The elf darted up a tree. Like every other in this tundra it was tall and green beneath a white blanket, and each springing step up each branch sent shivering showers of snow down to the forest’s floor. Eris watched only through peripheral vision; she was more focused on Rook, and where his eyes went to on Astera’s back.

She had no talent for reading his expression. That only frustrated her. Chionos around them faded from her perception—

Astera’s voice pulled it back into focus.

“There are cliffs covered with snow up ahead—the base of the mountain, beyond the top of the woods,” she called, clear-voiced.

Everything is covered with snow in a tundra, Eris thought, especially cliffs. She rolled her eyes. Meanwhile Rook withdrew the vial from an inner pocket of his jacket. He held it up high and approached Astera’s tree. It shook, and depending on which direction it faced, the radiance in the gold was emboldened or diminished: always was it stronger toward the mountain.

“How do you know she’s not on the other side?” Zyd said.

“That would be bad luck,” Rook said.

“Or at the top,” Eris said.

“That would be very cold. Is there any shelter in the hills?”

A pause. “I see an overhang with a path beneath,” Astera said.

“Natural?”

“I can’t say.”

“Some coincidence,” he said, looking again at the vial. “Let’s see it.”

Rustling. Another shower of snow fell, revealing leaves that were as vibrant and healthy as any Eris had ever seen before. Astera landed like a cat in a bank. “It isn’t far. This way,” she said.

Zydnus groaned. “Why didn’t we send the elf scouting ahead first!”

For once Eris was left agreeing with the halfling. Irritating in her perfection as Astera was she possessed immense utility. When the time for spellcasting came, Eris was determined to not be outshone. She was rested and had not used magic in some days; her Essence was well prepared for an impressive showing.

The forest thinned closer to the mountain. The canopy ceased and suddenly there it was, a wall of white before them, its uniformity in hue broken only by the pimples and zits of boulders and trees through crags. Sure enough there was an overhanging cliff, and beneath it a stretch of blue and gray untouched by white—a path. It was very narrow. The point at which it met the ground was heretofore still obscured, but it led up the cliffside, covered most of the way, like someone had intended this route to be free from snowfall. In fact the more they followed the path the clearer it became that the cliffs had been carved. This was not a natural formation.

Another glance at the vial. The trembling increased. Very bright when pointed up toward the cliff.

That was when they saw the mouth of the cave. A narrow gap into darkness. The path terminated at a ledge, all under the same carved overhang in the rock. High up, six or seven hundred feet over them, well above the canopy.

Arrayed on that ledge were effigies. Masks carved from wood. Spears stuck into piles of stone. The hide of some beast was stretched between two rocks and scribbled with chalk.

The vial shuddered and convulsed. “This is the place,” Rook said.

The way up was very steep.

“We’ll never be able to climb all that!” Zyd said, but Astera wasn’t listening. She was already making her way up the boulders and out-jutting rocks, climbing toward the path with alacrity.

“We should have brought rope,” Eris said.

“You are our rope,” Rook said. With that he followed after the elf, but weighed down as he was with equipment, and a mortal man, the going was more challenging.

“Here I thought it was wise I did not exhaust myself before we encountered our adversaries,” she said. She followed hard after him, but was stuck in the snow, and had to pull herself free at great exertion.

“Magic is your only job,” Zyd said, “we put up with all your lantern-stealing just so you can do it, but now you say it’s too much work?”

“Yes, Zydnus, that is what I am saying. Too much work. I would rather conjure flame to melt snow and boil tea. You do have fun, retrieving Aletheia. I will play dolls with her once she is retrieved!”

“That’s not funny, I know you don’t have any dolls.”

Rook stopped some feet up and cleared his throat. “I think you’re putting something off.”

She glanced up the cliff. Astera was already at the top, approaching the cave, examining the effigies. In truth Eris wasn’t certain she could climb so high up, with each rock slicked with frost. Rook reached for a branch—and his fingers slipped. Then too did his boots, and he went tumbling back down to the ground. He fell backward over himself once; snow broke his fall.

Zyd shook his head. “I can’t do it. I won’t! It’s impossible!”

“Are you all right?” she said, perturbed, to Rook.

He jumped upward, now covered in white. For a moment he held a hand against his forehead, then he said again, “Eris. You are our rope.”

She sighed. “Very well. Be still. And you as well,” she said, looking to Zyd.

Thus as she had before at the bridge and outside the dwarven watchtower, Eris concentrated and brought the weight of her companions upon her own mind. The task was simple: three subjects, a ledge in sight, time and distance easy to calculate. She brought forth her arms as if conducting an orchestra. A green mist poured forth from her sleeves and overcame the trio.

They rose from the ground.

“Gah! Put me down, I—put me down now!” Zyd protested.

“Be. Still.”

Before, and after, the episode on the bridge, her mind had raced to imagine the strain lifting her entire party might place upon her. It was not easy, displacing mass so. Yet now the burden went almost effortlessly, like lifting a weight and finding a feather in its place. It wasn’t so surprising as that, perhaps, yet with only slight concentration she found herself in control of her own power, and by the time they reached the ledge, she was not exhausted. Just the opposite. Her mind was clear and awake. She felt excellent, well in control of her own faculties. All it took then was a push, and the spell ended. They came to a rest on the ledge before the mouth.

Astera regarded them.

“Not bad,” she said.

Rook gave Eris a long look, then a smile. “Good work.”

Eris smiled back. She folded her arms, satisfied. She was getting better at controlling her Essence, the mana in her veins, the energy that coursed through her mind and soul. She was almost done feeling smug when she felt a pulse of energy toward the elf; and when she looked, she saw Astera with her head down, eyes closed.

Slowly, as if the air itself were igniting in heatless fire, there appeared four small lights about her head. They began as dim embers but soon rivalled the light from a torch, yet gave off no flickering: the glow itself was static.

One each was sent to Rook, Zydnus, and Eris, where it hovered just behind the head. A personal lantern.

A useful spell, but Eris did not like having competition.

“Are you ready?” Astera said. She drew her dagger. Then, she led the charge inside.

The sweet, rank scent of guano assaulted their nostrils. It was the middle ground between wet earth and manure, not pestilent enough to cause illness at first sniff yet undoubtedly miasmatic. Astera commanded their lights to raise with a whisper. The whole of the cave was illuminated. A frozen pool of foul water; stalagmites and stalactites; a construction of some sort, far off, a ladder and light, and—the sounds of flapping. Like a dog bounding into a flock of a thousand pigeons all at once, yet when Eris looked upward she saw no murder of crows nor cauldron of a thousand bats, only half a dozen winged, descending silhouettes coming straight for them.

Rook drew his sword and presented the cutting edge. One of the bats, for they were bats, giant and eagle-sized but bats all the same, lowered itself in his direction, and was promptly sliced down the middle. Two swooped down on Eris and she let forth a blast of air that knocked them to the ground, sending one flying against the nearby cave wall; she ran toward it and kicked its head.

Behind her Zydnus tried to use his bow in close quarters. He shot one arrow and hit a bat in the wing. It fell from the air and landed on him, and with its hands climbed up his jerkin and bit him again and again in the sleeves. He was heavily attired, though, and nothing made it through, and with Rook now free he came to his companion’s rescue, striking the bat with his pommel. He tossed its limp body to the ground.

As for the elf—she pulled one bat from the air and ended it with her dagger. Another came toward her head and scraped her cheek, but escaped with a scrape of its own down its belly; and finally, with only one beast remaining, the one staggered from Eris’ release of energy, she threw the dagger at it on the ground. It let out a squeak, somewhere between a mouse and a bird, and went limp.

A door slammed and echoed throughout the caves.

“Bats?” Eris said.

“Goblins,” Astera said. “They have a beastmaster.”

She walked farther, and sure enough deeper within the cave they came to a selection of cages. All were opened, with string affixed to latches. The string led to a rock face, up its side, toward the ladder, over—and to a wooden dwelling atop.

“Goblins?! What’s a goblin!?” Zyd said.

“Savage and feeble-minded creatures,” Eris said. “That is, when they are in the wild. But they are also weak of will and easily enthralled to mana. Even an impotent magician can command them to purpose.”

“Then they’ve taken Aletheia hostage so she provides them mana?” Rook whispered. He approached the ladder, wary of alerting anyone of his approach.

“If goblins they are, I think it more likely she commands them,” Eris said.

“What do you mean?” Astera said.

“You have been assuming to this point she desires to be found.”

“Who would choose this cave over a Magister’s tower?” Rook said.

“Who cares?” Zyd said.

“Not I,” Eris said, “but ‘twould not be the first time a young magician absconded from her duties.”

The ladder was small. Built for a child. They ascended it slowly, but it held. At the top they found a dwelling made of wood: walls built against the cave’s rock, like a home constructed in the tunnels of a mineshaft. Everything old. A burnt out fire, a handful of torches, carvings from bone, a pot; and at the far side, a poorly made door. Beneath its threshold came light.

Rook drew his sword. He approached the door with Astera behind. Zyd and Eris remained more cautious. Rook reached for the knob, wary of what came next, wary of what might lie beyond, when suddenly there came the distant voice of a girl shrieking:

“Go kill them! Do what I say!”

It came from beyond the door and echoed like a shout in a canyon before finally battering against the wood before them.

“Kill them!”

Rook’s fingers were wrapped around the knob. They turned slowly, then he pulled it open—and he slipped through. There was no choice but to follow.

On the other side was an amphitheater carved from a cavern. Rows of seats chiseled from stone. All led down to a stage, where at the center was a throne. All the ceiling was blue; at first, like staring up at a clear sky, but Eris realized presently—and felt thereafter—that it was Manastone. Warmth overcame her. Energy caught in her throat.

A little girl sat in the throne. On the steps between her and the party were six small creatures in leather and linens. Their skin was gray and faded, their faces piggish, animalistic, savage, asymmetrical and mean. They carried spears, bronze swords, crude knives, and bows and arrows. Goblins, or Kallikantzaroi in Kathar. At the sight of Rook they all recoiled in fear, but the girl pointed and gave a clear command:

“Kill him!” Then, to the intruders, “Go away, you can’t be here!”

The goblins moved like creatures on marionettes. Fear maintained across their features, they approached the party anyway. They were in this girl’s thrall and could not resist her commands. The largest of their number was the swordbearer; it raised the blade high, took a step, then let out a gasping snarl and sprinted up the stairs. Its courage gave purpose to its companions, who followed soon after.

Rook stepped forward to meet them. He parried a high slash from the swordbearer and followed through with a slash of his own, slicing easily through the creature’s clothing and sending him falling down the steps. The spearbearer was behind and landed his thrust cleanly on Rook’s shoulder; but the blade nicked only at his jacket’s fabric, cutting and slicing the outer layer, deflecting otherwise off harmlessly—

A thin layer of chainmail was laid beneath. He had kept the armor after all.

Zyd fumbled with his arrows and sent one into the spearbearer’s neck. The elf paused a moment, conjured an icicle into her hand, and threw it like a javelin into one approaching goblin. She then ignored the melee and went straight for the girl, leaping over the theater’s seats, leaving Eris in the focus of the goblin archer. She ducked as an arrow whizzed past her head and stuck into the wooden walls behind them. Then, in cover, she focused, drawing mana from the stone above them, channeling it into both of her hands. When she rose again she let it slip in the archer’s direction: a blast of white fire shot forward with a blinding flash like lightning, and a crack of deafening thunder that shook the mountain all around them.

The goblin sublimated. Pieces of gray flesh and globules of black blood rained down on the battlefield. That was altogether more energy than Eris had intended to release.

Her ears rang as the melee continued. Zydnus was slashed in the wrist by the one goblin left standing, but he was soon dispatched. Then there was no one but the girl.

Astera approached her like one approaches a rabid, crazed dog. Rook checked Zydnus first; and, finding him okay, sprinted down the steps. Eris followed.

The girl had golden eyes and dark blonde hair. She was small and slender and her face was twisted with rage. She wore a silver tiara, but her gown was sodden and ruined; her hair was matted; she was covered in dirt; she looked a wretched urchin.

“Aletheia?” Astera whispered.

“No! Stay away!”

Rook motioned for Zydnus to lower his bow as he himself sheathed his sword. With a now-free hand he pulled out the vial one final time, and the substance within sloshed and roiled like the sea in a storm. The moment the girl saw what it was, she bolted; behind the throne, retreating away from Rook and Astera—but there was nowhere for her to go.

“Antigone sent us to rescue you from the goblins,” Astera said quietly.

“They were my subjects!” the girl, this Aletheia, said. Her voice quavered with fear and uncertainty. “I’m their queen! And I’m not going back!”

“You are going back, whether skipping alongside us or bound and gagged,” snapped Eris.

“If you’re a queen then I’m the emperor!” Zyd said.

Rook turned back to them with a scowl. “Be quiet,” he said.

“You are not thinking of entertaining her delusions, surely?” Eris said, but he was already focused on the girl again, making his approach.

“Why don’t you want to go back?” he said.

Aletheia shook her head. By now she was at the far end of the amphitheater and her room to retreat was exhausted. She appeared nothing but cornered prey, too scared to think. Astera and Rook had enough wisdom not to press any farther.

“Aletheia…” Astera said, and there was a kind of obnoxious maternalism in her voice that seemed to soothe the girl. “We won’t make you do anything. Why don’t you want to go back?”

Aletheia bit her lip. With wide eyes she gestured toward the vial. “The Searing.”

“What Searing?”

“I won’t do it. I won’t do it anymore.”

Eris groaned. This was absurd. They were wasting everyone’s time. They all knew how this had to end. The sad story the girl told did not matter.

“You are already Manaseared,” Eris said, “your eyes give you away.”

“She made a new serum,” Aletheia said. “She needed to experiment. She used it on me. I—” she withdrew the sleeve of her gown, revealing a long line of scars, needle points, and burns. Then she covered herself again. “I won’t go back!”

“You can’t live here,” Astera said.

“Then I’ll die! You killed my goblins, just kill me, too!”

A flash of mana passed from the stone overhead, down into the girl. She was casting a spell. Eris reached out and interposed her mind, drawing the energy into herself instead—and discharging it harmlessly in a breath. Such a careless use of magic was dangerous and exposing and she would never think to do it offensively against a true magician, but Aletheia had no recourse. She was tapped, and whatever magic she had intended to use was drained from her, like air stolen from her lungs. She roared in frustration, then collapsed to her knees with tears in her eyes.

Rook tossed the vial to Eris. He reached forward and grabbed the girl’s arm.

“We won’t kill you. And we won’t make you go back,” he said. His voice soft.

“Just leave…please…”

“We won’t make you go back, but you have to come with us. You can’t stay here.”

Eris scoffed in amazement. She could hardly believe the words. Zyd babbled:

“All this way? All that snow? A whole week? My arm?” He was still bleeding. “Are you serious?! Of course we’re making her go back!”

“Surely you are not siding with the stray pup?” Eris said.

“She’s a test subject,” Astera said. “Gold manaserum. Distilled from the aether here. Inflicting it on a baby would be torture—to give it to a young adult—only a monster would do something like that.”

“That is not our problem. If you wish to help her break free after we have returned her for the reward, that is your prerogative, but we are bringing her back.”

“No! I’m not going back!” Aletheia said.

“We need that money!” Zyd said.

Rook stood. “We don’t know what Antigone might do to her.”

“Who cares?” Eris said.

“You ran from Pyrthos, didn’t you? Can’t you see yourself in her?”

“Yes, and I was sensible enough not to dwell in squalor and filth in a cave filled with goblins, nor was I ever caught. We do not run a daycare for lost children, Rook. We cannot bring her with us. What do we owe her?”

“We killed her goblins,” he said.

“They attacked us!” Zyd said. “This is stupid! You’re all crazy! You’re gonna make that Magister go insane over some little girl who doesn’t want to go home?! She’ll have us killed!”

“The fury of a Magister is indeed one we would best not provoke,” Eris said sharply.

“I don’t care,” Astera said.

“Neither do I,” Rook said.

“We will starve without that bounty!” Eris said. Now she was pleading. She greatly admired Rook, for his wit as well as his physical qualities, but this was beyond the pale. Only a lunatic could make a decision so insane.

“We’ll find a way,” he said.

“What will we do with her? Drag her along like Pyraz? She is a child! We can hardly feed ourselves!”

Aletheia removed her tiara. “You can sell this,” she said meekly, although parting with something so fine pained her. Eris was irritated to be able to empathize with her. “There’s more. By my—by the throne. The goblins brought me food and…things they found.” She latched onto Rook’s arm like a leach, her fiery disposition dispelled and replaced in an instant with that of a frightened cat.

Eris hated her already. She snatched the tiara. “And what of you?” she motioned to Astera. “We are not burdened by you now, too, I hope?”

“All of us are stranded in Chionos together,” Astera said. “Would you prefer I took my leave before we had managed to escape?”

“Now you mention it, yes, I would, and you may take the girl with you.”

“Stop it, Eris,” Rook snapped. “We would be happy for your assistance, as long as you want to offer it, Astera."

"Thank you," Astera said.

Eris practically roared in anger. “You will all learn to regret this decision, one day. If only we live long enough to see it.”

For the first time since meeting Rook, she considered leaving. Storming away. Not looking back. There were other adventurers in need of magicians. She could find some different party to join, or assemble her own. And she nearly did. This, taking the runaway with them, and for nothing—no reward, nothing but charity—it was a ludicrous, senseless, idiotic decision. Not only would it provide no advantage, but now they were burdened by a child, who would follow them through the snow back to Kaimas like manacles.

Eris hated children, and especially had when she herself was one. They were useless, immune to reason, and pointless burdens on all those around them. Aletheia appeared as nothing to her but a walking cheque for six thousand drachmae. To carry her without cashing her in was inconceivable. It made no sense.

But Chionos was not the place for rash action. Perhaps, if they survived, she could speak reason to Rook. And if he would not see it…she didn’t like to consider such things, but she was angry enough then to imagine herself departing back to Katharos, or elsewhere, perhaps Erimos, or Swep-Nos…

The girl had told the truth about her tribute. There was some food, a selection of jewelry, silver and gold coins, and a series of small statues carved into the rocks of the theater’s seats. Zydnus broke each off and stuck them in his backpack.

“I wonder who built this place,” Astera said as they packed up everything of worth. “It must be very old.”

“Who cares?” Zyd said. “I hope it blows up.”

They took the path down rather than risk levitation again. It was a long way and very narrow but clear of snow, and by the time night had come they were once again in the forest. They made their igloo-camp and discussed where next to go.

With the Magister’s apprentice in tow there was no option but return to Rytus via the tunnel through the mountains. Then it would be all the way back up to Kaimas. Another week on the road, and with half of a tenth of what they were promised—despite their objective fulfilled. Oh, and a new enemy made, no doubt, but at least they had a new dog. Eris, for her part, preferred Pyraz. At least he was obedient. But there was nothing to be done about it for now.

While they traveled, she resumed her place in camp far-off from the rest of them. They made their way through the tunnel and over the bridge without incident, and that whole time she did not speak a word to any of them. Even as they returned to Kaimas on empty stomachs she remained silent, sold her small share of their winnings, and retreated to the local flophouse for the night (the Ancient Cheeseman was far beyond her meager funds). There she wondered if it was her curse to be always surrounded by idiots and fools, and even as she felt hatred for Rook and the elf, she hated herself even more for being so infatuated with him still that she could not stand to quit the party.