Cothay clambered out of the cage. ‘Not the greatest performance I’ve seen – although not meeting up until after arriving in the village, that’s new. Most groups spot each other sooner. And setting fire to a cottage is crude, although with a certain level of effectiveness, I suppose.’ He looked at the wizard. ‘While the style is noted and appreciated, this scarcely seems the place for such attire? Although I suppose you could be the aristocratic lover of a rough-hewn adventurer, learning as you go.’

He stretched, popping his neck and shoulders, before scrutinising the rogue. ‘Hmmm, something of a disappointment. Not even an attempt at dash or flair. At least some armour, or maybe some tattoos or piercings, to stand out a little! And you two… Acceptable, I suppose. The rain is scarcely helping, but a cleric and a warrior is a standard enough pairing, very pedestrian. Your teamwork was functional, if uninspired. And the ending, that was simply crude, almost barbaric. A rescued captive toppled from on-high! I was expecting high magic or perhaps some acrobatics, not a lumberjack.’ He started clicking his fingers, trying out various snippets of tunes, humming under his breath.

Stathis squished closer. ‘What? Look, let’s at least get out of sight and this pissing rain, and then we can you back to Karmalina. And discuss payment.’

‘Oh? I believe Karmalina made the terms were quite clear, she normally does. Whomever returns me to her tender arms will receive the gold.’

The rogue cracked her knuckles. ‘What about if I give her back, like, your arms? One of the others can give back your legs. That get us all paid?’

He flinched away nervously. ‘That seems a touch excessive! And the terms were very clear. Did you really expect that I, Cothay of the Flaming Fingers, the Impresario of the East, would be captured by some simple wastrel necromancer?’ He clicked his fingers again, a burst of flame shooting forth.

‘You know I can hear you, Cothay. There’s no need to be a dick about it.’ The necromancer approached, voice warped by the wound in his throat, walking strangely as his tendons healed. ‘If you hire another set like this, I’m raising my rates! This one broke my fingers.’ He pointed at the rogue with his broken digits, as magical energy wound around his limbs, popping the dislocated bones back into position. ‘Then she slit my neck and took everything I had on me!’

He glared at the wizard. ‘Do you think I like dressing like this? Much like yourself, I far prefer the finest elven couture, but people keep stealing it! This may not be the best work, but it pays, but having my clothing stolen? That really is crossing the line. Although your dress is very nice, albeit soaked – Osari work, unless I miss my guess?’ His voice was returning to normal as the wounds healed, footsteps getting more certain.

The wizard tugged at her clothing in a self-deprecating fashion, the tears getting worse, revealing even more skin. ‘Why yes, it is. My apologies, I didn’t take you for a follower of fashion.’

He shuddered. ‘Trust me, I wouldn’t dress like this by choice! This robe is, I concur, horrible. But waking up stripped naked is decidedly unpleasant, at least in this particular context. Regardless, Cothay, the next time you feel like you need some “inspiration”, then you can count me out, unless you’re willing to pay double. It’s simply not worth the trouble, all because you need to do crazy shit like this to make up a song.’ He turned back to the wizard, gracing her with a smile, his solid black eyes fading to a more normal grey. ‘If you ever come to Falmoor, then ask for “Skathamor Twicedead”. The name is not one I would have chosen, but it does help to draw in customers. Either way, I am always happy to host a guest of such obvious refinement.’

Cothay spoke. ‘If you’re quite done complaining, Skathamor? Yes, the fights were engaging to watch, I suppose, if a touch lacklustre and overly drawn out. Be bolder in your attacks! The tactics were simplistic enough and setting a building on fire was rather brutal. I’ll have Krethik pay the villagers for the damage, a few coins should suffice. There is definitely something here though, beneath the humdrum combat. The interplay of elegance and brutality, the desperate panic of overwhelming odds. Maybe leave out the rain, though, that’s excessively mundane.’ He looked at the wizard, dress clinging to her body, highlighting her curves. ‘Although that is probably worth mentioning. Magnificent! You do that dress credit, I must say, despite your rather pitiful spellcasting. Maybe an apprentice wizard of high blood but low talent, dragged along by an unspoken love, no, lust, for one of her fellows? The cleric, or the fighter, I wonder which would be better?’

The wizard’s hair was starting to glow again, red brighter than before, although looking a bit sad amongst the soggy mess of her hair. Before she could speak, Stathis stepped forward. ‘What the hell is this? Is this entire thing just a setup?’

The necromancer nodded. ‘Oh yeah, he and Karmalina do this every so often. He gets bored, whines about not being to make up a song and gets Karmalina to set up something like this. Throws money at a village somewhere, he tries to get “inspired”, makes up some song about it. Hires me or some other wizard to be the villain. Don’t know why he doesn’t just get drunk and laid like anyone else, but it’s good money for me. I suppose I’ll have to avoid having any pocket-change next time.’ He glared at the rogue, who shrugged back, entirely unrepentant.

‘You make it sounds so petty! I simply require the inspiration of acts of bravery being performed in front of me. It sets the creative juices afire and pushes me to greater artistry. Perhaps a leitmotif from one of the classics.’ He looked at Stathis. ‘Something from the Sunfall cycle for you, perhaps? Although you should have rather cleaner armour, of course, and wings of divine fire with a blade of cleansing holiness, all the tokens of a holy warrior.’

Pajaran’s hands were tensing around her mace, in a way that normally presaged something getting smashed. ‘Where did the skeletons come from?’

The necromancer shrugged. ‘Oh, I bought them. Quite legally – once the soul has departed, it is of little use to anyone else, and I pay a good rate. Enough that most peasants are quite happy to sell off their dearly departeds, I am far cheaper than a funeral service and do the cleaning myself. I wasn’t expecting quite so many destroyed, but I can always find more. I imagine Cormontara has quite a glut at the moment. Cothay, when you’re done jerking yourself off then remember to pay me this time. Unless you want to be cursed with withering scabs again?’

‘Wait, that was you?’

‘Pay up on time or get cursed. Seems fair enough to me. Anyway, young lady, please do visit if you have occasion. And you may keep the stone, consider it a bonus. It appears baleful but has been powerless for centuries. Useful for cooling drinks and looking intimidating, but little else. The thing’s power was said to be linked to the Black Triad, so unless they should return, it seems unlikely to regain its power.’ His fingers finished healing, bones snapping and clicking back into health. ‘And Cothay? I know it’s something you find really, really hard, but don’t be a dick.’ A corona of black un-light flared around him, enveloping him in an unnerving negative silhouette, before blinking out. He was gone, transported away to wherever he came from.

Pajaran was getting angry, shoulders tensing, teeth grinding. ‘What the hell is this?’

Cothay shrugged. ‘I am an artiste. I require inspiration to create. Now, perhaps if the skeletons were to be wraiths and wights instead, and a romantic crisis amongst the group? Perhaps a triangle between…’ He looked around, weighing up his options. ‘…yes, the bedraggled wizard of high blood and the priestess, herself torn between duty and love, and that of the knight, seemingly reliable, but inwardly fighting a burning passion. Although that does leave you.’ He turned to the rogue. ‘I suppose you can have been sent to kill one of them? A touch cliché, but it adds conflict and danger. Although breaking Twicedead’s fingers was rather cunningly artful, in a brutal manner.’

Stathis spoke. ‘Are you at least going to pay us? And the villagers for the damage to their cottages?’

‘Yes, yes, some of you will be paid, don’t worry. I do try and leave everyone at least somewhat satisfied. Now, which of you will claim the reward? And where is Krathik?’ He crossed his arms with a smile. ‘Only one group or person, remember? Now, will you fight amongst yourselves, or come to a harmonious agreement? I look forward to seeing the outcome.’

The bearded elf stepped out from one of the buildings, putting his pipe out as he approached. ‘I’ll settle up for the damages.’ He reached into a pocket and pulled out a metal disc, snapping it. A golden glow formed in the air next to him, Karmalina blinking into existence. Rain started striking her brilliantly red hair before a golden barrier flared into being above her, keeping her and Cothay dry from the rain. ‘Ah, I thought matters would be concluded by now.’ She looked over at Stathis and Pajaran. ‘Alive and relatively uninjured – better than some of the others. I trust it has been educational for you?’

Krathik spoke. ‘Are you not meant to be meeting the Jalingstrat’s for dinner?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, of course. Although, Cothay, I do hope you will be getting dressed first. Spending a day in a cage has done little for your current outfit.’

‘Yes, dear. I think I have sufficient inspiration for my next work. Although this group were rather simplistic. And under-strength.’

Karmalina looked around. ‘I’m sure I hired five, but possibly one was defeated by the skeletons? Nevertheless, we have other, less unpleasant places to be.’ She held out a hand, summoning a large bag of gold, which she then tossed to the ground with a damp splash. ‘There you go. Sort it amongst yourselves, however you wish.’

Stathis stepped in front of Pajaran, hopefully deterring her from anything rash or violent. ‘Wow, you really are dicks. Both of you. We’re not going to be fighting over your scraps.’ The rogue was loitering around still, her eyes on the bag of money, clearly not in agreement with Stathis’ words, Pajaran equally tempted.

Karmalina’s eyes shimmered golden, a force trying to squash Stathis’ spirit and render her powerless before the sorceresses’ commands. She gathered her own power and warded herself, even as everyone else went slackjawed and glaze-eyed, some enchantment quashing their wills.

‘If you don’t want it, then all your efforts have been for naught. It is little enough to me, but for such as you, I would have thought it rather more meaningful. You, the cleric. On your knees and take the gold.’ Karmalina smiled unpleasantly. ‘After all, you worked so hard for it.’ Pajaran dropped down to her knees, crawling towards the gold. Stathis grabbed her arm to try and stop her.

‘What the hell is wrong with you? You just set up these little play-adventures so your boyfriend can make songs about them?’

Karmalina protested. ‘Not just songs, he creates art! Fit for the very gods themselves. Quite above your comprehension. Now, you have been paid, so I will leave you to your sordid little disagreements over that.’ She kissed Cothay on the cheek. ‘Now, we have important people to see. I will return for you later, Krathik.’ The bearded elf was as dazed as everyone else, Karmalina clearly not discriminating in targeting her spells. She cast her transportation spell again, magical energy bathing the pair of them before they vanished.

Whatever charm spell she had used must have been potent, as Stathis dragged everyone inside the pub while waiting for the enchantment to expire. Pajaran was the first, snapping out of it and looking confusedly at the gold in her hand, before swinging her mace, smashing a chair.

‘Calm down! They’ve buggered off already, don’t think there’s much else we can do.’

‘Bastard wizards! Behaving like this is all just some game.’ She swung at the fireplace, knocking chips of stone from it. ‘So what does that make the haul?’

‘They paid in full at least. But split four ways, I guess, rather than two. Those two did help.’ The rogue was now curled up in front of the unlit fireplace, either still charmed or asleep. The wizard had grabbed hold of Stathis with surprising strength when being moved, requiring a lot of pulling and twisting to detach, which had resulted in further damage to her outfit. She was now in an armchair, curled up, her face flushed and eyes vacant.

‘What a shitshow.’ Their eyes met, Pajaran laughing, Stathis unable to prevent herself joining in. ‘Not the greatest start to an adventuring company, is it? And Cothay’s song is probably going to be utter bullshit.’

‘Yeah, I don’t think I’ll go to any more of his performances. What a bastard. Anyway, what about that magical stone?’

Pajaran’s hand went to her beltpouch, now sopping wet with chill water. ‘Old and busted, I guess? The necromancer said we could have it, so we might be able to sell it? Maybe your sister can destroy it if it is old Black Triad stuff. That’s her area, the kind of thing is way out of my pay grade.’

Stathis lowered her voice. ‘It’s probably good to keep it away from her.’ She pointed at the wizard.

‘Yeah, she’s, like, totally suspicious. Probably eats babies and stuff.’ The rogue had gone from “asleep” to “standing next to Stathis” without seeming to cover any of the steps in the middle. ‘Totally evil, right? I reckon we keep an eye on her, stab her if it looks like anything eldritch is going to happen.’

‘I agree. Her magic was unusual, and she’s probably got ulterior motives.’ Pajaran said. ‘You sure you don’t recognise her? No-one normal dresses like that in the rain. And that dress doesn’t even seem to be magical, so she’s crazy, weird or doesn’t care. Stathis, can you sense anything?’

‘I said before, I don’t recognise her.’ Stathis closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the same roaring, crushing cold and bitter, seething evil. ‘Whatever’s around is still here, but I’ve no idea what or where – the necromancer did say the stone still seemed bad, it’s probably that.’

‘I think I saw some rope in the backroom if we need to tie her up. We’ve probably got tonight at least before the villagers come back, so we can rest up here, then head back to somewhere. I’ve no idea where the hell we are, actually. Do you want to come with us?’

The rogue titled their head, considering, before nodding. ‘I guess, yeah. Might be monsters or something along the way. Nice to have someone slower than me, makes it easier to run away.’

‘OK, sure, sounds good. My name’s Pajaran, and this is Stathis.’

‘I’m Semari. So, you, like, smack things and cast spells, and she stabs things? I sneak around and stab things. I keep getting told not to punch things.’

‘OK, try using swords, they’re probably better. Anyway, you want to sign up? We were looking for a rogue. Stathis isn’t too good with traps.’

‘One time, just one time that happened!’ Stathis objected, Pajaran smiling back.

Stathis went to check the wizard – her body felt warm, but not feverish. She’d arranged herself in a decorous fashion, legs drawn up with her arms wrapped around them, although was probably showing more leg than she intended, and her outfit was still wet and clinging. Just beneath her collarbone was the swirling curve of a tattoo, several lines each the length of a curved finger forming part of a circle, the crude marks at odds with her otherwise elegant demeanour. Was she a runaway from a noble house, or some bastard child trying to make a name for themselves? She’d clearly never done this before, if her clothing was anything to judge by. Stathis pulled a blanket over her as the room cooled. The wizard stirred, green eyes slowly opening, managing to yawn in an elegant fashion.

‘Thank you. Although a bed would be preferable, I suppose this will have to suffice.’ A leg protruded out from beneath the blanket as she shifted. ‘That was unpleasant, I am unused to having my will subjected to such an imposition; I would have thought Karmalina would have had more style and decorum. Nevertheless, we appear to have been successful. I am given to understand that there is some nature of reward to be divided?’

The bag of coin, satisfyingly heavy, was on the bar, gleaming in the low light. Pajaran moved towards it, protectively putting a hand on it. ‘Well, me and Stathis did most of the work.’

Semari objected. ‘Hey, I stabbed the wizard-dude! And checking through his pockets was no picnic either. Skin like chalk. Although he smelt nice, I guess.’

‘And I aided with the destruction of the skeletons and provided invaluable information regarding the nature of their being.’ The wizard gestured, a magical force tidying her hair, cleaning out burrs and dirt.

Stathis moved over to Pajaran. ‘I think equal shares might be easiest. That’s still a thousand gold, that’s a pretty good haul.’

‘Easy for you to say, that’s more money than I’ve ever seen, never mine owned! But I suppose they did help. Hey, who wants a drink, this place is pretty well stocked.’ She poured herself a pint, then another for Stathis. ‘I guess we’ve finished a quest now, so we’re proper adventurers!’ They knocked the tankards together in a toast, Semari popping open a bottle. ‘Wonder what Master Yeros would say?’

‘Probably some prophetic and mystic sounding bullshit. Cheers, anyway! So, now what?’

The wizard rose from her seat, blanket dropping away. Some magic was flickering over her clothing, the moisture wicking away from her dress and making it slightly less clinging, the tears repairing themselves.

‘I hope they have something a little more flavoursome than common beer or ale.’ She leant over the bar, stretching out and pulling forth a bottle of wine. ‘Hm, a vintage Brennerholdt. Acceptable, I suppose. Now, we were discussing payment?’ She gestured at a wineglass, a magical force pulling it towards herself. ‘Room temperature is scarcely the best for this, but I suppose it will suffice. Now, as you appear to be proposing some form of longer-term engagement, I would put myself forward for consideration. You seem to be sorely lacking in arcane knowledge and power.’ She looked at each of them in turn. ‘And style.’ She turned to Stathis. ‘Now, as I take you to be the leader, I should introduce myself fully. I am Janaxia Seyroon Falmeth Uth Tre…’

‘Hey, it’s my company!’ Pajaran objected. ‘Stathis is just a founding member. Or re-founding member, I guess. So what magical order or whatever are you from?’

Janaxia drew herself up, some magical effect ruffling and tidying her hair. ‘I hail from the highest of blood, bred to arcane mastery for generations! There are none here with greater knowledge of the arcane weave.’

Pajaran spoke to Stathis. ‘Told you she was one of your lot.’

‘Oh? You are certainly rather fine-featured, although you could dress to show it rather more, and do something with your hair. Of which blood do you hail? That hair is certainly reminiscent of the Sunthorns, or possibly the Shinaree?’

Stathis sighed, trying to figure out a way of not mentioning her family. ‘No, nothing old. Just a warrior that earnt some land, clearing out the monsters.’

Pajaran was very clearly holding back laughter, and it was underselling Mother’s achievements significantly, but it seemed easier than the full truth. Janaxia looked disappointed but continued. ‘Well, perhaps you may continue their work and provide them a comfortable retirement.’ Pajaran choked out laughter, before hiding behind her beer.

‘Yes, Stathis. Why don’t you send some money home, help provide your poor, ailing mother some succour in her dotage? I’m sure your sister might need some help as well.’

‘I’m pretty sure she can manage without me. You look a little, uh, fancy for this? Are you going to be OK?’

‘Your concern is appreciated, ah, Stathis? And I do take care to always present myself at my best.’ She tugged at her dress self-consciously, smoothing the silk. ‘I would appreciate if, in future, you were not to damage my apparel again? While I am able to repair it, such work is rather bothersome and quite beneath my station.’

‘Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always ripping people’s clothing off. Maidens mostly, after saving them from dragons.’ Pajaran smirked at her.

‘One time! One time that happened! And it was a wyvern, and it was only because her clothing was soaked with venom.’

Janaxia was looking at her strangely, still fussing with her clothing. ‘Oh? I will have to keep an eye on her then, I wouldn’t wish to be… ravaged. She certainly appears powerful, if a little rugged. Still, there is decided potential there. And what of yourself?’

‘Pajaran Sarctus, of the Iron Shield. I’ll be keeping you patched up and on your feet, I guess. How are your wounds? Should be mostly healed.’

Janaxia patted herself down, drawing the fabric tight over her body as she did so, Pajaran still smirking at Stathis. ‘I appear mostly uninjured, yes. A few minor scratches. Now, I trust there would be no religious impositions you intend to enforce? Some clerics have such irksome limitations.’

Pajaran shook her head. ‘Nope. Let’s keep things on the up-and-up, try and be decent folk, but that’s about it.’

‘Hm. Then this may be an acceptable place for my myriad of talents.’

‘Let me speak to my partner.’ She pulled Stathis aside. ‘Well, so we’ve got a fancy wizard and a rogue. That seems a good start, right? You picking up anything on them, with your, you know?’ She made a feathery, fluttering gesture with her hands.

‘That stone makes everything feel evil, so I can’t tell. We’re going to have to get Janaxia some better clothing though. Even with magic, I can’t see that dress being comfortable when travelling.’

‘Yes, I noticed you looking. You seemed to be making a very thorough assessment. But you might want to have a noble-to-noble word with her about wearing sensible clothing or something. And Semari seems OK.’ They looked over, watching as Semari grabbed a pair of bottles, juggling them before opening one, sealing it with her mouth and chugging down the foaming liquid. ‘I guess it takes a certain sort of person to poke at weird stuff in dungeons and check if they’re trapped? Rather her than me, I guess. So, I reckon they’re good enough.’

Janaxia was now drinking as well, rolling the glass between her fingers, savouring the wine.

‘We should probably keep an eye on her, just in case. Some of the old magical families are… strange, in various ways. Most of the outright demonic ones were purged years ago, but there’s always a few throwbacks, and shady necromancers and the like. She doesn’t look very strong though. If we have to, we can take her down.’

‘Yeah, sounds good. And keep her out of weird eldritch dungeons, in case she awakens something. Um, I guess we’re keeping your thing on the quiet?’

‘Yes, please. Both that and my relations.’

‘I guess that’s sensible. Letting them know you’re a semi-angel or whatever, and who your mother is, might cause problems. Semari might sell you out, or Janaxia namedrop you everywhere. So I guess we trial them out for a while, see how it goes? So, equal shares plus a company share?’

‘Seems fair enough to me.’

Pajaran turned around again, raising her voice. ‘After extensive discussion, we have decided that you are good enough to join up! Provisional contract until we get around to changing it. Equal shares, plus a company share. Put your markers down.’ She pointed at the charter, still on the bar. Semari cut her finger open with a knife, using the blood to mark a thumbprint, while Janaxia managed to find a pen and ink behind the bar, and started writing her name. And then kept going. And going, before finally finishing off with a flourish.

Stathis went to look at her name, long enough that it had taken almost two entirely full lines to write, several parts of it in different languages, runic symbols that Stathis couldn’t read. Well, she was a wizard, and an aristocratic one to boot, which would explain a lot of weirdness. Hopefully talking her out of that dress wouldn’t be too hard though –it looked good on her but was utterly impractical for adventuring. Janaxia noticed her looking and graced her with a slight smile, before Pajaran took the scroll back. She looked at the names for a moment before rolling it up and returning it to the scroll case, keeping it protectively close to herself.

‘So, four hundred gold a head, and the same for the Company? Not a bad haul, all things considered. Not a bad start.’

Stathis finished her drink. The group wasn’t remotely as famous as any of the groups that Carissia had joined, but it was hers. Well, Pajaran’s, but close enough. They smiled at each other, Semari chugging down another bottle before belching.

Krathik roused himself from the spell with a loud groan, helping himself to a beer. ‘Karmalina and Cothay are both massive dicks, even if they do pay well. When they remember, useless pricks.’

Pajaran nudged Stathis. ‘See? Aristocrats are dicks. Comes with the territory, right?’

Semari nodded in agreement. ‘They keep getting angry when I take their stuff and sending guards after me!’

Stathis looked at her. ‘Maybe don’t steal things without a good reason? Might make for less guards being used against you.’

Semari shrugged. ‘Yeah, yeah, so people keep telling me. But if they don’t want their stuff nicked, they shouldn’t have all the good stuff. Hey, what happened to that magical rock? Might be valuable.’

Pajaran put her beltpouch on the bar, the thing drenched with cold condensation, water pooling on the polished wood as she took the box out. When she put it down, the water started to freeze, a thin skin of ice already forming. ‘Any idea what it is?’

Stathis tapped it, the crystal chiming, a faint spark of light trailing into the darkness of the thing. She could see that it was a glossy black ovoid, shining with a black lustre, set into whorls of silver, a fleck of crimson within the black. ‘The necromancer said it was broken, so it’s probably decorative as much as anything else. Janaxia?’

As she handed it over, everyone’s hands slid to weapons, just in case it awoke something within Janaxia or possessed her. She gave it a shake, the crimson inside shifting as though liquid, seemingly unaffected by the cold. ‘Related to Everfrost, perhaps? Eternal ice, unbroken and unchanging. If it is from the time of the Black Triad, then it may have broken in the centuries since. I doubt it has much value if Skathamor was willing to part with it so easily, but what is garbage to a powerful adventurer may well be treasure to those with less power. Although the colour is rather fetching, is it not?’

Pajaran grabbed it back. ‘I don’t think it should be used as jewellery. We’ll see if we can hock it when we get to somewhere bigger’.

Krethik was looking slightly ill, face pale. ‘More drinks? You’ve dealt with this better than others I’ve seen.’ Without waiting for a response, he slipped behind the bar and handed out more drinks, Stathis trying to keep a mental note, so they could leave appropriate payment when they left.