When night came and Dovhran signaled that it was time to move, the mercenary was the first to crouch down by the hatch door and peer back into the real world. There was an awkward moment of silence as Flip and Selian watched the mercenary circle around the opening as best as he could to get a full circle view of the outside; though all the wizard and navigator could see was his rear end.

“Okay, it looks like the lamps are dimmed by the quarry and I don’t see any kids by the cliffs.” Dovhran pulled his head back into the flat. “We should have a few hours of clear skies before we’ll need to rest again.”

“Thank you for the tea, Faengil.” Selian handed her cup back and gave the wizard a gracious nod. Her expression was still conflicted by the dissonance that still seemed to reverberate between them.

“Of course. This flat is an extension of my home and it would be rude not to offer refreshment while we rest.” Flip took the cup from Selian and Dovhran’s long empty cup along with his own and stowed them for later use. He had a feeling that there would be many more evenings like this one, where they would be taking refuge in the cramped space while there was no way to get their bearings.

Dovhran had slipped out of the hatch and Selian was close behind him. Flip took a moment to retrieve a piece of dried meat from a crate before following suit and crawling out of the hatch. With everyone out of the flat, Flip rapped quietly on the closed hatch and cast a silent locking spell—the trigger to deactivate the hatch. Even with everyone gathered on the surface of the wastes, with the stars out Flip felt like he was standing at the bottom of the ocean. There was suddenly nothing between the stone ground and the vast expanse of the heavens, and it was disorienting in the extreme. The stars and lesser lights beyond the mortal plane of existence felt close enough to reach out and touch.

“It’s… like being out on the ocean.” Selian whispered. “Right… that’s the Sevian Compass.”

Selian point up to a cluster of stars that made a rough V formation before looking down at her own compass in her hand. She seemed immediately dissatisfied by the physical compass readings, and loudly snapped it shut.

“Your compass won’t work up here.” Dovhran hummed.

“I can tell. The needle just sticks down.” Selian sighed. “But… we should be able to navigate purely by stars here, the sky is certainly clear enough. The Sevian compass directs sailors back to the west cost from the west sea… and… Demidradus patrols the northern skies. It’s… oh… how long till harvest opens?”

“Thirty-eight days.” Flip announced casually. “Give or take one. I slept for a considerable amount of time after arriving in Norwen.”

“Alright. Then, Demidradus should be just shy of north from the town, and the compass should give me a bearing of how exactly off north it is.” Selian muttered as she produced paper and pen and began to scribble down some form of calculations. “What direction are we headed in?”

“From this point, we need to head due north. We will adjust the course when we come across the first marker.” Dovhran answered confidently. “That should be in about three or four days. How confident your direction is accurate?”

“Demidradus shifts throughout the seasons, but the Sevian Compass never moves. As long as Faengil is within a week or so of accuracy for harvest, I am very confident I know what way I’m going.” Selian held up her completed notes which were in an elvish script that Flip couldn’t read, but the readings seemed to please Dovhran.

“Then we are off.” The mercenary turned casually on his heel and began to walk at an easy pace. “Keep close. Once we lose sight of the cliffs and quarry, Selian will be the only way we can tell where we are in relation to the rest of the world.”

“What about leaving a trail?” Flip had wondered about this for some time, but never gotten around to asking. “Why don’t we leave markings to follow back if we get lost?”

“It won’t work, trust me. Just worry about your own part of the job. You’ll get to solve your fair share of problems when we get to where we’re going, Faengil.” Dovhran was now calling over his shoulder as he walked.

Selian had caught up to the mercenary, while Flip still lingered by the space they had set the hatch down. Without any reason to stay, though, Flip quickly jogged to catch up with the other two.

“What about the marker we’re looking for?” Flip muttered the question more to himself than to anyone else, but it was still loud enough for Dovhran to hear.

“Don’t worry about it, I know what I’m doing and I don’t want to have to explain the nature and history of the wastes. I learned enough myself to get us to where we need to go and that’s all that matters.”

Selian raised an eyebrow in what appeared to be a sarcastic gesture, but the gesture was directed at Flip and the wizard did not quite understand.

“Would you care to clarify what my job will be then? Since I should be focusing on it so wholly, I’d like to know.”

Dovhran let out a long sigh as he turned his head up to the stars.

“You know, for once, Faengil, we seem to be of opposite opinion. You want to talk and I just want to enjoy the walk.” Dovhran turned around but continued to walk backwards, though he kept an eye on Selian who was keeping a straight course north. “You are a well read man, what else do you know about Helbrin Velsaffe?”

“He was the eminent high priest of Ghovu when the Order of Irons was formed. There are speculations he was one of the first generation of changelings as well, but that stems from his favor with the changeling god. His death also marked the great sundering that laid waste to these mountains and the start of our age.” Flip began to rattle off the few facts he knew about the man whose tomb they were about to plunder. “Most writing refers to him in a very positive manner, so I assume he was well liked. After his death, the entire leadership of the religion he helped establish was reorganized. His family was left with a sizeable estate, which has only grown larger over the years and I believe we are being paid by.”

Flip could see Selian tilting her head in partial agreement to most of the facts he was recalling. But his eyes were trained mostly on Dovhran now, who seemed to be both annoyed but confident.

“All very accurate.” The mercenary nodded. “Do you know why his body was buried out here? Of all places, amid the devastation caused by his death? And though he was a prominent religious figure who will be remembered for centuries, his final resting place wasn’t even built by a group that honors the memories of important figures like the Tomb Masons of Paleth. Doesn’t that feel strange to you?”

“Yes.” Flip didn’t know how else to respond. “Though I would wager it has to do with the sickness that killed him. A corpse can still be contagious.”

“Also an astute guess.” Dovhran laughed lightly. “But wrong. Well, mostly wrong. According to the Velsaffe estate, his remains and research were locked away in this far distant tomb partly to preserve the work he had done to counteract the disease that killed him in case it ever spread again. But also because there was a chance the materials themselves retained traces of the disease… or worse yet, information on how to cause it.”

“But it’s spread again.” Flip hummed. “So the potential danger of his notes has decreased.”

“Exactly. Now that the disease is spreading again, the potential misuse of his research doesn’t matter.”

“Remind me, boys, why a priest dying of a mysterious illness sundered an entire mountain rang. Because I seem to have forgotten that part of my history lesson in Ghavic religious studies.”

Both Dovhran and Flip opened their mouths in response at the same time but provided different answers.

“There was a disagreement about Velsaffe’s ability to die at all, and the struggle resulted in the devastation here.” Flip answered.

“His death caused conflict between the gods and the resultant severing of ties between Alminec and Ghovu had physical ramification.” Dovhran, offering the longer response, turned completely to Flip in agitation and confusion. “Where’d you hear that version of events?”

“I came to that conclusion on my own.” Flip looked down to his feet as he walked, mildly ashamed of the truth. “Ghovu’s edicts of balance were not written until after the sundering, and one of the edicts forbids the transport of the spirit of a deceased individual from their plane of rest back to the mortal world unless called back with very special and specific magic. It made sense at the time that the particular edict was written because of Velsaffe.”

“I can… understand that. But I don’t agree with it.” Dovhran seemed conflicted, but didn’t communicate his thoughts as to why. “Regardless, the mountains don’t necessarily matter. We’re here now. We are on the plateau. The tomb is here. Your job… is to deal with the security measure in the tomb. That’s the problem you need to worry about.”

“The security that is supposed to prevent people from stealing the knowledge to create a new plague?”

“I never said plague.” Dovhran stopped for a moment. “When I was hired, only a few people in Isol were sick. But… anti-theft security… yes.”

“What kind of security?” Flip had been wondering what he might be asked to deal with for quite a while by that point, but had never felt confident asking for fear of not getting an answer.

Rather than answer, Dovhran turned back to face north and carried on silently. Flip contemplated asking again, but something told him the answer wouldn’t change.

“I don’t think he knows, Faengil.” Selian muttered in the wizard’s direction. “Otherwise he’d probably try and figure out how to get past them himself.”

“You are not wrong.” Dovhran sighed. “I started learning the basics of magic just in case I couldn’t find someone else to do it… and I did not get very far before I met you.”

“I was the first wizard you saw?” As realization dawned on Flip, he was almost outraged. But at the same time, he couldn’t blame the mercenary. Flip doubted that any other member of the cords would accept the work, but he would have liked to know that he wasn’t literally the first wizard for Dovhran to come across.

“I wasn’t exactly looking… and you just happened to cross my path.” Dovhran’s eyes were trained on the distant expanse. “I was going to complete a few jobs in Westcross, build up some reputation, and then appeal to the Violet Cords to hire a mage.”

“What does it cost to hire a mage like Faengil?” Selian asked, a playfully skeptical tone in her voice.

“More than it cost to hire Faengil.” Dovhran chuckled. “Though I’d say I more than earned his help.”

“What did it cost him to hire you? I’m curious now.” Selian looked back to Flip for a moment before checking the sky once again to correct their direction as a group. She seemed to be relaxing with her travel companions, which Flip was somewhat relieved by; but he still felt nervous not knowing the reason for her concealed identity.

“He bought my debt...” Flip glared into the back of the mercenary’s head with a calm from on his lips. “Which, I have been told, would mark him as an outcast in dwarven society.”

“Probably.” Selian nodded solemnly. “Not that it really matters anymore. We won’t have to deal with dwarves for a while, and even then I doubt he’ll ever need to deal with them again. But I’m still curious… how much debt were you in?”

“If he covered the interest, he payed a little over fifty thousand clasp.” Flip sighed.

There was a loud whistle from Selian that died quickly in the vacuum of the wastes. It was like the opposite of an echo, like the wastes had a hunger for noise that it then quickly consumed and subdued.

“And I could have been paying double that for a skilled member of his guild.” Dovhran let out a sigh of relief at the savings.

“How does one man build up a debt that large?”

“Cards… liquor… women…” Flip grumbled. “Expensive housing and a propensity for the blind purchase of fine things on credit.”

The statement, which was delivered blankly, caused Selian to stop in her tracks and turn her head. The elf was baffled. If it was a lie, it was the best lie she had heard him deliver. But it was so absolutely ludicrous to her that she couldn’t bring herself to accept it.

“He’s lying.” Dovhran muttered. “As far as I can tell that’s the one lie he’s capable of telling, so I wouldn’t bother trying to get him to admit the truth. And I’m certainly not going to. That’s his business and his problem.”

For once, and Flip would have been willing to wager it would be the only time, he was genuinely pleased by Dovhran’s actions. The mercenary clearly had no qualms about blackmailing and holding debts over people for his own gain, but he seemed to draw the line at sharing the private information of others he had collected. Perhaps it was because the information still had value, though it could have also been more honorable than that. Though Flip sincerely doubted it was honor that held the mercenary’s tongue.

“I’d trade my problems for yours. Any day. Let me know. Debts don’t bother me.” Selian shrugged. “But they’re only my problems because they belong to me. If I had to deal with the things that bother you and visa versa, we wouldn’t have problems. We’d have obstacles.”