Cari Z.'s Blog

 Notes: I got sick while writing this. You'll be able to tell, I'm not subtle about real life influencing my work. Speaking of, HAPPY THANKSGIVING to those who celebrate, I'm very thankful to have you in my life :)

 Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards Ch. 12 Pt. 2

***

Chapter Twelve Part Two

Photo by Frederike

A Rough Night

Hiram woke with a sneeze. “Ugh,” he muttered as he rolledover on the straw tick mattress, grimacing as several sharp ends poked upthrough the loose weave of the sheet and scratched his skin. Straw was a commonfiller for mattresses, and it did all right for a season, but if it wasn’treplaced regularly it turned into a moldering mess. He wasn’t sure if it wasthe dankness of the mattress or a result of his thorough drenching from therain last night, but his nose was thoroughly stuffed up.

“You sound sick.”

“I’m not sick,” Hiram said, wearily pressing up into asitting position. He’d made it to Garrison last night after leaving the gnollsbound together with their own wires in the middle of the road. Mule hadrefrained from removing any of their limbs, the dear thing, but she hadrun each of them through in several places. It was a toss-up as to whether ornot they’d survive the blood loss. Hiram didn’t feel much remorse about that.If they’d happened upon someone less prepared than him, perhaps someone with afamily or a young apprentice in tow…

No. They got whatever they got at this point.

“You sound rather sick for a healthy person.”

“What would you know about it? You never get sick.”

“Neither do you.”

“There you have it, then.” Hiram got to his feet and wentover to his rucksack. Several cockroaches scuttled out from beneath it, and hetook a moment to be grateful for the sigils worked into the cloth that renderedit inviolate to any hands—or legs—but his. “I never get sick, therefore I’mnot.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“It’s just the mattress. It’s full of mildew. I’ll clear outmy sinuses and be right as rain in a moment.”

Phlox snorted. “It’s the rain that got you into thisposition in the first place.”

Hiram tuned out his companion’s unhelpful observations andpulled off his sleep shirt, shivering in the cold. He’d taken refuge in thefirst inn that still had a torch lit, which turned out to be a threadbare placeon the edge of town run by a rather slovenly man who’d directed him to the roomin the peak of the building, with sloping walls and more than one leak. It wasmore important to Hiram that Mule have a decent spot in the stable, which shedid, but right now, cold and undoubtedly too late rising to get the“complimentary” breakfast that came with staying here, he felt more than alittle run down.

Eh, the breakfast was probably inedible anyhow. He’d packhis things and find better lodging today, then go about the business that hadbrought him here in the first place. Hiram dressed in one of his finer outfits,topping it off with the lovely but sedate cloak that Master Spindelstep hadmade him rather than his single-armed Galenish one, then brushed out his hairand cleaned his teeth.

“Master Surrus isn’t here for you to impress, you know.”

Hiram felt his cheeks heat. “I don’t dress up for him.”

“You would if you had the chance.”

Phlox had unfortunately been around long enough to see howHiram had gone about seducing Andy on a regular basis, and it had alwaysincluded dressing his best. “Well, I don’t.” With that pathetic retort, Hiramhoisted his rucksack over his shoulder and headed downstairs. There was rathera clamor going on outside, the interior of the inn almost abandoned except bythe same slovenly man at the front. Even he looked more alert now.

“What’s all that?” Hiram ask as he handed the man his room key.

“Someone brought down Cletus and Clarus last night,” hegrunted, small eyes bright as he stared at the door. “Patrol found ‘em on theroad this morning, loaded them into a cart to face justice here. Hanging forsure,” he added, wrapping a demonstrative hand around his own throat in caseHiram was somehow confused. “They’re wanted for a bakers’ dozen of robberiesand three murders. Were starting to become a real problem this last month, andno one could find ‘em.”

“Well.” Hiram felt the warm glow of a job well done. “I’mglad someone handled the problem.”

“Yeah, but no one knows who!” The innkeeper was becominganimated, his jowls swinging as he hurried to explain. “There’s a big reward onoffer for whoever could finish ‘em, but they was tied up and abandoned. Nonote, nothing. Had to be a warrior of some kind; they got stabbed by a spear.”

Hiram nodded along. “Lovely. Now, if you could tell me—”

“The Lord Mayor’s probably going to do a seeking to findwhoever it was that took ‘em out. Only way to be fair with the money, youknow.” The innkeeper deflated a bit. “It’s not right, if you ask me. Usingmagic to figure out who did what…what if I’d come across them this morning,huh? Went to all the trouble of loading them up and bringing them in. Wouldn’tit be better to at least share the reward with me?”

Hiram groaned inwardly. A seeking, wonderful. Evenwhen he wasn’t touching his own magic, magic still had a way of tryingto find him. Of all the damn… “For the extra feed for my horse,” he said,laying down a few copper bits. The innkeeper snatched them up immediately.“I’ll be off, then.” He’d been going to ask about the layout of Garrison, butdecided it was better to be gone as soon as possible.

He found Mule in perfect solitude in the stable, chewing onhay and seeming pretty damn pleased with herself after her adventure yesterday.“You had to run them through, hmm?” Hiram muttered to her as he put on hersaddle. She blinked at him, then tossed her head. “What will we do if someonerecognized the wounds come from a horn, not a spear?”

Not my problem, she seemed to say with a saucywhicker.

“It will become your problem if imperial soldiers try todrag us out of Lollop and back to Andy by our tails,” Hiram said.

“We’ll have to screw up rather more significantly forthings to get that far.”

“One would hope,” Hiram agreed. “But for all his faults,Andy is shrewd. He’s very good at collecting vast amounts of information andsifting through it to discover the gems. That’s how he got ahead in so manybattles, not to mention stayed ahead of so many assassination attempts.”

“That and the fact that you were helping him.”

True. Which Hiram wasn’t now. Still... “Can you handle anobscuration?”

He felt Phlox pulse with surprise. “Do you really thinkit necessary?”

“I don’t know that I want to bet on Garrison having a sloppymage if they work some sort of seeking on those damn gnolls,” he said. Hehadn’t thought they’d be that big a deal, in all honesty. No one in Lollop evenmentioned them to him. Admittedly, Lollop wasn’t a cosmopolitan place, butstill—

“It’s not impossible that Andurion could be checking for mymagical signature as well, you know.”

Hiram sighed. “Well, it’s that or we visit a hedge witch andhope they’re trustworthy.” Which was never a given, unfortunately. And thenhe’d have to ensure silence with a spell of his own, which would put hismagical signature on the map again, bouncing across dozens of leylinesand lodestones and giving all those imperial mages something to focus on. Damn,who’d have thought hiding would be so bloody hard?

“This might be completely unnecessary,” Hiram added.“Perhaps the Lord Mayor won’t bother with a seeking at all. Why give up areward when you don’t have to?”

“Perhaps they’re a person of integrity, unlike that foolin Lollop.”

“We’ll hope otherwise,” which was something he hadn’tanticipated saying today, “but in the meantime, just keep your obscurationready, all right?”

“As you say, Hiram.”

Hiram chuckled at the uncharacteristic agreement, then raisedhis elbow to his face to stifle another sneeze. “Ugh.” His nose itcheduncomfortably, his throat was sore, and he felt like he’d barely put a dent inthe fatigue from yesterday’s ride.

He smiled as he remembered what he used to say to Misha whenthey were adventuring and she started to lose her sense of levity. Eatsomething. Everything looks a little better once you’ve got food in your belly.“Come on,” he said as he led Mule out of the stable and mounted up. “Let’s gosee what we can find in the way of breakfast, and then we’ll see what Garrisonhas to offer.”

Hopefully the rest of the day would continue better than ithad begun.

Notes: Sorry for the delay, yesterday was SO CRAZY BUSY! Let's go on a road trip, baby!

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Ch. 12 Pt. 1

***

Chapter Twelve, Part One

Road Trip!

Phlox’s poor moods could last for weeks without something tojar him out of them. Unfortunately, in Lollop there was little of great enoughimport to knock a captive elemental being out of his pout, so Hiram went out ofhis way to do novel things instead that would hopefully interest his companionenough to improve his outlook. It was the least Hiram could do.

Yes, Phlox-as-Pyrax and Hiram-as-Xerome had once foughtnearly to the death, and no doubt Pyrax wouldn’t have thought twice aboutburning him to a crisp and going on to kill his apprentices too. But Pyraxwould never have done what Xerome did, imprisoning his enemy’s essence and lettinghim continue to live a basically neutered existence in three separatecontainers. It was an incredible comedown in both power and pride for anelemental revered by his people as a god, and there were times when Hiramwondered whether he shouldn’t have meddled in the first place.

There was no changing the past, though—and Hiram would know,he’d tried more than once. All he could do now was ameliorate his friend’scondition as best he could. To that end, Hiram planned his first out-of-towntrip since he first got to Lollop over two months ago. There was a somewhatlarger city an easy two day’s ride to the east, and Hiram could stand to stockup on some things he’d only be able to find with a larger community of traderson hand. Not to mention, it would give him a chance to scope out whether or notimperial messengers were still distributing posters of him this far from Galenish.

He arranged for Letty to come by and take care of Knight andthe chickens and pigs he’d somehow become saddled with—pigs, for everyheaven’s sake. Hiram didn’t even like the taste of pork, what was hegoing to do with pigs other than feed them delicious scraps and watch them growlarge enough to square off with their wild boar cousins? Perhaps he could makea gift of them to someone someday…

“Feel free to make use of anything you find in the house,”he told Letty as he tied his rucksack shut. “Just make a note if you usesomething up. If you care to weed the garden a bit with Rickie, that would bewelcome too. Just stay out of the upstairs rooms, if you please.” Not thatshe’d get up there even if she tried, between the aversion glyphs and therelocation spell he’d reluctantly powered up that would transport an intruder ontothe road out front with a blinding headache ifthey tried to go up there uninvited.

Letty huffed. “I’m not rude, you know. I wouldn’tinvade your privacy in such a way.”

“I’m sure of it,” Hiram said. “I just wanted to mention it.”

“What about the cellar?” she asked. “I could move some ofyour jars down there for you. You’re starting to run out of space on yourshelves.”

The cellar. Ah. Right. “I’d avoid the cellar fornow,” Hiram said, a bit uncomfortable at the thought of her going down therebefore he’d cleared it himself. “Just the animals and the weeding, if youplease. Perhaps harvest some of the chamomile and lay it on the screen by thewindow to dry, well out of Knight’s reach, if you please. And some of theanise. And yarrow,…do you need me to write this down?”

“I think I’ll manage,” Letty said. “Have a nice trip! I’venever been as far as Garrison before; you have to tell me all about it when youget back.”

“I will,” he promised her with a smile before headingoutside to saddle Mule and get on the road.

Mule was pleased by the prospect of a trip, too. It was abit of a boring life for her, Hiram reflected, after several decades of intensebattle at the front of the greatest army the continent had ever seen. Mule wasa peaceful animal by nature and had adapted well to her new habitat, but thatchase they’d gone on a few weeks back…clearly she was missing fulfilling hernature, which was to hunt down and destroy creatures touched by evil.

Maybe they’d get lucky and run into a beastie or two on theroad.

Hiram waved to various people he recognized on the waythrough town, only stopping once for Master Spindlestep, who was crossing theroad with the single-mindedness of a man who wasn’t going to be deterred byeither traffic or his blindness. “Good morning, Master Spindlestep,” he calledout as the elderly elf passed by.

“Master Emblic.” He stopped—out of the line of any carts orhorses who might go by, thankfully—and tilted his head as though he werelistening to something specific. “Leaving us, are you?”

“Only for a short time,” Hiram assured him. “I’m off toGarrison for a few days, but I’ll be back before the next market day.”

“A good thing, otherwise there may be a revolt,” MasterSpindlestep said genially. “Your products get excellent reviews, sir.”

“Always welcome to hear.”

“Indeed it is.” The elf came a bit closer and lifted hishand, laying it gently on Mule’s neck. To Hiram’s surprise, Mule not onlyaccepted the touch with grace—she could be a bit finicky about non-virgins—shewhickered, turning her head to nudge Master Spindlestep’s shoulder.

“Mule, you rude thing,” Hiram chided her, but the old elfjust laughed.

“She recognizes a friend when she sees one,” he said. “I’vealways loved horses of this sort, and they tend to be smart enough to know whenthey’re with a friend.” He said “like this” with a bit of import. Hiramwondered whether the tailor, for all his blindness, was able to see rightthrough the glamour on Mule.

Well, and what of it if he did? The glamour was unbreakable;no one would believe him if he tried to spread such a tale about, and he had noreason to do anything other than enjoy the company of a light creature like aunicorn. “She’s been a good friend to me for many years,” Hiram settled onsaying.

“I can sense that.”

Perhaps he could. “I beg your pardon, sir, but I mustcontinue.”

“Of course.” Master Spindlestep gave Mule one last strokealong her velvety nose, then moved back. “If you’ve the means to buy a bolt ofblack Lancre silk while you’re there, I’d happily repay you.”

Lancre silk…and in black…that seemed very fine for use inLollop. Lancre silk was mildly color-shifting, the result of blending worm andspider threads together, and shockingly strong for a fabric. Hiram knew thisask was a test of some kind, but what was the tailor hoping to glean about himfrom it? His level of disposable income? His ability to discern Lancre silkfrom regular silk? His willingness to do a favor for someone he had no strongconnection to?

“I’ll see what I can do,” he settled on. Master Spindlestepnodded, and then Hiram was on his way once more, riding until even thedisreputable Highwayman Inn was out of sight.

It was a quiet road for the first half of the day, and hereveled in the solitude and the sound of the wind. Around noon, the routeexpanded significantly as several more roads joined it, and he ended upjostling for position amongst carts and wagons, solitary riders and groups, anda fair number of walkers as well.

It wasn’t that Hiram couldn’t tolerate the company, but bymid-afternoon a rain had set in that quickly churned the road to mud beneath somany hooves and wheels. What I wouldn’t give for a good, Imperial highway ofstone…

Of course, stone roads were reserved for much more importantparts of the empire than this, especially with no quarries native to the area.The amount of work it would take to build and maintain stone roads everywhere…Hiramhad argued for it, actually, citing the good it would do to local economies aswell as the skills transfer from imperial civil engineers to rural ones, butthat was one more place where Andy had shot him down.

It left him determined to get as far as he could tonight,perhaps even as far as Garrison itself. The city was only forty miles fromLollop, after all. Mule could do it easily; Hiram was the one who wasgoing to be sore from the saddle tomorrow, but if it meant making better timeonce others retreated to the inn they got to at sundown, he’d manage.

“You won’t want to camp, sir!” the inn’s crier called outafter him when he saw Hiram wasn’t turning off with the rest of the traffic. “It’sterrible dangerous in those woods at night! There’s gnolls and trolls and evenbandits out there in the woods, sir, mark my words!”

“I won’t be camping,” Hiram called over his shoulder.

“Sir! Come on now, sir!”

But Hiram was determined to get to Garrison by midnight. Andonce he was alone… “A bit of light perhaps, Phlox?” he murmured, and to hisdelight, Phlox responded with a thin beam that lit the road just enough forMule to see by. It was a good thing, too; the moon was invisible tonight,utterly drowned out by the wet cloud cover, and the drizzle got that muchcolder as the evening wore on.

A more impatient person would have spurred Mule to a fasterpace, but Hiram was neither impatient nor a fool. He kept them moving at asteady trot, which meant he had plenty of time, even in the gloom, to pick outthe array of slender metal threads stretched taut across the road.

At speed, they could have done terrible damage to Mule’slegs. As it was, the unicorn came to an easy halt a few meters away from them.

“Hmm.”

Phlox unexpectedly spoke up. “I do believe we’re about tobe accosted by bandits, Hiram.”

Hiram eased himself out of the saddle with a groan. “You’reprobably right, my dear,” he murmured.

“How would you care to handle the occasion?”

That was an excellent question, and one Hiram was stillconsidering when an eerie, baying cackle started up in the woods to the right.Hiram turned with interest to watch as a pair of enormous, spot-eared gnollsemerged from the trees. He’d never seen the spotted version before; the oneswho lived up north tended toward stripes. Other than that, they were identicalto most of the gnolls he’d encountered over the years: they had broad, squatbodies that were heavy with muscle and blunt canid mouths full of fangs. Theseones wore dark, lustrous pelts for clothes that probably came from lowlandpanthers, and each of them carried both a club and a dagger.

Decidedly dark creatures, by nurture if not nature. Hiramtightened his grip on Mule’s reins.

“Clever human,” one of them slavered at him, a wild glint inhis eyes. “Spying our little net before it could catch you.”

“Not clever enough to stay at the inn, though,” the othersaid with rather less drool falling out of his mouth. “Shouldn’t have pressedon, old man. Too bad now you’re going to be late for your appointments.” Hegrinned. “’Cept the ones you’ve got with your gods.”

Hiram nodded slowly. “That is certainly one possibility.”Mule was quivering now, every inch of her ready to fulfil her ultimate purpose.

“It’s the only possibility, old man. No one escapesfrom Cletus and Clarus.”

“Ah, but you see,” Hiram replied. “That’s where you’rewrong.” He patted Mule on the neck. “Alive if you can, darling,” he told her.

The gnolls stared at each other for a moment, as if theywere wondering just how mad this strange human was. That was when Hiram letMule go. She reared onto her back hooves with a ferocious battle cry, thenlowered her head and charged.

“Now.” Hiram turned back to the wires as the gnolls howled withmatching bloodlust. “Let’s see about clearing this before she comes back, hmm?”Luckily they were rather haphazardly placed, and cheap besides. A quick snipwith the second-best shears he’d brought along in his rucksack was enough tobite through the thinner ones. The thicker might require a bit more work…

“You let Mule have all the fun.”

“You can have the next bandits, my dear,” Hiram promised. Thehowls were already becoming whimpers of pain and fear. “Just don’t tell Esme wehad a good time without her, or she’ll never let us hear the end of it.”

Phlox considered that for a moment, then said, “Deal.”

 Notes: Let's have a little more backstory, hmm? Hiram's curious, and who can blame him?

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Ch. 11 Pt. 2

***

Chapter Eleven, Part Two

Legend Has It…

To tell Letty, or not to tell her? On the one hand, it wouldbe considerate to give her time to prepare for a meeting with The Thread, ofall people. It could be life-changing, after all. On the other hand, it seemedlike Letty had already convinced herself that Hiram was going to be of no useto her, and that he shouldn’t even try. What were the odds that she would justignore him if he tried to convince her it was the thing to do? No, better thatit happened naturally in some way. As if it was happenstance that she was ableto meet with them, rather then preplanned. The only hitch was creating thosecircumstances.

Ah, well. He still had a few weeks to think about it. Nowthat the aftermath of his temple visit had faded a bit, and people had provento be more circumspect than he’d counted on, Hiram’s sense of sociality hadcome back full swing. He had a place to live, a burgeoning business, and enoughmoney to spare after every week’s Market Day that he could afford to live it upin town a bit when the mood struck him. And in Lollop, there were really onlytwo places to spend your money on a regular basis: The Yew Brew, if you were inthe mood for clean surroundings and hearty meals, or The Highwayman, a tavernon the eastern edge of town that catered more to travelers than locals.

Hiram visited the Yew Brew several times throughout theweek, once to treat Tilda to dinner closer to her own house, and once to simplysit and absorb the conversation that flowed from patron to patron like a lazyriver. It didn’t even take any magic of his own to hear what people had to say,because Phlox was happy to repeat it for him sotto-voce.

“The older gentlemen at the table by the fireplace saythey’re surprised to see you without your lady friend.”

Hiram hummed thoughtfully as he took a sip of ale.

“They say their wives expect you to propose to her bymidwinter.”

“Ha!”

“Something I can get for you, Hiram?” Jonn called from wherehe was pulling drinks a bit farther down the bar.

“I’m well for now, thank you,” he replied.

“Right, then.”

“Have you entirely forgotten how to be circumspect,Xerome?”

He tapped twice with one of his fingernails on the counter.

“Oh, lovely, we’re communicating in the Undertone now.”Phlox huffed. “Just admit you’re bored. Maybe you should propose toTilda, she seems to be one of the only people around who can liven you up abit.”

Tap-tap.

“Obviously I’m not serious. I know you’re more interestedin males. Speaking of, there have been several conversations since you sat downspeculating on whether or not people should come over and ask you about MasterSurrus. Apparently, his penchant for solitude is legendary.”

“Hmm.” Hiram contemplated that as he finished off thehalf-chicken that had come with his supper.

“Isn’t it, though? What makes you so special that he waswilling to take you home?” Hiram grinned. “Besides all the things he’snot supposed to know about you, obviously. Ugh, you’re so childish.”

“Oy!” The arrival of Robard interrupted Hiram’s privateconversation, but he didn’t mind it, just reached out and steadied the stoolbeside him as the dwarf heaved himself up onto it. He seemed sober for once,and eager not to be if the false joviality he projected was any indicator.“Well met, Master Emblic, well met.”

“And a good evening to you, Robard,” he said politely.

“Mm. What’re you havin’ there, eh?”

“The dinner special.”

“Ah, ah. And, eh, what to drink?”

“Oh, this?” Hiram glanced down at the mug. “It’s a pint ofJonn’s pumpkin ale. The top-shelf stuff. He said it would go well with thedinner.” He shrugged. “He was right, of course. It’s very good.”

“Is it, now?” Robard affected a wide-eyed demeanor. “Y’know,I’ve been meaning to try that pumpkin ale.”

“Then you should.”

“Aye, aye. Only…it’s a bit dear, you know. A bit…pricierthan a simple dwarf like myself can afford.”

Hiram wasn’t sure how Robard made a living when most of whathe spent his time on seemed to be getting drunk, so this was probably a truestatement. Jonn was clearly his closest friend—rumor had it that Robard evenslept in the barn—but that didn’t mean Jonn was willing to waste his expensivemicrobrews on the dwarf when the cheaper ale got him drunk just as fast.

Actually…hmm. “I was wondering,” Hiram said, “about thattower in the distance.”

Robard blinked. “Gemmel’s tower?”

“That’s the one! It seems like a mightily impressive sort ofplace. I hear it was built by a dwarf, too.”

“Aye, that it was.” Robard thumped his chest. “My own clan,in fact.”

“Truly!”

“Indeed, indeed. Clan Blackstone, on account of we used tolive in a mountain of the stuff.”

Interesting. Perhaps Gemmel had been attempting to reinventthe past when he decided to manufacture his tower in the stuff. “Fascinating.I’d love to learn more about it, if you have any tales to tell. Nothing thatwould bring disgrace,” Hiram added quickly. He knew how touchy dwarves could beabout their private histories. “Just what’s allowable. I love a good story.”

It was hard to tell underneath the beard, but Hiram thoughtRobard was trying to affect a crafty expression. “The stories would be betterheard over a pint of pumpkin ale, I daresay.”

“Agreed.” Hiram waved Jonn over. “I’d like the same againfor Robard, including dinner, please.”

“Oh.” Robard looked at him with surprise in his rheumy eyes.“You don’t need to do all that.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Hiram replied lightly. Jonn seemed toapprove, if the speed with which he brought the meal of chicken and roastedpotatoes out was any indicator. The ale he pulled much more slowly, making sureRobard was already tucking in to his dinner before setting it down.

The next hour was spent gleaning bits of gold from Robard’sramblings. The broad strokes followed what Avery had said—they were driven outof Blackstone Mountain in the north by an unholy alliance between serpentkinand a group of fire elementals, and after a lot of diversions the majority ofthem ended up settling here. There might have been an element of coercion inthere as well, something about an internal dispute that split their party intwo, but that part wasn’t clear.

“Great idea, that tower,” Robard said in the middle of hissecond pint. “Could have revolutionized magic in the area, not to mention givenour clan a revenue stream that supported us in our traditional crafts insteadof turning weaponsmiths into blacksmiths and mangonel-makers into carpenters.”

“You were a warrior clan, then?”

“Aye, that we were. S’why it burned all the more to beforced out of our home, y’ken. If it were just one or the other, we’d havemanaged, but serpentkin plus the elementals?” He shook his head morosely. “Itwas too much. Can’t say that I care for the emperor all that much, meself, butevery dwarf driven out of the northern range cheered the day he and his peoplesubdued those scaly bastards.”

Subdued. That was a very tame description forannihilation. It occurred to Hiram that letting Robard wax rhapsodic about thedevastation of Phlox’s people wasn’t the nicest thing for his elementalassistant right now.

He got a few more general stories about the tower, asmidgeon of the Blackstone clan’s epic poem, which sounded like it must befantastic sung, and ended the night with Robard on his fourth mug of ale andstaggering off to the outhouse. Hiram paid the final bill, then got to his feetand wrapped himself up in his cloak as he headed outside to walk home. He couldhave come with Mule, but the walk was nice to help clear his head after he’dbeen drinking. Usually it was a quiet, contemplative time.

Tonight, he was treated to a stream of hissed imprecationsfrom Phlox. “They stole our caverns first! Our holy places, defiled by thedeep-digging dwarves, where no piece of us was considered sacred!”

“I know,” Hiram said tiredly.

“The serpentkin were merely a means to an end! We neverintended for them to feed on the clans we conquered.”

“I understand that.”

“There was no good reason for the violence your emperorleveled at us. We as a people are no more now, right down to the smallestflames.”

Hiram could argue that point, but he chose not to under thecircumstances. “It’s in the past now, Phlox.”

There was a moment of silence before Phlox said, “SometimesI wish more than anything that I had managed to kill you. Or that you hadchosen to kill me.”

Hiram only nodded; his throat was too tight to do otherwise.He could offer up excuses, he could say that nothing was simple and war leastof all, he could remind Phlox that he’d quite literally brought the invasionupon himself by burning through town after town, but that wouldn’t do anythingexcept exacerbate the bad feelings. They walked in silence the rest of the wayhome, and Hiram was resigned to a night full of memories keeping him awake ashe walked through the front door.

“Finally.”

“Esme!” Hiram looked at her, then did a doubletake. “Areyou…snuggling with Knight?”

“Only because you weren’t here,” she defended herself beforelicking a stripe between the rabbit’s ears. She had adjusted herself to beabout the same size as the enormous bunny, who seemed surprisingly sanguine abouthaving a dangerous, carnivorous sphinx cuddling him like a baby. “I got cold.”

Hiram smiled at the thin excuse. “I see.”

“And it’s been days since you visited me.”

“That’s true.”

“So here I am.” She rolled onto her back, pulling Knightwith her. The rabbit went with the air of a creature who had abandoned everythought of fighting back. “You have my permission to pet me.”

It beat focusing on the silent treatment from Phlox allnight. “Your wish is my command.”

 Notes: Let's move things right along, shall we? Gossip=plot in my world.

 Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards Ch. 11 Pt. 1

 ***

Chapter Eleven, Part One

The Thread

Hiram had worried that his reputation in Lollop would beirretrievable after what happened in the Temple of Melemor. Making the headpriest cry and sending the rest of town into a tizzy over a little oldmemory—the ideal way to ingratiate himself to his new home. He was sure he’dhave Uriel the Pustulant banging on his door in no time, insisting that notonly were his fees lacking, he was also a heretic in the eyes of the local godsand they were sending for an exorcist. Which—thank you, but no. He’d been exorciseda time or two in his childhood by people his well-meaning but ignorant parentsfound, and that had been painful enough.

Fortunately, none of his worse fears came to pass. In fact,he seemed caught in a state of more respectability than he’d had before, which…

“Why?” Hiram demanded of Tilda a few evenings down the line.He’d fielded plenty of visitors in the days since Lares, and while curiosityseemed to be peaking, they’d all had good reasons to visit an herbalist aswell. He dispensed medicinal teas for indigestion, sleep aids, soothingointments for skin issues, and several internal aids meant to either increaseor decrease fertility depending on what the person wanted. He was questioned,very gently and mostly by older woman, about how he was settling in to town,and after being assured that he liked it very much, he was patted on theshoulder and… “Why aren’t I being run out of town for what I put everyonethrough?”

Tilda smiled over a cup of tea—rosehip and yarrow, with ahint of licorice because she liked the flavor as she said, “Honestly, Hiram,you’d think you wanted to get run out of town. Have you considered thatsharing your private pain to the rest of us has made you more relatablerather than less? And I have to say, as bad as that was, it was far from aunique experience. Just stronger than we’re used to.” She tilted her head,silver strands amongst the brown catching the light from his fireplace. “And Ithink few of us minded seeing High Priest Melemor in a state of trueunderstanding, for once. He’s always been a very…formidable man, but not a verycompassionate one.”

Hiram stared at her. “So people like that I made him cry?”

“From what I’ve heard, they feel it’s only just, given thathe insisted you undergo the ritual in the first place.” She shrugged. “Be waryof testing one’s spirit, it might just test you back.”

“Huh.” Well, that was a bit of a relief. “What about—”

A blunt head pressed against his shin, and Hiram smiled downat Knight, who was doing much better with his hopping these days. “There youare, my dear,” he said indulgently. “Did you have a nice nap?” The rabbit nosedat him again. “Feeling hungry? Or would you prefer a bit of a cuddle?” Hiramset his cup aside, reached down, and heaved the rabbit into his lap. “Oof,” hegrunted. “You certainly haven’t gotten any lighter since you’ve been with me,have you? Let me have a look now, there’s a good lad…”

He inspected the wound on Knight’s leg. “Much better!” hepraised. “And your fur is growing back in and everything. You’ll be healed upbeautifully by midwinter, love.” He stroked over the rabbit’s back, and Knightstretched out to give him more room to work, eyes closing in bunny bliss.

“Goodness,” Tilda said archly. “Such politesse, and to arabbit no less! No wonder Master Surrus thinks so highly of you.”

Hiram blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Master Surrus, the school teacher. Handsome gentleman, abit retiring, and oh, yes—he swept you off your feet onto his horse and carriedyou away into the sunset the other day, from what I hear—”

“There was no sweeping,” Hiram insisted. “And no sunset, itwas barely past ten in the morning.”

Her eyes twinkled as she said, “But you did gosomewhere with him.”

“Well…yes.” Hiram felt oddly reluctant to talk about it. Hewouldn’t have said anything prurient, even if there was something of thatnature to say, and yet…something about Avery made him want to keep their timetogether private. It wasn’t so unusual—Avery was a private person and Hiram waslucky to have been invited into his home.

“Don’t worry,” Tilda said. “I won’t pry. It’s not my placeand I get the sense you wouldn’t tell me anything anyhow. I just think it’snice, that’s all.” Her smile dimmed a bit. “His social circle is even smallerthan yours, and he’s been here for years. Before you, the only person I everheard of visiting his cottage was Master Spindlestep.”

That correlated well to Hiram’s impressions of the youngerman. Still. “He should have more friends. He’s young, well known to the peoplehere, talented, a good conversationalist…”

“And I’m sure, with all these charms, that if he wanted morefriends he would have them,” Tilda said. “That he doesn’t speaks to a quirk ofhis character, not a fault of the people of Lollop. Most would welcome him intotheir social circle, if only to gossip about their children, but Master Surrusdefies that sort of convention. As is his right,” she added. “We’re all wildlycurious about him, of course, but Lollop knows how to respect the privacy ofthe individual.”

“Most of the time,” Hiram agreed.

“Yes.” Tilda sounded a bit tired. “Most of the time. Morelately, in fact—everyone is preparing for the Thread to come through in a fewweeks.”

“The Thread…” Hiram had encountered the Thread numeroustimes in distant villages, but only in his former persona. They were a searchparty, in a way, a group of individuals who represented the interests of godsand temples who might benefit from fresh blood.

For children who tested positive in their local temples formagical ability but lacked the means to get to a capital and go into trainingon their own, the Thread was their last hope. If a member of a Thread partycould vouch for your ability, they would take you along with them to thepractice that you fit best with no cost to your family. It wasn’t a foolproofsystem, but it was a bit of hope for the gifted children of poor villages whohad no other means of promoting their sparks and talents.

Every Thread party contained a wizard or sorcerer of somekind, a cleric or paladin of some god, and either a bard or a druid—both if youwere lucky. Between those specialties, almost all the basic sparkmanifestations were covered.

Sparks were almost always inherited. Hiram was one of thevery rare cases where neither of his parents showed any signs of magicalability, and neither did any family members going back three generations, whichwas as far as anyone he was related to could remember. His parents had thoughthe was cursed, hence the exorcisms gone awry, but here…

“Is there any spark to speak of in Letty’s family?” heasked.

Tilda sighed heavily. “Did Letty talk to you about having aspark?”

“No. Not directly,” he said. “Not quite. She said somethingabout being tested and not showing enough of an aptitude for Lollop to investin her education there.”

“It’s true. I don’t know much about Letty’s situationpersonally, but her mother…” Tilda shook her head. “That was a womanwith a spark. For healing, believe it or not. Celiane was actually apprenticedas a Cleric of Melemor for several years before she met her husband Granth.”

Wait a second. “Clerics of Melemor are required to take vowsof chastity.” The healing arts in particular could be a little finickydepending on the god, and Melemor didn’t like to come second to anyone else whenit came to his priests and clerics.

“Exactly. They met at a harvest festival. Granth was verycharming, and she got very drunk, and the next morning, well.” Tilda shook herhead. “They were found naked together in the back of the Brew’s stables. Celianetried to plead for forgiveness, but the head cleric at the time refused to takeher back. Then she turned up pregnant, and it was a quick wedding to Granth atthat point. It’s not been a happy marriage, we all know that,” she said. “Ican’t speak to the state of her spark, but I daresay it’s atrophied at thispoint. None of their children have tested highly, so far—Letty is the only onewho came close.”

Well. That was abhorrent. The blank-faced woman Hiram hadseen on the porch, surrounded by children and shouted at by her awful husband—shemight not have a spark anymore, but she surely remembered a time when she did.Remembered how it felt to be so close to a god that you could borrow theirpower and do good in the world. To be tied to such a man, gods, she must havefelt so awful that morning.

All the more reason to get Letty out of there if he could.He only had three more weeks of her time. He needed to coach her spark up asbright as it would go and get her in reach of the Thread, and then hopefullyshe would escape the fate that seemed laid out for her.

“I think there’s more to Letty than meets the eye,” Hiramsaid, careful to keep his voice light. “I’m no spark myself—” more like aconflagration “—but I’ve seen enough of them over the years to have a goodfeeling about her. And everyone deserves a chance to change their situation,especially when it’s one like hers.”

“I don’t control the Thread’s choices,” Tilda said, “but I’msure we could get her a meeting with them if you think it’s worthwhile.”

Hiram smiled brightly. “I think it just might be.”

 Notes: Let's finish our little tea party, hmm?

Title:  Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Ch. 10, Pt. 2

***

Chapter Ten, Part Two

Delicate Subjects

“So,” Hiram said after a moment. “Now that you’veexperienced some of my tragic past, tell me some of yours.”

Avery quirked a smile. “What makes you think I’ve got atragic past?”

“Oh, I can tell that sort of thing from the first second,”Hiram assured him. “Very insightful, me.”

“Indeed?”

“Absolutely.”

The smile only got broader, and Hiram was delighted torealize he’d found someone who was willing to play a bit—to indulge his sillyside, as it were. Phlox had no time for that sort of thing, and Esme oftenconfused silly with simple, which led to numerous her attempting to bat himabout the head and “knock some sense into him” with her rather dangerous paws.There was hope for Tilda, but still. He was used to being part of a group ofpeople who could joke with each other, poke and prod and jest without gettingtoo personal about it. He missed his friends. He missed Misha. Hells, he evenmissed Andy sometimes—no one could quite muster up an “I’m not going to let onhow impressed I am” face like his former lover.

Sure enough, Avery arched one eyebrow. “And what does atragic past look like, exactly?”

Hiram took advantage of the implicit invitation to look theother man up and down in a measuring manner. Avery Surrus had been attractiveat first glance—now he was downright captivating.

That said…

“It’s something in the face,” Hiram mused. “A certain twistof the brow, an expression on the edge of either a glower or a good cry, ifthere’s a sheen to the eyes. You can see it in the posture, too—slightlystooped, like the world is just a bit too heavy for those shoulders. It’s evidentin the color palette as well—blacks and grays and dark browns, perhaps theoccasional blue if the person is feeling particularly splashy on that day. Justone of these things would be inconclusive, but put them all together and youget…well.” He gestured at Avery. “Yourself.”

“Or you could have simply talked to Mistress Tate.”

“Oh, I absolutely did that as well,” Hiram said, and Averyactually laughed.

“And yet,” Avery said after a moment, “you yourself don’tfit the pattern you just described, and yet you can’t deny that you havesomething terribly tragic in your past.”

Hiram shrugged. “I live to defy expectation, and don’t thinkyou can change the subject so easily, young man.”

“Avery.” His blue eyes were very bright and very intent onHiram’s face. “I want you to call me Avery.”

For the first time in a long time, Hiram felt rather…well, enthralledwouldn’t be too strong a word. He’d felt desire for plenty of people, beforeand even after Andy had become his world, but desire was a fairly cheapcommodity. This, now? This was downright intriguing. “Avery.” He took asip of tea to avoid having to clear his throat. “Go on, then.”

“My story isn’t very exciting,” Avery said after a moment. “Inever knew my father, my mother died when I was young, I left town via anapprenticeship and finally fell in with a group who had use for my skills.”

“Mm. Thievery, I assume.”

The teasing light left Avery’s face. “Excuse me?”

Shit. “I don’t mean to accuse you of anythingspecific,” Hiram said quickly. “Only—I know what children who are experts at shimmyingdown chimneys often become, in cities at least. And I have no particular animusagainst thieves or rogues, either; everyone has to make a living, after all,and they tend to target people who have more than enough to live on. So…” Heshrugged. “It’s just a guess. Feel free to tell me how wrong I am.”

Avery stared at him in silence before abruptly sighing. “Youknow, you’re the first person in my experience to just outright say it likethat. I think a few others in town have wondered, maybe even suspected over theyears, but no one’s ever even implied such a thing before, much less said itstraight to my face.”

“Ah.” It was rather rude of Hiram, in that light.

“But you’re not wrong,” Avery went on, the stiffness leavinghis back as he relaxed once more. “I did learn the trade of a rogue, for atime.”

Hiram could picture it perfectly. Avery had a certainsinuousness about him, a confidence and steadiness that was both highlyattractive and indicative of strenuous training. “I bet you were good at it.”

He smiled. This was different from his earlier smile; therewas a challenge in it, a cheeky hint of wickedness that was utterly alluring.“I was,” he said before hiding his smile behind his teacup. “But I eventuallydecided to give it up and return home. And before you ask, Master Spindlestepis an old friend I originally made during my earliest wanderings, but the factthat he settled here after an accident stole his vision seemed like fatecalling me home after I decided to retire.”

“And you went into teaching.” Hiram whistledadmiringly. “Not exactly a profession that travels lock-step with the path ofthe rogue, is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Avery demurred. “After all, being ableto keep track of dozens of noisy, potentially dangerous individuals at once whilemaintaining your own internal quietude and focus is certainly shared betweenthem. And I can’t say I’ve never had call to pin a child’s sleeve to the deskusing their own quill, but I try not to trot that little trick out unlesssomeone’s really acting up.”

Hiram laughed as he pictured such a thing in his mind. “Idaresay they love you.”

Avery’s face softened. “I think some of them do. I certainlydidn’t expect to enjoy teaching as much as I do, but it’s…it’s a good fit forme. A path I’m grateful to be able to walk down, given…everything.”

Everything being his tragic past, but Hiram hadalready concluded that he wasn’t going to get any more details from Avery aboutthat today. It was fine. He’d pushed his luck as far as it could go, and hewouldn’t make his host uncomfortable. “We should all be so lucky.”

“You are, aren’t you?” Avery countered. “No matter what youwere doing before—and as long as we’re being honest, Hiram, I don’t believe fora second that you’ve spent decades of your life as a simple herbalist—you’vesettled into this role with great success, I’d say. Almost everyone in townspeaks well of you, particularly after last Market Day.”

Hiram scratched his jaw for a moment, needing thedistraction as he pictured the absolute scene he’d made in the temple.“We’ll see what they have to say after today’s fiasco,” he muttered.

“Who could speak ill of you after knowing what they now doabout your past?”

“To some, pain is nothing more than a doorway tomanipulation,” Hiram said.

Avery stared at him steadily. “Indeed,” he agreed. “Butyou’re clearly already on your guard. You won’t let them corner you any morethan I would.”

There was  a vaguenessto that phrasing that made Hiram wonder how Avery meant it. He chided himselffor his hopeful heart. You’ve had your great love; all your adventures arein the past. You’re meant to live a quiet and peaceful life now, and thatdoesn’t include brewing up a romance. Especially not with a man like this.A man with secrets. A man who was far more dangerous than he looked.

A man who saw through Hiram like crystal and pushed, ever sogently, against the façade until he was tempted to let it start falling away.

But he couldn’t. This was important, damn it. Hiram needed tolay low if he wanted to survive, if he wanted to be there for Misha someday. Hesmiled affably. “Thank you for the tea.”

Avery paused, then nodded, as though acknowledging thatcertain subjects had been taken off the table. “You’re welcome. Would you likeme to run you back to town?” Not back to Hiram’s house, but back to town. Hmm,perhaps Avery was just as reticent to allow himself the opportunity for romanceas Hiram was. Naturally, that made Hiram want to push.

Stop it. Take the out. “Thank you, I’d appreciateit.”

“Of course.” He took both their cups and set them on thescarred wooden counter by the washbasin, then headed for the door. “It willonly take me a moment to saddle Buttercup.”

Hiram grinned. “You named your mare Buttercup?”

“She came with the name,” Avery informed him airily. “And Ithink it suits her very well. She’s as sweet and delicate as a flower.”

“You’d expect a horse named Buttercup to be yellow, or atleast light tan. She’s uniformly brown.”

“I don’t have to sit here and listen to your imprecationsabout my horse’s name,” Avery said warningly, but he was smiling again. “She’sa perfect Buttercup.”

Hiram held up his hands in an assuaging manner. “Of courseshe is. I never said otherwise.”

“Nor should you.” Avery stepped outside and Hiram followed,moving away from the door as the other man locked it, then headed for thelittle stable. It was warmer now that it was later in the morning, and he shedhis cloak with a sense of mild relief. The sun soaked through the thin fabricof his shirt, a lovely rich red color that Master Spindlestep had assured himwould look well with his complexion, and Hiram closed his eyes and stretchedhis arms over his head for a moment, then gently rolled his neck from side toside until it cracked satisfyingly.

Thus relieved, he ambled a little farther down the pathuntil he had a clearer look at Gemmel’s Tower. The entire thing,transubstantiated…what a miraculous wonder. What a terrifying horror. Gemmelmust have been exceedingly assured of himself, and the fallout must have beenexceedingly final for Hiram to have never heard of such a place before. Perhapshe could ask some of the local dwarves about it, dig a bit deeper into thelegend. Not that he intended to go to such a place, but it wasn’t impossiblethat the tower could be a source of illness, and if it were close to awaterway…hmm. He might have to do some further investigation.

He absently smoothed his free hand over the small of hisback and down his hip, tapping at the side of his thigh with his fingers in anerrant rhythm as he considered his options. Dum-dum-dah-dahdahdahdah-dum-dum-dah—

“Hiram?”

He turned back to Avery, who was holding Buttercup’s leadand looking a bit poleaxed. “Ready to go, then?”

“Um, yes.”

“Wonderful.” He gestured to the horse. “After you, darling.”

Darling? Where did that come from? Better knock it off,he won’t—

Avery recovered his aplomb enough to wink. “Of course,dearest.”

Oh, Gods. This man was dangerous in more ways than one.Hiram wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to resist such charms.

He wasn’t even entirely sure he wanted to.

 Notes: On we go! Let's have some tea and backstory, shall we?

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Ch. 10 Pt. 1 

***

Chapter Ten, Part One

A 360º View

They rode for long enough that Hiram wasn’t even really surethey were still in “town” when they finally stopped. The horse had confidentlymade its way through the heart of Lollop and out a smaller street, past severaltanneries from the smell of it, then a few farms—one rabbit, one pig—andfinally up a trail that climbed a sweet, round little hill to a cottage at thetop of it. The hill really wasn’t that high, but Hiram found he could see formiles in every direction up there. “What a lovely spot,” he said as Averyfinally reined his mare in.

Avery smiled. “Thank you. I find I like the solitude of it.”He dismounted and patted his horse on the nose, then gestured toward the smallbuilding at the back of the cottage that must be his barn. “I’m going to puther away, but you’re welcome to go in—”

“No, no.” Hiram held up his hands, smiling to take the stingout of his refusal of hospitality. He did want to go in, but he wasn’t going totake that step without his host’s presence. It just seemed rude to dootherwise, and he knew he’d made the right choice when Avery’s shoulders relaxed.“I prefer to take in the view.”

“I’ll be back in a moment.” Avery left with the mare, andHiram looked back down the way they’d come. The trail led westward, back towardLollop and his own home on the far side of it. A day’s ride beyond that was theimperial highway, where his doom would come from if it ever caught up to him.

He grimaced and looked south, where he could see the cut inthe fields that indicated the main road into and out of Lollop. That roadstretched across the entirety of Oribel, connecting it from north to south andrunning right through Orivode, the capital, some hundred miles hence. The nextclosest towns were around the size of Lollop, though, small country villages.East was more farmland, forest, and the sluggishly winding Plunkett River thatfed most of the streams and fields nearby, and north…

Hmm. Hiram squinted into the distance at the stick-like speckon the horizon. It was too slender to be a mountain, too dark to be a temple—atleast a temple of Melemor—and too straight to be anything but purposeful.

“That’s Gemmel’s Tower.”

Hiram didn’t jump, but it was a near thing. He turned toface Avery, who walked up beside him with a pensive expression. “Who was Gemmelthat they built such a tower?”

Avery raised one eyebrow. “You’ve never heard of himbefore?”

Should I have? Hiram had come across a lot of towersin his day, most of them built either by overly arrogant wizards, dark lordslooking for trouble, or the occasional dwarven magnate who decided to built upinstead of down. “I’m afraid I haven’t.” He glanced out at it again. “It mustbe immense, though.”

“It is,” Avery confirmed. “It’s almost three hundred feethigh.”

Damn. That was tall even for a wizard. “What’s it made of?”

“Blackstone.”

Holy hell. Blackstone was the hardest rock in theworld, one that could only be worked by dwarves or trolls. Actually, there wasa higher proportion of dwarves in Lollop than Hiram had expected, given thatOribel’s population largely consisted of humans and gnomes. “Who in the hellscould afford to bring in that much blackstone?”

Avery nodded toward the house. “I’ll tell you about it overa cup of tea.”

Hiram wasn’t about to refuse hospitality a second time.“Thank you.” He followed his host to the front door of the cottage, which borea rather thick lock, and then inside. It was a small building, a single storytall, and with three rooms to it—a good place for a bachelor. The front roomwas large enough for a table and two chairs, a rather roomy fireplace, and afood cabinet. Two windows were enough to let a good amount of light in, and itwas surprisingly warm.

Avery stoked the embers in the fireplace until he had flamesgoing, added a few logs, then hung a kettle on the hob. “My tea selection israther poor compared to yours,” he said in apology as he got down a teapot, twosmall ceramic cups, and a jar of honey. “All I can offer is raspberry or lemonmint.”

“Lemonmint would be welcome.” Something to soothe the sensesafter the morning he’d had. “Thank you.”

“The kettle should be boiling soon,” Avery assured him, thensat down and gestured to the other chair. “Please, sit.”

Hiram joined him at the table, the floor creaking rathernoticeable with every step. The chair was comfortable, though, and when Averyuncovered a bowl of roasted nuts and offered them to him, he accepted. “It waskind of you to help me back there,” he said before popping a hazelnut into hismouth.

“It was the least I could do, after giving you such pooradvice,” Avery replied.

Hiram frowned. “What do you mean? Your advice was perfectlysound.”

“But it clearly didn’t work for you, since you had to relivesuch a tragic moment in your life in order to satisfy Melemor.”

Ah.  “Don’tworry,” Hiram said. “That was far from the worst thing I’ve been through. I dohope the High Priest recovers soon, though.”

Avery’s eyes were wide. “Are you being—are you serious?”

“Yeeees,” Hiram said cautiously. “Why is that a problem?”

“Because that was—Hiram, cleansings, even for people who’vesuffered the loss of a loved one or who’ve been badly hurt, never feellike that. Not in Lollop, at least. Nor in Orivash, from what I remember ofservices there, or in—other places.”

There was little Hiram could say to that except shrug. “I’velived an eventful life,” he said.

“You say that like you’re an old man.”

“I am an old man.”

“Please.” Avery scoffed. “You can’t be more than fifty.”

Hiram smiled. “Forty-eight.”

“Barely into your middle years, then. You’ve got a lot oflife left ahead of you.”

“And I hope it will be much less eventful than the life Ileft behind,” he said in a tone of finality.

Avery, thankfully, took the hint. “I think the water isbeginning to boil, give me a moment.” He got up and fussed with the kettle andthe teapot for a bit, then set down their mugs, two small plates, and tiny, delicatespoons for the tea. They were slightly tarnished, but…

“Silver?” Hiram asked.

Avery smiled tightly. “A gift from a friend.”

Either his friend was very wealthy, compared to the area, orthey had a fear of being poisoned. Spelled silver spoons were commonplace amongthe powerful, one more way to evade assassins, but Hiram would never haveexpected to see something like that here. He spooned a little honey into hiscup, then poured the tea. The smell of lemonmint rose up in a cloud, wreathinghis face in comforting warmth, and Hiram closed his eyes and sighed withsatisfaction at the scent of it. When he opened his eyes, he saw Avery lookingat him like he was trying to decipher a forgotten language.

“The tower,” he said after a moment. “It belonged to adwarven wizard named Gemmel. He fought in the Deyrian heights during their warwith the serpentkin for decades, apparently, but eventually he was driven outof their homelands. He, and many other dwarves, settled into these lands abouta century ago. Oribel was a new member of the Vordurian Empire at the time, andthat made resettling easier than it might have been otherwise.”

Because so many people were lost to the ambitions ofAndurion’s great-grandfather. “I see.”

“Gemmel’s magic was unique,” Avery went on, “in that it wasalmost entirely limited to transubstantiation.”

Hiram blinked. “That’s an unusual specialty—from what Iunderstand,” he tacked on to the end.

“I wouldn’t know,” Avery said with a shrug. “But I do knowthat’s how he got the blackstone. It was originally built out of wood, I think,and he changed it layer after layer after layer.”

Oh hells. Wood to blackstone? Hiram wasn’t an expert intransubstantiation, but even he knew that wood to blackstone was a bad idea.The two substances were different in every way—most successful transformationshappened between two things that had similar origins, like granite to marble,or carrots to turnips. Wood to blackstone…what was that tower truly made of?

“Gemmel began a magic academy, but it only lasted a fewyears. Written sources reference him as a dwarf who seemed to be slowly goingmad—perfectly sane one day, confused the next, frothing with rage a third.”Avery swirled the tea in his cup. “He drove everyone who ever tried to help himaway, but several of them reported that his tower was full of treasures he’dcreated—mostly gold, but also magical items, gems, and some heritage piecesfrom his clan as well.”

Hiram saw where this was going. “He was targeted for hiswealth, I suppose?”

Avery nodded. “Imperial troops, led by their own powerfulwizard, laid siege to the tower. They weren’t able to make a dent in theblackstone, but the wizard managed to do something to get them a wayinside. They attacked during the night, but none of them ever emerged from thetower again, and neither did Gemmel. He laid some sort of spell on it to keepanyone from being able to get inside, whether they’re trying to go through adoor, a window, or even all the way to the top and going through the roof. Aftera few decades, people stopped trying.”

“Fascinating,” Hiram said. “And tragic for everyoneinvolved.”

“It is.” They sat in silence for a moment, then Avery nudgedHiram’s foot under the table. “Drink your tea.”

Hiram drank. It tasted like sunshine.

 Hi darlins,

 So, I need a mental break before diving back into the Alliance sci-fi universe (they're so fun, and so much sometimes) and therefore, we're doing a novella. I'll probably have it started next week, but in the meantime, let me just share the cover with you so you get the vibe I'm going for.

Also, Quaint Escapes shall continue as well, that one's sunshine and roses as far as I'm concerned. I need sunshine and roses right now, given that my spouse is furloughed with no end in sight and--look, we're good overall, we save as much as we can and that's fortunate, because it fucking SUCKS to miss paychecks. I hate that so many of his colleagues and friends are having to go without. I hope you hate it too, and if you're able, consider sending a letter, signing a petition, taking a moment to do something to let the people in DC know that hurting people deliberately like this is fucked up, and worse for those who are also losing healthcare.

All right, stepping off my soapbox now. 

 Notes: Let's go figure out what the deal is at Melemor's Temple, huh? Should be easy peasy...

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Chapter 9, Part 2 

***

Chapter Nine, Part Two

I Think That Went Well, Don’t You?

Two cups of tea, a quick bath, and a fresh pair of clotheslater and Hiram was on his way to the Temple of Melemor. He could have takenMule—it would have made the journey faster—but he was in a contemplative placeafter the memories he’d been assailed with last night, and decided it would benicer to walk. It hadn’t been all that long since he’d left Galenish and Andurionbehind, and yet…he’d forgotten. He’d genuinely forgotten how bad it had beenbefore he finally walked away.

The mind is a surprisingly resilient organ.

It was an unfortunately tenacious one, too. He felt it, overand over again, as he walked—the blow that had knocked him down, the blow thatwas the true end of the relationship that has defined his life. It wasn’t eventhe first time Andy had ever hit him, was the thing. They’d trained together fordecades, which inevitably led to bumps and lumps. The first time he’d startedlearning staff work, he’d managed to split Andy’s lip so badly there was stilla faded scar there, and Andy had broken not one, but two bones in his foot oncewhen he’d moved unexpectedly and put his armored boot on Hiram’s slipper. Thosehad been painful, but understandable—accidents happened. It was inevitable,they’d laughed about it even as they’d bled.

That hit, though…that hadn’t been inevitable. That had beena choice, a deliberate choice to assert dominance in the coarsest way possible.As soon as Hiram had realized that, once he’d assured himself there was nothingat work on his lover except Andy’s own greed and impatience, that had beenthat.

He’d been gone before the month was out.

If Phlox knew where Hiram’s mind had taken him, he didn’tsay anything about it. He only sat there in his ear, inert but for the faintglow of his spirit and a trickle of heat that was a comfort on a chillymorning. Hiram smiled as he walked, melancholy but grateful, so grateful, for whathe still had. Before long, his strides had brought him to the western edge ofLollop, and as he turned north he was joined by more townspeople on the road,all headed to the temple for Lares services. He nodded to several whom he recognizedand eventually struck up a conversation with a cheesemaker that lasted untilthey got to the temple, which…

That was a big temple for such a modest town. Melemorwas a major god of the pantheon, yes, and his temples were also often used asclinics and infirmaries, but heavens, this was as tall as two barns stacked ontop of each other. It was made of stone, too—not marble, of course, butsmooth river rock bound with cement and stacked toward the sky in the immensearch that was said to resemble Melemor’s prayerful hands. The stones weremulticolored, and many of them had veins of quartz and mica that shone in themorning sunlight. It was…quite beautiful, Hiram thought to himself. Evencompared to the cathedral back home, this was quite beautiful.

“I’m sorry about this rubbish decree of the High Priest’s,Hiram.”

He turned with a smile to look at Tilda. “It’s quite allright, my dear.”

“It’s not,” she said sourly, her lovely face stiff withresentment. “And I told him and Uriel as much, but—”

“No, truly.” He shrugged. “If knowing a bit more about mewill solidify my welcome in Lollop, I’m happy to participate in a cleansing.”

“Cleansings are meant to be voluntary, not compelled,” shesaid with a sigh. “Especially when they’re for public consumption. It’snonsensical—no one has brought any kind of complaint about you, they have nogood reason to doubt your character.”

Hiram just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave hera comforting squeeze. “Let’s go see if we can get ourselves a good seat, hmm?”

The temple was already two-thirds full by the time they gotin, the pews filled with families trying to occupy their children as everyonewaited for the light to be right. Melemor’s services only started, bytradition, when the focused rays of morning light began to directly illuminatethe altar at the front of the temple, and they ended once the beam of light hadmoved on. It made for a relatively short service, which was pleasant for mostinvolved.

Today, it was clear that the priests were impatient to getstarted. High Priest Velagros stood, tall and ascetic, right behind the altar,his hands clasped in a position of prayer even as his glittering eyes roved theroom. When they landed on Hiram, they narrowed sharply even as the corners ofhis lips perked up.

Well, at least Hiram couldn’t be accused of shirking hisresponsibility. Nor could anyone else, it seemed—he and Tilda had to squish inwith their neighbors as more and more people entered the temple.

I wonder… Hiram sat a bit straighter and lookedaround, but he couldn’t see Avery in the crowd. Surely he was here somewhere,though. Perhaps he liked to sit in the back.

There was a sudden, sonorous sounding of the gong, callingall worshippers to attention. The High Priest stepped forward, hands aloft, andas he spread them apart, sunshine seemed to gather in them for a moment. “All praiseto the god of healing love and the light of truth,” he intoned in a voice thatdidn’t sound very loving at all. “Sing the song of solace.”

Hiram murmured along with the song as best he could. Itreally had been a long time since he’d prayed to Melemor, and he wasn’tsurprised that his devotions were a bit sloppy. Eh, Melemor wouldn’t care.

They got through two more songs, several incantations forminor healing that left numerous people in the crowd smiling, and one dirge forthe death of a gnomish family patriarch at the ripe old age of a hundred andeighty-seven. That was fairly involved, and by the time the last of thegreat-great-great-great-grandchildren had been named, the light was well pastthe midpoint of the altar. Hiram actually worried for a moment that he wouldn’tbe called up, which after the psybane would truly be a waste, until—

“And finally,” the High Priest said, gaze unerringly findingHiram, “we have a ritual cleansing to welcome the newest member of our societyto Lollop. Hiram Emblic, step forward so that ye may be freed of your sins inthe light of Melemor and your neighbors.”

There was a massive rustling as everyone in the entiretemple turned to stare at Hiram. Fortunately, he was immune to embarrassment andonly smiled as he stood and eased his way past the other people in the pew andmade his way to the front of the vast room. An acolyte had already laid out akneeling pillow for him, and he settled himself on it as Velagros came to standin front of him. He held a bronze bowl in one hand and a silver-bladed knife inthe other.

“Open your heart and soul to the love of Melemor, Master Emblic,”he said, then held out the knife.

Nice of him to let me do the cutting. This was allpart of the ritual—a symbolic cut that would be healed along with whatever “bedeviled”him inside thanks to Melemor’s grace. It was also a test in and of itself; ifyou only gave yourself the tiniest prick, you might be seen as lacking faith.Hiram scraped the length of his index finger down the blade, and bloodimmediately began to drip.

High Priest Velagros captured some of it in the bowl,frowning, then set the blade on the altar behind them. He then dipped hisfingers into the blood and closed his eyes. “The spirit of our god binds andsanctifies our connection,” he said. “Let it show me, and all of those present,your true heart.” He pressed his fingertips to his own forehead, then reachedfor Hiram’s. Hiram closed his eyes and focused on the past that had sent him toLollop, hoping that Melemor would understand. The fingers touched his head, andthen…

Feelings of harshness, hatred, and abandonment echoedthroughout the temple. No specific words, no pointed visions, but awretchedness and sense of loss that it was Velagros’s job to contain. Right onits heels was the pain of walking away from Misha, leaving his family behind,his baby, and there was no way back and he knew it, he would never seeher again… Hiram had lived all this last night, and while it wasn’t pleasant toexperience it again, it wasn’t enough to hurt him. He heard Velagros gaspinghis way through the cleansing prayer and hoped the other man was able toprotect the rest of the townspeople.

Gradually, the feelings of despair gave way to somethingsweet and soft. The light shining down at the altar was warm, like a blanketresting on Hiram’s shoulders as he sat before a toasty fire. It soothed theaches and twinges that had seemed like his constant companion since leavingGalenish, and he smiled as he felt the cut on his finger knit. As the heatfinally faded, Hiram opened his eyes once more and looked up at the High Priest,who was staring down at him with a blank expression on his face.

“Thank you,” Hiram said wholeheartedly.

To his shock, Velagros suddenly burst into tears. Not justtears but sobs, wrenching and awful, that sounded as though they were being forciblypried out of him for all the shuddering and shivering he did. Hiram wasmystified until he realized that he’d just shared one of the most traumaticexperiences of his life with a man who knew his townspeople inside and out. Velagroswasn’t the type to be overcome by emotion; he could distance himself from thefamiliar trials of his flock. Hiram was…a bit of an outlier, there.

An acolyte quickly stepped up and finished the ceremony,wiping Hiram’s forehead and hand clean with a white cloth as another acolytetook the High Priest by the shoulders and drew him away from the wide-eyestownsfolk witnessing his breakdown. “Blessings of love and light upon you all,”the acolyte who’d tidied up Hiram said loudly, and then, “We’re done, thanks.”The light hadn’t even fully passed the altar.

Hiram sighed as he got to his feet. Instead of gettingthrough things with minimal fuss like he’d intended, now he was sure to be evenmore the talk of the town. That was the last bloody thing he needed, anddespite the energy that the healing had left him with, he felt rather tempestuousas he strode down the center aisle faster than anyone could reach out to him.He didn’t want to field nosy questions and suspicious glances, didn’t want totalk at all, really, he just wanted to be left in peace, was that so much tobloody ask? He heard the stirring of hundreds of bodies behind him, ready tomove out, and it took all he had to resist the urge to run. He couldn’t—

“Master Emblic,” someone called from his left, low andsteady. Hiram turned and saw Avery Surrus a dozen feet away holding the reins ofa chestnut mare. He must have exited the temple even faster than Hiram. “MightI help you make your escape?” he offered with a little smile on his face.

Hiram didn’t care in the moment whether it was a ruse, ajoke, or a taunt. He practically ran to Avery’s side and didn’t hesitate as theman, with deceptive ease, handed him up into the saddle. Avery followed rightafter, and Hiram settled in the center of his loose embrace as he clicked thereins and tapped the mare with his heels. They set off at a trot, and were gonefrom sight before more than a score of people had even made it outside, muchless started over toward him.

“My hero,” he murmured, and felt the vibration of Avery’slaugh against his back.

“My pleasure.”

 Notes: Oh my goodness, we're...at the end. The end of Hadrian's Colony. Not the end of our guys' story, nowhere close, but over seventy thousand words later, here we are. This was a rough go for our lovers, and the ending isn't a firmly happy resolution in all respects, but I feel confident in their ability to weather whatever comes next. 

And there's a lot coming, and soon. But not immediately! My brain needs a break, so I'll be doing a short story/novella in another genre entirely next, then revisiting these gents after that. Thank you all for reading and sticking it out with me! Life is challenging for a lot of us right now, but you give me something to look forward to every week.

Title: Hadrian's Colony: Epilogue: Elanus POV

***

Hadrian’s Colony: Epilogue: Elanus POV

Photo by Sebastian Brito 

Nothing happened fast on a Drifter ship. Technologically andculturally speaking, speed wasn’t a thing for them. Their lives were measuredin milestones—another hydroponic crop harvested, another trade deal made,another piece of their massive ship salvaged or decommissioned. They had loose schedulesfor everything from maintenance to health services, which was one of thereasons Elanus was so confident he could improve their systems. It wasn’t hardwhen half the damage was self-inflicted thanks to ignoring component wear andtear until it failed. He promised them results—in hydro-storage and recycling,in heating and cooling, and in diagnostics, and he was going to damn welldeliver.

And what he asked for in return? A level of speed that had theFather—the head—of the ship ready to tear his hair out.

“We can’t source a ship that fast!”

“They’re already sourced,” Elanus replied absently as he tweakedthe program Catie was putting together for hull integrity diagnostics. One moresensor in this area would be easy to manufacture, and it would cover an entirekilometer of ship that was currently underperforming but would soon be supportingtemperature differentials. “You have three in storage.”

Daniel Hammersmith scowled at him. “You shouldn’t have thatinformation. Have you been scanning our ship? Because that goes against theagreement you made when you came on board.”

Elanus didn’t resist the urge to scoff. “I didn’t have toscan anything,” he said. “The families who own those ships came to my peoplewithin the hour of us arriving, all looking to make a private deal.”

Hammerhelm’s expression darkened even further. “They don’t havethe authority to make deals with outsiders unless I say they can.”

“Which is why I haven’t said yes to any of them,” Elanusreplied. “But I will have one of those ships, Father Daniel, and I’llhave it without you dragging my stay here out and getting more concessions fromme for using your precious resources, like I haven’t already repaid you fiftytimes over with the improvements I’m making for you.” He raised his eyes fromthe screen to look evenly at the Drifter, who looked away after just a second.

“Fine. But fuel is extra.”

Elanus smiled. “Of course it is.”

The truth was, he didn’t care that fuel would cost more. Hedidn’t care if it cost him as much as everything else they’d paid already,because fueling the ship they ended up with was the key to getting rid ofCarlisle, and getting rid of Carlisle was key to getting Kieron back on an evenkeel.

You had to know him to know how he was being affected by hismother’s continual distance. After Catie’s Regen capacity was refreshed andKieron broke out of the depression he’d been held in since the rescue, he’dacted almost normal. They’d been on Pinnace for a week and he’d beengood for all of it—attentive to the kids, Pol included; conversing with Xilinnand Ryu about what had happened while they’d been separated; sticking close toElanus when he could and showing him how much he cared in the small, sweet waysElanus would freely admit he was addicted to.

It didn’t matter that so much of their early relationshipwas lost to Kieron’s traumatic brain injury; he still held Elanus’s handwhenever they were together for more than thirty seconds. He still laid hispalm on his lower back when they walked, the easiest place for him to reachgiven that Elanus was more than a foot and a half taller than his fiancé. Whenthey slept together—in a bed in guest apartments on Pinnace, which was anice bit of privacy for all involved after months in close quarters with Catie—hepulled Elanus’s head onto his chest without a second thought. The love wasever-present, demonstrated in big and small ways, and Elanus was confident thathe knew as much about how Kieron showed his emotions as Kieron himself didthese days.

Which was how he knew the damage with Carlisle went deep. Kieronwasn’t extra sensitive to it because of his injuries, and Carlisle wasn’t extrasolicitous of him because of them either. Despite their inability to speak withone another about anything of import, their actions spoke volumes.

Carlisle was quiet, avoidant, and cold. Kieron was quiet,persistent, and cracking under the weight of her disregard more and more everyday.

That was why she had to go, before she broke something shehad no right to anymore. She knew it, she agreed with Elanus, and aslong as he got her a ship she could fly and gave her access to enough creditsto do whatever the fuck she wanted, they were clear as far as he was concerned.

It didn’t take long. One conversation wrought a quickinspection of all three ships, Carlisle included in  the process because she was the one who wouldhave to fly the damn thing, and then the trade was made. The ship was stocked,Carlisle was checked one last time and given a clean bill of health, and then…

She left. There was no elaborate goodbye, no heartfelt hugsand promises to meet again in the future. She simply said, “I’ll go, then,” andshook everyone’s hands. Kieron was the only one who got a double hand clasp, andfor a second there, as their eyes met, Elanus thought they might have abreakthrough.

But no—Carlisle broke contact first, nodded at Elanus, thenwalked into her refurbished ship. Five minutes later, she was gone, heading forthe closest space lane to do some exploring in the Fringe.

An hour later, Elanus found Kieron in one of the many smallobservatories, breaks in the outer hull that had been transformed into lookingstations with plastisteel and forcefields. It was cold there, very cold—thispart of the ship wasn’t well insulated, and when Elanus kissed the top ofKieron’s head as he wrapped him in an embrace, his skin was icy.

He needed to say something, break through the discomfortsomehow, but…

“I don’t know whether I should feel happy or not with how it’sall ended.”

Huh, looked like Kieron was going to do the heavy lifting,then. As usual. “You feel how you feel,” Elanus said, not-very-usefully in hisopinion, but what else could he say? “You can acknowledge something is for thebest without being happy about it.”

“Is that what you think? That her leaving is for the best?”

“Yes.” There was no doubt in his mind. “For both of you. She’sbeen little better than a slave to a complete madman for most of her life,Kieron. Someone who controlled her every move, who had unreachable expectationsof her.”

Kieron flinched. “Do you think I treated her like that? Withunreasonable expectations, I mean?”

No, fuck that. “Honey,” Elanus said in what he hopedwas a level tone, “You didn’t have any expectations of her, from what Icould see. Or if you did, they were minimal at best. And I think that’s part ofwhy it’s better that she left. Not just for her sake, so she can learn about a universethat’s so much bigger than what she’s used to, but so you can figure out howyou feel without the pressure of being so careful around her. It’s breathingroom, baby. Just some breathing room. It’s not forever.”

I won’t let it be forever.

“Besides,” he went on, “I don’t think Carlisle has quite theright skillset for our next adventure.”

“I don’t know,” Kieron said in a lighter tone than Elanuswas expecting. “It might be nice to have a highly trained mercenary on our sidewhen we try to infiltrate Trakta.”

“Ha,” Elanus muttered. “Goes to show what you know aboutinfiltrating xenophobic, religious-right, neo-fascistic societies. You don’tmake headway in a place like that with guns.”

“So how are we going to do it, then?”

Elanus kissed the top of Kieron’s head. “With the weight of mycharming personality, of course. And a lot of credits.”

Elanus had them to spare, after all, and Trakta was incrediblymoney-hungry now that it had seceded from the Central System. He knew exactlywhat buttons to push to get access to the planet, and once he was there, he’d greasethe right palms and set things up to get Xilinn’s kids back.

Easy. They were due something being easy for oncein the past few years, and this was going to be it. It was.

It had to be.

 Notes: Let's have some memories, shall we? Damn, am I bad at keeping things fluffy. I swear this is going to stay a cozy and low-angst fantasy!

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards, Ch. 9 Part 1

***

Chapter Nine, Part One

Take Me To Church

To be honest, Hiram almost forgot about the issue of showingup at the Temple of Melemor on Lares. He had a lot of work to do before thenext market day, after all; his entire stock was gone, and in the days sincethen he’d had numerous clients come to his home in hopes of getting more ofwhatever curative he’d sold them before market day.

“Worked a charm,” the woman who’d come to him all bound upsaid as he sat with her at his table, dicing prunes. Her name, he learned, wasMistress Erine, and she owned one of the largest flocks of sheep in town. Herworld was focused on caring for her family, her sheep, and her herding dogs tothe detriment of caring for herself, hence lots of easy-to-carry food to lasther the day that led to, well…issues. “Had to spend a whole evening on thelatrine, but it was worth it. Now I want to be prepared for next time.”

“You should take dried plums with you when you go to work,”Hiram suggested. “They’ll get you ahead of the problem.”

“They’d be eaten right out of my satchel before I made itten feet by one of the little ones or their pa,” she said with a shrug.“Medicinal tea, on the other hand, is avoided like the plague.”

“It’ll have the same effect, as long as you’re regular withit,” Hiram said. “Just one cup a night, brewed fairly weak. You can make one sachetlast three or four days that way. Or, give me a few more weeks and I’ll have atincture of this made up that you can add a bit of to water. That might beeasier for you in the long run.”

“Very kind of you, Master Emblic.”

He smiled as he handed over a new sachet of tea. “It’s mypleasure.”

It was, too. This was good, simple work that was satisfyingto complete and helped build a solid reputation for him in Lollop. It also gaveLetty and her brother something to do once the garden was built—he sent themout to forage for rarer ingredients, confident that Esme would watch from adistance to ensure they didn’t get into any tangles they couldn’t handle. Theyreturned with chokecherries, kingslip and queen’s lace, five different kinds ofbark, and mistletoe (he discarded the mistletoe immediately), and smiles ontheir faces after spending hours traipsing through the woods, eating the lunchhe packed them and spending time away from their demanding father.

Hiram forgot all about Lares, in fact, until Letty remindedhim of it. “We won’t be in tomorrow,” she said as she wrapped her shawl aroundher shoulders. The evening air was beginning to get a bit nippier, and theleaves were beginning to change color. Soon the apples would be ripe forharvesting, and then the squash, and then… “Because of Temple.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Hiram smiled a bit absently at her.“Enjoy it.”

Letty frowned. “I’ll see you there, won’t I? High Priest Velagroshas been telling everyone that you’ll be there.”

Shit, right. “Ah.”

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

He sighed. “I did. But I’ll be there.”

Letty paused, fidgeting with the hem of her scarf. “MistressTate isn’t happy about it.”

Oh, she must be raising hell in town. Hiram was a bitsurprised she hadn’t come to him with her concerns, but odds were she washoping to handle it without him knowing. Kind of her, as ever, but unnecessary.“If you would do me the kindness of finding Mistress Tate and letting her knownot to fret, that I’m perfectly fine with a ritual cleansing, I wouldappreciate it.”

“I’ll do that,” Letty said. “See you tomorrow morning,then.” She grabbed Rickie by the hand before he managed to dart away, then closedthe door behind her.

“Perfectly fine, hmm?”

Hiram rolled his eyes. “Oh, stop.”

“No, I don’t think I will. Melemor isn’t some localpushover you can dodge with cleverness; he’s a major member of the pantheon.”

“I’m not going to dodge him!” Hiram insisted. “I’m justgoing to show him what I prefer him to focus on.” He scraped up the last of theherbs from his cutting board and poured them into the compost bucket, then putthe kettle on. It was time for a cup of tea himself—a very specific one.

“For all that his high priest is a loathsome bottomcrawler, Melemor is a god of truthfulness,” Phlox snapped. “Heprizes honesty from his worshippers, and a cleansing implies being forced tospeak the truth whether you want to or not. If you give yourself away—”

“I won’t,” Hiram insisted. “Look, Melemor is a balancing act—truth,yes, but he’s also a god of healing, whether physical, mental, or spiritual.All I’ve got to do is give him the proper bit to focus on and I’ll be right asrain.” A quick glance at his store of spices showed he’d need to make a specialtrip upstairs to find what he wanted.

It felt odd to go up to his bedroom while it was still lightout. It was a comforting place, but one that had more memories associated withit than the rest of the house. Here was where his former life still shonethrough, and nowhere was that more obvious than in the special satchel he’dwarded to all the hells and back that contained his most magical potioningredients.

“Psybane, psybane, psybane…ah.” There it was, a thorny,prickly ball of herbs that sported a most arresting shade of blood red. Hetried not to be disappointed by finding it.

“Psybane? Are you mad? Do you want to be able towalk tomorrow?”

Phlox was too loud in his ear, and Hiram flicked himirritably as he wrapped some of the thorns in a scrap of cloth and carried itback downstairs. The kettle was bubbling by then, so he took it off the heat,put the psybane in a bowl, and poured the water over it. A minute to steep, nomore, or he really wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. He timed it to thecadence of his own pulse, and then decanted about half the water into a smallcup.

“This isn’t smart, Hiram. Just find a spell that can doit.”

“Spells are a bad idea for me, you know that. And so isfighting the tide of the town,” Hiram said, turning with the cup and carryingit back up the stairs. He toed off his house shoes—boots were firmly left bythe door—and sat down in the middle of the bed, making sure his pillow wasready behind him. Psybane hit differently every single time, but Hiram hadn’ttaken it since he’d left Galenish. He wasn’t sure what it would do to him thistime around.

“Hiram…”

He smiled a little. “Are you worried for me, Phlox?”

Phlox sniffed. “Only worried who would find your rottingcorpse and take control of me afterward.”

“It’s all right, my dear. I’ll be fine.” He drank the teadown in one long swallow, then—

The psybane grabbed him like a hand to the throat and threwhim down into memories. His vision went hazy, then dark, and Hiram’s mentallandscape flickered and reformed over and over again. A cave, a dungeon, abarren mountaintop, a fiery plain, a sumptuous bedroom—

“—think you can get away with this?” Andy raged at him. “Weneed an alliance with the Sharivath, Xerome, and Misha is how we get it! Youcan’t hide her from me, I’m her father. Where is Misha? Where is mydaughter?”

“A marriage alliance to the Sharivath isn’t worth it,” Xeromeinsisted, unwilling to back down from his enraged lover. He’d done that toomuch lately, given in to Andy when he should have pushed, should have foughtback. He loved the man, but he was getting harder and harder to deal with. “Notfor your only child. She doesn’t want that kind of marriage anyway, you knowthat.”

Andy sneered at him, his handsome features contorted bydisdain. “Her wants are secondary to the needs of the kingdom.”

“She is your only heir! Don’t set her up to play second bestwhen anyone she marries ought to be begging for her hand. ”

The blow came out of nowhere, so hard that Xerome fell tothe floor from the force of it. He stared up at Andy, incredulous and feelingfar more hurt than the strike warranted. There was nothing in Andy’s eyes toshow he regretted it, nothing of repentance or shock at his own actions, athitting the man he professed to love—just anger, anger, anger. “Bring her backbefore the week is out, or I’ll—”

The scene shifted, dragging him into a new vision. This onewas Misha, garbed in a loose black robe and holding perfectly still as Xerome poureda dark, shimmery oil over her head as he spoke an incantation that would hideher from her father, and any other magic user who Andy could hire to do hisdirty work. When it was done and he’d wiped her face clean, she opened her eyesand looked at him. “Come with me.”

Xerome shook his head, feeling his limbs tremble. The spellhad taken a lot out of him. “I can’t hide myself this way, sweetheart.”

“So choose another spell for yourself.”

“Spells are the whole problem,” he said tiredly, handingover a towel. “I need to turn my magic off for a while, Misha. Your father willtry and track me by it, so it’s best I don’t use it for the foreseeable future,other than laying some false trails.” He sighed. “No, we need to go ourseparate ways, for your own safety.”

Misha grabbed his hand, oil be damned. Tears welled up inher eyes and spilled over her cheeks. “What about your safety?”

Oh, baby. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m afraid for you.” She bit her lip. “And I’m afraid to bewithout you. Please, just—isn’t there some way we can stay together?”

And risk her father’s anger turning physical on her? Mishawas a fine warrior, but she didn’t have her father’s skill or guile. “No, mylove,” he said, squeezing her fingers in his. “I’m so sorry, but this is forthe best.”

“It’s just for now, though.” There was still a hint of hopein her voice, and it made his heart clench with self-loathing. “Right? Just fornow. You’ll find me later.”

Your father would have to be dead, and he might never dieafter what I’ve done for him. To him. “I’ll try,” he promised, andit rang false in his mind like a bell, tight like a noose, clawing out of hisgut like a—

Hiram rolled onto his side and threw up the remnants of thepsybane tea, gasping for breath. He shivered in the wake of his violentvisions, and every part of him ached with longing for a life he’d never haveagain, and people who were lost to him forever. His family, his dearest ones…

“Are you all right?” Phlox asked quietly. “Thattook a long time, it’s almost dawn.”

It felt like no more than a few minutes…and an eternity.“I’m all right,” Hiram said, his voice rough from dryness. “I just need tosettle a bit. Then I’ll clean things up and we can go to the Temple.”

And if this doesn’t work, then I’ll figure something elseout on the fly.