Iron Vanguard, Jungle Tails, Stormhooves, and on Izril it’d be…Tribe Plainshowl? And Lesegoth and, uh…Mershi?”

Matha was clearly distracted, fumbling for history and throwing names out there. Ulvama shook her head. She laced her claws together.

“Roshal are [Slavers]. They were going to make us slaves. Erin saved us both. But they had us in one of their ships. Do you know what [Slavers] are?”

“I…”

So surprising. Matha hesitated, and Ulvama smiled sweetly as she leaned forwards and put her hands on the [Raidrider]’s shoulders.

“It’s the same as what you’d do to someone you captured, like a Goblin. You put a collar on them, and then you can beat them or kill them or have sex with them because you own them. That’s what Roshal is. That’s what we escaped. Do you understand? When you kidnapped me, I thought you were going to rape me.”

That sunk home. Matha jerked as Ulvama put her hands together. She opened her mouth.

“What? I’d never—”

The strand of aphid wool that Ulvama had pulled free of the blanket they’d given her was surprisingly tough, especially if you twined it properly. But you only ever needed a bit of fabric anyways. The Hobgoblin had hidden it in her hands, and she pulled the improvised garrote across Matha’s neck.

The young Fraerling woman had good reactions. She tried to grab the piece of cord reflexively, then reached for her side; Ulvama spoke.

“[Weaken Muscles].”

She held the garrote with one hand as she flicked the dagger away. The [Raidrider]’s feet kicked as she tried to push herself away, but Ulvama just knocked both of them out of the chair and knelt on Matha’s back. She was choking, spit dribbling from her mouth, and the [Shaman] could feel the Fraerling’s heart racing.

Terror. Matha was staring ahead, trying to dig her fingers into the noose around her neck, and even if she was high-level, she still had to breathe. Her lips were moving, and her face was red—

Ulvama waited until Matha’s fingers were scrabbling desperately, and then she let go. Almost—she almost had the urge to just strangle the girl until she passed out, go outside, and take her chances stealing an aphid or breaking the stone.

Instead, she let her grip slacken and heard the half-scream of breath, then the choking and sobbing wheezing, coughing as Matha tore the garotte away and lay there. Ulvama sat back on the bed and waited.

When Matha came up, it was on all fours, and she appeared ready to attack, but Ulvama gave her a full Goblin’s smile.

“When you’re someone’s prisoner or all tied up, they can do anything they want to you. I could have done that to you. You couldn’t have stopped me. No one would have known you were screaming. That’s what a [Slave] is.”

“You almost killed—we didn’t hurt you!”

Matha was gasping for breath, backing away from Ulvama.

“How was I supposed to know that? How is Erin? Do you know what it’s like to be held down and attacked? I do.”

The fury of the Fraerling wasn’t a match for the cold stare Ulvama was giving her. She tried.

“I’m—we’re not like that. I’m not even a guy!”

The Hobgoblin’s smile turned contemptuous.

“That doesn’t matter. Do you think it would? I could show you exactly how unpleasant it is. I don’t think I’m having fun being kidnapped. The only reason I didn’t kill you is because I think you don’t understand what you did.”

And because Zinni’s your grandmother. Ulvama didn’t say that out loud, then decided it was a decent Ulvama thought to voice for once.

“And because Zinni’s your grandmother and I’m more afraid of making her mad than your entire raiding group. You call yourself the Cottontail Raiders.”

“Y—so?”

“The last time Erin met raiders, they burnt a friend of hers alive. What do you think she feels like?”

It was rather like beating up a child at some point. Matha was furious, afraid, unsettled, and guilty—and Ulvama didn’t stop, because she was an expert at bullying children. Her flat stare forced Matha’s eyes away.

“I need you to send a letter from me to Erin. Right now. Or she will do far worse than me strangling you. If you do that, I’ll start forgiving you.”

“And if I—”

There was at least something more to Matha than met the eye. She stopped herself, then coughed, wiped at her face, and felt at her throat.

“Fine. But not to Wyewesshi. No one will make it there and back. Zinni’ll just control their aphids. Dretonamis. I’ll send the fastest person I’ve got right away. Deal?”

Ulvama supposed it was as good as she’d get. She nodded.

“I need paper and ink so she knows it’s me.”

“I’ll—Qole has some. I’ll get it. One sec.”

Matha cast around, then tried to wipe her face on her covers. Ulvama grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the door.

“Hey, wait—”

Ulvama shoved the Fraerling out the door and stomped out after her. A number of the Cottontails who happened to be loitering at the door saw the two exit. Whatever they expected, it probably wasn’t Matha’s disheveled state—in actual disheveledness, her face red from burst blood vessels—or the line across her neck. Ulvama glanced around, then clapped her hands.

“You! Ink and paper!”

She pointed at Aithe, and Matha called out for Qole, coughing. The Cottontails stared at the [Shaman] as she sighed and rubbed at her shoulders.

She hated children.

 

——

 

“They’re all idiots and dumb as the aphids they ride, Erin. Ulvama’s fine. Don’t worry.”

Ulvama’s fine. Ulvama was going to be fine. She was kidnapped, but they weren’t like the Bloodfeast Raiders. Or Roshal. She was fine.

Zemmy and Mera said it again and again to Erin, increasingly frequently and in worried tones. They were concerned about her.

Something on my face, probably. Erin sat. She had been moving around, demanding answers, asking who these Cottontail Raiders were, what the plan was, if there were [Trackers] or someone who could scry Ulvama.

Now she sat. Time was a bastard. It was doing that thing it always did when there was a crisis, skipping ahead as she tried to make it slow, a merry, dancing man with a grin waving at her to hurry up. Her friends were dying. Ulvama was a captive.

An hour was a long time. A long time where anything could happen. How much time was in transit? Where were they?

Why am I not panicking? 

She wasn’t, Erin realized. She was…thinking. Her chest felt empty. So damned empty. She’d been like this all morning, ever since the Goblin King and knowing someone was dead.

Dead gods, I’m cold. Someone was dead, someone she loved, that was how the quest worked. They were dead, and no one had told her, but she wasn’t weeping. She was just waiting. She cared. She did—but Erin felt the same way about Ulvama.

The emotions she should feel, that she thought should be in any decent person, were gone. Panic for Ulvama, worry, fear, sadness, even anger was muted. Her head was foggy. She was trying to think.

There were obstacles in her way. The first was that Ulvama was warded. The [Pavilion of Secrets] wasn’t working.

 

——

 

“Sorry. No can do.”

Pavilion Erin sat there, not unconcerned, but just impassive. Another bastard, eyes pitiless, glowing hazel stars in the void. Erin Solstice spoke.

“Get me Eurise.”

 

——

 

He paid attention. The Fraerling seemed to snap into alertness the moment he saw her expression, and when she told him what had happened, he swore for half a minute before she cut him off.

“Can you find them?”

“I don’t know where they are. I’ll get a group to search, but they’re fast, and they have a wardstone. Listen, Erin. They won’t hurt Ulvama.”

“Even if she’s a Goblin?”

She watched as Eurise’s eyes flickered, and he leaned forwards and grabbed her arm.

“No. They’re not like the sort you and I know. You said you got one of them? Tell Zinni this’s important. No jokes, no light hands or coddlin’. I’ll begin hunting. You stay with Zemmy and Mera, got it?”

“Got it.”

Erin stood, and he did likewise. Eurise was watching her, head slightly tilted. Voice wary.

“Erin, she’ll be fine. I’ve never known anyone to be hurt by Matha’s lot, except by absolute chance. We have a prisoner. Did you get anything out of her?”

“Zinni’s trying.”

She saw his eyes flicker.

“Well, we’ll find her one way or another. They’ve crossed the line this time.”

She nodded. Eurise studied Erin and then spat.

“This is my fault. I should’ve not put you on Zinni and come myself. Stay calm, Erin.”

That was the irony of it all. She gave him a bleak smile.

“I am.”

Despite being in the [Pavilion of Secrets], he clearly didn’t believe her.

 

——

 

But she was calm. Calmly stressed, but calm enough. She wasn’t on fire. She’d checked. Erin didn’t know what to do. She saw problems.

“She’s not talking?”

Zemmy and Mera had locked up their prisoner in one of the barns. Mera answered for Erin.

“Zinni’s talking with her. But, uh, I doubt she’ll get anything out of Fenmi.”

“Why?”

The question went towards Zemmy, and he squirmed.

“Zinni’s a bit soft on Matha and her lot, Erin. We chase them off, but she doesn’t want—”

He broke off, and Erin saw the doors to the barn open. Zinni strode out, white-haired, wrinkles and freckles on her tanned arms and shoulders, but fit. The [Rancher]’s face was grave, and annoyed, but it felt to Erin like she didn’t take this as seriously as Zemmy and Mera were.

“Fenmi’s a stubborn girl. Let’s see if not eating gets it out of her. She’s gotten as lippy as Qole. Your friend’s fine, Erin. They only wanted to meet her. And you. We’ll tell Dretonamis and have a group ride out. Once they realize how much trouble they’re in, they’ll give her back, I have no doubt.”

She eyed Erin as the [Innkeeper] glanced at the door. She heard shouting from within, which sounded like ‘up your ass, Zinni’. Erin spoke.

“Go without dinner? Ulvama’s been kidnapped, Miss Zinni. She’s going to be terrified.”

Zinni exhaled as she patted her hands on her apron. She spoke to Zemmy sidelong as she addressed Erin.

“Zemmy, she’s got a nosebleed from being kicked onto the ground. Get a towel for her, would you? And some water. Erin, my granddaughter’s a hothead and a rebel. She causes trouble and runs her gang around nonstop. She’s like me when I was younger. She’s not going to harm a hair on that Goblin girl’s head. Talk her ear off? I can’t promise that.”

She gave Erin a brisk smile and moved to go past her.

“I’ll get both cities to put out a party—”

Erin grabbed her arm, and Zinni halted, an affronted expression crossing her face.

“How sure are you?”

“Sure? Of Matha? Your friend is fine, Erin.”

“Ulvama will be terrified. She’s been kidnapped before. By Roshal.”

A blank expression passed over Zinni’s face a moment before she patted Erin’s arm.

“In that case, I expect Matha will see the error of her ways. And I will make sure this doesn’t go unpunished. My prized aphid and our guest!”

She pulled again, then stopped. Her eyes focused on Erin’s own, and the [Innkeeper] tried to breathe normally.

“I’m going to speak to this Fenmi. And then go searching.”

This time, Zinni put a hand on Erin’s arm. She pulled—Erin let go, and Zinni spoke as she glanced down.

“No. It will be dusk soon, and you don’t know this area. It’ll be dangerous enough if Eurise wants to search, but I don’t trust Fenmi not to send you to a spider’s nest just to spite you.”

“Don’t you have truth stones?”

The [Rancher] raised her brows, actually nonplussed.

“Goodness me. You think we have something that expensive lying about?”

Erin faltered.

“No—truth stones. A [Detect Truth] spell?”

This time, Zinni frowned and turned to Mera.

“Do we have something that convenient? Go and ask one of the [Mages], will you? Ah, but no going after Fenmi, Miss Erin.”

She caught Erin this time, and a few aphids blocked the way as if she had commanded them telepathically. Erin stopped.

“Why not?”

“Because I think you’d press her ungently. That I will not have. This is my village, and we will do it my way. On my word, your friend will be fine. I’ll try and convince the aphid that Fenmi was riding to tell me where the Cottontails are. But Matha makes sure they’re stubborn…”

And that was that, apparently. Erin had to step back as Zemmy went back to guarding the barn, and then she turned.

Truth spells?

 

——

 

“I see. [Detect Truth] is in my spellbooks. Fascinating, fascinating. Tier 2.”

One of the local Fraerling [Scholars] in Wyewesshi was only too happy to answer Mera’s question and Erin’s, and he seemed to get her urgency. He pointed it out to Erin, and she squinted her eyes at the magical wording she could half-read.

“So why don’t you know it?”

The Fraerling raised two bushy eyebrows at her and slapped the spellbook shut.

“Well, because it’s useless. Even aside from the philosophical question of ‘what is truth?’, it’s a Tier 2 spell. I could probably sneeze and bypass it.”

Erin wanted to object, but she had an image of Regrika Blackpaw and all the other times she’d realized that the spell that so many people relied on was useless. The Fraerlings seemed to know that. The [Scholar] apologetically gestured around his private library.

“Truth stones that I’d trust are hard to make. We don’t really have a reason for one. As for wardstones like I believe Qole made…”

He diverged into a spiel about wardstones being very helpful, portable objects that negated most hostile magics, before trying to ask Erin about anti-scrying spells and the use of [Message] spells in the Tallfolk’s world. She thanked him for his help.

Wasting time. The [Mayor] of Wyewesshi had brought together a scouting group who said they’d go as far as they could before nightfall, but they weren’t going to stay out overnight. And Mera was going to show them where the raiders had been spotted last.

“Do you think you can find their base?”

One of the [Ranchhands] pulled a face when Erin asked him.

“The trick is, the aphids jump. It’s hard to track that, even if we had enough Skills. Plus, the Cottontails might be far out on their aphids. Zinni bred them to go far and fast. But don’t worry! We’ll keep searching, and I’m sure Zinni’ll get the aphid to lead us to their base.”

If anything, the group seemed to take Erin’s expression as a sign to try harder, so they set out at a good clip. Erin sat down again, trying to think.

The only people who were concerned were Zemmy, Mera, the Corumdon Beetle, and the Battle Hamster. The hamster was not happy when he realized Ulvama was gone. He was prowling around, making ominous rumbling sounds at any Fraerling nearby. He kept staring at Erin, as if expecting her to do something.

“I don’t know where she is. I don’t suppose you can smell her scent and track her?”

The hamster blankly sniffed the ground a few times, and Erin guessed he wasn’t actually close enough to a dog to do that. She opened and closed one hand.

She could wait. Eurise was going to search, and he was an [Explorer]. He’d have the Skills to find Ulvama, and everyone said this ‘Matha’ wasn’t dangerous. Not like the Bloodfeast Raiders.

And if they’re wrong? If Ulvama panics and fights back? If she does, then what? Or what if she got free and she’s lost?

That quiet voice was asking, and Erin replied softly, in her own head.

If I let her down as well as the others, I will…never forgive myself. Or Zinni. Or these raiders. I’ll kill all of them. But that won’t bring Ulvama back if she’s hurt.

What would they do to a Goblin? What did people do to Goblins?

There was an image in Erin’s head. She tried to banish it, but it was made of the sound of chains, the rocking of the ship. She stood up.

“If they find her—I need weapons. In case of monsters, too.”

Rocks. She began hunting for stones and draining them of color, putting together the Densecore stones. Just three. Then, Erin stopped.

“She’s fine.”

She went back to sitting. Even if she ran out there, she’d never find Ulvama. She had no direction-sense in the wilds, and there weren’t enough explorer-types like Roja and Eurise. Wyewesshi was too reliant on the ranch.

Who’s dead? Who died, and why won’t they tell…they’re afraid of what I’ll do. I don’t feel sad about them or Ulvama. Once I know, I’ll know. Then I’ll feel it, I hope.

She was pacing around in a circle, thoughts likewise. So helpless. It was like this all the time. Erin had no tracking Skills. She wasn’t enough of a warrior. She couldn’t cast magic, couldn’t run fast…helpless, despite her levels.

She was right there, and I let them take her away. She was screaming. If they have a base, could I use my authority Skill on it? I don’t…sense it out there.

Her eyes were closed when someone touched her shoulder. Erin whirled.

“Ah! Apologies. I just teleported in, and after the mandatory vomiting, I came right away. How’s my patient doing?”

“Bowom?”

Erin blinked. The [Mad Doctor] brushed at a slightly stained lab coat and gave her a grin. He rubbed at his roach leg as he gestured to himself.

“Eurise told me the children kidnapped Ulvama. Which is what they are. Excitable, not older than twenty-three, I think. Have you eaten anything?”

“No. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get to her, but Zinni won’t let me talk to the one they captured. And I don’t think she’s trying hard.”

“Ah, well. Matha’s her granddaughter, and she sees a lot of herself in that brat. Why don’t I talk to her?”

Erin nodded gratefully, and Bowom squared his shoulders. He marched off, then came back after a second.

“Do you know where she is?”

 

——

 

Bowom didn’t manage to convince Zinni, but he did manage to get her to raise her voice. Erin heard half their argument as she re-appeared from trying to use the [Pavilion of Secrets] on Ulvama again. No good.

She’d tried it on Fenmi, the prisoner, too.

 

——

 

The Fraerling was staring around the gazebo and asking a hundred questions until the [Innkeeper] cut her off.

“Where’s your base? What are you doing with Ulvama?”

Then she remembered the rules. The raven-haired Fraerling with a nosebleed, Fenmi, wiped at her nose, grinned, and shut her mouth.

The rules for any visitor entering the [Pavilion of Secrets] were the same, as Fetohep had described them to Erin: secrets for secrets. Only truth could be spoken here.

She had the advantage, because this was her place, but the [Innkeeper] didn’t have time. She leaned over the table.

“Tell me where she is and I’ll get Zinni to release you.”

“She’ll let me go, anyways. Or my gang will pick me up in a day—ah!”

Fenmi smirked, then caught herself, and Erin’s eyes narrowed. She tried to control her breathing, but she was panting for air.

“You doing good, Miss Human? The boss wanted to meet you as well, but Zemmy and Mera were with you, so we couldn’t grab you. Don’t I get a secret-thing?”

“Sure. Answer my question and I’ll tell you what you want.”

The Fraerling leaned forwards a second with great interest, but then her eyes grew wary, and she sat back and folded her arms, miming sewing up her mouth.

“Nothing doing. I’m a Cottontail, and I’ll never sell out my mates. Ask something else. I’ve got questions! Are you seeing anyone?”

She smirked, and Erin refused to be riled up by the stupid question. Her voice was level.

“No.”

“Ooh. Then—are you really from another continent? And Tallfolk who got shrunken down?”

“Yes. And yes. The Death of Magic did it to us, and we’re both from Izril, Ulvama and I. Now tell me where your base is.”

Fenmi hesitated as Erin waited for the rules of the [Pavilion of Secrets] to take hold of her. She frowned, like someone trying to pronounce a difficult word, then shook her head again.

“Nope! I don’t havfta.”

What? Erin stared at her, gripping the edge of the table hard from the bottom so Fenmi couldn’t see her white fingers. But the rules were—

“Eurise is looking for you. So’s the entire village. We’ll find your base. Tell me, and I’ll let you go, and we can sort this out peacefully. Just give me back Ulvama, unharmed, and I won’t have to kill everyone in your base.”

This time Fenmi’s eyes flickered, and her lips quivered, but she held her tongue. Erin waited, wishing she could see if the effects of the secrets she’d shared were working.

After two minutes, it became clear whatever pressure the answers Erin had given weren’t enough for the secret. She remembered Visophecin’s own room, and the [Innkeeper] bit her tongue.

Not enough from me.

“I’m an [Innkeeper] from Liscor. My name is Erin Solstice, and I survived being kidnapped by Roshal and killed Prince Iradoren of Erribathe, apparently. I’ve met a Dragon…his name is Teriarch. I’m chess partners with Niers Astoragon, the Titan of Baleros.”

She began speaking, first with basic truths, then ramping up—and Fenmi’s eyes shone with interest and delight, but the pressure on her tongue didn’t seem to intensify. Even with the last two—she spoke.

“I dunno who the Titan of Baleros is, but cool. Go on, ask me something else. I want to know your favorite food, and, uh—yeah, where you’re ticklish.”

She was enjoying this. Erin’s fingers were digging at the stone, and she took a deep breath.

Control yourself. She was running out of time doing this. There were other ways—Erin tried one last time.

“Okay. Okay. Why did this…Matha kidnap Ulvama?”

If she knew that at least—Fenmi thought about the question and opened her mouth.

“She only w—huh. We all want to m—well that’s sorta true. Argh, fine!”

She laughed in Erin’s face, relaxed, then gave her a slightly embarrassed grin.

“Matha wants to have sex with her. There. Now, how did—?”

Erin was on her feet so fast Fenmi blinked. The [Innkeeper] heard nothing for a moment, though Fenmi’s mouth was moving. The ringing began as Erin reached for the door.

Ulvama.

 

——

 

No good using the [Pavilion of Secrets] it turned out. If someone didn’t want to talk, they could just sit there in silence. Or answer another question.

She hadn’t been able to sit there, so Erin left Fenmi for the real world in hopes of making more progress there.

Erin had hoped Bowom would talk Zinni into helping more, but they were dashed as soon as she reappeared.

“—and Fantim. Eurise and Fantim. This isn’t a game. Erin is very concerned, and we’re sending search parties into the night, Zinni. I thought you’d take this more seriously.”

Bowom’s voice was calmer, if slightly needling, but Zinni was scowling. She was holding onto an aphid clearly trying to bolt while she snapped at him.

“I told Erin this was overblown. Matha is not going to harm her.”

Bowom felt at his hair with a hand that had six fingers on it. He must have added one recently; Erin saw the stitch-marks. She wondered if she should share what Fenmi had claimed. But then she’d have to explain the [Pavilion of Secrets]—

They’re not going to touch her right away. I think. Listen to Zinni.

Are you sure?

Bowom clearly had his own doubts, and he held out his hands placatingly to Zinni.

“Yes…but that’s not how our guests see it. They had a very traumatic experience before reaching us, Zinni. I realize my class doesn’t often talk about trauma, but I do believe in it. It would be best if we recovered Ulvama now.”

“Fenmi’s not talking. She’ll loosen her lips after not having any food, or her friends will show up. Ulvama will be back within two days at most.”

Zinni glowered and glanced at Erin. Bowom exhaled.

“Two days is too long. Zinni, why don’t we have a chat? I don’t think you quite get what I meant when I said trauma. Do you have a dictionary? You don’t know, Zinni, what people do to each other.”

He gave her a level look, and her tone grew icy.

“I’ve lived in five villages, Bowom. Don’t tell me I don’t understand—”

“All I meant is that you can’t coddle her. Zinni, Erin is upset. Zinni, don’t walk away from me. Zinni—”

Okay. Bowom went after her, and Erin had no more answers. Or to be precise, there were few remaining options for her.

But Ulvama was kidnapped, and the odds were she was safe.

The odds. How willing was she to take those odds? Erin paced around in a circle. She could rest, sleep, and not know. Or she could do something…more drastic.

She didn’t want to do it. She had an idea in mind, but it would cause trouble, and Ulvama had had words with her after the last time.

Ulvama was gone. Someone Erin loved was dead.

If it meant the difference between her being alive or dead, could you do nothing? If you do nothing and you could have made the difference, can you sit here?

“No.”

No. So, Erin stopped pacing around in a circle and moved.

 

——

 

“Ah, our guest! Sorry about all this fuss. Those Cottontails…if Zinni were a bit sterner with them, we wouldn’t have this mess. Do young Tallfolk do the same where you come from?”

The [Cook] for the village of Wyewesshi was making a storm of food, though not the feast they’d had planned, and was distracted as Erin paid him a visit in the dedicated kitchens. Unlike the Oven, this was a full-time job for him, and she watched him prepare several dead aphids with a cutting Skill that worked on multiple boards at once.

“Sometimes. Sorry to bother you—”

“Not at all, not at all. Can I get you something, or that hammie or beetle? You must not have eaten lunch.”

He turned, ready to prepare her a plate, but Erin was peering around.

“I’m actually looking for a replacement kitchen knife. Do you have one I could take?”

“Kitchen knife? Ah, I heard you were an [Innkeeper]. We just got Macnest’s latest utensils, so by all means. Which one do you need?”

He had cleavers, thin and long blades—Erin described what she wanted with her fingers.

“Just a triangle. Pointy tip, this long?”

“Let me see…”

He fussed around his supplies until he pulled out one that was more or less good enough. Erin picked that up and then found a longer-handled knife. She flipped it up and down.

“Thank you.”

“Are you sure you don’t need more?”

He pressed her before turning to his oven and hurriedly pulling out the meal. Erin shook her head.

“Two will do.”

The [Cook] sighed as he poked a slightly dry cut of meat. He began to shuffle it among the good stuff so someone wouldn’t have a totally unpleasant meal of it.

“Well, there’s a free section there. Let me know what you’d like to make, though I’m happy to cook whatever you want. Miss Solstice? …Miss Solstice?”

After he got no response, he turned his head. The young woman was gone with the knives. The [Cook] stopped preparing another tray and hesitated. Six minutes later, he found out where she went.

 

——

 

Everyone in Wyewesshi was eating or talking about the brazen Cottontail attack. Lots of people wanted to talk to Erin to reassure her or just get to know the guest, but they found themselves…not finding the chance to talk to her as she walked across the village. Like how you couldn’t find a moment to interject in a conversation—that kind of feeling.

Her [Crowd Control] Skill worked on everyone but the Battle Hamster, who followed her with the upset Corumdon Beetle, who had realized, belatedly, that Ulvama was gone and this was a bad thing. It clacked its mandibles as they followed Erin towards one of the outer barns where Zemmy was sitting on his haunches, clearly restless.

“You two stay here.”

Erin stopped the beetle at the door, and the Battle Hamster glanced at her sharply. Its one good eye fixed on Erin and the two knives she’d put on her belt. There were some of the Densecore stones too, slotted into custom holsters like Poké Balls.

Silly thoughts like that even in moments like these. Erin walked towards the door as Zemmy sat up.

“Mera not back yet? I thought I saw Bowom around here.”

“He was talking to Zinni. They need you, I think. Bowom was ready to fight her.”

“Uh oh. Who sent Bowom to talk to Zinni? I’ll try to talk them down.”

Zemmy leapt up with a groan, then hesitated.

“Wait, Fenmi’s in there, and she’s likely to wriggle out if no one’s watching her. The Cottontails have friends in the village too—”

“I’ll watch the door. You go on.”

Zemmy hesitated, then nodded and briskly jogged across the village. Erin checked the sky. Dusk was falling. She wasn’t sure how many hours.

Ulvama was a survivor. She’d be alive. Just—Erin took a deep breath as she put her hand on the door. Then another. She wavered.

I don’t want to do this. Not, ‘I can’t’, but I don’t want to. 

She might be hurt. She could be terrified or in danger. Each second could matter.

“Right.”

Erin opened the door and strode on through. She shut it behind her after a second and saw Fenmi was sitting, tied to a chair in a very standard scenario. Although someone had given her a waterflask that was stuffed into the crook of one arm, and they’d put a firefly lantern made out of one’s abdomen near her for comfort. Another chair was there, probably where Zinni had been sitting.

The moment she saw Erin, Fenmi, who looked like a rough-and-tumble young adventurer, grinned.

“Hey! That was your Skill, wasn’t it? I knew it wasn’t a hallucination! Well, too bad! I’m not selling out the Cottontails, even to you! Mind you, if you want to visit—let me out of here and I’ll take you. Just you, though, not Zemmy or Mera.”

She wiggled energetically, and Erin halted. It was indeed the same Fraerling she’d just met in the [Pavilion of Secrets].

“I don’t trust you not to lead me into a trap. I want to know where Ulvama is now.”

“Well—tough. Don’t worry, Matha’s probably looking after her right now. Heh.”

Fenmi’s grin said a lot of things Erin read into, and in a way, it made her decision easier. And the urgency more pressing.

Erin nodded to herself. Then she pulled out her knife.

“Ooh. Are you threatening me with that?”

The young Fraerling [Raider] grinned as Erin stepped forwards. The [Innkeeper] squatted down and stared at Fenmi’s bound wrists. Then she spoke.

“You don’t have many healing potions here. I guess Eir Gel’s as hard to come by for Fraerlings as the rest of the world. But you do have poultices.”

Fenmi eyed Erin as the [Innkeeper] poked at her leg. The Fraerling squirmed slightly as she glanced down. The young woman had discolored hair that was white and patchy with different colors, even green in places. It wasn’t attractive in a style sense and more seemed like something had happened to her.

Same with the scar on her neck…and wrists. Her face was very blank, but her eyes seemed to glow in the dark barn. Fenmi would have said that made her as interesting as Matha had said she was, but Erin was making her uncomfortable. The Fraerling licked her lips nervously.

“Uh. Hey, I’m really not into the threats thing. And we both know Zinni’s not going to go after Matha, so why don’t we just talk?”

Erin gazed up.

“Tell me where your base is.”

“How about we introduce ours—”

Erin raised her arm and drove the knife tip-first into Fenmi’s thigh. She put a hand over the Fraerling’s mouth just in time.

The cry of agony was muffled, but Erin glanced at the door anyways. Then she glanced down.

Missed the artery. Good. She left the knife there and drew the other one. Then she took her hand away from Fenmi’s mouth.

“Where’s the base?”

“Help! H—”

Erin covered the mouth as Fenmi began to scream, and the Fraerling tried to bite her fingers. Erin raised the knife, and Fenmi stopped.

“I don’t have time to do this, Fenmi. And I don’t have healing potions, so this will be fast. Tell me where she is. This village might not have strong healers, but it does have Bowom. But he can’t put a finger back on if it’s turned to ash.”

Erin glanced down at Fenmi’s left hand. The fingers clenched up, and Erin bent down. She pulled a finger free.

“Tell me.”

The Fraerling made a sound like a squeak.

“D-don’t—”

Erin blew flames onto Fenmi’s hand. Then she pressed the knife’s edge against it until they both felt it cutting into the skin.

“Where is she?”

 

——

 

The moment Bowom saw Zemmy stroll up, he had one of those feelings. It was the same feeling he’d had, well, the moment he heard the Cottontail Raiders had kidnapped Ulvama.

The feeling you got on a dark night, say, when you were working in the basement on a project you knew would blow up in your face, metaphorically—which was far worse than literally—and you felt your skin crawling.

The moment when you wanted to take back the laughter, to burn it all to the ground, but you were there, the deed was done, and the blood was black.

He was, after all, a [Mad Doctor]. He waited with his mind ticking over possibilities and coming to a conclusion as Zemmy regarded him and Zinni.

“I heard you two were fighting. Zinni, I can get Mera if—”

Bowom started running. His roach’s leg wasn’t just for show, but it carried him across the ground in an uneven gait, his damn other leg too slow. Zemmy might not have had the same mental instincts, but he was still a Level 40 [Brawler]. He caught up—saw the barn door and no Erin, and realized what Bowom did.

The [Innkeeper] walked out the barn doors, sheathing a knife before either one got there. Zinni, in the distance, was still shouting at them to ask what was going on. Erin looked up, and Bowom fought the urge to burst into maniacal laughter.

Hazard of the class. She spoke.

“I’m going to get Ulvama. Beetle, I need you to fly. I know where to go. You coming?”

The Battle Hamster was peeking into the barn, and there was a voice now, screaming for help. The hamster peered at Erin, and Bowom thought it hesitated, then leapt up. The beetle fanned its wings, clacking its mandibles.

“Erin! Stop!”

Bowom roared, and she eyed him as she went up. The beetle’s wings drowned out the din of the village, and everyone gaped up as it took off into the dusky sky.

Mera, on her way back, came running as Bowom cursed and leapt for a leg; he missed. He rolled into Zemmy’s leg. The [Brawler] was at the door to the barn, staring inside. Bowom got up slowly. His head rose, and he saw Fenmi’s dead white face as she screamed at him. Blood running from her leg—

Zinni was standing like a sentinel in the distance, just staring their way. Bowom glanced at her, then at Zemmy, then grunted.

“Not as bad as it could have been.”

Zemmy just gaped at him—and then Mera. Bowom strode into the barn. He picked up a finger and reached into a pocket for a needle and thread. Not unkindly, he bent over the yelling girl.

“Oh, shut up. You’ve still got nine, and this one will go on just fine. Didn’t you listen to any of the stories about Tallfolk?”

He took forty seconds on the finger. Which was fifteen seconds longer than he wanted, but he had to double-check it was actually reattached. Then Bowom strode outside. Zemmy and Mera were still frozen. Eurise’s disciples or not, they were young. Bowom slapped their shoulders, and turned to him.

“Tell Eurise to put a location spell on me. Erin’s warded. I’m going after her. He needs to get to us right now. This is going to get bad.”

“I’ll go—”

Mera began, and Bowom grabbed her shoulder and lowered his voice. Fraerlings were coming, running due to the screams.

“Stay with Zinni and keep her here. Do you understand? No matter what, keep her here. That is the most important thing you can do.”

Then he took three steps back, reached for his bag of holding, and grunted. Erin was already past the flower-cover and out of sight; he was only lucky the Corumdon Beetle was so damn large and audible.

“[Temporary Surgery: Dragonfly Wings]! Aaaah, that smarts!”

He’d forgotten to take the coat off. Well, nevermind that! Bowom leapt into the air and nearly crashed; flying sucked. He buzzed up, shooting after the sound of the beetle’s wings droning. Bowom could still hear that sound as he flew, wondering if he could stop a Level 50 [Innkeeper].

That mad, insane laughter in his head. A full-throated guffaw at the world that turned into hysterical screeching, wheezing with delight and horror and joy at what was playing out.

Oh, wait. Nevermind.

He was laughing out loud.

 

——

 

Erin clung to the beetle’s antennae as they flew, and the hamster did likewise on the other side. She had a single plan, which was why she kept urging the beetle up. Up.

[Raiders] would see her coming on foot, even if she could move fast enough to get there on time. But she doubted they had the eyesight to pick out the beetle from other birds through the foliage if they went high enough.

The fastest way to close in on Ulvama’s position was from height. Probably why marines used helicopters and there had been paratroopers in war. Erin had never been a big war person on Earth. She wished she’d watched a video on how people freed captives in a situation like this.

Fenmi had been specific enough in her directions on how to get to the Cottontails’ base. Erin believed her. Not because she thought torture worked. On the contrary. But if you told Fenmi to answer truthfully in the [Pavilion of Secrets] because you were holding a knife to her hand in real life—

That worked. Erin wiped her hands on her tunic. Her hands weren’t shaking, and she didn’t feel sick. It was hard to do that. Not impossible. The second finger would have been easier.

Ulvama. Erin stared down at the field of flowers, navigating them based on Fenmi’s description of the route you took. Until you reached that stone…there…and then you turn along the right face…so there…

She knew she was going in the right direction when she sensed something below her. Not Ulvama, but just the faintest feeling that made Erin gaze down and adjust the beetle’s heading slightly left.

“Their base is below us. We’re dropping on top of them.”

That was all she said to the Battle Hamster. It seemed ready for a fight. It gave her a long look, then peered down at the trees which obscured everything. It couldn’t see anything, but she sensed it.

A building. It was like a…presence down there, like how Laken had described his [Emperor] senses. He said it was like echolocation, or how Erin imagined it. Shapes of people and buildings, defined, without color.

It was like that for her too. She made out the outline of some kind of base that she felt must be on a branch—but unlike Laken, she got something else from below. A kind of…emotion?

Erin shook her head. She steered the beetle in a circle, then shouted.

“Fly down after us and pick up Ulvama if you see her! Get her out of here! Hamster, find Ulvama and protect her! Do that before anything else! Kill anyone trying to hurt her.”

Another stare she couldn’t read. If it understood, it understood. The beetle was clacking its mandibles agitatedly. She doubted it got what she was about to do. Erin’s stomach lurched as she stared down. She was terrified of heights too.

She wavered half a second, then jumped.

 

——

 

It was a longer and slower fall than she thought. The wind nearly blew her off course twice; Erin blew black flames and managed to more or less move back where she wanted. She saw the hamster curl up into a ball as it plummeted with her, and the sensation grew stronger and stronger.

She realized what it was halfway towards the Cottontails’ base. Of course.

She was a [Witch]. She could sense emotions, but why…why was she sensing this one?

As they drew closer, she could pick out the faint emotions and presences of people below. But only insofar as she guessed that it was the Cottontails. The ability to finely read how someone felt was a talent Erin had yet to master. Most [Witches] had decades of practice to hone that skill. But Erin was also an [Innkeeper], and she sensed…it was so foreign a feeling, but she thought she sensed their base.

It wasn’t a living thing, more like a frozen idea. It felt…frenetic. Fast, quick to expand or break apart, but also like safety. An adventure, a refuge, a hideaway, a literal tree fort filled with friends and comfort and daring.

It felt good and positive. Erin wished she didn’t know how the building felt. But it helped her find Ulvama.

The tree canopy was a second problem. Erin hit a leaf and, instead of going through it, bounced off. She was fine as she crashed from leaf to leaf, but she gazed up and had a thought.

Fraerlings are light enough to survive a fall like this. I don’t think hamsters survive being dropped—

The Battle Hamster uncurled as it saw the tree canopy approaching. It met Erin’s eyes with its scarred one, then seemed to get she was concerned it was gonna die. She swore she saw it sneer at her.

The Battle Hamster twisted in that strange fighting style it had mastered, and then Erin saw it plummeting towards a branch. She didn’t see what it did. Was it a punch, a kick, or—?

The shockwave punched her downwards, and she swore she saw the hamster’s fall stop and it roll down the branch casually. Erin wondered if Orjin could pull that off. That was her last thought before she saw the base.

Ulvama.

An [Immortal Moment] enveloped Erin as she descended. From above, it was clear the base was built on top of and out of a single branch low on the tree’s base. She counted maybe twenty structures altogether on top of a wooden platform. Ropes of twine also added support to the base, but there were foundational struts that were the main anchor between base and branch.

She didn’t know how many raiders there were—Fenmi had said they had about thirty to forty in their gang and that Matha was the highest-leveled, followed by Qole and Lantis, who was another fighter. Qole struck Erin as the most dangerous as a [Sorcerer].

Thirty [Raiders]. Their base might have defenses. Erin saw a solution, but she hesitated. Then she reconsidered.

“Ulvama’s a Fraerling. She’ll live.”

The first Densecore stone flew from Erin’s hand, unerring and true. The outer layer of weak sand dissolved, and the insanely heavy stone found its target. It punched through one of the logs holding the base together with the branch. The second hit the same section like a cannonball, shredding wood, and the crack made the few figures Erin saw below whirl.

She felt the base’s structure begin to give, and it was not a person, but a kind of shriek like a stone breaking filled her head. They saw her as she came down towards them. Erin wasn’t heavy enough to land with more than a soft thump.

The Battle Hamster’s shockwave impact and the beetle cracked the base and sent it downwards at an angle. Erin Solstice got up, and now—

Now, she was terrified. For Ulvama, that she was too late, that she might be captured and—

She drew a knife as she lifted the Densecore stone. Someone was blowing on a horn, and she saw Fraerlings leaping back and shouting.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s a Battle Hammie and a beetle! A big one! Matha! Get the aphids! Matha—”

The Corumdon Beetle roared and clacked its mandibles together, then began swiping at something attacking it. Bounding shapes which slammed into the far bigger beetle—the aphids. Erin saw it moving to bite at them before something hit it and actually sent it reeling.

An arrow? There was an [Archer], then. Erin shouted at the Battle Hamster.

“Find Ulvama!”

She took off running towards the nearest door and slammed into it. She saw a jumble of bunk beds, a Fraerling kid whirling around, staring at her—Erin closed the door. Next?

“Someone’s attacking the base! They were here—”

Erin turned from the third door as a trio of the Cottontails appeared. Two had spears, one had a sword. One of the two spear-wielders was mounted on an aphid. Erin raised her knife and hesitated.

I might need a hostage if they have Ulvama captive.

She changed from chest to stomach and threw. The sword-holder gaped down and grabbed at the knife sticking out of her stomach.

“Casta!”

One of the spear-wielders gasped. The other began to charge at Erin. The [Innkeeper] threw the Densecore stone straight through the aphid.

It hit the ground, dead, as a hole appeared in its body. Erin grabbed the Fraerling hopping off his mount and headbutted him. Then she punched him.

[Minotaur Punch]. He tried to stab her, once, but her [Reinforced Structure] skill made the metal blade glance off her skin. Erin saw the other Fraerling coming at her, so she let go and kicked.

The Fraerling she’d kicked flew off the side of the base, and she drew her second knife as she blocked a stab to her chest with her hand. This time the blow hurt, and pierced her skin—she guessed it was some kind of sharpness Skill. Erin guarded her face.

“Help! Matha! The other one’s here! She’s—”

The spear-wielding Fraerling was watching her hand, so Erin opened a gap in her fingers and exhaled.

[Body: Firebreath].

She’d been intending to use her black flames to end the fight in a moment, but that wasn’t what came out. Instead, the twisting knot of fear and apprehension caught in her throat—and came out of her mouth.

A sickly yellow flame engulfed the Fraerling girl, who screamed and then shouted. Erin blinked as the Fraerling caught ablaze in seconds—the fire raced over her, onto the ground, and began to spread.

It was—fast. The fastest-burning flame that Erin had ever conjured. It didn’t look well. It was as putrid as the feeling in Erin’s stomach, and it consumed and burned as fast as the thundering of her heart. It didn’t burn deep or long.

Flashfire. The Fraerling girl was trying to roll even as the flames finished burning and smoke rose. She was actually not badly burnt. 1st degree burns? She was trying to get up when Erin punched her head into the ground and strode on through the base.

She could feel the base, now, trying to keep itself together. Erin tried to ask it where Ulvama was, but she was an enemy, and this place was made for safety.

“(Sanctuary ends. Tell me where Ulvama is. Break. Break into pieces.)”

She thought at it, but it was resisting her attempt to get it to just collapse. Erin’s head swivelled left and right as she came to the center of the base. She heard shouting now, saw the beetle taking wing, shedding aphids attacking it—the Battle Hamster bounded off a roof, being pursued by a duo on aphids.

“S-stop!”

Someone fired an arrow into the ground at Erin’s feet. The [Innkeeper] leapt back and saw an archer on a roof with a gigantic bow. Her eyes were wide. She aimed the arrow at Erin.

“I’ll shoot you! Don’t—”

The [Innkeeper] breathed more yellow flames up, and Aithe leapt clear with a scream. When she landed, Erin was running at her, knife raised.

Matha, Qole, and Lantis struck Erin at the same time. Matha and Lantis had spears capped with some kind of tooth; Qole had a hand that delivered a pure jolt of electricity to Erin that lit up her entire body before the other two tried to stab her through the legs.

Matha’s spear went halfway through one of Erin’s legs; Lantis’ glanced off Erin’s thigh. The [Innkeeper] stabbed Lantis twice as she whirled, and she nearly took Qole’s head off with a slash.

“Gnomes—”

She came at them as Lantis staggered away, clutching at her pierced stomach. Erin’s eyes were wide, and she didn’t care that Matha’s spear was there. Qole lit her up with a reduced [Lightning Bolt] spell; Matha swore she saw Erin’s skeleton, but the [Innkeeper] leapt on her.

The blade glanced off Matha’s chitin-covered armor again and again, trying to find purchase. Matha tried to kick Erin off, but then received a punch that rocked her and made her head ring.

“Lantis—help—”

She was evenly matched in strength—with an [Innkeeper]! And the knife was slashing, trying to go for Matha’s throat. The [Raidrider] knocked the arm away with her spear, and the Human bit for her throat! Matha pushed her away with a shout of real horror, then saw her spin and go for Qole, who froze up, wide-eyed, as Erin ran at her with the knife.

“Qole—!”

When Matha leapt for her friend, the [Innkeeper] turned around, as if she’d been waiting for just that moment. She slashed across Matha’s throat, then drove the knife tip-first through her chest. The blade shattered, leaving only the tip embedded in Matha’s flesh, going through the armor. Matha tried to grab her throat as Erin seized Qole’s head and began to twist—

Matha couldn’t move or breathe. She was choking on blood and only one thought kept repeating itself:

Ulvama was right.

 

——

 

The moment she heard the crack of wood splintering and felt the base breaking, Ulvama knew she’d been too late. But she didn’t find Erin in time.

She ran for the Corumdon Beetle first because she could see it. Which was her mistake, thinking Erin had come down with it. The roaring beetle was slashing at the aphids, which were attacking mostly without their riders.

“Stop, stop!”

When it saw her, it tried to pick her up with its mandibles, but she shrieked at it.

“Don’t attack them! Fly away! Fly down! Now!”

The beetle was confused, but her Skills got the message across. It leapt into the air and buzzed away—Ulvama whirled.

“Erin? Erin, don’t hurt them! They haven’t done anything to me!”

She cursed in two languages as she ran, then heard Aithe screaming.

“I think she’s killed them! There! There! Matha! Help!”

Oh no. Ulvama ran towards the edge of the base as she saw yellow flames igniting a house. New flames? But someone else got in the way.

The Battle Hamster landed, an arrow in its fur, hissing and snarling, and tried to grab her. She shouted at it.

“No!”

A trio of the Cottontails were pursuing it. Ulvama screamed at them and the hamster.

“Stop fighting! Get everyone to safety! I have to stop Erin!”

Everything slowed her down. The Cottontails hesitated, but the Battle Hamster stopped attacking them, and Ulvama charged down the street. She saw Aithe, scrambling to get away from the yellow flames roaring after her as fast as someone could jog, and the archer pointed.

“Matha’s—”

When Ulvama got there, she saw Erin cut Matha’s throat. The [Innkeeper] grabbed Qole’s head and began to twist it, and Ulvama saw the panicked terror on the [Sorcerer]’s face. That dreadful intensity on Erin’s.

Just like the Bloodtear Pirates. She thinks it’s the same.

The [Shaman]’s charge carried her into Erin, and the [Innkeeper] turned. Ulvama saw those blank hazel eyes widen, and Erin breathed.

“Ulv—”

The Hobgoblin’s elbow went around Erin’s throat as she grabbed Erin from the front in a headlock. She put all of her strength into the choke-hold as Erin’s hands went up, trying to break her grip. At first, Erin pushed, then her fingers dug into Ulvama’s arm.

Grimly, the [Shaman] hung on, panting.

“Cover her throat. Cover it!”

Qole was frozen, staring at Lantis, who was holding her stomach, and Matha, who was bleeding from the throat, trying to hold her life’s blood in. The [Sorcerer] didn’t react. Shock. Ulvama shouted at her.

“Stop her bleeding or she’ll die, idiot! Put your hand—”

She couldn’t let go of Erin. She was about to, even if it meant the [Innkeeper] got free, when she heard a buzzing sound and hysterical laughter. Then—Bowom slammed into the ground shoulder-first.

“Too late! Damn wings—[Flesh Patch]!”

He dove on Matha like a Creler, needle, thread, in a blur, and Ulvama breathed. Then she focused on Erin, because the [Innkeeper] was trying to get free.

Erin might not have ever experienced a headlock like this before, but she was, as many people had learned, a very good fighter by instinct. She was trying to brace one leg against Ulvama’s body to push free or wrench out of the grip. Ulvama held on, keeping the pressure on her windpipe.

How long could Erin hold her breath with inn-Skills? It felt like she was growing desperate. Ulvama felt hands on her arm, then one reaching up for her throat and face. The Goblin jerked her head back.

That—would be a good way to break a headlock. Poke someone’s eyes out and they might let go, or get their throat. She waited as Erin’s hands found her arms again, and the [Innkeeper]’s fingers dug in slightly.

Erin could breathe fire and conjure it. Or use a [Minotaur Punch]. If she wanted to, she could injure Ulvama very badly. Even—kill her.

Ulvama held her grip, sweat rolling down her forehead.

“Erin. It’s me. I’m fine. Stop. You have to stop.”

The [Innkeeper] was running out of air. Her hands wrapped around Ulvama’s encircling arm, and she could have hurt Ulvama or made the Hobgoblin break the grip. But then her hands let go.

She sagged, but Ulvama kept the pressure up until Erin went actually slack. Only then did the Hobgoblin let go and check to make sure she was okay. Erin was breathing, and her [Aspect of the Inn] had saved Ulvama from bruising her windpipe. She was fine.

She was fine. The Hobgoblin peered around the Cottontails’ base. It must have been less than five minutes since Erin landed. Ulvama rubbed at her face as she sat down, then pushed herself up.

“More people are hurt.”

Bowom got up from Lantis and cast around. Yellow flames were consuming the base, and it was tilting more as the anchoring ropes began to give. He glanced down at Matha and shook his head.

“This is going to be trouble.”

At first, Ulvama thought he meant the reaction of the Cottontails, the villages, and families of the stunned raiders. But then, when Eurise came running, she realized Bowom didn’t mean any group of Fraerlings.

He meant Zinni.

 

——

 

Eurise arrived minutes after the Cottontails’ base finally collapsed. The houses fell off the platform, crashing downwards to land—well, softly. Ulvama saw the small frames of the buildings more or less survive the fall because they weighed so much less, but everything inside most certainly was tossed around or broken.

Some of the raiders watching made a soft sound, and Aithe sobbed, but that was all. The Corumdon Beetle fanned its wings as if only now wondering if it had done a bad thing.

A kid’s fortress, like little Goblins used to make in the Mountain City tribe. Silly, imperfect, but theirs—broken in the wake of the [Innkeeper]’s wrath. The yellow flames had vanished thanks to a mild rain spell that Ulvama had conjured, but the noxious smell lingered.

Bowom was checking injuries. No one had died, but all the Fraerlings who’d run into Erin were badly hurt, Matha most of all. Several aphids were dead, and more than one of the Cottontails was crying over them, like Redfangs mourned Carn Wolves.

As far as Ulvama was concerned, this was one of the better outcomes. Which was to say still disastrous. The moment Erin had reached the base, though, it had been a disaster, a fact Bowom seemed well aware of.

“Gollesume, I need teleportation to Dretonamis for three. Tell Veerni I have a full-body burn victim, a slashed throat, and a stomach wound. It’s the stomach I’m most concerned about. Yes, Dretonamis. Not Wyewesshi. I don’t care how much mana it costs—teleport them and I’ll catch up then.”

He stopped shouting into some kind of speaking stone and then gazed at Ulvama. She was watching a figure leaping towards them in huge bounds, like a grasshopper. Eurise. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or…

“He’ll be fine. Just upset at himself. It’s Zinni we have to worry about. Good thing our friend didn’t kill anyone. If we’re lucky, we’ll get them patched up before word reaches her.”

“Because of Matha?”

Ulvama half-turned to the leader of the Cottontails, who was lying down per Bowom’s order. She kept feeling at the patch of skin on her throat. She was pale—but alive. Bowom’s shrug made his sewn wings fall off.

“Oops. There they go. Matha, yes, but everyone. The Cottontails are a problem for all three villages, but they’re her problem, if that makes sense. She’s Wyewesshi’s protector.”

There was a nuance to this conversation Ulvama was picking up on. She turned back as Eurise landed in front of her.

The grizzled explorer seemed like he’d come ready for a fight. Sweat was glistening on his skin, and his spider silk jacket and bared arms were covered in scars. One glance at the base and the raiders and he lowered his hands.

“Anyone…?”

“Nope! Miss Ulvama took down Erin. A very neat chokehold, and I made sure she was fine. A few wounded, like Matha, but I was getting everyone back to Dretonamis.”

Eurise took a breath.

“That would be best. Zinni—Mera said that all of Wyewesshi’s in uproar. Something about one of the raiders…?”

“Just a bit of light torture. Zinni has no one to blame but herself and the Raiders. And us, I suppose, for not realizing what Miss Erin would do. A few aphids are dead, and the base is destroyed. We’ll have to march everyone back on foot.”

Eurise nodded and glanced at Ulvama. She ducked her head.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’d have done the same thing if I thought my people were in danger. Zinni can’t see this, though.”

Eurise caught sight of Matha and grimaced. He strode over to her, and she croaked.

“Oh, cats. It’s Eurise—”

Qole stood up as if to protect Matha, but Eurise just brushed past her and squatted down. He checked her and Lantis and seemed surprised.

“Is that the worst of it?”

“Someone else got burned, but not badly. The poor kid’s over there.”

Bowom pointed, and Eurise frowned.

“She only cut a throat and stabbed someone in the stomach?”

“Only?”

Lantis had a high-pitched shrill to her voice. Matha stared up at Eurise, and he sat on his haunches. He didn’t even have Bowom’s friendly veneer. He nodded down at her.

“I think it’s the first time we’ve met since you started your raiders. Matha, right? Zinni’s favorite grandchild.”

“Yeah. We fight Zemmy and Mera all the time, though. She—that Human cut my throat! And she nearly snapped Qole’s neck!”

They weren’t prepared for Eurise’s quick smile. He covered it with one hand after a second.

“Hm? Yeah, I remember them complaining about you two. Erin didn’t manage to get Qole?”

He glanced around, and Matha rasped.

“Ulvama stopped her.”

“Ah. Makes sense. Why didn’t she manage to kill anyone?”

That seemed to be Eurise’s main concern, actually. Ulvama had an answer for that.

“Her knife snapped. She used to have one so sharp it could cut through armor.”

Bowom rubbed his hands together excitedly.

“Ah, that makes sense! Fascinating! I did think the knife I pulled out of that other young lady hadn’t gone in too deep. I rather expected better.”

“Mm. Very lucky. So, Matha of the Cottontails, looks like we finally meet the lot who’ve stolen from Dretonamis. Is she in good enough condition, Bowom? Not going to die?”

The [Mad Doctor] waved a hand.

“Fine. Just a bit anemic.”

“Great.”

So saying, Eurise made a fist and punched Matha’s head. Not hard, certainly not hard as Ulvama suspected he could strike, but she swore, and the other raiders recoiled.

“What was that f—”

Eurise smacked Qole’s head, then Lantis’, and then every one of the Cottontails he could reach. He wore a patient expression that suggested he actually didn’t have much.

“What? Were you expecting me to give you all soup and a blanket? I’m not Zinni. The only reason I didn’t break your base in half two years ago is because you were her problem. You kidnapped my guests and started this mess. I should bury you all upside down up to your ankles, but instead, Bowom and I are going to march you back to Dretonamis. Then you’ll pay for your crimes. If any of you object, raise a hand.”

None of them were stupid enough to do that, and Ulvama saw Eurise sigh. He rubbed at his stubbled chin, then turned to her.

“Are you alright?”

“Yah. Just—sorry. She thought I was in danger.”

Ulvama gestured towards a comatose figure lying on the ground. Eurise glanced at Erin and then put his hands in his pockets.

“It’s what I’d have done too. Good thing she didn’t kill anyone. I guess we’d better get everyone moving. Can we ride those aphids? I reckon the beetle can carry the rest. Hey! Get mounted up! If anyone tries to run, I will grab them.”

He stood there, relaxed, confident they couldn’t escape or best him. Ulvama saw Matha’s expression and remembered her comments about being able to ‘take’ Erin. It seemed to dawn on the Cottontails that the reason Eurise had never come after them was because he had never wanted to.

As for Zinni—well, Ulvama had a good idea of how hard she’d tried.

“But what about our home? Our things?”

Eurise opened his mouth.

“I said mount up and—”

He stopped when Ulvama touched his arm and gave her a grudging raise of his eyebrows. She murmured.

“Maybe some of it’s useful? They need to sleep somewhere, and they had blankets. Food.”

That made the [Retired Explorer] sigh.

“Fine. Okay, you have twenty minutes. Strip everything valuable and load it up. Move!”

He clapped his hands, and they lurched into action, Qole running to find the wardstone she claimed was so valuable. Ulvama stayed there with Erin.

“I’m ready to teleport. Eurise, do you need help with this lot? Gollesume could send Roja…”

“I can get them all back to Dretonamis. Ulvama, do you need transport for Erin…?”

“We’ll take the beetle, so long as there’s space.”

Eurise nodded distractedly, and Ulvama watched him stride after the raiders. Within eighteen minutes, they were loaded up, and a pile of valuables had been lashed to the Corumdon Beetle’s back. Some of the young Fraerlings were crying as he shepherded them to Dretonamis.

Ulvama wondered what would happen to them. If she guessed right, it’d be some kind of community service under supervision, whereupon they’d go back to working. Perhaps they’d run off again, but she thought the drive to rebel and live apart from everyone else was gone.

“Too bad.”

There was no one around to hear Ulvama, except the Battle Hamster, who was cleaning his arrow wound. He looked at her quizzically, and she sat down.

“They made a home. Maybe it was with help and stealing. Maybe. But Goblin tribes can’t always do that. It’s hard to live as a Fraerling. Too bad—this was almost like a fourth village.”

In time, perhaps, it could have been. Or maybe they would have just kept being nuisances until Eurise or another Fraerling lost their temper. Ulvama gazed at the smoldering village.

“It was silly, and they were silly, but they didn’t hurt me. I don’t think some of them even would have known how. Very funny. They could fight like warriors, but they acted like innocent people. Did you torture one of them, Erin?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ‘sleeping’ Erin sit up. The [Innkeeper] sat cross-legged, head bowed, and her voice rasped as she stared down at her bloody hands.

“Yes.”

Ulvama stood there, and Erin wiped at her face.

“I dreamt I killed them all. I was hunting them down and burning their homes, looking for you. How…none of them are dead, right?”

“Just aphids.”

The [Innkeeper] said nothing. Ulvama wasn’t sure what was going on behind those downcast eyes, and her hair, hiding her face, but she just waited. She had a lot of feelings, but Erin…the weight of emotions broke the [Innkeeper]’s reserve far before Ulvama.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Erin blinked up at her.

“For nearly killing them. They’re kids. I—they told me, but I was afraid. One of them said they might be…but that’s not an excuse.”

“Eurise said he’d do the same thing in your boots. Are you sorry that you made a mistake or that it was just the wrong group? If it were the Bloodfeast Raiders…”

“I wouldn’t feel bad. I just—I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Caused a huge problem for you and everyone.”

The [Innkeeper] got to her feet, and Ulvama leaned against the ball of fur that was the Battle Hamster. Erin hesitantly walked over, but stood there, facing Ulvama from the side. The [Shaman] didn’t glance at her.

“I was happy you came after me. But you said it: you’re still on the ship. You nearly killed children. Big children, but children. What happens if we reach other towns and this happens again?”

“I know. I get it. I—I need help. I need to talk to someone. Therapy.”

Ulvama didn’t quite know what Erin was referring to, but she nodded.

“Bad thoughts? That’s my job, in tribes. I am the one who speaks and listens. But you and I both need a bigger [Shaman] for us. I was so afraid. When I was kidnapped, and then when I realized you were going to come for me.”

Afraid of what she’d do. Erin hung her head and didn’t respond. Ulvama tried to untangle some dirt out of the Battle Hamster’s fur.

“What do I say, Erin? ‘This is bad, never do it again?’ No, that’s silly. Next time, if someone kidnaps me or Battle Hammie—”

She patted the hamster’s head, and it nipped at one finger.

“—then you should do that. But you nearly killed silly girls.”

“I know. I’m…I understand. I panicked. I just thought—”

“Yep. I’d think the same thing too.”

If Ulvama didn’t know Erin was okay, and even if someone told her Erin was safe, she’d think of Roshal or…the [Innkeeper] was clenching and unclenching her jaw.

“So how do I get over this? Change or—not let this happen again. Eurise said this was what he’d do, and you said the same thing. But that doesn’t make this right, does it?”

“Nope. Just sucks.”

The [Innkeeper] waited, but that was the Goblin’s only conclusion. Sometimes, it just sucked. No happy silver lining or whatever Mrsha’s books supposedly had. Morals. Lessons.

The [Shaman] turned at last and saw the [Innkeeper] looked worse again. Not in the sense of her taking any meaningful wounds, but she was haggard. Dark patches had reappeared under her eyes, and she was coughing after exhaling fire. Once again, she wore the appearance of a killer.

Ulvama wished they’d never visited Wyewesshi. She wished she could have captured the Erin who’d begun to smile and preserved that one—but that Erin wasn’t the one who’d survive their journey back home.

“Come on. Let’s go face consequences.”

She put an arm around Erin’s shoulder and pulled her towards the beetle. The [Innkeeper] followed her. They sat in silence as the beetle began following the trail Eurise had left with a few glowing specks of stone every hundred paces.

About an hour of utter silence as the insects chirped around them by night, and Ulvama spoke.

“You know I don’t need a killing warrior, right? That’s just Tremborag.”

Erin flinched.

“I know.”

“Good. Then thank you for coming after me.”

 

——

 

Bowom’s and Eurise’s reactions were the most understanding. The rest of the Fraerlings in Dretonamis reacted differently, ranging from grim acceptance to mild horror. But not complete shock. They were survivors used to monster attacks, so the crowd that Erin and Ulvama ran into was busy finding spaces for the Cottontails to sleep, tending to cuts, or sorting the Cottontails’ belongings when the two arrived.

Erin got off the beetle silently, and Ulvama checked the crowd. She was prepared to back away if they were openly hostile, but they just seemed dismayed. Some gave Erin a long look, but Eurise was taking charge.

“—and tell Wyewesshi, again, everyone’s safe. They can send a group to pick up whomever they want to deal with tomorrow. Got it? Gollesume, what’re they saying over there? Gollesume?”

The [Wizard] who’d been so instrumental in teleporting people around was scarfing down food. He glowered, then snapped.

“We don’t have communication spells like Tallfolk! I only enchanted that speaking stone for Bowom because it was an emergency. Anything else and Tallfolk might notice the spells! Send a runner!”

“Fine. Where’re Mera and Zemmy?”

Eurise turned, but the two [Brawlers] weren’t there. His glower intensified, and Roja sighed.

“I’ll run the note over.”

“Good, check on Zinni.”

That seemed to be a common refrain. Ulvama glanced at Eurise, and he spotted Erin.

“You two—”

She waited, and Erin opened her mouth, but Eurise just waved them off.

“Get some sleep. We’ve got this sorted.”

“We could help—”

“No thanks.”

A Fraerling pushed past the two of them, politely but firmly beginning to unload the Corumdon Beetle. Ulvama regarded Erin. The [Innkeeper] began walking towards the cottage without a word.

 

——

 

Ulvama wasn’t actually tired enough to go to sleep right away, so she stayed up, persuading the Battle Hamster to let her clean his wound and giving him a bit of a poultice Bowom had gotten for her. The [Mad Doctor] had also assured her that everyone would be okay.

“The average giant centipede attack is worse. Mind you, I think most people are surprised how fast Erin took the Cottontails apart. They were a menace. But I supposed they thought Tallfolk Level 50 meant something different from Level 50 for us.”

He was very understanding, and when Ulvama thanked him again, he waved it off and tapped the side of his nose.

“I knew the moment she lost her anchor it was going to go cats up.”

She smiled at the creative use of ‘cats’, probably as Bowom intended. Then Ulvama had to correct him.

“I’m not her anchor. I’m just—a friend. She has more, but I’m the only one here.”

The [Mad Doctor] waved a bloody hand.

“Sure, sure. Temporary or whatever you want to call it. Everyone needs an anchor. Most don’t have one. In my class, my profession, having one is very important.”

“…As a [Doctor]?”

His eyes flashed under the moonlight, and he gave her a wide smile.

“No. [Madman]. Well, get some sleep. Eurise gets it, and so does Fantim. That’s why he wasn’t chewing you out.”

Ulvama nodded as she took the medicine, then she turned.

“What’s Eurise’s anchor, then? Zinni’s?”

“I guess Zinni’s is her ranch and her village. Eurise likes training Mera and Zemmy.”

“Is that an anchor?”

“Nope. I imagine he just tries to hold himself in place. Good night!”

 

——

 

When she got back to the cottage, Ulvama heard a voice. She stopped and then checked Erin’s room. The [Innkeeper] was asleep, but she was dreaming.

She wasn’t doing anything as convenient as making intelligible words, but Ulvama thought she might have heard something like her name in Erin’s mumbling. The [Innkeeper]’s fists were clenched on her sheets, and she was—twitching.

Violence was in every line of her body, and she was baring her teeth. Ulvama saw Erin biting a lip hard—the Goblin saw a glimmering around Erin’s head.

A hat of black fire. The Hobgoblin watched Erin writhe and nodded to herself. She stepped forwards, bent down, and gently slapped Erin on the forehead.

Ulvama had ducked, wisely—Erin’s full swing missed, and she made an inarticulate sound as she sat up.

“Wh—”

“Nightmare. I heard you screaming.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Mm.”

Ulvama got up and went back to her rooms. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, but she drifted off after a few minutes. When she woke up twice in the night, once to pee, she didn’t hear any more muttering from Erin’s room.

 

——

 

Zinni arrived before dawn. It was still dark when Ulvama heard someone ringing a bell. She sat up, and her blood began to race the moment she woke up.

It was the thrumming. She dashed out of her room in her nightclothes, and Erin stumbled out of the room, holding a yellow flame.

“Ulvama, my [Dangersense]—”

“Zinni.”

The very thing that Bowom and Eurise had been concerned about had come. Ulvama didn’t see her as she stepped out of the cottage. What she did see in the darkness lit up by several [Light] spells was far more ominous.

Aphids. Giant aphids, wooly and regular ones, some four inches tall, but most small—the size of big dogs in some cases. A few were far bigger, proportionally as big as cows to Fraerlings.

Thousands of them. They were swarming towards the village, and that wouldn’t have concerned Ulvama, except for two factors.

One—they were making that ominous thrumming sound, rubbing their hindlegs against their bodies, and two—their little buggy eyes were glowing.

Predictably, red. It was always red. They were coming straight at the village. Straight for—Erin.

“Zinni must have heard what happened. Or just saw Fenmi. Ulvama, get inside.”

Erin’s voice sounded grim. Ulvama grabbed her and almost put her in a headlock, but thought better this time.

“No fighting! Get inside—”

She was going to say ‘they’re just aphids’ until she remembered Zinni didn’t just raise aphids. Ulvama gazed up, cursed, and dragged Erin inside as the Battle Hamster poked his head out.

A cloud of beetles roared down like thunder from the sky, and then Ulvama heard and saw Zinni, clinging to one of them.

“Erin Solstice!”

The two were inside the cottage when the first aphid hit the side like a battering ram. Ulvama had traced a rune on one door, but she saw it flicker as dozens of impacts began—then the wall bowed in.

“They’re going to collapse the wall!”

Erin’s response was to yank open the door, draw her breath, and exhale. Black flames roared outside, and the thrumming died down. Erin swept left and right, coating the area around the house with flames.

“Zinni! Back off or I’ll burn your herds to ash!”

She shouted up at the night sky, and Ulvama tensed. Even the Corumdon Beetle would be swarmed in an instant by all the bugs that Zinni had brought with her. Zinni’s reply to Erin’s shout was a voice that was steady and thunderous.

“My granddaughter’s throat? She’s a child!”

More aphids bounded around them, daring the flames Erin spat at them. The [Innkeeper] was draining color from a piece of stone at her feet, forming a Densecore stone. Ulvama shouted up.

“Zinni, stop! Matha’s alive!”

The answer she got was one of the beetles spitting at her—the [Shaman] leapt back indoors. It was either acid or just bile, and she didn’t want to know which. Fortunately, the hail of beetle vomit cut off before it did more than rattle the roof; there was a voice louder than even the chittering of insects.

“ZINNI. THIS IS MY VILLAGE.”

Eurise. Ulvama relaxed a moment too soon. She saw a figure leap up—and then saw a massive arm appear.

[Scarstrike]—Eurise summoned what looked like a bear’s paw, and the swarm of beetles broke apart as he hit it as hard as he could.

That wasn’t the kind of de-escalation that Ulvama had been hoping for. Eurise landed as the swarm of insects jumped on him—then he scattered them like rain. He crushed an aphid underfoot as he strode at Zinni.

The old [Rancher] was trembling with fury. She pointed at Erin.

“Where is she?”

“Away, Zinni. Touch them and I’ll crush this entire swarm.”

Erin walked out of the doorway of the cottage, and Ulvama shouted.

“Erin! No! You idiots!”

She would have run after Erin, but the aphids were leaping at her and Eurise, and the two were tough—Ulvama didn’t know if the aphids would hit hard enough to crack Erin’s ribs. The Battle Hamster kicked an aphid back as Zinni’s voice rose.

“You want to do this, Eurise? Fine. [Herd of Horrors: They Grew Teeth].”

Uh oh. Ulvama saw the duo of Erin and Eurise whirl—and then the nearest aphid doubled in size. The relatively cute bug with its green exoskeleton and rotund body rose upwards, its chitinous body developing spikes. Then—it opened its mouth, revealing teeth.

Whatever assumptions Ulvama had about Zinni’s ability to throw down with Erin and Eurise quickly reversed themselves. She saw a wave of them moving around Erin and Eurise. Undeterred, both were making for Zinni, who pointed a finger at Erin.

Disastrous. Eurise was winding up for another attack, and Ulvama saw what was going to happen next. A Level 50 [Warrior] vs a Level 50 [Rancher] and her entire horde—no one in Dretonamis dared get close, not even the other high-level Fraerlings. Erin was ready to fight, but she, armed with her flames and her body of an inn, wasn’t ready for this.

Ulvama was seizing the Battle Hamster’s fur, prepared to beg it to help fight through the insects to drag Erin away, searching for the Corumdon Beetle. Anything to stop this nightmare.

She’d never seen so many high-level people quarreling like this. Garen and Tremborag had been one thing, but they’d both been a rank below Erin, Eurise, and Zinni. This was like…Named-rank adventurers fighting. The King of Destruction’s Seven brawling. Ulvama didn’t know how to stop it. But she wasn’t the heroine of the hour.

He came out of the village, shoving people aside, disheveled, running in his pajamas straight into the ranks of insects with teeth without a moment of hesitation. Ulvama’s head turned as a familiar voice rose.

“Stop! Stop! No fighting between protectors of the villages! I forbid it!”

Mayor Fantim, stout-chested, barefoot, pushing past slathering aphids biting at his fingers, threw himself between Eurise, Erin, and Zinni. He had all the strength of two aphids, maybe three—he was panting, wide-eyed, and Ulvama saw his arms shaking.

But when he raised his hands, Eurise slowed, and Zinni raised a hand. Erin Solstice hesitated, and the [Mayor] shouted again.

“Eurise, get back! Zinni, call your herds off! No one is fighting! You—Erin, get back inside that cottage now!”

He was puffed up with rage and indignation, and his voice had all the authority of his class, [Mayor]. All the force of…

Of…

Shouting. Ulvama stared in horror.

There was no authority in Fantim’s voice aside from the actual concept. No aura he was using to bowl the others over; in fact, Erin’s own was making his feet slide backwards in the mud slightly. He didn’t have an enforcement Skill like Zevara.

And the other three knew it. Zinni’s eyes flicked to Erin and narrowed, and a wave of beetles scuttled forwards. Eurise raised a fist, and Fantim threw himself forwards again.

“I said back away! I am the [Mayor] of Dretonamis, and I forbid fighting between protectors! Zinni, you’ll see your granddaughter! Eurise, Gnomes laugh at you, get back!”

He shoved the [Retired Explorer], or tried to, and Eurise glanced at him.

“Zinni came here and attacked—”

“Matha’s throat was cut by that one! Where is she?”

Zinni shouted back, and Erin lifted the Densecore stone. As if sensing the threat, the herd of aphids swirled around her, then crouched, ready to leap—

Fantim moved himself between Erin and the aphids, arms outstretched. Zinni’s raised hand stopped the aphids from leaping, and his voice was loud and suddenly very calm.

“[Attack Me First]. No one is fighting here. Not you—not you—and not you! Not you three, not here or anywhere. Do you not remember the rules?”

He shoved Erin back, then strode forwards so he was between the three of them again. Now, Ulvama saw the Fraerling man was reddening with rage.

“I—”

He bellowed over Eurise, stabbing a finger into the [Retired Explorer]’s chest, then marched up to Zinni, who wore a surprised and suddenly ashamed expression much like the other Fraerling.

“You are the protectors of Wyewesshi and Dretonamis! I am the [Mayor] of this village. I am civilization. Kill me and damn the villages! End it all, but you’ll go through me first. Is that what you want, Zinni? Is that worth all this? You, Eurise?”

He spun, and the [Explorer] lowered his hands at last. Fantim turned back, and the entire herd backed up.

“Have you lost your senses? I would have expected this of our guests, but you, Zinni?”

“I just—”

Her herd was fully pulling back now, and Fantim pointed a finger at her.

“You could have come here and asked! You came here to teach the [Innkeeper] a lesson? To scare her? Take your herd back to Wyewesshi right now. I’ll bring Matha out—as for you, Eurise, go and get a damn drink or punch a tree. Understand? Back! Back!”

He advanced until Zinni was walking backwards, and Eurise lifted his hands and retreated as well. He wore the same shamefaced look as Zinni. As for Erin, she caught one glance from Fantim and stepped back towards her cottage. His glare made her jog, and Ulvama saw Erin stride into the cottage and peek out a window.

The [Shaman] had rarely ever been more impressed. She gave Fantim a nod as he swept his eyes across her. He was panting, sweating, and she bet he felt like throwing up, but the [Mayor] just tried to adjust clothing he wasn’t wearing. He nodded back, cast around, and then threw up his hands.

“Children!”

 

——

 

That was how they continued so long, the Fraerling villages. It was a Eurise, yes, a high-level protector of each village whose job it was to protect everything they could. But also—a Fantim.

There was a rule that kept Fraerling Protectors from fighting each other because of how dire the costs were. The injunctions against drinking, all the laws that the [Mayor] enforced to no one’s happiness—now, Erin and Ulvama saw why Eurise didn’t actually argue with Fantim.

The [Innkeeper] had to admit, she slightly admired the outraged Fraerling who took charge as the sun rose and got Matha and her fellow raiders out of their beds to meet with Zinni and reassure her they were all alive.

His approach—once he’d put on pants—was to shout and lecture everyone involved, which included her, but mostly was reserved for Eurise and Zinni, who got an earful. When both tried to protest they had good reasons, he just shouted louder.

“He’s sorta cool.”

“Mm. He’s a [Shaman] for them. Just without the magic. No wonder he doesn’t have any enforcement Skills. He doesn’t need them.”

That struck Erin as somewhat insane, but she supposed it made sense. If Fantim thought Eurise was actually going to attack someone or break the laws, no amount of Skills would stop the [Retired Explorer]. All Fantim needed was, well, his position.

“Still, that guy’s got a lot of guts. Or balls. Brass? I think that’s the thing you say. Zevara would like him. He’s really impressive.”

“Yep. He’s like you used to be.”

“Me?”

Erin was astounded as Ulvama gave her the side-eye. The [Shaman] shrugged.

“You did that with a white flag and shouted at people before you had the levels. He’s like you.”

Erin wasn’t sure how to take that, and to her surprise, she blushed at the compliment. Then she just sat and…well.

It dawned on Erin that she really had stabbed a bunch of kids and threatened to cut all the fingers off another one. She rubbed her face and rested her head on the table they were breakfasting at.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Mhm. But so are Eurise and Zinni. Level 50s are all stupid.”

“You’re supposed to say something nice, Ulvama.”

“No.”

 

——

 

The next day, Erin had a unique experience. She and Ulvama walked around Dretonamis, talking to people, apologizing—and that was normal. She had often been the problem or a factor in big events.

—But never the monster. The high-level monster who could destroy a base of [Raiders] in a single day. It was the reserve people treated her with, or the way Fantim checked on her twice.

Just like she’d check on Grimalkin or someone who was powerful, but who could also be a dangerous enemy, she realized. She didn’t like it.

She felt guilty, and she—well, once again, she felt like there was a mountain of things she had to sort through in her head. Problems she had been running away from.

“I guess this is it for our time in Dretonamis.”

That was her comment to Ulvama as they walked towards the ovenhouse. Someone overheard her and laughed.

“What? Who’s kicking you out? The Wyewesshers might want to, but unless Fantim was saying so, I haven’t heard anyone calling for that. And if he says so, I think Eurise will tell him to stuff it!”

Roja slung an arm around Erin’s and Ulvama’s shoulders, and the [Innkeeper] started.

“But I destroyed the Cottontails’ base and Fenmi—”

“Yep. However, they were a nuisance. You think anyone liked having them steal a bunch of Macnest’s tools or robbing spellbooks and food? The only reason we didn’t do more was because of Zinni. As for Fenmi, that’s why we have Bowom. You ever seen someone chop their own foot off cutting wood?”

Ulvama had and shuddered; Erin had not. Roja looked side-long at the [Innkeeper].

“Besides, sending someone out usually means they die. No one wants that, but everyone’s curious about why you went that far. Thank Zemmy and Mera; they were explaining why it was so personal. I think if you two went around and talked, it’d clear a lot of brows.”

That…was something Erin could do, but she apologized to Roja.

“I might need some time.”

“Of course. Breakfast first, then talk. Always easier.”

“Er—no. I have to do something, but I will explain. I promise. I want to ask Bowom if everyone’s okay. Then I need to talk to someone.”

Roja nodded understandingly.

“Don’t worry about Matha. Zinni dragged her back to their village, and she was the worst-off. Go do your thing.”

Ulvama gave Erin a side-long look as the [Innkeeper] sat down at a table, and someone brought over a trio of bowls. The Battle Hamster sniffed at a pinenut soup and began to slurp it as Ulvama spoke.

“The [Pavilion of Secrets]?”

“I won’t be long. I think. I just have to…”

“Ask?”

Erin half-nodded, and she glanced up. Then she spread her hands and gazed down at the scars again. She touched her hair, her face, and looked up at Ulvama.

“I think I have to be honest with them. Ulvama?”

The [Innkeeper] was breathing harder than when she’d jumped off the Corumdon Beetle and fought her way through the Cottontails’ base. Her hands were trembling so hard she made the soup spill from the bowl, and her eyes were doing that thing again.

That damn stinging and blurriness. Erin missed the cold and empty feeling, but this was so much more of a relief and far scarier. Ulvama gazed at Erin.

“Yeah?”

“I—I was really scared when they kidnapped you. I was terrified, so I overreacted. I—that’s all. I’m glad you’re okay.”

The Hobgoblin blinked, her crimson eyes widening, and then she smiled.

“Thank you, Erin.”

She reached across the table, and Erin vanished before Ulvama touched her hand.

 

——

 

It was not the same as last time, but the feeling was. It felt, to the red-haired [Princess], like she had been dozing in the [World’s Eye Theatre] at the little desk she’d set up to do all the talking. She raised her head, and there was a door.

A new door. Always a new damn door, only this one was made of simple oak wood. Cheap wood, really. A plywood composite which gave the impression of a rich oak, but was some cheaper synthesized material, which described most of what Earth was to Lyonette du Marquin.

It had a chess piece on the door: a queen. The [Princess] stood and walked through it as it swung open. That was not optional.

The room beyond was, again, familiar. It was Erin’s room this time, not the gazebo in the void. The [Princess] halted and experimentally opened and closed her mouth.

“Everything I say in here is a kind of truth.”

Her mouth twisted wryly, and then she sat, wishing she had one of her mother’s puffer sticks to smoke. She rather felt like Ielane today. Her eyes rose sardonically, challengingly, even, but also hungrily to the young woman sitting opposite her.

Erin Solstice. Something about her was different from yesterday. The intensity was gone along with that distant expression. She seemed more…here, and Lyonette’s guard lowered just a fraction.

“Erin? Did something happen?”

“I…hello, Lyonette. Sorry for summoning you so soon. If you’re busy, I can let you go.”

“I’m free. It’s not stopping me from doing whatever I’m doing in the real world. I didn’t realize you could change venues.”

Erin was sitting with her back to her desk, the chess pieces arranged behind her. Lyonette made a mental note to check if they’d actually shifted in real life. She doubted that, but maybe this room summoned a picture of reality? Fascinating either way…she waited as the [Innkeeper] brushed at her hair.

“Yes. Something happened. I—Ulvama got kidnapped.”

Lyonette’s gripes with Erin vanished in a moment, and she sat forward.

“By who—by whom?”

“Some Fraerling kids. They—they’re just kids. I brought her back. After stabbing a bunch of them. None of them died.”

Lyonette’s mouth opened. She croaked—saw Erin’s hands shaking before the [Innkeeper] hid them under the table, and then she spoke very slowly.

“Fraerlings?”

Erin blinked, and her mouth opened as the [Princess] put two and two together and got a tiny four. She gasped.

“Then you’re—”

“I’m in a village with them. I—it’s a secret where they are, and I’ve promised not to tell. I don’t know.”

“You’re a Fraerling as well and you didn’t tell me?”

Lyonette leapt upright, outraged, and Erin lifted a hand.

“I’m sorry. I—I’ve been—”

She took a deep breath.

“I’ve been avoiding you, Lyonette. And everyone else. I’m ashamed, and until the quest, I was afraid of—of saying anything. I only learned I could do this a month ago. Then I just…delayed.”

This was in the same vein as their last conversation—albeit a lot less confrontational, and Erin was leading with the truth. So Lyonette sat back down.

“I also regret how I spoke last time. I was snappish. I was hurt you turned to Ishkr first. Um. Did you say you stabbed children?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Oh. D—w—raiders?”

“Yeah. They were…well, teenagers or a bit older. Our age, actually, but they’re kids.”

Lyonette breathed out.

“Ah, adolescents. I understand. Er, well, I am glad Ulvama is safe.”

“Yes. I was worried about her. I…I lost my head. I’ve been doing that a lot. I’m not okay, Lyonette. I—”

Erin glanced away from the [Princess], and Lyonette du Marquin reminded herself everything in here was true. The [Innkeeper] struggled for words.

“I know you were not telling me because you wanted to keep me from doing something crazy. But I have to know what happened in this [Palace of Fates] thing. The entire event. Please, Lyonette. I think it’s tearing me up inside. But I don’t feel it. It feels like my fault. I don’t know if I can handle it, but I have to know or I’ll go insane. Please.”

The [Princess] gazed at Erin, then closed her eyes and thought. She spoke, cracking one eye open.

“I have engaged in intercourse with Pawn under your roof. I’ve definitely—hm, that doesn’t work.”

Erin’s head rose, and she gaped at Lyonette. The [Princess] raised one eyebrow.

“I’m checking.”

She stood up and fussed about the room, making Erin’s messy bed, adjusting the objects on the desk as Erin sat there. Lyonette spoke with her back turned.

“I…was also being unhelpful on purpose yesterday, Erin. I was trying to punish you. Not for not bein—no. I suppose it was for not being there, but that’s unfair of me.”

She tilted her head up and stared at the ceiling.

“Yes. A part of me blamed you for not being there, even though, this time, it truly wasn’t your fault. I was hurt you didn’t tell me you were alive. Angry. I…these last few days were the hardest in my life. So, I am sorry.”

She turned and gave Erin a shamefaced smile and a curtsy. Almost relieved, Lyonette nodded.

“And at least we know it’s true, don’t we?”

The [Innkeeper] sat there, then spoke.

“I suppose so. But why did you say that about Pawn?”

“I assumed you knew. Everyone else did.”

Erin pushed at her brows and almost laughed. She shook her head and then spoke.

“Yes, I did, but I never wanted to talk about it. I’m sorry too, Lyonette. I think I’m just a bit insane. I don’t think I’m well, and I don’t—”

Her voice broke.

“—I don’t think I should come back home. Perhaps not ever. It feels like all I do is murder my friends. I think I wanted to die and not put anyone else in danger. But I couldn’t because Ulvama needed me. But this—I’m just hurting people. I don’t remember how to stop.”

Erin’s hands were shaking again, so badly that Lyonette’s brief moment of humor left her, and she strode over to seize Erin’s hands. Then feel at her wrists.

“Your scars. I barely noticed before. Did—is it from the ship?”

“I had chains on.”

The scars around her neck. Suddenly, Lyonette regretted every bit of her passive aggressive comments from yesterday. She combed at Erin’s hair with her fingers and then would have lifted Erin’s hands up, but she couldn’t do it.

Different rules here. I must not be able to harm her or affect her without her consent. Good?

“You—don’t think like that, Erin. Is there a [Healer] in the village? We all want you b—dead gods damn it, everyone in the inn except for possibly Numbtongue wants you back.”

Erin was trying to smile, but her lips were trembling. Lyonette saw her head rising, but her hands were shaking worse in the [Princess]’ grip. Lyonette had once seen Shardele suffering withdrawal from Dreamleaf, and she’d been shaking less than this.

“Numbtongue? I guess I left him behind and really hurt him, huh?”

“He’s an idiot, and I think he just regrets not being there with you. He needs to see you, Erin. We all do. Not like this. In person. And…and I never really hated you. I was just upset. You sailed off to fight [Pirates] when I wanted you to turn around and be safe.”

“I had to. I had to save the Goblin just once. I wish no one had come after me.”

The [Innkeeper] was shivering now, and Lyonette pressed a hand against her forehead.

“Are you sick?”

“No. I’m just afraid. Lyonette—who died? What happened?”

Erin’s eyes were shimmering as she watched Lyonette, and there it was. The thing the [Princess] had wanted to see, however horrible the thought was. Fear. Grief and pain, so vivid and so awful on the injured woman that Lyonette instantly wanted to take it back.

But it mirrored what Lyonette felt. So the [Princess] fiercely hugged Erin.

“Everyone we know is alive. There—there was good that came of it, Erin, I swear. The only—people died. But we didn’t know them. We did know them, but—it’s done, and it could have been worse. It could have been far worse.”

Tears came to her own eyes as she rocked Erin, almost like a child, and the [Innkeeper] peered up.

“Just tell me. Please.”

The [Princess] hesitated, then stepped back and shook her head.

“It’s not my story to tell. There’s someone you need to call here. I can prep her if you want, but you should ask her.”

Erin didn’t understand. She gave Lyonette a questioning look, and the [Princess] half-bowed.

“I’m just the weak, foolish mother who was too late. I feel like—is this how you’ve felt after every disaster? I was too slow to understand what was going on. I did the wrong things, and I paid—I wish I paid the price for it.”

Now it was Lyonette’s turn to have her voice wobble and to try and suppress the sob and Erin’s to half-rise. She took Lyonette’s arm gently and got her to sit. Erin cast around for a handkerchief, then conjured one out of thin air for the [Princess]. Lyonette pulled out her own handkerchief instead.

“Yes. That’s always how it feels. I wish I could say it’ll hurt, and you’ll always remember it, but it fades. It fades…and you forget more and more, even if it never goes away and comes back sometimes. Then—then it’ll come back the next time around. All the memories. All of them.”

The [Princess]’ tears slowed, and she gazed up at Erin’s pained smile and reached up.

“Your hair. Your scars, Erin.”

“They never touched Ulvama. Or me. I’m f…we lived. Lyonette, I’m sorry, but if you won’t tell me, then who? I have to ask, and they’re waiting for me. I messed things up here as well.”

The [Princess] rose and smoothed at her jeans as if they were skirts. But she wore pants these days because a dress was too damn inconvenient in the inn. And she regarded Erin.

“Mrsha. Ask Mrsha. But before you send me away—”

She hugged Erin tightly.

“Tell Ulvama we’re all concerned about you and her. Tell us what’s going on? At least once a week, please.”

“I will. Just keep us secret. I don’t want anyone to know. Not Roshal. Not—I’m going to keep her safe. I have to, Lyonette.”

“Okay. Erin?”

The [Innkeeper] was breathing hard, controlling herself—or trying to—drying her eyes as the [Princess] smiled at her. Cracks in the armor. Breaks in the fortress walls. Lyonette knew she should step back, not say it, but she couldn’t help it. It slipped out as she added a burden to the woman who looked like she’d carried them until they’d ripped the flesh from her bones.

“Erin? What should I have done?”

Then the [Princess] broke down in Erin’s arms, weeping in a place where no one but the [Innkeeper] could see and hear her, and Erin just held her friend tightly. Until Lyonette stepped back, wiping her eyes, and awoke, the memory of tears upon her face. She wiped at her eyelashes, then turned.

“Ushar? Get me Mrsha when she wakes up.”

“Ser Dalimont is watching her right now, Your Highness—”

“I know that. I’m not worried. She’ll need a hug.”

 

——

 

Then Mrsha stood before the door and trembled, fear stealing over her; she was terrified. The door opened, and she waited for it to slam—

Until she realized, again, this wasn’t the nightmare, but just Erin.

Oh.

Okay.

The [Innkeeper] was different as she sat at the plain table in her room with Mrsha. She tried a smile and managed to conjure the idea of it.

“Mrsha? I’m sorry. I—I just spoke with Lyonette. I haven’t been right. Mentally. I…she told me to ask you about what happened. About who died.”

The girl walked forwards slowly and saw what had made her mother change her mind. She gazed up at the young woman who had been so tough and cool and impassive last time they’d talked. Who had made Mrsha feel like she’d break like glass if you hit her hard enough.

The girl began to pull out a chair, then stopped. She looked up, as her eyes grew misty, and held out her arms. The [Innkeeper] blinked, as if the idea had never occurred to her, and then bent down. She put Mrsha on her lap.

“Oof. You’re heavy. I knew I could touch people, but this is different from how I thought this Skill worked. I guess—well, I’m not having Fetohep sit on my lap.”

Mrsha giggled a bit at that, and her heart eased slightly, even though it was heavy. But she gazed up and saw Erin’s frightened expression, those hazel eyes concealing it well, but terror and pain.

Ah, I see. I have to tell this Erin. She patted the chair and then wrote with her wand.

Forsooth, this table and venue sucks, Erin. Can we go to the old one? I think this will take a bit of time.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they sat in that gazebo filled with emptiness…only now, there was a second Erin sitting across from them.

“Mind if I listen in?”

Pavilion-Erin spoke, and Mrsha nearly leapt out of Erin’s arms at the sight of an alternate world Erin who’d lived—

No, no, again, it was different. She knew this being, though it made her feel less good because the [Pavilion of Secrets] had killed one version of her before. However, this time, she had Erin. The [Innkeeper] lost her smile.

“Get lost.”

She stared until the other Erin vanished, and Mrsha clung to her, demanding answers. Erin tried to explain, and then the Gnoll girl gazed up bleakly. Erin Solstice sat, and the Gnoll girl spread her arms.

Guess who died, Erin? She smiled proudly, sadly, painfully—and Erin didn’t get the joke at first. When she did—it broke her a tiny bit.

The [Witch] wept, and her tears were trails of flames.

 

——

 

A lady of fire. That was what she looked like now, and Mrsha said it to fill the void as Erin’s tears slowed. They were burning trails down her face. Black flames of hatred…for herself?

Mrsha hated it.

You’re like Maviola, but bad. Can’t someone help you?

“Maviola but bad? I have her Skill, Mrsha. I’m—I’m not trying to set myself on fire, honest. But I don’t have many flames right now. Just hatred. How am I Maviola but bad?”

Erin was hugging Mrsha as the girl wrote for the [Innkeeper] to read. The child tried to figure out how to say it. It was just a hunch, for an [Emberbearer], but she tried to articulate it.

Maviola was cool, even though she was always spicy and burning. Cool like…fun. Not cold. Archmage.

“Right. Am I not cool?”

The [Innkeeper] touched the black flames running down her cheeks, and the Gnoll girl tilted her head.

That’s sort of awesome, but more like how Gothica likes things. Maviola wasn’t like that. I mean, I didn’t actually know her that well. But do you remember? She actually didn’t do much burning. She got mad, but she never burst into flame.

It was a novel thought. Erin Solstice blinked, and she considered what Mrsha had said. But Maviola was a hothead. She’d stolen Bethal’s horse and…

No, she hadn’t really done much with her [Like Fire, Memory] Skill, had she? She’d thrown a few [Fireballs], but she’d been—

“Restrained. I guess she was. She was an old woman, even if Saliss’ potions made her young. Maybe that’s it. Her flame was ending?”

Mrsha scratched one ear dubiously.

I dunno about that. Otherwise, what about Gresaria Wellfar? She was riding a chariot and swinging a spear around right up till the end.

“…Good point. I guess—I guess she must have gone through what I have, if she mastered her own flames. She said I had so few when we met. Maybe she burned too much and had to pull herself back. I think my Skill’s taking me over a bit.”

The girl eyed Erin.

Maybe a teensy bit. You might get a crimson Skill if you’re not careful.

“Oh, and you’re some expert on Skills, are you?”

More than you, yes. I saw a lot of bad stuff in the [Palace of Fates].

Well, there went teasing her. Now Erin was reminded of the—the truth, she just sat there, inspecting Mrsha. She didn’t seem like two Gnoll souls conjoined and combined into one. She looked like Mrsha, but older. Different, subtly. Aged.

“Mrsha. I wish you’d never found that door. This was too much for you.”

I just did what I thought you’d do.

Erin closed her eyes.

“That’s worse. You said I—told you how to do that? That’s wrong. Mrsha—”

She wasn’t going to immediately cry again, but her heart was twisting in her chest. The girl held up a paw, eyes steady.

It was my decision, Erin. I sacrificed so much. Too many lives. But I brought back Kevin and…Rags and—and others. It’s not enough, but I did it. Please don’t torture yourself. Not you. I thought you’d understand why I had to try.

She appeared hurt, then afraid, and Erin didn’t know what to say. She knew what Lyonette might say—that Mrsha should have left it to the [Princess], and she knew what she should say. Something about Mrsha doing her best, but…

The words wouldn’t come out. Perhaps they were lies or Erin didn’t believe them. So the [Innkeeper] whispered the truth instead.

“Yes. Of course. If I had that door, I would have brought them all back. In a heartbeat. I would have thrown the doors open and invited them all to our world. I wouldn’t have even been cautious.”

Even if they weren’t the ones we knew? They are and aren’t, and—I was selfish.

The [Witch of Remorse]’s eyes were burning as Mrsha gazed up at them. A terrible light.

“Oh, yes. I’m afraid, Mrsha, that if it were me, I would have taken them all—even if they weren’t the ones I loved. If I’d known that, I would have called for armies. Sserys and Marquin and the Great Witches of old. Armies. I would have tried to destroy Roshal and then the dead gods. So maybe it’s for the best you found it. Because I think if I were in the wrong headspace…I would have called for armies of people I didn’t have to care for. Just like House Shoel.”

The twisting flames of her hatred were burning through her eyes, a staring young woman in a glass mirror filled with scars, sailing into a storm. She terrified Mrsha, but the girl would never be afraid of Erin hurting her.

Was this the closure Mrsha sought? Was this the grief that Erin had braced herself for? No and no. Mrsha reached up to the flaming tears of hatred and snatched her paw back.

Erin. Can I be super honest with you? Both Mrshas?

“Of course.”

Your new flame sucks. It’s stupid and scary, and I don’t like it. I miss your old flames.

Erin Solstice blinked, and the tears stopped. She raised her hands self-consciously and laughed.

“I’m sorry, Mrsha. I can’t control them. I think I’m a bit…broken. All I’ve got in here is hatred. At me, at people like…I know I look horrible. I guess I am. I’ll try to fix it, I swear. Ulvama’s with me—and I need to go to her. I can let you go if it’s that bad.”

She smiled ruefully and wanted to put Mrsha down, but the girl clung to her like an octopus.

No! I don’t want you to go! Not like that! You’re like the Erin who fought Belavierr! You’re burning away. I saw it.

“Whoa. I fought Belavierr? One-on-one? Mrsha, it’s not that b— ”

She couldn’t lie. Mrsha had no problems because she was mostly an honest child who could tell the truth, but it was really hard for Erin when she was trying to be a suckass adult. She bit her lip, and Mrsha peered up at her. Her brown eyes were filled with tears.

I want you to be better. I’m sorry I lied to you, but I didn’t want you to get hurt even more. You have scars. I cried myself to sleep, and so did Ishkr and Lyonette when they thought I wasn’t watching. Bird didn’t cry, but only because she said she was making an arrow for Roshal first. If they could see you, Grimalkin and Pryde or Montressa or Relc—they’d all cry. You think we’re mad at you for being alive? I’m gonna cry again, but if you burn yourself, I’ll just be afraid. You have to talk to Ser Normen or someone to stop this fire! Please! Please!

“Mrsha, I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown you this. I’m—don’t cry. I’ll try to stop it, I promise. You’re the dead one. I should cry for you!”

Erin tried to refocus this on the person who’d really suffered, the dead girl, but Mrsha’s nose was running, and she held up a card.

No, you dummy! You’re the one who got locked up in chains!

“I didn’t die and—and outrun Kasigna. You died, Mrsha! You—and I wasn’t there—”

Erin’s voice was shaking as it hit her again. Really hit her, and she saw Mrsha sitting there and realized why the Gnoll had flinched every time she saw the door. The girl’s eyes were wide, and she opened her mouth in a silent shout.

Even when I was driving away from the Goblin King, I wasn’t as afraid as I was when you were gone. Even then—even when I was waiting for her to catch up, I was just sad I messed it up. But you…they were going to do horrible things to you. I saw futures where you got captured. I wish I’d saved those Erins. I wish I’d saved just one more person.

Now she was crying too hard to write, and Erin felt her eyes truly burning. She tried to hold Mrsha, and her voice broke.

“I’m—I tried to, Mrsha. Seve’s dead. Embraim. I led them straight into their deaths. Altestiel. Even Kevin. Even if he’s—it hurts. It hurts so much that I can’t bear it. Ulvama. If it weren’t for her, I think I would burn up. I have to protect her. She saved me there, and I’m—Mrsha.”

She was weeping again, and the little girl backed up. Erin knew the flames were running down her eyes, knew she was scaring the girl, but she couldn’t help it. The flames weren’t a memory. They were her emotions, a roaring fire that burned out of her eyes, above her head, and across her back. She saw Mrsha’s eyes go wide as she held the wand out. The firelight reflected off her fur, that turquoise glow…

…Not black?

[The Wandering Innkeeper] felt at her cheeks and then peered down at the flames burning on her hands. What met her eyes wasn’t the twisting, invisible flame of hatred or anger distorting the air by its presence—it was something familiar, but different.

Turquoise flame, not quite blue, but bright. Bright. The most vibrant flame that Erin had ever seen. Unlike the flame of fear, this was incandescent and lit up the gazebo brighter than the sun, it felt like.

“Wh—what flame is this?”

It was all over her. Radiating upwards and forming her hat, streaking down her face, but it…it was burning her, yet the tears that ran from her eyes felt genuine. Erin drew a breath that turned into a sob, and Mrsha gazed up. Her own eyes were wide with tears, and she wrote a single word out of what she saw.

It was obvious, to the Gnoll girl, in every twisting flicker of the fire, the depths of the self-loathing, the grief mixed with pieces of honor and failed dreams. The weeping [Innkeeper] who had knelt in her inn as it fell to pieces as a skeleton died. The woman who had fought Skinner, who lay on the raft counting the dead—a true flame that defined the [Witch of Remorse].

Guilt.

The piercing light radiated outwards, condensing into a single flame that Erin held in her palm, so vivid that neither one could look into its heart. It had so many layers and so many depths, Mrsha thought she could fall into a sea of fire.

“It hurts. Just like it should. It does hurt, and it only hurts less when I’m so numb I don’t feel it.”

The [Innkeeper] whispered. She yanked the fire back as Mrsha reached for it, but the girl was fearless. She stuck her paw out.

I’m an [Emberbearer], or I was. I carried your last flame. Let me touch it, Erin. Please. It’s my fire too. I just can’t make it.

Erin gazed into Mrsha’s eyes, and because it was true, she gently held out the flame, and Mrsha let the flames dance onto her fur. They grew, as if feeding off her emotions, and then the two of them held the fire.

“Mrsha. I’m…I’m not sure if I can say I’m proud of you. Not for dying. Not for this. I don’t want you to ever do something like that again. I’m not proud. I don’t think I should be. But I do think…I think you were a heroine of your own story. I wish it had ended better for you, but you tried. You did your best, and I’m glad I can talk to you. I’m so glad.”

The girl was crying, nodding, until she fumbled her wand and wrote.

And I want you to get better. And come back so I can hug you and Ulvama and we can sit and watch movies and eat popcorn and never get in trouble again. Please come back safely.

“I’ll try. I will.”

The [Innkeeper] whispered. She wiped at her eyes and realized—she wasn’t burning anymore. The flame in her hand burned so bright, but it was absorbing all her guilt. A beacon of it, but so long as Erin held it…

She felt so many things, but one small part of it was wonder. And as if it had lifted a pall from her mind—Erin whispered.

“Kevin’s alive? Truly?”

A burning flame flickered in her eyes, so brief, so faint, that only Mrsha saw it. The Gnoll held her breath and nodded.

Yes. And others. But Kevin made it back.

“Oh.”

Erin had to sit back down again. Mrsha dropped her flame and climbed into the [Innkeeper]’s lap and had to explain more. And then she saw it, just for a second.

A wondering smile. When she saw that, Mrsha too felt like she could smile again.

 

——

 

They parted ways a bit after that. The conversation grew a bit lighter, by which Mrsha meant that she was telling Erin about the reactions everyone had had to the Goblin King, and Erin was asking about the Crossroads that Mrsha had seen.

“I feel like I remember conversations with the Grand Design. Sometimes. I definitely had at least one, but I think it’s sort of a weird character.”

It’s definitely a bit of a poop. The Second Edition was cool. You would have liked it.

Erin smiled and laughed again at that. Not a great laugh, more like a wet chuckle, but she did laugh. She seemed a bit younger, suddenly, and she glanced up.

“I’ll ask you about it later. Right now, I’m leaving Ulvama behind, and I have a mess—can I call you back?”

Sure. Just don’t do it when I’m asleep or I might pee myself if I see the door at night. Thanks. I’ll, um, I’ll see you later and tell Mom you’re okay.

“Sure. I’ll talk to you soon as I can. I promise. Are you sure you don’t want to ask anything else?”

Mrsha tilted her head.

How many people did you stab? Actually, I don’t think I want to know. Um…I was gonna ask if Ulvama was good, but we covered that. Tell her I’m concerned about her since she can’t eat all the snacks anymore. And I guess that’s it. I’ll be here, Erin. I’m not doing anything right now, I promise. I just eat food and read books. It’s great.

She spread her arms, trying to show Erin how great and normal and un-disasterly it all was. Erin sat there.

“I wish I could give you something to help with the attention or—can I talk to anyone pressuring the inn? I might help. Or hinder.”

She bit her lip, and Mrsha held up a finger.

Mom’s got that. Leave the inn to us! Just focus on you getting big again. Or I’ll put you in Visma’s dollhouse when you get back. And besides. You did give me something.

“…Words of wisdom? Reassurance?”

Mrsha rolled her eyes.

No, dumbass—sorry. This.

She held up a paw, and Erin blinked as that turquoise flame appeared. The fire of guilt burned in Mrsha’s paw, and the girl grinned.

“But how—? You can’t do that!”

Both of them jumped as Pavilion-Erin appeared. She pointed, and Mrsha hid the flame behind her back. It was Erin’s turn to grin.

“She is an [Emberbearer]. It’s memory, not fire.”

“That’s not—this has never occurred in the history of the [Pavilion of Secrets]. I’m checking this.”

Pavilion-Erin vanished, and Erin nudged Mrsha.

“Better get out of here before she does something.”

Yeah, like murder me again.

“What?”

Long story, talk to you later!

The door opened, and Mrsha walked through, holding the fire in her paw proudly. Erin glanced over her shoulder as the door slammed shut.

“You did what?”

“Another version of me, doubtless. I asked.”

“And?”

Erin waited. The [Pavilion of Secrets] glowered.

“No objections were raised.”

The [Innkeeper] blinked, then laughed. She turned on her heel and then walked back to her own door. When she reached it, she felt better.

Truly.

 

——

 

If Ulvama had been putting money down on who could help Erin in her current state, she would have put all her money on ‘probably not Mrsha’.

No, she would have probably won a few silver in a tiny side bet. When she saw the [Innkeeper] reappear, Ulvama could tell something was better. But the Hobgoblin didn’t break off her job to talk just yet.

She was doing what she could.

Telling stories. It was the first and only time Erin had ever seen Ulvama performing a traditional role of [Shamans], and the Hobgoblin had sort of forgotten how to do it herself. But she had gone back to her roots because it was needed.

“—And then, as they were snarling and preparing to devour the little white Gnoll girl, a door opened. Deep in the dungeon where no light existed, and the Cave Goblins fled and watched as a bright light shone from the city of Liscor.”

The [Shaman] was declaiming to her audience, and she held up one hand that seemed at first bloody and red, a pulsing heart held in a furred hand. Then Erin blinked and saw Ulvama was holding up a miniature red piece of strawberry, and the prowling fur of a Raskghar was just an illusion.

But it worked. She flicked her fingers, and light shone as she traced a door in the air. Erin knew this story—it was when she’d ambushed the Raskghar to save Mrsha and the others with the adventurers.

However, the audience didn’t. Children sat there in their parents’ arms, but the Fraerling parents didn’t tell Ulvama this was too gorey or dark a story—they just sat forwards, fascinated or enthralled as Ulvama picked up a sword.

(It was a stick.) But she whirled it around in a passable imitation of adventurers fighting the Raskghar in the dark, driving them away. When she was done, there was applause. Even cheering, and Erin blinked.

“What the heck…how do you know that story, why are you telling it, and—no, just those two questions, please.”

Ulvama gave Erin a slightly smug look as several people begged to hear another one. She eyed Erin.

“Good talk? Who…”

“It’s a long story. But technically Mrsha, but she, uh—got better.”

Ulvama’s eyes grew wide with alarm, but Erin reassured her. The [Shaman] opened her mouth.

“You tell me everything later. I’m telling them the stories so they know why you went crazy. Duh. And I know the story because I’m a [Shaman]. I asked all the Cave Goblins how they got free. In Riverfarm and the stupid cage wagons.”

“Oh. Makes sense. But it’s so—embarrassing. You made me out like a heroine. Zevara was the one with the sword. Actually, Lyonette fought.”

Ulvama waved this off as artistic license. She turned Erin’s attention to the Fraerlings, who had a bunch of questions for her.

“Excuse me. Did all that actually happen?”

Macnest and Gollesume were sitting together, sharing a bowl of popcorn Erin had transferred using her Skill—a single kernel was enough for the two of them, though they kept fighting over it. Erin demurred instantly.

“I mean, sort of, but Ulvama was exaggerating. It was really the Redfang Five. The Hobs—”

“Oh, you know so much more than me? I’m the [Shaman]. You lie about what you do.”

Ulvama poked Erin, and the [Innkeeper] swatted at her.

“I was there!”

“Okay, then you tell. Go on.”

Without even realizing it, Erin was thrust onto the little stage and instantly got, well, stage fright. She didn’t have Ulvama’s performing instincts, but when Ulvama tried to play up Erin’s role at the Meeting of Tribes, Erin managed to interject.

“I was dead! I didn’t do squat!”

Everyone laughed, and Gollesume waved a hand.

“Seriously, is this a joke? Because this is great, but you have to prove some of that.”

“Uh—”

Erin stuttered, and Ulvama leapt in to talk about the New Lands, and once again, Erin had to correct her and point out it wasn’t her doing, but Archmage Kishkeria, which did make Vrilla drop her popcorn kernel.

“Archmage Kishkeria? Okay, either there’s something there or they know their history because I know her, but how would non-Gnoll Tallfolk? Name another ghost, go on!”

That was how it went. Ulvama gave explanations and the story, and Erin played the role of the straight woman, objecting, clarifying, and protesting the exaggerations. She didn’t do it that well, but she realized the audience, for all their objectionable skepticism, was watching her and Ulvama.

They didn’t get to Roshal that night…but it hung over the story of Erin Solstice, and that, perhaps, was enough. Especially because Ulvama issued a statement that with enough snacks and drinks for proper lubrication, she would give a longer account of more tales of The Wandering Inn.

Inntales.

Erintales?

Stories of The Wandering Inn. That made Erin sigh and realize she was smiling ruefully. She blinked as Ulvama turned and felt at Erin’s face.

Oh.

Her smile had come back. Just for a bit.

 

——

 

On the second night of stories from The Wandering Inn, Zinni appeared in the crowd that had Fraerlings from Wyewesshi. Including Cottontail Raiders, appearing quite subdued.

Erin wanted to go over and apologize at once, but Ulvama told her to do the show first. Which was a show, and the Hobgoblin seemed to relish the attention. She did a grossly exaggerated…okay, maybe accurate retelling of how Erin had first come to Liscor and fought off Skinner that she’d gotten out of Erin last night, and Erin added a few anecdotes, but that was all.

She noticed Zinni watching her, and when they locked eyes, the [Rancher] jerked a thumb at a mobile wagon of sorts that had let the Fraerlings move from village to village in relative protection.

After the show, Erin went to it. She found Zinni sitting and drinking some kind of root tea.

“I hear you are leaving sooner rather than later, which makes it easier to apologize for my part in all this. And my granddaughter’s. No offense, but there’s a reason only one protector lives in each village. We don’t usually get along, and the younger, the more clashes.”

“We are going soon. Eurise thinks he can take us to get a cure for the height thing in a Fraerling city. And I’m sorry—about everything I did. I really am. I panicked, and I went crazy.”

Zinni nodded slightly and passed Erin some of the tea and roasted aphid eggs, which Erin declined on the grounds of she didn’t want to eat them. The [Rancher] commented softly.

“Those are far away. Eurise leaving even for that amount of time is risky, but I can watch both villages for a while.”

“Fantim doesn’t want him to go. Zemmy and Mera volunteered—”

“Mm. They want to see the world. If they’re going, I’ll tell him to let Eurise go.”

It surprised Erin that Zinni would let her grandniece go with the two strangers who’d slit Matha’s throat, but Zinni just shrugged.

“They were always going to leave someday. They have those itching feet. I’d rather they had a chance at surviving a trip. Even Level 40 [Brawlers] wouldn’t live long if they had bad luck.”

That made more sense, so Erin nodded. She hesitated. She’d missed her chance to really apologize, and Zinni’s hadn’t been great. The [Rancher] eyed her, and Erin thought she seemed a lot more tired than the first time they’d met. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t moving about and working.

“I’m sure Eurise feels like a fool after all that. He went to apologize to me before I could work up the decency to do the same. You…scared me. I imagine you hear that a lot.”

“What? No. I mean…sort of? Now and then.”

Zinni blinked at Erin and put the cup aside.

“Eurise said you were new to Level 50. Was all that strength and fire recent?”

“Sort of, yeah?”

“Mmm. Then maybe it was your first time being the most dangerous thing in the room. Watch yourself. The responsibility of being like that—look at him and me. We’re three times your age, or I am, and it slips constantly.”

Erin accepted that because it was true, and she nodded. Awkwardly, she shuffled her feet.

“I really am sorry—”

“Yes, yes. Matha will live, and we didn’t kill each other. We won’t be friends before you go, so let’s not try.”

For some reason, that blunt comment made Erin feel a bit better, and she relaxed. They really didn’t have to be more than cordial. Zinni gave her a wry smile.

“See? You can smile. Is Ulvama well? I gave Matha an earful about scaring her.”

Erin floundered a second because she really didn’t know. Ulvama said things, but Erin knew how she lied.

“She’s fine. She says she is, and I think she’s gonna be okay. She was just—scared. I mean, she’s tough, and she’s survived a lot, but she thought—”

“Yes. But you are taking care of her? No nightmares or…?”

“I’m doing my best. I mean, I don’t have many Skills or—yeah, I’m trying. I am.”

Erin hung her head, aware that she was responsible for a lot of Ulvama’s burdens, including right now. But Zinni sighed, and some of her reserve faded as she put her feet on a rocking chair and offered Erin the aphid eggs again.

“Well, that makes some sense. You truly do care about her—more fool Matha.”

“What? Of course. She saved me from the ship, and—she’s one of my best friends.”

Erin realized that was true. Ulvama really had made it there. Was she part of the inn’s family? Sort of—but regardless, she wasn’t just a regular guest. Zinni peered at Erin for a second and opened her mouth. Then she shrugged, seeming vaguely amused.

“So I can see.”

For some reason, she didn’t elaborate, and Erin wasn’t sure how to follow up the non-sequitur, so she cleared her throat after a moment.

“How’s—um. How’s Matha?”

This time, the [Rancher]’s face wore a genuine expression of discontent.

“Humbled. The Cottontails are done, I think. They’ve learned a lesson, and most—most—are settled down enough. Matha, on the other hand…she’s volunteered to ride with you as far as Eurise lets her.”

“What?”

Erin was incredulous, and she nearly spat out her tea. Zinni rolled her eyes skywards as she folded her arms.

“She thinks she needs to perform a penance. That’s what she told me. And she thinks she can charm her way into your bed.”

This time, Erin’s tea actually did come out her nose. Zinni laughed and then handed Erin something to wipe her face with. Erin choked and gasped and then…she didn’t know what to say. She stared at Zinni, who was waiting with clear amusement, and hesitated.

“Wh—so that means—um. Uh, she’s, uh, gay?”

Zinni frowned.

“Certainly not now, and not very in general. She’s far more insecure than she lets on.”

Erin had no idea how to process that, and it only occurred to her later that the etymology of the word might have made an error between the two. She sat there.

“Well, I’ll keep her as safe as I can.”

“Good. If you need it, my best aphids can carry you, though that beetle might be a better bet. One last thing, Erin?”

The [Innkeeper] glanced up, wary, and Zinni offered her a truly remorseful, guilty expression.

“I am sorry I couldn’t offer you Wyewesshi’s hospitality. I’ve brought some food for you to try.”

Erin hesitated, then picked up an aphid egg and nibbled at it. And she found that the gift mattered to her as much as the apology.

 

——

 

That night, Fraerlings encouraged Ulvama to keep sharing stories with the time she had left, and she began the final tale.

The tale of a beach, but also an army at sea, a brave [Innkeeper], and in it all…a Hobgoblin. For you see, Erin wasn’t the only one who could make little of herself to tell the story about someone else’s exploits.

Dretonamis was fascinated by the tales and the state of the world. Moreso than even having the two strangers, really. Which wasn’t to say that either woman was being taken at face value. Indeed, all of the fun was going to be corroborating how much of this was true based on their own records, especially since Erin had a lot of names of ghosts.

It’d keep the Fraerlings of that bent of mind occupied for years, no doubt. But at least one Fraerling believed Ulvama. Not entirely, but believed her in that way you believed someone who said they’d run into a horror at night.

They’d seen something. Bowom believed in lying, of course. He did it all the time, especially when he said ‘good morning’. But he mostly believed in trauma and horror, and they had enough of that to convince him they were telling truths.

He knew something about darkness, you see. Not that he was the kind of person that Fantim worried about in the same breath as Zinni and Eurise. If one of them went off the map, their villages would suffer. They were needed, essential.

Bowom was replaceable. True, he was a good sawbones when it came to sewing limbs back on, but Fraerlings had made do without him before. He was like Macnest, Roja, or Vrilla—useful, but also not the greatest threat. You didn’t need someone who was Level 50 to stop him.

Well, most of the time. He was usually on his best behavior, but it was in his class.

[Mad Doctor]. Sometimes, he felt the urge to remind people why it wasn’t just [Doctor]. But Bowom dealt with that day by day. All this to say that he could relate when he saw Erin leaving Zinni’s wagon and standing in the darkness, staring at the shattered green moon.

“Good chat with Zinni?”

She started when she saw him, then nodded.

“I think so. We apologized and patched things up. It’s good I’m leaving.”

Bowom raised his wild eyebrows and wondered if he could develop an eyebrow you could sew on. For all kinds of quirky expressions. You’d need a skin graft and just some good hair, but how would you keep the hair from drying out? Good moisturizing conditioner, he supposed. Everyone assumed insane medicine was all about cutting and stitching, but you had to master alchemy, physiology, mathematics, and even fashion if you wanted to do it right.

That’s what he thought. What he said was—

“I’m sure that’s how Zinni framed it. She likes her problems to be easy to deal with like that. If there’s a Fraerling who doesn’t get along with her, she can be fully pleasant to them—just not in her village. Eurise and Zinni usually get along, but they’d kill each other if they had to share space for any period of time.”

Erin nodded slowly. She was distracted and clearly upset on many levels. Bowom kept smiling as she rubbed at her forehead and glanced over her shoulder.

“Oh, I get it. I knew this guy back home…back in my…world. He was like that. He was my chess teacher when I was a kid, and he was super nice. Until I ran up against him in a tournament, and he thought I had a chance at beating him or just making him look bad. Then he was awful. I think my dad nearly punched him.”

Bowom’s mind lit up with happy little sparks, but his tone was level. Erin glanced sidelong at him, scuffing a foot on the ground, and he nodded.

“Zinni’s old. She favors Matha, she meddles in anyone’s affairs she thinks she can boss around, she didn’t see your distress, and she’s not as good at cooking as she thinks she is. But she’s also defended Wyewesshi longer than Matha’s been alive. She’s the reason we’re not all wearing Vrilla’s plant clothing and hunting for hemp or processing the damn stuff or killing animals for hide all the time. You heard her. She’s lived through five villages.”

“Yeah…”

The [Mad Doctor] made encouraging gestures as he waited for Erin’s brain to work. The [Innkeeper] frowned.

“There are only three around here, though. So she’s from further off?”

“Good guess! Nope! Both died.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, tragic stuff. It happens. Making a place that can last, let alone generations, takes a lot of hard work. There’s all kinds of magic and work that went into making these places livable. Clearing out monster dens for miles, manipulating the terrain—all that’s just context, though. How are you doing? Doctor checking in, since I failed to do my job and all.”

He grinned at her, and Erin gave him a guilty look.

“I, uh—we’re just skipping past the comment about my world?”

“Yep. No distractions, but nice try!”

“Hah. Um. I—I feel terrible about what I did. Ulvama didn’t say it in as many words, but she keeps having to clean up for my messes. Even now.”

They watched the Hobgoblin performing on her stage, and Bowom nodded.

“Anything else?”

“I tortured Fenmi. I cut off her fingers. I haven’t seen her—Zinni said she doesn’t want to see me. I can’t blame her.”

Silence. Bowom inspected his fingers and began to tug the eleventh one off since it wasn’t really that useful. Erin murmured after a moment.

“I—I’m trying to feel as bad as I should about it, Bowom. But it’s hard. I know what I did, and if I’d known, I’d never have…but I was wondering if I’d do it again.”

“And your conclusion?”

The [Innkeeper] swallowed.

“If it were someone I truly hated? If it were someone from the ship or I thought Ulvama was in actual danger? I’m not certain…no, I think I know the answer, and it should scare me. But it doesn’t surprise me. I don’t remember when I got like this. But I’ve thought like this before.”

“How about an example?”

The [Innkeeper] gazed up, and her eyes found the moon again.

“The Raskghar. Ulvama told that story, but she never said…I was thinking of what I’d do if they killed Mrsha. I never found out. This time, I did. I think it’s best I leave here after all.”

She gave Bowom an ashamed glance, as if she thought she were growing horns or something. Or if he’d care. His voice was cheerful.

“Well, you know yourself. We all have our dark deeds, Erin Solstice. Believe me. The real question is: do you want to change?”

That flummoxed her. The [Innkeeper] turned to Bowom, then to Ulvama, and shook her head.

“My parents didn’t raise me to be like that.”

“That means nothing, but go on.”

“—Ulvama told me she doesn’t need a monster. I agree. I want to help her, protect her, and make up for the things I keep putting her through. I don’t want to be someone who tortures people or loses it.”

“Sounds like you’ve made a decision.”

She sounded surprised as she nodded, as if it weren’t so simple.

“I guess I have. Thanks, Bowom. I—just wish I could do something for her now, though.”

They went back to watching Ulvama on stage, and Bowom smiled.

“I’m not an expert on relationships. That’s one of the things I can’t stitch back together. Just ask Vrilla. But if you want to help her, go ahead.”

“How?”

“I have no clue. Nor can I give you a hand, just another one of these.”

Erin glowered at Bowom, and he tossed a finger at her. She blanched and tossed it back, and he laughed.

“It’s not about how to do it perfectly, it’s about intent. Go on, shoo. I have something to do, anyways.”

She put her hands in her pockets, but then she nodded and strode towards the stage, thinking hard. Bowom continued on his way, tucking the finger into his pocket for later. He thought it was just another sign Erin Solstice had come to the right place.

Dretonamis might not have had real [Raiders], but it did have people who could understand Erin’s regrets. Zinni, Bowom, Eurise—easier to name an adult who wouldn’t relate to her, somehow. Which made it all the more sad—and his task the more pressing.

 

——

 

No one was about this section of the village at night. Bowom checked anyways, but everyone had left their homes for Ulvama’s event or were holed up about their own affairs. So he reached the domed, half-buried entrance he sought without notice.

He stole into the building quickly, intending to be back to hear the really dark parts of Ulvama and Erin’s story he’d been half-told already. He crept down the corridors—not because he was in some illegal place, but more because it was boring to just walk into the library like he had every right to be there.

He was after the book at the far end. The tome that held all those who had ever left Dretonamis. It took Bowom a few minutes to find his section, even though he’d put a bookmark there; the damn thing had slipped into the old pages.

“Where…aha. Hm.”

He re-read the section he’d found with a bit of relish. It was good writing—nothing like Erin had assumed you’d get.

Fraerlings back in the day had known how to write. Nothing stupid like trying an impartial historical narrative. There was juicy gossip here. Somewhat embellished accounts—all the best stories lied. When he was done, Bowom nodded.

Silvenia Ettertree. The section on the one Tallfolk to have ever reached Dretonamis was long and had many accounts of how she had come here, deliberations about helping her, her abilities, and even the nature of Demons and the Blighted Kingdom from her mouth and attempts to verify her claims. Bowom licked a quill as he turned to the current page and wrote, muttering out loud.

“Erin Solstice and Ulvama. Human, Goblin…I’ll get them to add their levels later if they’re comfortable with it. Let me see. ‘I, Bowom, [Mad Doctor], have noted a number of their deeds below. Or I assume someone else will fill this in if I forget. My notes are in my laboratory, just below the brain jar. I have re-read the passage on Silvenia, the Death of Magic, and it is with great delight I note the departures of these two individuals.’”

He paused, sucking on the quill, and chose his next words carefully.

“‘It is my belief that Erin Solstice is, much like the half-Elf who came before her, extraordinary in the narrative of the world, not just because of her levels. I think she will be remembered in the same vein as Silvenia the half-Elf, and perhaps, someday, Dretonamis will know what stories and deeds she brought to life after she came across us. Sadly…I will not have the time to know if my supposition is true.’ ”

He put a hand over his heart and sighed, leaning against the old tome. Bowom closed his eyes, then wrote.

“‘At this point, I have put my hand over my heart and uttered an ominous sigh as if I have some terminal disease or aging issue. Please record your reactions below if I got you. I won’t be here to know what comes next. Please see the next entry: Bowom, [Mad Doctor]. My epitaph: I got too bored of waiting to know what came next.’”

His eyes danced. His feet did too, and he did a merry jig for generations thereafter, and then he laughed. He cackled like the madness of science and the daring to do anything he damn well pleased. Then he put down the quill and went to listen to the stories Ulvama was telling.

Oh my, what terrible visitors had come to Dretonamis. They’d lure away Fraerlings to go into that deathly world beyond by scores. Worst monsters Dretonamis had seen in ages.

Bowom laughed and felt his class rustling in his head.

“Time, once more, to level again.”

 

——

 

Ulvama was midway through telling the battle at sea when she ran into an issue, and that was someone objecting. Politely, but Gollesume the Great had been a bit of a heckler in the story already.

He was invested, but he made comments and sometimes detracted from the moment, and when she described the Dragon strafing the Iron Vanguard, he stood up.

“Excuse me, I have to call foul on that one. A Dragon, really?”

She glared at him, panting as sweat beaded on her skin and a few fireflies blazed about the lights she was conjuring, illusions of storms and ships so alien to the Fraerlings gathered here. Matha was in the front row, watching with some of her Cottontails like Aithe and Qole, and Eurise rolled his eyes.

“Let her tell the story, Gollesume.”

“I’m just saying, if it’s fictional—”

“There was a Dragon. His scales were the color of brass, and he had one eye that was…bright, light blue, and the other was vibrant purple! Erin knows him!”

Ulvama protested, and here was the issue: Gollesume wasn’t actually that antagonistic, just—annoyingly knowledgeable.

“A Brass Dragon at sea? That’s one of the few species that don’t float, and they’re rare. Second, they have a historical enmity with Dullahans. Seems like a bad move. Third—a Dragon helping a mortal without cost or benefit? Hard to believe as well.”

Macnest was elbowing Gollesume, hugely embarrassed, and others were throwing things at him to get him to hush up. He fell silent, but it had thrown Ulvama off-kilter, and here was the main problem: she wanted to say something to convince her now-skeptical audience of how glorious it had been, how dark the night, and how—incredible the moment.

She’d seen skeptical expressions when she described a hundred thousand Draugr rising at once, Humans and Drakes fighting side-by-side, or even Erin doing half the things with her inn that she had. Normally, Ulvama had no problem with this kind of issue, but that was because…

Normally, I’d say, ‘shut up, I’m the [Shaman]’ or ‘I’m higher-level than you’. But I’m not. What do I say? I have no proof.

She had no authority here over the Fraerlings, no advantage of being older, wiser, or more powerful. The Hobgoblin felt her stomach fluttering and her eyes crinkled up at the corners. She tried to salvage the moment, mind a flurry, when someone spoke up from above her.

“But he was there. Just like Ulvama said. She’s a [Shaman]; she’d remember. He was larger than anything. And he looked—like—this!”

Erin Solstice was sitting on the top of the stage. She stood up and winked down at the [Shaman] as Ulvama turned. Then she took a breath, aimed her head up, and breathed fire.

Flames roared upwards as the Fraerlings, especially the Cottontails, ducked, but it wasn’t the black flame Ulvama feared. Instead, the pink flame of glory twisted upwards, spreading out until it took a form that Ulvama recognized: a roaring Dragon, wings spread, glowing with righteous flame in the dark night.

A hero captured in memory. The flame was real. The Fraerlings gasped as the Dragon soared higher, roaring, and then there was silence, except for Erin coughing slightly into one hand. Every head turned back to Gollesume, and the [Wizard] opened his mouth and closed it.

“Well—the anatomy appears right. But you have to admit, it’s an incredible story, Miss Erin. What about the Draugr? It seems incredible anyone would survive—a hundred thousand of them?”

She laughed as she swung herself down and landed next to Ulvama. Erin gave her a quizzical glance, but the [Shaman] smiled gratefully. So, Erin produced something and raised it upwards.

“We were there. I don’t know how we lived, but not everyone survived. A brave lieutenant from a city of cheese charged a dozen of them by himself. His name was Gershal of Vaunt, and I gave him a sword and summoned him to his death.”

A second color of fire rose from her hands, and this time, Matha sat forwards, staring at the blue flame that seemed to dance like the figure of a man. Then—a green flame blazed in her hand, reflecting a [Knight]’s glowing eyes. Honor and sadness combining into the flash of a green blade.

Then pink glory again and the grey mercy in the color of Visophecin’s face. Erin tossed the flames up into the sky one after another. Yellow panic, flickering into horrific monsters, a ship made of black fire—

Proof in burning memories for the [Shaman]’s tale. Ulvama saw the flames drifting upwards, like comets, before drifting down, and Erin spread her hands.

“We were there. She was there.”

The [Innkeeper] pointed at Ulvama, and the [Shaman] stood a bit straighter. Her magical paints glowed as every eye fell on her wonderingly. A smile crossed Erin’s face, then the [Innkeeper] glanced up and shouted.

“Wait, I can’t juggle! Get out of the way, Ulvama!”

She tried to push Ulvama out of the way of the falling flames, and the Hobgoblin laughed. She blocked Erin’s head, then reached up.

The flame of glory landed in her palm, a burning orb of pink, and she tossed it back up—then caught the flame of sadness, which was heavier—but she lofted it, then mercy, hatred, even fear, and juggled them.

It was actually a lot easier than regular stones, because they were so light and drifted down slowly, but Ulvama grinned at the gasps from her audience. Erin gaped up at her stupidly, and Ulvama caught one flame and blew on it, then swept it across her illusions.

When the dazzling fire faded, a single figure stood, wreathed in [Shaman]’s magic and pink flame, burning from the lantern he held.

Embraim, the Knight of Glory’s Fire. Erin’s eyes filled with tears, and Ulvama raised her voice. For it was her job to remember—and Erin? The [Innkeeper] sat, watching Ulvama, as the Hobgoblin spoke.

It was the [Innkeeper]’s job to make you believe the stories. So they worked together to tell that terrible story filled with darkness and the defiant flames of how they’d got there. Then, Ulvama found herself grinning with delight and saw Erin’s fascinated smile, and they realized at last they were smiling together.

The first time since the Goblin King. That was good enough.

 

[Shaman of the Old Ways Level 39!]

[Skill – Shaman’s Tools: Pieces of a Story obtained!]

 

 

 

 

Author’s Note:

So, first off, we have plushies. Two of them to be precise, and more to come! Erin and Rags have entered realspace, and I hope you love them. It was a lot of work designing and getting them here, and a huge thanks to the artist (Artsy) and our amazing store manager for coordinating and doing all this, and the other people working on them behind the scenes!

Please see links above, and if you’re reading this as a Public reader, the launch is live for you, and we have limited stocks, so hurry and get one! Getting more is a process so they are exclusive and very cool and cute.

 

That’s the first thing. The second is that I’m back to work! I hope you like the chapter—because this was one of the hardest writing weeks I’ve had, including the [Palace of Fates] arc. Real life stuff ran into me right at the end of break, and I’ve been working on a sleep deficit this week. Not how I wanted to start my work, but the writing must…write.

I knocked over a box of cupcakes in the store walking past it and ran over two feet, including my own yesterday. That tells you where I’m at, and no, that’s not normal.

 

However, we are back, and I hope that I can get into the rhythm of things and put out chapters you enjoy. I have a poll chapter to write this month in the form of Toren, and I’m not sure what the other chapter will be, but we’re back. I always feel like I could have used more time off, and in truth, I just sort of relaxed and slowly untensed over the month I took. I think I am ready to write once more, and I hope this is the Erin chapter some of you were waiting for.

…Want another? Or which other places shall we wander to next? Leave a comment, and I hope you enjoyed! Also, please send more mental acuity to me.

 

 

Danger by Artsynada!

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/illudanajohns/

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/illudanajohns

 

Nanette and Mrsha commissioned by Rumina, made by beiij_!

 

Mrsha and Apista by wagacliff!

 

Erin’s Black Fire by olento!

 

Grave Celebrations by Chalyon!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/chalyon

 

Reunion by onionlittle!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/littleonion

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/littleonion.art/

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/onionlittle.bsky.social

 

Ulvama Riding Aphids by yura!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/yurariria

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/yuraria.bsky.social

 

Homestuck Erin by Grimalkin!

 

Tales and Scales and Gershal by Sehad!

 

 

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