“Advice?” Dockma leaned forward. “What does that mean, advice?”

“You’re a mapmaker,” said Mery. “I’m betting she means maps.”

“An annotated map I guess,” said Isa. “You know one that marks water sources or good camping spots.”

Dockma concentrated on her plate, and Isa wondered if she was calculating costs in her head.

Alice spoke up just then. “It’s got find familiar. My bracelet.” She stroked the bird etching, and Peck appeared on her shoulder. “I did get it secondhand.”

Dockma took a bite and studied Alice as she chewed. “Find familiar. That’s handy, but not exactly rare.”

Alice touched her bracelet again. “I never said it was!”

“Aye now,” said Flanor. “What’s this fellow’s name then?” He held out his hand, palm up as if expecting Peck to hop into it.

“Can of worms,” muttered Isa.

“Peck doesn’t have a gender. It’s a spirit, so it’s incorrect to assign a gendered pronoun to it.”

This was met with silence by the table.

“Peck, then?” The halfling gave Alice a bright smile. “The bird is called Peck. Good name, I say.” He motioned the bird with his open hand. “Come see old Flanor, why don’t ya.”

Peck acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

“I’m still getting used to Peck myself,” said Isa. “So don’t take it personal.”

Flanor waved his hand in dismissal. “Nah, it’s fine. A crow knows his - its mind. Love ‘em, myself. Smart birds. Loyal, but independant. My granny, she used to say I was the white crow of the family because I didn’t want to be a farmer.” He took a bite of dinner. “Took it as a compliment, I did.”

“For 50 gold,” said Dockma, “I can make you a map of the Hinterlands.”

“50 gold!” Isa sputtered out the number. “But that’s--”

“White Desert, Hinterlands proper, all the way to the Northern Lights.”

“You mean the Shimmer?” Lund asked.

Dockma wrinkled her brow. “I mean the glow that marks the edge of our plane.” She cocked her head. “Here it’s called the Northern Lights. That quest of yours - what did you say it was again?”

“We didn’t,” Lund answered.

“I think she knows that, Lund.” Mery’s voice had an edge to it. “No need to be difficult. Gold is gold.” She pulled out a small pouch that clinked as she put it on the table. With one hand Mery spread the cinched neck and shook a few gold coins to the table.

“Now who’s being difficult?” Isa leaned toward Dockma. “We need to reach the Shim-- the Northern Lights. Our reasons - well, let’s just say that a goddess gave us the quest and who am I to question Her?”

Dockma nodded silently and then said, “A goddess. This Lady Longwood, I assume?”

“Lockwood,” corrected Isa. “She’s, ah, regional deity, I guess, so that’s probably why you haven’t heard of her, or maybe you’re not a religious type, but thanks to my friend there’s your money. How long will a map take?”

“For the detail you want? 4-5 hours. I can start tonight, but it might not be ready for an early start. Probably won’t be ready - I can’t forego sleep.”

“No one’s asking you to.” Mery pushed the coins and pouch toward Dockma.

“How far is it the Lights?” Isa sat forward in her chair.

“It is difficult to measure distances up here. That’s one reason that mapmakers tend to avoid the Hinter. There is only 1 path through the White Desert and then--”

“That we know of,” interjected Flanor. “Probably the Ekconner have other paths. They’re just not telling you.”

“Once you are passed through the White Desert,” Dockma didn’t acknowledge Flanor’s comment, “you have at least 3 more days’ of walking. Cold, windy, blinding, difficult terrain.”

“But their beauty leads you on, that’s for sure.” Flanor smiled. “Wore out a pair of boots, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Those Lights.”

Isa held up her hand. “How do they look? I mean, do they look OK?”

Dockma and Flanor looked at Isa and then at each other. “They cover the sky for miles,” said Dockma. “It’s all you can see, this shimmering light. It moves--”

“Dances,” Flanor said. “The Lights seem to swirl and turn and--”

“Quite,” said Dockma. “They are ever-changing. Sometimes they seem stormy, dark and angry, and sometimes they seem lighter - more yellows and blues than dark greens and blacks. And you can breathe easier when the Lights are yellowy-blue swirls. I don’t know why.”

“No,” Flanor agreed. “No one knows.”

“And the storms--”

Before Isa could ask her question, Alice put her hand over Isa’s. “We’ll know,” she said softly. To Dockma she said, “If there is anything we can do in return, please let me know.”

Mery propped her head in her hand and turned to face Alice. “50 gold is quite enough.”

“Your friend is right.” Dockma swept up the coins and purse. “But I appreciate the thought.” To her traveling companion she said, “Don’t drink too much. Tomorrow is a long day.”

Flanor signed and pulled more meat from the plate in front of him. “Aye.” He picked up his mug of mead and looked down at the contents. “Is it possible to get drunk on bee piss?”