There was much screaming, holding on to the sides of the barge and lying down next to the pile of supplies crying about how they were going too fast.

"You're all being overdramatic," Rian sighed.

That was rich coming from him, but Lori couldn't help but agree in this instance

"Seriously guys, relax," he said, trying to coax the other four men on the barge into something like a dignified position as Lori handled the rudder. "You're missing out on a great view."

Her fins had worked, sort of. The barge had gone straight. Unfortunately, it had then made turning difficult, as the barge kept wanting to go straight, and the rudder hadn't really worked to turn the barge against the force being exerted by the water jet. They'd stopped for a bit to reluctantly take the forward fins off, which had given them just enough leeway that the rudder would actually make them turn. They had also moved the water jet to one side, making the barge slightly unstable and requiring careful adjustments of the rudder, but this at least made the stupid thing turn.

Now that they had a viable configuration, all Lori had to do was imbue and imbue and imbue the waterwisps pulling water into the jet's intake holes. The barge moved so fast the front was actually starting to rise out of the water, and they left a frothing white wake behind them as Lori kept imbuing. An active binding such as this consumed more energy than a relatively passive binding like reinforcing stone, but while Lori was still in her Demesne, she could imbue the waterwisps with an overabundance of magic and–

"I think we're getting to the edge," Rian suddenly said.

That brought Lori up short. With a start, she realized he was right. They were getting closer and closer to the edge of her awareness of the demesne's wisps.

In fact, she could see it. Before her were the dark browns and vibrant greens of the demesne's plant life. But beyond that, after a certain, knife-sharp point…

Colors.

Literally.

Along the river bank was a discernible corridor of noticeably shorter Iridescence growth, the path that Grem and the other probationaries had broken through to reach Lori's Demesne. Only the river and the parts of the river banks where water lapped with some regularity was free of it. Everything beyond the demesne was coated in the nauseatingly familiar, manifold colors of the Iridescence. It hadn't rained in some days, and the taint was thick. Delicate-seeming crystal growths like very fine salt grew on everything that didn't move.

Leaves and branches dipped towards the ground, weighed down by glittering lattices of Iridescence that could extend more than a finger's length from the branch. As she watched, a leaf fell, too withered and browned under the layer of crystal covering it to continue supporting its weight, and a huge chunk of crystal fell off, the delicate structures readily turning to dust as they struck other leaves and branches on the way down, some of which were falling as well, before slamming into the ground in an explosion of multi-colored powder, crushing crystal lattices on the ground and sending up clouds of prismatic dust. A moment later the wind rose, huge clouds of glittering rainbow colors wafting into the air as leaves and branches shook and Iridescence broke as a result. Lori instinctively covered her mouth and nose and averted her eyes, even as the dust ceased to be as the cloud crossed the border of the demesne.

The skies above the Iridescence was alive with the buzzing of bugs and the high, whistle-like calls of beasts. Every movement caused small puffs of still-delicate iridescence growth to powder as bugs landed on trees to rest their wings, consume leaves and fruits, and swarm unfortunate members of other species, breaking through their shells to consume what lay within. There were flickers of movement in the trees as beasts rested in the day's heat, grooming their feathers to straighten them or sharpened their claws on trees, casually tearing through Iridescence and bark. They were covered in a glittering layer of crystal growth kept short due to their activity, but the iridiation no doubt went deep into their bodies. When they stood still, they seemed to be part of the landscape, the coating of Iridescence on their bodies perfectly blending with all around them.

Only the seels looked the same, swimming in the water and sunning themselves where they could easily slither back into the river, where the beasts were unlikely to pursue them.

Lori realized she had stopped the barge, and they were all just staring out into the death beyond the border.

"Lori…" Rian eventually said. "Do you need some time for… whatever magic thing you need to do to the water jet so it won't run out of power? So it'll still keep going fast for a long time when we exit the demesne?"

Lori glanced towards the little bit of wire jutting out from one of the struts of bone, taken from her precious reserves. "I… think that would help, yes. I didn't realize we'd reach the edge so fast. I thought I'd have more time to imbue."

Rian nodded. "Why don't we all take a break. Give Binder Lori time to make some magic, and we can all have an early lunch because I doubt we'd want to eat while the barge was moving. To be honest, I did not miss walking through the rainbow glitter of death where more death might be hiding everywhere. I'm totally fine with putting it off for a little while. Those wounded will keep."

Lori blinked as everyone else quickly agreed. The anchor was thrown overboard, a hook molded from a treebranch around a rock to give it weight. More Deadspeaking from the previous dead Binder of her probationaries. As they did, Lori did as suggested, settling down to imbue the waterwisps in the jet. There was, theoretically, no upper limit to how much a binding of wisps could be imbued, only how long someone would be willing to breathe in magic and imbue it into the binding..

Rian opened one of the jars of rations, pouring the broth and stew into bowls, and letting Lori have first pick. Lori took one of the bowls at random, and everyone started to eat. They listened to the sounds coming from beyond the border, of wings, of cries, of occasional death screams as a lucky beast caught a seel, dragging it to land and tearing it apart with teeth and toe claws…

For some reason, the three young men were turned off from their food. Really, they should know better and just eat what was in front of them.

She sat and willed power to the binding, eating her lunch slowly. Lori sat at the back, next to the bone mount of her water jet, and everyone else spread around the boat so they wouldn't tip over to one side. The food was cold, but it had enough firewisps left that she was able to reheat hers before she went back to imbuing the water.

It all felt very familiar. She'd gotten a lot of experience imbuing water while she'd waited for the site of her Dungeon to get built. Lori was tempted to start running her hand through the water to get in the familiar rhythm, then remembered just in time that seels liked to bite at fingers. She hadn't been willing to lose a finger for her dungeon, she wasn't losing one to a seel.

"I don't suppose you left any fields of grain crops in your old demesne we could bring back with us?" Rian asked Grem. "Because honestly, I'm getting a bit sick of meat. I've been fantasizing about bread with salt for the last few days…"

"Mashed tubers," one of the young men said despondently. "Steamed until soft, with butter and cream…"

"Fruit jam…" another said. "Sweet fruit jam…"

"Nice, fat, juicy larva meat…" the third sighed.

Everyone gave him a disgusted look.

"Look, it's a traditional food in my demesne, all right?! At least try it before judging!"

"Whatever, slugeater."

"Look, larva are not slugs, they're the immature form of bugs! Lord Rian, tell him!"

"Please leave me out of this," Rian said. He looked at Grem hopefully.

"Of course we have grains and tubers!" he said. "Why wouldn't we? They're good, tasty food that grows easily anywhere! Don't worry, we brought it with us. A little planting and in a few months, as the blue moon turns, we shall have bread, beer and tubers. No larva though, that's disgusting."

Lori closed her eyes. If she pretended, it was almost like she was having lunch back in the dining hall…

––––––––––––––––––

Leaving her demesne felt strangely like leaving her own body. Lori gasped as they crossed the border between her demesne and the Iridescence at high speed, the water jet propelling their barge faster than a man could pull on a rope or row with oars. It… it felt like she was leaving a large part of herself behind, venturing forth in a small, lonely island of infinitesimal size.

"Are you all right?" Rian asked her, soaking wet again and handling the rudder at her request in case... well, exactly this. The men had all elected to jump into the water one at a time to get themselves completely soaked, as if getting prematurely wet would prevent them from getting iridiated for just a bit longer. They'd doused the supplies and the inside of the barge too, forcing Lori to bind the water sloshing at the bottom and turn it into vapor. Idiots.

"Yes, just… I wasn't expecting that," Lori said.

"Do you want us to stop?" Rian asked, concerned.

Some part of Lori gibbered, wanting to go back to the safety and security of her demesne.

"Keep going," she said through gritted teeth.

There was a demesne out there, she reminded herself. An unclaimed demesne, just waiting for her to get her hands on it…

Unless Grem was lying. Unless this was bait for a trap. Unless…

Lori closed her eyes and reminded herself she couldn't actually feel Iridescence growing on her.

"Can I ask you a technical question?" Rian said as they navigated the thankfully gentle curves of the river.

Lori glanced at him, even as she put one of her hands on the bone strut with the wire she'd laid in. She didn't need it yet, as the waterwisps of the jet were still heavily imbued– she thought they might actually be able to travel through the night– but she felt compelled to check that she could use it if she needed to. It had been weeks since she'd had to use a wire to imbue. "That depends on how technical, but go on," she said.

"You made the Dungeon by… well, doing some sort of magical thing that you never really specified," Rian said. "Can't you just do the same thing again by stepping out of the demesne and moving a little way off? Why do you need to claim this demesne instead of making another one?"

Lori frowned. Rian… Rian didn't sound like he was asking a question. He sounded like one of her teachers, the kind that pointed out something you did wrong and asked you what it was, expecting you to not so much answer him as confirm what he already knew.

"Because I can't," Lori said.

Rian nodded that annoying 'I guessed that' nod. "Some mysterious and technical magical reason?"

"Probably," Lori shrugged. "But whatever that reason is, we don't know it. Just that no one who has ever been able to found a demesne has founded more than one. Attempts to do so… fail. Not catastrophically, but they fail. Consistently. It's not mentioned in any biography, since most foundings happen far enough in the past that warfare and time has likely destroyed those records. The same holds for anyone who's currently a Binder of a demesne. If you've claimed a demesne, you become incapable of founding a new one. It's why some demesne had a practice of having a succeeding Binder claiming an area outside of the demesne they're meant to succeed, to allow them to take advantage of their one opportunity to enlarge the demesne. Nowadays in the old continent demesne are too close to do that without violating treaties about unclaimed zones, so it's only just a ritual."

"That… sounds like a really arbitrary declaration," Rian said. "Don't people do tests on this?"

"I speak from experience when I say the Dungeon Binder has too many colorful things to do to waste time on it, and anyone trying it out for themselves requires them to make a demesne twice," Lori said. "Given doing it even once near any of the demesne across the ocean is regarded as anything from treason to a declaration of war, it's not the sort of thing they let you test."

"You can test it out here," Rian pointed out.

"And finally, if you could do it, I don't think Covehold or any of the demesne around it would still be perfect circles," Lori countered. "Because someone would have tried it then started doing it repeatedly for some kind of advantage, and then there'd have been one large, strangely-shaped demesne where Covehold is and a lot of bodies for Deadspeakers."

"I… suppose you have a point there," Rian said.

"But…"

Rian and Lori looked towards the other four people on the barge, and most especially, at the one with the temerity to join their conversation. Well, Lori supposed they had been speaking loudly enough and from far enough apart to not really be having a 'private' conversation.

"Yes?" Lori reluctantly prompted. The boy– young man, whatever– had a boringly generic face and dull, forgettable blue hair, and only the fact he was talking made him stand out from the other two.

"But that's not how it goes in the story of–" was as far as he got.

"STOP!" Rian called out, frantically shaking his head for emphasis. "Trust me Landoor, you do not want to finish that sentence! Don't do it, I'm begging you!"

Lan-something blinked. "But Lord Rian, in my favorite story, about the tailor who found a dungeon in the desert–"

"Landoor, what did I just say?!"

"– she managed to claim that dungeon, and then made one hidden under the black forest, and another one inside the mountain of ice–"

Twitch.

"No, she moved the dungeon from the black forest to the mountain of ice," another idiot said helpfully. Twitch.

"Oh right, she did, she put it on a cart on rails and moved it," the first idiot said. Twitch.

Rian glanced at Lori and sighed.

"You brought this on yourselves," he said in a resigned voice. "I tried to save you, but you didn't listen." He settled back to operate the rudder.

Lori's cry echoed over the water, making beasts on shore glance up and startling bugs into flight. "THAT'S NOT HOW DUNGEONS WORK!!!!!"