28. The Silver Tree

 Metallic reverberations bounced off the finger-like monoliths surrounding Ciria’s Palm, like rattling sabres. The fading echo gave way to a vacuum that sucked the sound from the morning; warbling birds and whispering pines fell silent.

To Lux, it felt as though those whispers might still carry the news of their arrival all the way to Aegiswood, to — whom? Some slumbering enemy who had birthed and then rejected Vozloc, who knew the secret of draining Sarciels and, perhaps, now searched for their lost amulet. He could see the threads of conspiracy stretching beyond his vision. Even in this state, he still had blind spots. This mystery was too large to see all at once.

But, after all, he wouldn’t need to look alone.

“Valerios,” he said stiffly, uncertain what — or who — the larger man had become after his trans-dimensional adventure. “I…”

Two words in, Lux found himself stuck. I wasn’t expecting you to come back? I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in this? There was too much to say, and only one voice to say it with.

“…I remember the last time you came charging in to see me. It was last summer, down at the docks.”

Unbidden, the memory pushed itself to the front of Lux’s mind, spilling from lips that twisted into a grin.

“That time, I was the one without a shirt. Though I did still have pants.”

Valerios arched a bristly eyebrow, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“I see!” he exclaimed in that steely baritone. “You have retained your unfathomable sense of humour. Clearly the devils do not have you under their total command.”

He swung one hairy leg over Hayl’s back and dismounted. Freija covered her eyes with a distressed noise.

“Well, then,” Valerios continued, stepping across the dewy grass towards Lux, “would you repeat that last meeting?”

Lux’s hand tingled. Looking down, he realised with a start that the Candlelight sword had materialised in his grip. He must have summoned it instinctively when the portal opened. Hopefully, those instincts would protect him from any surprise attacks in the future. For now, he dispelled the sparkling blade.

“No,” he said. “We don’t need to fight. Been enough of that, I reckon. Besides, you’re hardly prepared.”

A gleam came into Valerios’ eye.

“That’s where you’re wrong, boy-” He corrected himself. “-Lux. I have met with my Guide, my patron saint. He gifted me a replacement when my voice was taken, and further gifts to ensure I will never again be shorn of my armour.”

He thrust a fist into the air. When he spoke next, his voice was accompanied by a choir of bells.

“Clothes of the Emperor!”

A cloud of glittering dust fell about his shoulders. It condensed, swirling around the contours of Valerios’ body, until the mass was as dense as cloth and metal. Before their eyes, the previously denuded warlord was clad in ash-coloured silk, overlaid with rows and rows of gleaming rectangular plates. Tufts of white-brown fur sprouted from wrists and collar, trimming the outfit for the chill of the climate. As ever, Valerios went without helmet, and his triumphant expression was visible to all.

“Incredible,” Caela breathed.

Lux shifted his stance nervously. “Well?” he asked. “You need a weapon?”

“The world is my weapon, Lux,” Valerios said simply. “Would that I needed one, I would pick up a stick from the ground. But today, despite everything, I have not the belly to fight you.”

Lux tilted his head. “Reckon you’d be justified, in the circumstances.”

Valerios only shook his head.

“What in the world happened to you?” Caela interjected. “We thought you were lost forever.”

“Lost, yes, but not forever.” Valerios’ expression grew unusually philosophical. “In fact, I have found myself, after a long time wandering astray.”

Lux chuckled nervously. “Never thought I’d hear self-doubt from you of all people, big guy. Ever since we started you’ve been chasing your dream like a hound on a scent. What happened to King V, leader of a nation?”

Valerios shook his head ruefully. “I am no king. I have not even been fit to lead six misfits.”

“I suppose we should take offence,” Lux mused, “but all things considered…”

“It’s quite fair,” Johannes agreed.

“So far, I have attempted to force my way through bluster and berating,” Valerios went on. “For over ten moons I was an army of one, and I was not ready to come under another’s command. When we began to fracture, I tried to grasp the fragments - only to crush them entirely.”

He raised a massive, gauntleted hand, forming a fist before letting it loosen.

With a sigh, he stepped towards Lux. Despite his proud new armour, he suddenly looked as unsteady as he had in the mountains, stricken by sky sickness.

“You, I have failed most of all. You needed a coach, not a commander. I could not… cannot… be the person you need.”

He looked at the grass, then back up at Lux. His craggy face broke, a subsidence of sorrow.

“But I would have tried, had you asked it of me.”

Lux’s skin prickled with some uncertain emotion. He forced a smile nonetheless.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I know.”

Both men took a moment to compose themselves.

“It’s just a different path,” Lux continued gently. “I ain’t got a Guide, but I’ve still got a promise I’ll follow to the ends of the earth.”

“I will never agree with your decision,” Valerios said solemnly, “but that is irrelevant. We walk separate paths now, and I cannot begrudge yours for leading elsewhere. Indeed, while you have rejected your Guide, I have drawn closer to mine.”

He straightened.

“Fighting alongside you beneath San Aria, I found my purpose, even if I have since strayed from that path. I am your shield.” His gaze passed over each of them, stern and unwavering. “And for that, I must stand in front of you.”

He strode towards Caela, who flinched at the sudden movement. Valerios came to a rigid halt before her, the crown of her head level with his collarbone. One stony expression studied another.

“Lady Caela of Ardelign,” he rumbled, “I request to relieve you of your duty as leader of this party.”

Caela opened her mouth, startled, but Valerios pressed on.

“I have watched this responsibility grind you down over the course of this expedition. You possess a delicate soul, and you are valuable in a thousand ways that I am not. But your shoulders are not broad enough to bear this burden. Mine are.”

Her eyes welled. Valerios looked faintly uncomfortable, but continued.

“I hope this does not upset you. I would hope to retain your counsel, as you have a full heart. However, should you wish to retain command, I will not take it by force - and will instead seek my own path.”

“No!” Caela blurted. “Take it - please. I don’t want to be in charge. I never did.”

She looked around at the others, her tearful gaze coming to rest on Lux.

“I… I know we all met because of me, but I’m not a leader. I’ve hated watching all of you fight, knowing that I should do something, but not knowing what.”

She turned back to Valerios.

“This whole investigation in Aegiswood — you’re in charge. At least, as far as I’m concerned.”

Valerios rested a heavy hand on her shoulder, suddenly paternal. His eyes creased into a brief smile.

“I am glad you understand,” he said. “You have been strong, to carry this so long.”

Squaring his shoulders once more, he turned to Freija, who had watched all this with an expression of vague suspicion. Stooping closer to her height, he proffered his hand.

“And you?” he asked.

Freija regarded the outstretched gauntlet as though it was a gigantic spider, before hesitantly placing her hand in his waiting grip. Her fingers barely reached the rim of his leathery palm. She looked up at him, silent and expectant.

Valerios turned to gaze at the colossal dead Sarciel, the clustered buildings of Aegiswood clinging to its carcass like insects.

“You have seen the tree,” he said. “That is the fate of your homeland, should you fail in uncovering the thieves draining its vitality. The oracle has shown us the path forwards: they are burrowed deep, somewhere within that city. Alone, you have neither the cunning nor the patience to root them out. You would achieve nothing but collateral damage and the deaths of innocents.”

Freija’s head bowed. For once, she had nothing to say. Valerios crouched until he was level with her diminished gaze.

“I cannot help you - but there are those among us who can. Will you allow us to save your quest from its current doom?”

Freija sighed, a strand of blue hair lifting and falling with her breath. Then she nodded.

“…Sure.”

Satisfied, Valerios let her hand fall and straightened up. A steelier look entered his eyes as he moved on.

Kazzik was still sprawled on the grass where he had landed during Valerios’ entrance. Throughout their journey, he’d taken every measure to avoid contact with the grimy natural world. For once, he seemed oblivious to the dew clinging to his bony rear. His expression was equal parts terror and amusement - the look of a honey-slathered man before a hungry bear, who simply has to see the funny side.

“Personally, I think that- auh!”

The words were crushed from his throat as a meaty palm hoisted him clean off the ground. Lux started forward, but Kazzik quickly waved him down.

“‘S ok, Luksh,” he squeaked, cheeks puffing around Valerios’ fingers. “Mishter Valeriosh jusht wants to talk, right?”

There was a glint in his eye.

“A master tactishan like you wouldn’t start a fight while he’sh flanked, right?”

Valerios snorted. To Caela, his steel had been a shield; to Freija, a mirror. To Kazzik, he showed an edge.

“Indeed, young lord. I understand your methods now. When you identify a target, you strike once, and decisively, leaving no possibility of retaliation. Know that, should I deem you a threat, I will do the same. That is the smallest respect I can offer you, cunning strategist as you are.”

Kazzik made a noise that sounded something like “thank you.”

Valerios dropped the tiefling back to the ground, none too gently.

“Then,” he continued, “since I have been back for nearly six minutes and neither of us has tried to kill the other, I shall assume we are open to cooperation?”

Kazzik massaged his swanlike neck.

“Aye,” he said. “I honestly didn’t mean for you to get sent on that grand journey. Lux and I have our tasks, and you have yours - no reason we can’t help each other out now and then.”

They held each other’s gaze, and for the first time it seemed to Lux that Valerios was dealing with a fellow soldier — albeit one from a stranger army.

“We still require you both,” Valerios said, “and for whatever hidden reason, you clearly require us. Else you would not have risked returning.”

His eyes flicked past Kazzik to Lux.

“Lux has made his choice. I will not ask him to serve me. But as his commanding officer, I ask you this: will you follow me temporarily, in exchange for any information we uncover?”

Kazzik's grin was bright and unhesitating.

“We will.”

At last, Valerios turned to Ash, who offered him an uncertain smile.

“I’m on board too!” she said quickly.

Valerios nodded, unconcerned. “Good. Now - are you ready?”

“For wha- oh! Your tarot reading!” Ash blustered.

She smoothed her skirts, trying to gather her scattered nerves, and seated herself behind her mossy reading table once more.

“It’s funny,” she muttered, “I didn’t mean to draw for you. Ironic, really, that someone with my skills still gets surprised by the cards…”

“First,” she said, turning a card over with finality, “the past.”

A carefree young man strode forwards, oblivious to the cliff edge before him.

“This is The Fool.”

Valerios’ nostrils flared, though he remained stoic.

“Continue.”

Ash chuckled nervously. “As always, the name is misleading. This young man is… a neophyte, setting out on a new journey. He’s excited to begin in his grand purpose, throwing caution to the wind. He’s leaving home.”

Valerios gained a faraway look. “Mir Tzai. One day, when I can truly call myself king, I shall return to its silk-strung halls.”

“Next,” Ash said, flipping the card, “Temperance.”

A winged figure poured water between two cups.

“This card suggests seeking a balancing influence - though it sounds like you may have found one already. With patience, you will see success.”

Valerios hummed thoughtfully. “I have drawn closer to my Guide. Khan Tengri promised that my journey’s end lies at the silver tree.”

Ash glanced up in surprise, her eyes flicking to the sky-scraping boughs of Aegiswood. Sobering, she turned back to her spread.

“And your future…” She revealed the final card. A crowned man in armour and vivid robes sat upon a throne. “…is the Emperor.”

A breath rushed through the camp.

Ash hesitated, wrestling with something unspoken, then continued. “This card points to fatherhood, a patriarch - well, a male authority figure. And… yes, to rulership.”

Lux smiled in disbelief, looking to Valerios for some sign of triumph. The warrior remained completely  impassive.

“Valerios…” Ash said gently, “there’s something you need to know about Aegiswood. All of you should know, actually.”

She looked around at the others.

“It’s not like San Aria, with a bunch of competing factions. There’s only the Hollow Dynasty — King Jardinian the Second, and the rest of the royal family. They won’t take kindly to any… um, impulsive talk.”

The weight of impulsive settled heavily.

Freija, twirling a strand of hair, tried to lighten the mood. “No biggie. We’ll go say hi to King J, see if he wants to help another king-”

“I’m serious, Freija!” Ash snapped, then winced. “Sorry. But Aegiswood is the king’s masterwork. He’s been directing grand projects for centuries. He built the entirety of the Cambium — that’s the inner district — basically from scratch.”

Caela’s sympathetic expression dulled.

“What do you mean, ‘inner city?’”

“Exactly that,” Ash said, as if Caela was missing the point. “It’s amazing - you’ll see it soon. But you’ll need to be on your best behaviour. Things have been… difficult for the king lately, which means they’re difficult for everyone.”

“Is that so?” Johannes leaned forwards. “How unfortunate. Has something occurred?”

Ash shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know. I don’t really keep up with current affairs. But there’s all these rumours that he’s been acting… strange, erratic. Apparently, it began around the time the Prince stopped appearing in public.”

Valerios rubbed his brow.

“Then perhaps our hosts will not be as helpful as I’d hoped,” he said. “Still, it will serve us well to learn more once we arrive.”

—

And so, the Relevant Party — re-formed, if not reformed — finally left the alien geography of Ciria’s Palm behind them.

Despite being low on supplies and several weeks removed from a proper wash, their progress felt easier than it ever had. The snow crunched underfoot instead of spilling into their boots, and the road began to resemble something made by people rather than mountain fauna. The pine trees, which had once pressed in on all sides, seemed to give them breathing room at last.

Lux tramped along beside Ash, his curiosity about their mysterious new arrival getting the better of him. Premonition - real, working premonition - was something beyond his wildest dreams. Still, unlike most wizards he’d met so far, Ash didn’t seem like the type to use her talents to their terrifying full potential. She just seemed… nice, if rather nervous.

Freija padded between them in the form of a strange, long-legged fox - as ever, bright blue. She wove restlessly between their legs, tail flicking, occasionally chiming in on their discussion.

“So, right…” Lux began, trying to get his head around it. “You study… divining?”

“Divination!” Ash said cheerily. “Learning secrets long forgotten, interpreting portents, peering through the veils of time and space.”

Lux nodded slowly. “Right. And that’s… different from what Johannes does?”

“I think so? I’m not sure what Mr Tyrol’s preferred school of magic is, actually.” Ash squinted back over her shoulder at the other wizard. “Evocation, maybe. He casts a lot of fire spells, doesn’t he?”

“Uh.” Lux thought about it. He’d seen Johannes cast all kinds of spells, but most of them had blurred into the more general concept of “wizard magic”. Until now, he hadn’t known that there were different kinds of wizard. “I guess?”

Ash tossed her head, sending all her jewellery jingling. “I’ll have to ask him about it later. Oh, it’ll be so fascinating to learn from another wizard - one who’s not from the Mage’s College, I mean. I wonder where it was he learned his magic. Have you asked him?”

“Uh, no,” Lux said apologetically. Now that he thought about it, there was still a lot he didn’t know about Johannes, even after confronting him in Mulmais. The elderly wizard kept his cards close to his chest.

“Curious!” said Ash brightly. Her eyes glinted at the mystery, and Lux couldn’t help but pity Johannes the flurry of questions he was sure to face later.

“Enough about Jojo!” Freija sang, high-stepping between them. lower petals cascading in her wake. “I want to know about you two!”

“Right,” said Lux dubiously, not sure he wanted to face another round of Freija Invasive Questions. “I mean, we’ve been travelling together for this long. Don’t you know everything there is to know about me?”

Freija huffed. “I’m just trying to get to know you both!” she said, with saccharine brightness. “Lux, honey bee, we still know so little about each other. I haven’t even talked properly with Miss Ashtoreth yet. That won’t work if we’re going to be best friends.”

She craned her long neck back to look at them.

“You do still want to be friends, right?”

“Sure, Freija,” Lux said with amusement. “We’re friends. That’s why I came back. Certainly weren’t for the stable job and benefits.”

Freija ignored the gentle barb entirely.

“Well, I have plenty I want to know. How old are you both? What star were you born under?”

“I’m twenty-two,” said Ash.  (“So young!” Freija groaned.) “And I was born under the sign of the Inkwell!”

“The Inkwell?” Freija asked. “Oh, right. Late winter, right? In Nabal we call it the sign of the Painter.”

“Oh? That’s interesting!” Ash tilted her head to one side. “I guess it’s the same kind of symbolism. You know, eloquence, creative insight…” She preened.

“I’m twenty-one,” Lux said, feeling like the conversation was rapidly exiting his area of understanding. “And, uh, I don’t know which star?”

Both of them turned to him with great dismay.

“You don’t know?” Ash sounded aghast. “Even I managed to figure mine out… When were you born?”

“Uh… midsummer? More or less?”

“Don’t worry,” Ash assured him solemnly. “I’ll work it out. I can draw up a star chart for you!”

“Thanks,” Lux said, not entirely sure what that meant.

Freija shook her furry face solemnly.

“Hmm, what next…” she mused. “Okay! Important question. What’s your favourite sweet treat?”

Lux’s forehead creased. “I don’t know, really…” He tried to remember what he’d enjoyed as a child. Grilled fish, or shellfish straight from the sea, but Freija wouldn’t count that as sweet…

Ash, meanwhile, didn’t hesitate.

“Candied almonds!” she practically sang, before blushing at the quickness of her response. “Um - sorry. From Trisydark’s Epicurean Emporium. I go there a lot. Trisydark gave me a loyalty discount, which is good, because I can get through a whole bag on my worst study evenings.” She laughed, a little embarrassed. “They help me think.”

Freija’s snout wrinkled.

“Ooh,” she said slowly. “So that’s the lovely smell coming from your bag. Share?”

Ash winced. “Sorry,” she said, pulling out a crumpled paper bag. “I finished them off while I was waiting for you in Ciria’s Palm.”

“We were too late!” Freija cried in anguish. “This is Shade’s fault.”

“Oh,” said Ash, taken aback. “I- well. I suppose we can visit the shop once we arrive. I could pick up some more. A small bag. As a treat.”

“You’ll get fed, you ravenous creature,” Lux said, grinning.

Freija snapped half-heartedly at his greave as she trotted past. “Rude,” she pouted.

-

The final stretch of road to Aegiswood never seemed to end.

The great dead tree grew relentlessly in Lux’s view. At last, he had a sense of its immeasurable scale; taller than a tower, wider than a town, with bark like the hull of a ship. As their path took them under its colossal shadow, the pine trees began to be interspersed with slender birches, their white trunks scarred with the dark remains of old branches. Their branches, though empty of all but a few golden leaves, were delicately rimed with frost.

Staring up, Lux realised they matched the king of them all: the Sarciel was a birch that made the others look like twigs. The white tree gleamed against the darkening sky, the black eyes on its trunk staring out over the forest. Though its last leaf had fallen centuries ago, Aegiswood had cloaked its bare branches in cottony clouds, a pale imitation of its younger days.

Scores of buildings clung to the great trunk, connected by wide platforms. Some ran spiralling around the tree’s circumference, connecting multiple levels. The structures on the platforms consisted of many narrow storeys; some towers stretched so high that their rooftop stepped out onto the next layer’s ground floor.

Even with his newfound wings, the narrow platforms made Lux’s head spin. Back home, he’d seen plenty of people slip off the quayside, through drunkenness or clumsiness. Those unfortunates had met a few feet of water, and humiliation from the onlookers. Here, Lux imagined with a shudder, the stakes of slipping were much higher.

He was glad, then, to see the city’s contours sketched in lamplight. Though the light was already fading, each wrought-iron railing was still clear through lines of glowing lanterns.

One illuminated shape stood out. It was an arch-shaped opening in the trunk - small from this distance, but in proportion as high as a house. A golden glow shone from its outline.

Lux pointed it out to Ash. “What’s that up there?”

“That’s the Jardinian Gate,” she explained. “The way into the Cambium. We’ll go there sooner or later, so I won’t spoil the surprise, but…” Her eyes twinkled. “It’s quite something.”

They were drawing closer. Cobbles rose up through a layer of frosty moss to welcome the travellers back to civilisation. Nevertheless, Lux noticed the shadows of creatures moving through the distant pines, and was reminded that he was, once again, in an alien environment. He ventured a glance at Caela, whose ears flicked every so often.

With a low whistle, she sent Mene into the underbrush. The wolf bounded off happily, racing through the trees in search of danger. A few minutes later, he reappeared in a flurry of snow, something metallic clasped in his jaws. The party halted as Mene dutifully deposited it in front of Caela.

Lux’s stomach lurched as he realised what it was. A tarnished helmet, dented and scuffed.

Caela knelt and poked at the trophy with the end of her bow.

“Where did you get this, boy?” she asked, almost to herself. “There’s something sticky inside. I think it’s fresh - ah!”

At Caela’s scream - and Freija’s louder echo - the others leapt about six feet in the air. Lux looked around for Caela, finding her clinging to a prickly branch over his head.

“It moved!” she squeaked.

As one, they looked in horror at the helmet. Caela had knocked it onto its side, and it span on the cobbles for a moment before slowly coming to a stop. The empty visor faced them.

From within, two crimson eye-stalks sprouted, each topped with a pea-sized black eye. A glistening body followed, one squishy lump searching for purchase on the ground.

“Oh!” Ash gasped. She pushed to the front, picking up the helmet gingerly.

“It’s alright. It’s just a Hermit Snail,” she said, presenting the gently waving gastropod. “We learned about them in class. They’re harmless. They don’t have shells of their own, so they make their homes in tough containers like this.”

Mene sniffed at the snail, which retreated into its steel shell. The wolf snorted in dissatisfaction, clearly hoping for a more edible biology lesson.

“Why did you scream, Freija?” Kazzik asked mirthfully, as if he hadn’t been hiding behind the group. “Aren’t you the resident expert in all things Nature?”

Freija shot him an annoyed glance, fixing her hair.

“I don’t know every animal, mini man,” she scowled. “What is it you think a priestess of Blessed Nature does?”

“Count frogs?”

She ignored him, squinting up at the tree.

“It’s definitely… different to the animals you’d find around my island’s Sarciel.”

“Yeah…” Caela agreed, slipping down from the branch. “Ardelign was full of amazing creatures too. Pygmy deer, beakbears, swarms of tapestry flies each summer…” she became lost in reminiscence.

Freija warmed to the subject. “The branches on Nabal are always full of birds, some big enough to ride. And there were plenty of bugs – beetles in every colour you can imagine, and a few you can’t. But compared to home, this place is…”

She examined the snail again.

“Different,” she finished.

“Definitely different,” Caela agreed.

—

As they approached, a simple stone wall came into view, encircling the tree a hundred feet or so from its base. It was low enough that even Lux could see over the rune-carved stones to the barren earth beyond. The sight filled him with an unaccountable dread.

He faltered. They had come so far to get here, but… was it really worth it? Would the elves of Aegiswood truly be able to help them? Perhaps it would be better to turn back. To look somewhere else.

“It does not look friendly, hm?”

Johannes stood behind him, pipe in hand, smoke curling lazily into the cold air. Unaffected by Lux’s dread, he gestured to the wall.

“There are many, many wards inscribed on that barrier. It would not be enjoyable to attempt to cross it. Therefore, its makers included an emotional enchantment - a subconscious influence, meant to dissuade approach. Even animals feel the instinct that passing the stones is dangerous.”

“Wow.” Lux raised his eyebrows, considering the wall in a new light. Now that he thought about it, the doubt had come on far too suddenly. He should have known it was unnatural. He wanted to be here. He had done too much not to. “That’s a clever trick, huh?”

Johannes scowled. “Clever? I would call it excessive.”

Before Lux could question why, Johannes pushed past him. “Come. Here is the gatehouse.”

The sole break in the runic wall was a small wooden structure, distant from the trunk but tethered to the lowest level of Aegiswood by a thick rope - like the city’s anchor. Unlike San Aria, there were no signs, no queues - just an arched doorway carved with trees. The party exchanged glances, shrugged, and entered.

Inside, the gatehouse was dim and draughty, little more than a fortified storehouse. The only deviation was a hole cut into the slanted ceiling, just large enough to accomodate the strange metal box hanging in the centre of the room. A short ramp led up to the carriage’s porthole door.

Its defenders consisted of two guards in ill-fitting chain shirts and kettle helms that offered less protection than an actual kettle. One stood idly, watching their approach. The other sat with his back to them; only the slap-slap of playing cards proved he was still awake.

The standing guard wrinkled his beaklike nose and hefted his spear. His eyes roamed over their bedraggled forms, taking in their battle-scars and ragged travelling clothes.

“Halt!” he said nasally. “Friend or foe?”

Kazzik rolled his eyes so hard Lux thought he’d fall over, but Valerios saluted formally.

“We would be new friends of your fine kingdom,” he boomed. “Grant us entry, guardsman, so that our guide may show us Aegiswood’s splendour for our own eyes.”

Ash slipped past him, flashing a handful of silver ribbon.

“Ashtoreth of the College of Transmutation.”

Recognition flickered across the guard’s face.

“Well, if you’re guests of the College, I suppose that’s fine. You look like you need them to conjure you a hot meal, though!”

He leaned back towards his companion.

“Heh - did you hear me, Marcel? I said, ‘You look like you need the College to conjure you a hot meal!’”

“Yeah. I heard you, Maurice,” came the disinterested reply.

Maurice relaxed - then froze.

His gaze had landed on Mene.

Caela had been trying to conceal him behind herself, in defiance of all known geometry.

“What in the gods is that?”

“That’s my dog,” she ventured.

The guard stared.

“My pet dog,” she added.

Maurice wiped his red nose, eyeing the nearly six-foot tall animal. “What kind of dog?”

“He’s… a mix?” Caela tried, with a hopeful smile.

“Of what?” Maurice said incredulously. “A wolf, a bear, and a slightly larger wolf?”

He turned back to his companion.

“Hey - did you hear that, Marcel?” I said ‘A mix of what? A wolf, a bear and-’”

By the time he turned around again, the party had already hurried up the ramp.

29. We're Homeless and Unemployed >>