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into squabbling. None of this was making things easier. Clearing her view, she turned to gauge Leafar.

He stood there, slowly shaking his head. Raising fingers to his mouth, he pierced them with a whistle. “Either stay here at the keep or climb aboard. You’re all keeping me from a hot soak and a good goblet.”

Though ardent in their beliefs, their troupe relented.

Leafar turned for the caravan only to catch an orc in his way. The heavily scarred and graying old orc clutched a black slate. Orcish consternation was directed at him. The gnome squinted back.

The graying lunk thrust his slate at him. A manifest which had every line scrawled off, save for one.

Leafar’s brow went up. “Oop. Yeah. Got that right…” He patted at his chest pocket and withdrew the shrunken wagon. With a casual toss, it sprang back to its rightful size. Hitting the ground in the open yard, the oil wagon sloshed on its loaded wheels.

Back on his heels, the startled orc scratched at his scalp.

“There you have it.” Leafar plucked the chalk from the orc’s slate and crossed the last item on the list. Sidestepping, he began to mount the seat of his carriage. Leafar paused and regarded his guests. “If you have anything left aboard, now’s the time.”

Yes. The caravan had reached its destination. Only the carriage would go from here. One by one, they retrieved the remainder of their gear. Liv, Ceer, and Twigs grumbled their way back to Leafar’s coach.

Ruein took a moment. Her glaive was already stowed within the back doorway. Her pack was in-hand, yet something… Ascending the oil wagon’s rear ladder, she opened a utility chest. It’d been nearly a week. Easy to dismiss such a package.

Releasing the clasps, Ruein lifted the cover from the box.

A layer of frost crusted his vacant face. Hairs clumped in a lattice of ice. She’d expected this. Why waste magics? No sense in preservative spells when the cold would suffice.

A tiny rivulet dripped from his cheek.

Thawing already?

They were in Haraden, now. It would be certainly warmer.

She held no animosity toward this one. He wasn’t undead. Well, at least not past what she’d inflicted upon him. No. This wasn’t even some poor schlub cut short by circumstance. He’d been slain. Murdered.

Ruein’s gauntlet pressed at her chestpiece, a discomfort stirred somewhere under.

This council had sent his remains to bear witness. Likely, they’d hoped he’d be of use. Ruein wasn’t sure what good he’d given. All that was left had been spent. Further spells to coax speech would fall flat. That was a one-use deal.

“C’mon! Get your ass underway already,” Liv called from the carriage roof. She’d settled onto a gutter, bracing herself on a bit of trim. Ceer shepherded Twigs up the side ladder to join. Both clearly had a want for a view on the rest of their way.

There was a pair, Ceer and Twigs. They were finding their place alongside their sisterhood. Hells, I’m still doing that. In the few years these two men had been acquaintances, Rue had only ever heard of their successes.

They certainly were not Aequen or Nanagan. They’d no way of reading what comes with a well-honed team.

So many factors were different now. Complications. Squabblings. Inserting themselves into this…commission. Little doubt, it would’ve made Rue apprehensive. Ruein knew no such thing. Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder at her absence of fear. Why didn’t that bring some solace?

They were all at risk.

Might this have been better if it was just…

They were in Haraden now. Accept it. Make do. Ruein reached into a pouch for a couple coppers. Placing them over the boxed-head’s eyes, she pinched salt and made her arcane acts.

Better to bring. Surely, he would be missed…by someone.

14

Liv had to just let it go.

Ceer had always been brash, but challenging the Elite was pure bakamon. Would serve him right to get pulverized. Then again, she’d have to help carry his ass around after.

She was plenty eager to get underway. Leafar’s carriage rooftop was not uncomfortable. The shingles sloped gradually, making for a convenient seat around both sides. With a prompt, Ruein took the space Liv presented beside her.

Liv sneered at the box Ruein set between them, then scooted over, giving some distance from that disdainful vessel.

“Surely, someone will want it back,” Ruein remarked at the look Liv gave.

A small hand waved from below. Leafar signaled to the Elite at the main gates. Sliding back two bolts, the guards hauled against the great doors. They drew inward, opening the way.

With a bell ring, Leafar’s carriage rolled out into the open, upon a well-worn dirt road.

Past the glade surrounding the keep, their path wound along broad farmlands. Interspersed between crops were open ranges supporting cattle and sheep. The air was heavy with pine scent, much of which was undercut by livestock. Above the snow-touched tree caps were the glowing orbs dotting the landscape. Now it was clearer, these ‘fake suns’ were seated upon tall poles.

Guess underdarkers aren’t beyond some adapting.

She followed along the overcast sky that steadily thinned as it swept toward the distant volcano. This was a first for Liv, having never seen one which hadn’t sprung from an island. Yet, this out-of-place mountain paled when compared to its peak. All eyes could not help but train upon that floating marvel.

A cacophony of brass plating and flying buttresses mingled with sweeping latticework hugging its many spires and towers. The collected structures built into the pinnacle, all of which rested upon a hovering island. Volcanic heat from below uplifted its dreamlike presence.

Well…my armor will actually blend in, at least.

“Magnificent. I would not think such a thing were possible so far north,” Twigs remarked.

“And yet here it is,” countered Leafar. “You can see for yourself.”

Ceer grunted. “Haraden have dire gophers?” He thrust a hand toward several mounds running the length of the roadside.

Leafar was quick with a smile. “Those are the arteries that pump warmth throughout Haraden. You won’t see azers here on the surface, but just below, that’s

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