The wagon was red and blue and gold, and it rattled as Dobbin pulled it over the cracked cobblestones.

But it wasn't quite loud enough to cover the noise of the hoofbeats coming up behind them.

The halven in the front seat sighed, and snapped the reins, pulling it off to the side of the road.

But the horses didn't pass. The man in the lead rode his stallion right up to her seat. He was a resplendent figure almost completely covered in golden armor, save for his head which was adorned with a simple set of laurels, and the halven's eyes widened.

“M'lord!”

“Chase Berrymore.” He was frowning now. “I had hoped you would enjoy my hospitality before you left. I still have many questions about...”

He blinked.

The halven had bowed low, but her hair was red. The clothes were the same, but... no. This wasn't the Oracle he was looking for.

A few minutes of questioning later, and Lord Barriano headed to the back of his company, passing the royal escort and dismounting before he opened the flaps on the back of a covered wagon.

The scent of ozone rolled out from within, and a tall pole with a ball on the end snapped and crackled with tiny lightning. A battered metal figure sat next to it, moving as little as possible. Conserving energy, now that he was away from the secret engines of Gnome that powered him within his city.

His city, Viggo Barriano knew. He may be the current lord, but he was only a transient guest. And so he reported his findings to the true heart of the Empire. “The wagon was a ruse. Chase and the others sold it to a farmer heading northward.”

“Then they have eluded us,” Vitale said.

“Why?” Viggo shook his head. “It makes no sense.”

“It makes all the sense,” Vitale said. “Do you know the story of the Mercenary lord and the last bridge?”

“I must confess I do not.”

“Once there was a Mercenary, the finest in the land. He saved a city from a mighty army, but at great cost. He earned a fortune in pay, and became the hero of the city. And shortly after, the rulers of the city invited him across the bridge that separated the rich quarter of town from the rest of it.

“He crossed that bridge, and immediately the rulers took him and threw him in prison. And once his name had been forgotten they executed him.”

“I would not have treated them so poorly! Thomasi is my friend!”

“Yes. Your friend who you were prepared to trade to the Inquisition in order to save the city. And that's before we bring up the fact that the Oracle is a wanted criminal, the Mercenary was guilty of war crimes, and at least one of them most likely had something to do with the necromantic blasphemy involving Cymbal's bones. No... No, it was wise of them to leave without a forwarding address.”

The new Lord frowned. But only a fool discards advice because the giver is harsh, and after consideration, he nodded. “It is well. Zenobia is dead, but the Inquisition yet remains. I am uncertain that I could shield them.”

“That is likely their estimation as well. And they had honor, of a sort. I believe they wished to spare you the pain and political cost of shielding them. They have freed us to rebuild and expand Gnome. And deal with her enemies as we see fit. The Inquisition burned my city, and thus declared war on the Empire.” Vitale raised a metal hand, and steam hissed from his knuckles as he made a fist. “We should answer in kind.”

Then he sighed. “Though I have little idea how to begin.”

“Well,” Barriano said, as he drew forth the letter that the duped halven farmer had been instructed to give to him.

The letter that bore the crest of the Doge of Arretzi.

“I might have some ideas there...”

*****

The small group of pilgrims kept to themselves, quiet until the ship left port. Only then, in a cramped cabin surrounded by an illusionary wall that prevented sound from leaving, did they unwind, taking off their robes and letting a very bored wooden dragon out of the crate they'd been using to haul her around in.

“Raht, haven't done that in a whale. Brings back memories... Everything go smooth?”

“As butter,” Greta said. “Speaking of that, do we have any more?”

“Try to make it last,” Cagna said, passing over a small crock. “It'll be a few days before we get to Venividi.”

Greta took it, spreading it on the rich black bread...

“Pickpocket,” Chase said, and took a large bite as her sister squeaked in rage.

“Good, good,” Madeline shook her head. “You wah probably worrying about nathing, ya know that? If the wahst came to it I could have claimed diplomatic immunitah fah us all.”

“Which would work if we weren't up against a highly illegal conspiracy,” Cagna said, folding her arms. “I just hope they got my letter. If your friend's as much of a straight arrow as you say, he might be able to make a difference here.”

“He is,” Thomasi assured her. “Maybe a little too straight at times, but I think he's got some properly sneaky people backing him up now.”

“I'm sneaky!” Carmina said.

“Yes, yes you are.” Chase petted her, and tried not to wince as the catgirl flopped on the ground, purring and pushing her head against the smaller girl's knees. Even if Carmina had been nothing but a pain before, it hurt to see her like this.

Bastien read the mood, and helped in his own, kind way. “Do you want to go up on deck? Maybe see if we can spot some fish?”

“Oooh, fish!”

“Robes first, remember, we're playing a game...”

“Right, right, right...”

Once they were gone, Thomasi shook his head. “He's going to find us again. I'd be surprised if he didn't put a Bounty Hunter's mark on her.”

“He did. I saw it when I diagnosed her,” Chase replied, relinquishing the half-eaten slice of stolen bread back to her sister. “I could transfer it... but I'd rather show good faith. And so long as we've got you in our party, there's not much he can do against us.”

“Unless he like, sinks a boat we're on while it's in the middle of the ocean,” Dijornos shrugged. “Just saying.”

“Well,” Chase said, tapping her card box. “I think I'll have some warning if he wants to do that.”

Thomasi smiled. “Fortune teller, strong man, dog-faced lady... ah, nevermind that one. You're a good chief of security, how's that?”

“What?” Cagna eyed him suspiciously.

“I'm saying that we've got most of the makings of a circus, here.” He opened up the barrel of monkeys and chucked a few apples in, before shutting it again. Then waited for the chattering to subside, before he studied Renny. “How would you like to learn to be a stage magician?”

“Is that a Tier Two job?” Renny asked, wide-eyed.

“I don't know, maybe it is!” Thomasi smoothed his mustaches with his thumb, smiling.

“What can I do?” Greta wondered.

“You can go home and let Mom and Dad know we're fine,” Chase told her.

“Yeah no.”

“No, yeah!” Chase protested.

“Chase, I have a fraction of your levels, and no idea where Mom and Dad even ran escaped to. And the Inquisition will be watching Bothernot.” She spread her hands. “I have no place to go if it isn't with you.”

“But... but...”

Dijornos spoke up. “I can take her with me.”

The group looked at him, then at each other.

“Yah not coming with us, big guy?” Madeline asked.

“Yeah... teddy bear kingdoms aren't my thing,” Dijornos shrugged. “Too much cute. I'd go nuts.”

Renny raised his paw. “Technically it's a republic, and it's not all teddy bears.”

“No,” Dijornos shook his head. “I've made up my mind. Tabita... Grace didn't know how to get home. But the Inquisition? If anybody knows how to, it's the ones who are paranoid about keeping us prisoner.” His teeth peeled back in a hungry leer. “So I'm gonna find them and ask real nicely.” The player's words came out as a growl, and despite herself, Chase shuddered.

“Are you sure?” Thomasi asked.

“Yeah. Best lead I got. Besides, if I'm real lucky, they might have some of my friends. But it's the best shot I got for answers, and I really, really want to know how to get back home.”

“They might not know the answer,” Chase cautioned. “Thinking back on that talk I had with Zenobia, I'm not sure how much of what she believed was true. The dragon seemed to know more, but... well....”

“I still worry about that,” Thomasi said, leaning forward. “He was supposed to remove the corruption, but he died on us. The after-effects of her breath, and the possibility of werewolf-dragon things mean that the threat's not gone.”

“I trust Vitale to stay on top of that,” Cagna said. “I expect they'll treat it like a magical mishap, testing all who were at risk with Wizards and Scouts, and quarantining the tainted areas. We're probably fine. Probably.”

“If not then some other Oracle can handle it. Maybe Corinithia, I expect she got a lot of levels from this.” Chase stifled a yawn.

“Tired so soon?” Thomasi grinned. “I was just about to celebrate our escape!” With a flourish he pulled a bottle of wine from his hat, and most of the cabin crowded around, murmuring at the fancy bottle and the faded, peeling label that attested to its age.

Most of the table. “Have fun,” Chase said, patting his arm. “I'm going to get some fresh air.”

She made her way up on deck without incident, listening to the distant murmur of conversation as the Muscle Wizaard taught Carmina how to fish.

And after a few minutes, Greta padded up next to her, standing on tiptoes to peer over the railing. “So. Cylvania, huh?”

“That's the name of their country, yes,” Chase said, sitting down with her back to the railing. The ship just kept rocking back and forth, and that was going to take some getting used to. The stolen bread was sitting a bit heavy in her stomach, and she eyed her jar of worms just in case she needed to transfer some nausea.

“We're gonna have to go through the Yelps. Those are some really tall mountains.”

“So I hear,” Chase said, watching the full moon rise. “But we owe it to Renny to get him home, and the secrets we learned are too big to let him risk traveling back with Madeline. That's a long way, even with a dragon along.”

“Dragons,” Greta sat down next to her, resting her hands on her crossed legs. “Never thought I'd see those. Not sure I want to see more. Well toy ones are okay, Madeline's adorable. But you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Chase nodded. Then a smile crept across her lips. “A circus. That's an honest living, you know.”

“Boffer Pinto wouldn't think so.”

“To hell with him, he was a moron who thought clerical healing gave people autism.”

Greta snorted laughter. “What?”

“He did! It was why his kids grew up sickly until Mother Bloom put her foot down. He still grumbled about it for years.”

“What an idiot... how did you know this?” Greta looked at her sidelong.

“I knew most of what happened in Bothernot. It was small, really small, and I had nothing to do but learn other people's business. Any given day I'd know how life would go. But now?” Chase grinned at her sister. “Now I'm the best diviner any of my friends know, and I'm out in the big world and it's all new and I have no idea what tomorrow's going to be like. And I'm happier than I've ever been.”

“And you've fallen for a human,” Greta grinned.

“What! No, I... Shoot.”

“No lying to family, that's the rules, Chase,” Greta punched her arm. It hurt, just a bit.

“Fine. I... I don't know, honestly. He's...” Chase sighed as she studied the moon. “I'm not sure if I'm attracted to him, or to what he represents, you know? Freedom. Mysteries. Travel to places I'd never dreamed of seeing.”

“And a pretty nice butt.”

“That too— hey now!” Chase punched her sister's arm right back. “Shut up.”

“I'm pretty sure he's too old for you.”

“What, not going to give me grief over how he's human?”

“No. Because that's what Boffer Pinto would do, and we already decided to hell with him,” Greta said. “You want to go after a human okay, just bring a stepladder or something or kissing's gonna be rough.”

“Height doesn't matter when you're lying down,” Chase said before her brain could stop her mouth, and blushed hot when Greta laughed and laughed and laughed.

“But seriously,” her sister said when she could breathe again, “You're fifteen. Which is why I have to stay and keep an eye on you for at least a few years.”

“You don't have to—”

“You're fifteen and you've got stupid big charisma. You know it'd be wrong. He knows it'd be wrong. But one moment of weakness, and your charisma's gonna make you irresistible. So I'm gonna chaperone your butt until you're older and it isn't wrong. And if you're still making eyes at him then, then we'll see, eh?”

“Fine, whatever,” Chase said, rolling her eyes.

But her stupid wisdom saw the sense in it.

Stupid, stupid no-fun wisdom. “Fine,” Chase said, and put her hand on Greta's. “Thanks.”

“Eh, Mom and Dad would kill me if I didn't.”

They watched the moon.

“So. Cylvania,” Greta said again.

“They need to know about players and dragons and the game and all that,” Chase said, eyes staring past the moon, at the unknown darkness of the night. “Renny said they'd burned up dragon eggs to fuel that Oblivion thing they had. If the dragons were willing to burn a city over one corrupted egg, what do you think they'll do to a land that did that to their eggs?”

“I don't know, but it's probably not good.”

“Me either,” Chase said, sighing. “I'm hoping that wiser heads than mine will prevail, because I see a lot of trouble coming if they don't.”

*****

The stone spire clawed its way toward the sky, the scaffolding around it lined with people so small they looked like ants from this distance. Metal girders snapped into place one by one as the golems did their work, and the Elementalists supplied the concrete, shaping and firming it in midair. Just below them, the steam train rumbled past on its elevated track, and below that, thousands of people moved along the streets of the city, each a cog in a process so precise and efficient that none of them knew it was there.

“The Gnomans had the right of it,” The Minister said, sleeves creaking as he folded his hands behind his back.

“I'm sorry, milord?” Featherquill asked.

He turned to face her, the light from the floor-to-ceiling window briefly eclipsed by a passing airship. “Some see cities as organisms, life forms unto themselves. But in truth, they're machines. Cold, impersonal, uncaring. Interchangeable parts... if one fails, then another will suffice.”

“Quite,” Lady Featherquill said, taking an elegant sip from her teacup. Her black dress did her no favors, and the Minister thoroughly approved. The force of her personality was thus concentrated solely in her face, and that expressive, razor-thin smile that she wielded with the consummate grace of a Bureaucrat. “As our latest part has failed us, I fear.”

“The Inquisition was always an imprecise tool,” the Minister turned back to the window. “A stopgap measure. We needed something to keep the dragons happy.”

“A task that's only grown more difficult since yesterday. You've read the report about Gnome, then?” A slight quaver in her voice.

Weakness?

The Minister turned and studied her, her red red hair neatly done up in a bun, her pale skin, slightly flushed.

No. Not weakness.

Annoyance.

“I have,” the Minister said, taking his chair, lowering himself to her level in a subtle use of body language. “I trust you're not going to ask for direct intervention?”

“Hardly,” Featherquill said. “With our primary asset dead, we have no reason to further invest in a flawed organization. We shall leave the Inquisition in that area to their own devices, and sever their ties to other iterations in the western nations until such time as we can reform them into something useful... with your permission, of course.”

“It may be time for a reorganization. Shifting them from a stopgap measure into something more useful,” the Minister nodded. “You have my permission... to send me the applicable plans. I shall have my people review them and we can figure the best way ahead.”

“As a matter of fact, I have a few right here.” Featherquill's smile was sharp enough to shave with.

He took the folders with grace, not letting his own annoyance show on his face. She was looking for his job, he had a feeling. And given time, she could take it. The city was a machine, and one gear was as good as the other, so long as it performed adequately for the task.

“Which leaves the matter of handling the dragons,” the Minister sighed. “If we're reforming the Inquisition, then we're losing one of our best tools for using them properly. We're far from the point where we can manipulate them without a few blind puppets between us.”

Unexpectedly, her smile grew. “As to that, Minister, I have some good news. They will be distracted for quite some time. You see, the eastern brood has called for war. The scaled lords are waking, and they are furious.” She sorted through her handbag as she spoke.

“What?” The Minister choked down unseemly rage. This, this was just the sort of thing he should have known before she did!

Another folder hit the table. Eight block letters stood out on the beige paper.

CYLVANIA

He closed his eyes, in understanding. This wasn't a surprise then, he'd seen it coming ever since the dark arts division had lucked into that succubus.

“Ah,” he said. “So it begins.”

And Featherquill's smile grew and grew.