My mare gives a little start as Shay’s spectacularly huge grey stallion thunders past with Kesla’s equally impressive black stallion close on his heels. With a firm pull on her reins and a gentle stroking pat of her neck, I bring her back under control again long before there’s any danger she’ll throw me, but I still glare after them with all the reproachful ire they’re both due. They peel off in a very wide circle after that, Shay still just staying ahead, but as I watch them both break away to pound back up along the bank of the river I can hear Shay laughing a little, and it eases my nerves to hear it.

Eventually they’ve both got it out of their systems and they trot back towards our group at a far more sedate pace, and I once again prepare the most disapproving stare I can. “Do you mind? You almost had blood on your hands doing that.”

“Sorry.” Kesla sighs as she pulls Trampler, who seems more aptly named by the day, up beside me. The remorse she shows is clearly a sham. “She tricked me.”

“Wasn’t that hard, was it?” Shay chuckles as she wheels Elder around behind my mare and then takes up position on my other side. “I thought your wits were supposed to be sharper than that.”

Kesla’s glare is as unconvincing as her remorse was, she just can’t resist the smile fighting to reach her lips. She doesn’t rise to the bait, though. “Anyway, how do we get in? I don’t see an actual gate here.”

She’s right, of course. The Citadel was intentionally built to straddle the Icespine as it races over the falls into the lowlands below, so the river runs right into a great yawning arched tunnel cutting into the otherwise smooth stone of the circling wall. The gatehouse itself is built over the top of this, and at first glance there genuinely doesn’t seem to be an entrance on either side of the river.

“I don’t get it.” Shay’s frowning now as she looks into the tunnel as I lead the whole party along this final stretch of the hard-packed dirt road to the gatehouse. “Is that really the only way in? How are we supposed to do this? Surely they don’t expect us to ride right into the river.” She cranes past me to look down into the river itself now, her brows already rising at the thought.

Here the Icespine is fierce and fast-flowing, and still dangerously cold even here in these warmer climes, but now as it races to the falls it becomes truly perilous. The barges that transport their cargoes from Hocknar or further north must be piloted with caution and skill on their final stretch of the journey here, but there are means within the tunnel to keep them from rushing over the edge before they can be unloaded. If one of us were to fall in there’s a reasonable chance we could be rescued before we plunged to a terrifying death hundreds of feet below.

Giving Shay a sly little sidelong glance, I simply smile at her as I say: “You’ll see.”

She simple frowns again, looking me over for a moment or two before craning past me again to look at Kesla. “I thought you’d already been here before, anyway. Why don’t you know? Didn’t you have pass through to get down into the city?”

“Gods, no. I’ve never been inside the Citadel. There’s other ways down into Bavat that are a lot easier for road traffic, that’s how I’ve done it in the past.”

Turning to look back, she must be looking to Art, and I don’t need to follow her gaze as he simply replies: “Hey, I’m curious as you are. This is kind of a treat for me, too.”

“I don’t know about all that.” Shay mutters, mostly to herself as she turns back to the road, I think. She looks sidelong my way again. “So how big a deal is this place anyway? I mean, really?”

Cutting short the first reply before I make it, I look her over for a moment, thinking about exactly how I should word this. Shay’s really bright, in the three weeks we’ve known her it’s become abundantly clear that she’s one of the cleverest people I think I might ever have met, actually. Even so, there have been times when I got the impression that she’s actually quite naïve, or at least has grown up as sheltered as I did, albeit in some fundamentally different ways. There’s no foolishness in her question, but I still don’t want to speak to her in such a way that I might sound like I’m condescending to her.

“Did Garnon ever talk to you about the Silver Order?” I ask after a moment, finally hitting on the best way to do this.

“Not really, no. I got the impression it was a sore spot for him because of what happened, and I didn’t want to press, so I mostly just know what anyone else in our company does. You’re like some kind of magic police, or something? You were put in place to safeguard the Day Lands and its people against unnatural forces, magic run amok, that kind of stuff. The undead and mutant abominations and that kind of thing. Is that about right?”

“In a very overly simplified way, yes. I mean, really there’s a lot more to it than that. It’s a long story that I don’t know if we really have time for right now. But yes, a major part of the Order’s remit is to safeguard these realms against powerful forces that could be deemed dangerously harmful. That’s why mages like me and my contemporaries go out into the world, so we can defend the common folk against problems that the local authorities can’t or more often would rather not have to deal with. Or, when there are bigger problems, more powerful Order members like Master Clearwood are assigned to deal with it in whichever way they deem appropriate. Different situations may require different solutions.”

“And the Citadel is where you’re all based out of?”

“Well no, not exactly. It’s more like the seat of power for our Order, where the Council and their main subordinates are based. Where the decisions are made.”

“And where all the scary shit gets locked away, too.” Kesla adds.

Shay turns all the way to look at me this time, but Elder keeps going all on his own. “Really? Do tell.”

I give Kesla a pointed look, but she happily pretends not to see it. “Well yes, that’s part of it too. The catacombs under the Citadel go down for miles. There are hundreds of vaults down there, all very closely guarded by soldiers and mages and powerful defensive magic and all manner of other defence. All making sure that nothing dangerous which gets locked away down there can ever be unleashed upon the world.”

“So that’s where the cargo’s headed, then.”

“Precisely. Once we’ve unloaded it, they’ll send it down to the vaults and that’ll be the end of it as far as we’re concerned.”

“Then we get paid.” I don’t need to look to know Art’s grinning from ear to ear.

We’re close enough now for the gatehouse to start looming over us, and I rein my horse in, prompting the others to slow their own progress around me. Almost as if they’ve been waiting for this sign of our intent, the seemingly smooth stone in the side of the structure kind of just … cracks, though the edges are perfectly smooth. Where once there was nothing but pale stone, a massive ramp is now slowly descending as if by magic, although I know it’s simply clever engineering. I bring the mare to a dead halt and the others follow my example again, so we’re well out of the way of possibly getting crushed in the extremely unlikely event that something suddenly gives out under all that massive weight of stone.

“Wow.” Kesla breathes after a moment, cocking her head. “That’s smart. Same on the far bank, I take it.”

I simply nod, and after a moment she does the same. “Yeah, like I said, smart. Ain’t pissing about, are they?”

The ramp touches down with a great booming crunch and I wave the others down, trusting them to stay put as I spur the mare into a walk to where the bottom meets the track. I can see movement up above now, a few figures at the top of the ramp looking down at us while more jostle behind, albeit with a certain amount of discipline which can only mean they’re Citadel guards rather than mages. As I rein up again at the bottom and raise my hand, one of them breaks away and starts to descend, a quartet of guards filtering out behind to follow them down.

Looking back, I see my friends are holding back, watching me, clearly intent on giving me the lead in this. I hold up a single finger to Kesla, trusting she knows that means to wait for me, then dismount. I take a moment to look down and check my robes over, smoothing down a few little creases from the ride in, and hope everything’s satisfactory. Gods know it’s been a while since I’ve really been that fussed about how I look, and it almost feels strange for it to suddenly matter again.

When we got up this morning, knowing this would be the final stretch in our journey, I set aside my regular travel clothes and asked Yeslee to dig my formal dress robes out of her bag especially for this. Never mind that I never quite managed to scrub the bloodstains out of my regular travel robes, with this being my first time back at the Citadel since I first set out it’s a big deal for me to genuinely look the part. The others were suitably impressed, I think, certainly Art seemed a little taken aback seeing me so very blinding white and shining silver in these. They’re not the most comfortable of my clothes, but that’s not really the point.

For the first time in weeks I’m lamenting the loss of my staff, if only because it would’ve completed my presentation. I thought about finding myself a suitable stave of wood on the journey back and trying to fashion myself a new one, but since we were headed back here anyway I decided there wasn’t really much of a point to that. Now I’m starting to reconsider that reasoning.

Oh well … how I am should serve, I think. Resisting the urge to rearrange my hair, I straighten my back and put my shoulders back as far as I dare, walking to the base of the ramp with all the poise and command I can muster. Inwardly I start cringing immediately, thinking myself a fool for caring so much about appearances, but now I’ve started I can’t risk pulling back in case I trip flat on my face. Damn it, I feel like a bloody novice all over again.

Then another figure breaks from the gathered group still at the top of the slope and, after pausing for a moment to look down at us, starts running full pelt down the ramp. I think I already know who this is, and as they cut through the approaching group without so much as a by-your-leave it’s confirmed. It’s all I can do to keep myself from rushing forward too.

Tulen Kelsira doesn’t slow a step when she reaches me, jumping the last few feet right into my waiting arms as I step forward to meet her. I can’t help it, she’s carrying so much momentum I have to go with it, so I wind up spinning on the spot, whipping her around as I fight to keep my feet. I huge her close and squeeze her tight, and she’s doing the same, and given her dragonhalf strength she’s crushing me a little but I really don’t mind.

She’s laughing, just joy and I think a little relief rather than humour in the moment, and after a moment I realise I’m doing the same. I spin her one last time, then finally set her down as gently as I can, but we still have to hold onto each other for a moment before we part, we’re a touch dizzy now. Our foreheads press together and we’re giggling uncontrollably, just so happy to see each other again. It’s an embarrassing long while before we can regain any real composure.

“Hi ...” I manage to mumble at last, once we’re finally able to part.

“Yeah, hi right back.” If she could blush I get the feeling her whole face would be flushed, gods know my own feels very hot right now. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Same, genuinely.” I manage to keep my smile, a little sheepish but honest all the same, finally giving in to the urge and shoving the hair from my face enough for her to see it.

“Good, good.” Tulen looks me over for a moment, her own smile starting to fade now, and she’s really examining me now, I realise. A proper up-and-down check. Finally she lets out a deep sigh, and then she gives me a rough shove, surprising me. Suddenly she looks positively livid. “You died? SERIOUSLY? What the hell, Gael?”

Damn it, Wenrich. Of course he sent a full report, that’s just like him. “Hey, I saved the day.”

“Yes, you did, and you did it by dying, you absolute moron. What were you thinking?”

Once again, I do what I’ve been doing a lot lately. Yanking the glove from one hand, I look down at the slightly raised, silky purple lines crossing the inside of two of my fingers. When I look up I find Tulen’s doing the same. “I didn’t want any more of my friends to die, so I chose the only option I had to hand.”

“And we’re very grateful for it, of course.” The rest of the delegation has joined us at the bottom of the ramp now, and Tulen snaps to attention the moment the wizard at the forefront begins speaking. It’s a gentle voice, calm and cool and smooth as satin, soft and gentle and soothing enough to almost put Wenrich’s to shame. Surprisingly deep for its owner, too, when you look at her.

Being a half-elf like me, it could be surprising that Arrhetel Thermyse has risen so high in the ranks of the Silver Order as quickly as she has, but her own father’s half-dragon blood granted her strong social compensation. She may have barely seen three centuries, but she’s still the second most powerful wizard in Rundao, and perhaps the smartest person I’ve ever met in my life. I’d find her cripplingly intimidating if she wasn’t also my own godmother.

My smile returns in an instant and I don’t stand for ceremony even though a small part of me shouts at me that I really should, I just walk right up to her as she opens her arms with her own subtler smile and pulls me into a hug. I try to be a little more gentle this time, but her own embrace is strong enough to convince me not to hold back, so finally I crush her as much as I can before she lets me go. “That being said, I’m a little annoyed with you about that myself, darling.” she whispers as she draws away from me. Her smile’s still there, but it’s sharper now, a little rueful.

“I’m sorry, I suppose it was a little rash and foolish. I didn’t have a choice at the time, though.”

“Well, I suppose none of us ever really have a choice when it comes to the truly terrible decisions. The ones that really matter tend to hurt.” She holds me at arm’s length for several moments, looking me over too. “But you’re still in one piece, which is what matters. And as strikingly beautiful as ever. I’m very proud of you.”

My face gets hotter still, and this time when my hair falls into my face I let it. “Um …” I start, but can’t finish.

Arrhetel’s smile broadens a touch as she chucks me gently under the chin. “Darion will be proud of you too, I’m sure. You executed your duty with utmost care and diligence. You’re a credit to the Order.”

Before I can even try to answer she’s already moving on, giving Tulen a checking glance which makes her visibly fight to resist a clear urge to wince at her own behaviour, but by then the third most important person in the Order has already glided on. I duck into my friend’s side and give her a companionable little squeeze, and this seems enough to perk her up a bit, so she’s already rallying as we turn to follow Arrhetel as she walks over to greet my friends.

I can see Kesla’s eyes flickering around to take in the four guards I know are fanning out around us, closely watching my godmother’s back all the time. While their presence is largely ceremonial, especially in their Order livery of white and silver, they’re still wearing heavy plate armour underneath, while their long spears are as sharp and intimidating as the swords at their hips. She’s not alone, either, both Yeslee and Shay are watching them with narrowed eyes. When Kesla’s eyes meet mine I give her a reassuring look and this does seem to calm her nerves a touch.

Spreading her arms wide, Arrhetel smiles at them all. “Greetings, friends. The Silver Order welcomes the Creeping Bam, immensely grateful for the sterling service they have done not only in our name but for the world at large.”

Kelsa dismounts at last, and through the corner of my eye I see the guards tense the tiniest fraction, but this time she seems to be ignoring it. She walks up with her usual unconscious easy swagger before finally offering her hand. “Well met, Mistress … I’m sorry, we weren’t really told what to expect.”

“Oh, no need to worry.” Arrhetel purrs, her voice becoming even more silken smooth than before as she takes one last step to take her hand. “Personally, I’ve never really been overly fond of all this pomp and ceremony myself. Arrhetel Thermyse, at your service.”

If Kesla recognises the name she doesn’t show it, but she cocks an appreciative brow at the strength of her handshake all the same. My godmother may be more important than my father, but she was never one for the field, preferring to do her more subtle work for the Order from behind the Citadel’s walls, or through diplomacy in the courts and halls of other cities and nations. While Darion’s more prominent fame as a hero carries far more glamour, I’d be surprised if Kesla had heard her name in anything more than a passing remark, if at all.

“Ah, good. Well, as I said, well met, Mistress Thermyse.” She flexes her hand for a moment when it’s released, but doesn’t seem to experience any lingering discomfort. In truth, she’s being her usual unreadable self again. “We’re just happy to have been of service, really.”

Arrhetel gives her a long moment’s look, just as inscrutable even as her smile stays in place, then nods. “Indeed. There’s still much to be discussed, of course.”

“Oh, I’m sure there is.” Kesla nods in return, looking to me again for a moment.

“Well met, Master Clearwood.” Arrhetel’s smile’s become more shrewd as she approaches the cart, already taking in Wenrich’s condition as Krakka helps him to sit up a little more in the back. “No need to rise, I know full well how modest you were in your report of your own condition.”

Wenrich cocks a brow my way at that, and I can’t help grinning in return. “Well met, Mistress Thermyse. My apologies, I had hoped to have healed a little better before we arrived. Unfortunately our progress was far less eventful and therefore much swifter than I was perhaps counting on.” Even so, when he reaches out his hand to her as she arrives it seems steadier than it’s been in a while, and Arrhetel gives it what I’m sure is a very gentle crush indeed.

“Nonsense, my friend. You need to stop putting yourself out there so much. You’re too valuable to us.” Her smile seems warmer again, truer, like it was with me. “One of these days Minerva may not be able to protect you anymore, and then where would we be?”

“I’ve done what I can for him,” Krakka’s stood by, awkward now, but he looks to be putting a brave enough face on it. Still, my godmother can be intimidating even when she’s being charming. “But I’m afraid he’s beyond my powers to heal properly. If I could’ve gotten to him straight away it might have turned out differently, but I was unable to use my powers for the first few days.”

“No need for such apologies, Master Krakka.” Arrhetel beams a particularly brilliant smile up at him, though I’m sure it could be more disarming with fewer sharp teeth. “We’re all immensely grateful for what you did, especially myself.” She turns and gives me a fond look.

Krakka looks to me now, not seeming to get it yet. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” is all I can think of as a reply.

Taking a deep breath, she folds her lithe, long-fingered hands together and looks around the entire group once. I see Arrhetel pause for the tiniest fraction when she properly lays eyes on Driver 8, but if she’s surprised it doesn’t show any more than when she takes in Yeslee. There is a moment when she lingers last on Shay, the slightest flicker of her one brow cocking, but it’s gone in a moment, and she simply smiles. “You are all very welcome. You have done us a great service, Erjeon Ashsong was a terrible stain upon our Order we hoped had already been put behind us. I offer my sincerest apologies and condolences for all that you have sacrificed in your recent battle, and rest assured than my sentiments mirror those of the Order as a whole. We are all in your debt.”

“Cool.” Kesla gives Trampler a pat on the neck as she takes up his reins again, clearly wanting to mount up again so we can head inside. “Might as well get this unloaded so we can call it job done, yeah?”

Arrhetel looks my way once more and this time her brow visibly quirks, but the smile stays sincere. I feel my blush rising again and I have to look away fast, curbing the reproach I’m sorely tempted to throw Kesla’s way.

“Of course. Any ceremony is simply for appearance’s sake anyway.” Turning, she looks at the guards and ushers them off up the ramp again. “All right, that’ll do. I’m in no danger here.” After a moment of hesitation they do as they’re told, hefting their spears and starting their noisy march back up, although more than one gives Driver 8 a wary look before they go.

“I can’t begin to tell you how tiresome all this tradition and bureaucracy can be sometimes.” Arrhetel confides as she leans in close to Kesla. “I’m far happier dealing with simple sorts like yourselves, it’s so refreshing simply being able to get straight to the point.”

Kesla smiles, and while it’s a subtle one it’s honest. “I gotta agree with you there. Some of our employers can be proper bores. Sometimes only reason we can even tolerate ‘em is cuz we’re getting paid to.”

This one has Arrhetel chuckling quietly, then she leans in again when she’s done. “By the way, I have to ask … is that a golem?”

Trying really hard not to roll my eyes, I turn away and start to guide Tulen to my horse. Behind us, Krakka’s taken up the reins again, preparing to snap the horses to attention again so he can guide the wagon up the ramp, and I’ll be happier if I can get ahead of the whole mess now. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“You’ve missed me?” Tulen seems genuinely surprised by my sentiment, but she’s smiling again all the same. “Here I thought you were just out there in the big wide world having the time of your life. You were so excited when you were heading out, it was your big dream finally coming true. I would’ve thought you’d forgotten all about little old me.”

“Don’t say that, I could never forget you. You’re –”

“Afternoon.” Art’s perfect timing cuts me off, of course. He’s reined his filly up beside us as we reach my own mount, and now he’s looking down at Tulen with his usual bright and breezy, easy charm. Something I’ve seen dozens of times while we’ve been frequenting taverns together. “Art of Shadows. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mistress …?”

“Kelsira, but my friends all call me Tulen.” She gives me a look, and this time I don’t even bother trying to hide it as a roll my eyes in response. She reaches up and shakes his offered paw. “Which means any and all of Gael’s party, of course. The Creeping Bam, it’s such an interesting name, I’d love to hear about how you earned it.”

Art shoots me a look, maybe a tiny bit of panic behind it, but it’s gone quick enough, and what replaces it’s a little sheepish but he covers that well enough too. “Um … yeah, it’s quite the story. I’m sure I can enlighten you after our business is done.” He rallies quick enough, his smile becoming as affable as ever. “I’ll see you up there, anyway.”

“I look forward to it.” Tulen returns her own smile, her amusement clear, and he tips me a playful wink before spurring his horse into a gentle trot and starting up the ramp ahead of the rest of us. “He’s a breath of fresh air, isn’t he?”

“He’s incorrigible, that’s what he is.”

“Well I think he’s adorable. He’s so fluffy. I just want to squeeze him.”

“Maybe so, but he’s not a kitten. He’s five feet of trouble and he can’t be trusted as far as I can throw him. He never takes anything seriously, and he spends half the time thinking from between his legs. As far as he’s concerned everything’s either a game or something he can take to bed given enough time or alcohol.”

Tulen gives me a moment’s sidelong look, her smile more calculating now. “Wow, you really do like him, don’t you?”

Frowning deep, it takes me a moment to reply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Grin widening, Tulen simply offers her hand, and after a moment I take it, then the reins with my other in order to lead my horse up the ramp while she leads me. I change the subject immediately, and she’s happy to oblige me, so I ask what’s been happening in Bavat since I’ve been gone, what she’s been up to, how she’s settling in with her work. She’s happy to indulge me, although I get the feeling she’s far more curious about how I’ve been getting on, but to be honest I’m not really sure how comfortable I am discussing that with her yet.

I love this, I really do, it’s what I dreamed of and everything, but it’s all turned out so different from what I thought it would be, in particular I seem to have far underestimated the dangers out there, a lesson I’ve really had to learn the hard way of late. Tulen was perfectly right to admonish me before, I was foolish and thoughtless with my own life and it cost me. I wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps and I died for it. If it hadn’t been for the grace of Selena the others would have had to burn my body and bring my ashes back to the Citadel along with the cargo. It’s been a sobering time since just thinking about that.

Before Erjeon Ashsong caused my first death, I’d never had a single second thought that my choice to go into public service for the Order might’ve been the wrong one. Certainly there were times I found myself somewhat ill-suited to some of the rigours of the road, or at least unprepared for them, and more so in combat, but in both cases I’ve taken pains to remedy these shortcomings, and my friends have helped. I never really had any scars before I left Bavat, but I’m returning with a significant collection after only two years, and each carries a humbling lesson, but none more than those in my fingers and one in the middle of my chest. There’s a corresponding one in my back I’ve never seen, and I can’t easily reach it to feel either, but I know full well it’s there.

The hardest part of all, I think, is that I don’t even remember being dead. If I went anywhere in the time I was gone I have no recollection of it, although Krakka tells me that’s not unusual, it’s extremely rare for those few who are lucky enough to be pulled back to recall anything of their experiences of whatever lies beyond. Mortals aren’t meant to know these things, so Corvina guards her secrets with great jealousy. I remember fading, but then I was back, and nothing in-between. The academic in me finds it frustrating, and the philosopher in me is troubled by this little detail. The rest of me simply regrets it happened in the first place.

Coming back here is sobering too. The last few days in particular, as the landscapes we travelled through became familiar to me, have added an extra dimension to those small, lingering doubts beginning to trouble me. Reminders of what I left behind starting to work at me, nagging my insecurities, making me question my intentions all over again. I’ve been burying them deep every time they’ve come up, but they’re still niggling away at me.

Until I saw Bavat again, at least. The moment we came around that last ridge and the Citadel came into sight, then climbing the bluff to see the city spreading out below, and most of all the Academy, it all just went away, all those bad feelings, all those nagging doubts. It was a wonderful moment, and I rode that high all the way in. But now they’re coming back …

So I shove them back down and smile as I listen to Tulen talk about wonderfully simple things compared to what I’ve lived through these past two years, and it mostly seems to work, she brings me back to myself. Soon enough I don’t have to pretend I’m enjoying catching up.

She’s happy, that’s the heart of the matter. Tulen wasn’t made for public service, she’s too gentle, an intellectual with a soft heart. I’m sure she would’ve made a fine junior professor for the Academy if she’d chosen to pursue a doctorate, especially in lore, her knowledge of the Sundering and its effects are second to none. Instead she chose to take a role in the Citadel, one of the Keepers of the Vaults helping to catalogue and investigate the various dangerous artifacts that are locked away down there. Her presence now is no fluke, she’s not here just to welcome me home, although that’s clearly a bonus. Once we finally give up possession of the cargo it’s very much her responsibility.

We’ve reached the top of the ramp before I realise it, we’re so deep in our conversation, and now I’m surrounded by official robes so clean and bright it’s a little dazzling for me. I recognise some of the faces here, and some seem genuinely happy to see me, but there are plenty I don’t know here too. They’re all looking at me, though, which is almost enough to make me uncomfortable again. Then an attendant in a more simple robe scampers up and stops just short of us, bowing curtly before snapping off a quick Order salute to me which I scramble to return.

“Well met, Mistress Foxtail. May I take care of your steed? I promise she will be treated with utmost care and respect.”

Looking around again, I find Art standing amongst the other figures here, quietly watchful with another of his infuriating little smiles, his filly nowhere in sight. “Oh, yes. Of course. Please do.” I hand her the reins and she bows again, stepping up to my mount and taking a moment to brush her neck and mane, being as gentle as she can as she leads the mare away. I feel momentarily regretful watching her go.

While we wait I find myself caught up in a small but affecting procession of greetings as those who know me here welcome me back, and soon enough that little remaining niggle is largely forgotten again as I bask in a wave of simple, companionable fondness. By the time the wagon comes grinding up the slope and we’re all obliged to clear a path for the horses to tow it into the open space beyond the gate I’m feeling happy again.

Then Driver 8 comes striding through the gate, which is easily tall and wide enough to dwarf him but somehow he still looks typically intimidating coming through, and the general mood in the changes instantly. “Fucking hell …” Tereth Morlen, one of the senior Assistant Bookkeepers of the Vaults, completely forgets where she is as she mutters under her breath when the golem’s substantial shadow falls over her.

Casting another look Art’s way, I see he’s got his hand over his mouth, clearly stifling a laugh, and it’s all I can do to keep from cracking up too. Big Man is perfectly safe here, I’m sure of it – they’re going to be absolutely fascinated by him, but they’ll also be perfectly respectful of his personal autonomy since he’s proven to Wenrich, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’s a living, sentient being. If anything he's going to be immensely popular the whole time he’s here, anyone able to overcome their initial intimidation likely to swamp him with questions.

He pauses for a long moment, and I know for a fact he’s taking in everyone gathered around us, immediately becoming very aware of the effect he’s had. Then he bends a little at the waist and I realise he’s tipping a subtle bow, then with equally elaborate slow care because he’s painfully aware of how dangerously strong he is, he actually pulls off an impressively correct version of the Order’s salute. “Well met, ladies and gentlemen.”

Tereth repeats her original surprised oath hearing that, but then finally remembers herself and follows suit, and this seems to break the ice with the rest as they do the same. The collective response of: “Well met indeed.” is delivered piecemeal instead of the usual unison, but everyone still manages to choke it out. By this point I can’t help having to stifle my own laugh along with Art, and even Tulen’s smiling indulgently.

Then Yeslee guides her horse through behind him with Shay right behind and seems almost relieved that Driver 8’s clearly drawn everyone’s attention, jumping down with her usual surprising, acrobatic ease before her huge shire-horse has even stopped. Impressively, the next attendant manages to overcome his own distraction, trotting over to her to offer his own inviting salute before inquiring if he can take her mount, and she looks down at him for a long moment, clearly unsure how to respond. Finally she turns my way and gives me a searching look, as if seeking my advice, which takes me very much by surprise, and I don’t really think before I just nod. Breathing out in what might actually be genuine relief, she mutters her consent and hands off the reins, but then stops him before he can lead the horse away so she can retrieve her bag and spare quiver from the saddle.

I’m almost surprised when Shay seems to just materialise at my shoulder and I look past her to see another attendant, thankfully a considerably larger male half-orc, is taking great care indeed to guide Elder towards the stables. So far the mercurial stallion’s going along with it, but the way his tail’s swishing I don’t know if it’s going to last. Shay follows my gaze and cracks a knowing grin when she turns back to me, tipping a wink that breaks through my last reserves so my laugh finally escapes. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

“Honestly I haven’t got the first bloody clue.” Shay chuckles back, cocking a brow as she turns to look Tulen over. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, I usually have better manners than that.”

“Oh no, you’re fine.” Tulen smiles bright as ever as she offers her hand and doesn’t even blink over what I’m sure is a powerful strong squeeze from Shay’s. “I don’t tend to stand for stuffy ceremony either. Tulen Kelsira. Gael’s best friend.”

Shay arches both brows high at that as she turns to me. “Really?”

All I can do is shrug. “Essentially.”

“Then it’s a genuine pleasure, really.” She gives Tulen’s hand one last firm pump before finally letting go. “Shayline. Swift-Kill. But just call me Shay. All my friends do.”

“Wonderful, then I shall as well.” Tulen’s smile relaxes, becoming more quizzical as her brows knit a little, thoughtful now. “But I’ll also admit I don’t know your name. I learned who the rest were before you arrived but you are an enjoyably intriguing surprise, really.”

This time the look Shay flashes me is well-hidden panic. “Um … yeah, sorry. I’m new …” I can almost see her trying hard to hide her urge to wince at the implied inadequacy of that response. I can understand her concern, of course – just three weeks ago she was one of the people trying to steal our cargo from us and kill us all in the process, and they came admirably close to succeeding, too. Obviously circumstances have changed significantly since, but she’s still understandably wary of being a very newly-reformed bandit in the midst of the very people she tried to rob and trying her best to pretend she’s an otherwise upstanding citizen. Personally I don’t think she has anything to blame herself for, but she’s wary all the same.

For a long, drawn out moment, it’s like Tulen can see right through it all and knows exactly what’s going on here, but I know she wouldn’t be bothered anyway. She simply leans into Shay’s shoulder and gives it a little nudge with her own, perfectly companionable as she presents another beaming smile. “Like I said, intriguing, but sometimes mysteries are more fun when they’re unsolved, right?” She gives me a particularly mischievous look that brings back many fond memories.

“I guess so.” I agree, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief that I’m sure Shay’s sharing, although she’s still doing a great job hiding it. “Most of the time it’s just great having friends.”

“Exactly.” Tulen gives me a nudge now and I lean into it with an easy smile.

Finally the crowd starts to spread out around us as Kesla leads Trampler in with Arrhetel at her side, and they’re clearly finishing up on a conversation I imagine they’ve been having all the way up the ramp. I’m intrigued to know what it might have been about, but knowing both of them as well as I do I know there’s no way I could ever find out. As they arrive one final quiet exchange passes between them, and Kesla seems to think for a moment before she nods and my godmother smiles, turning to the group at large. As one more attendant joins Kesla to take Trampler off her hands Arrhetel steps out into the centre of the floor and looks around us all for a moment, finally settling on Tulen.

“Mistress Kelsira, if you will?”

“Oh, yes.” Tulen doesn’t quite blanch, but I think it’s a close thing as she steps away, heading for the wagon now. “Of course.”

Krakka’s already jumped down at this point, standing by now as he watches this all with cool curiosity. Tulen apologises for the inconvenience and he simply smiles up at her in response as he steps aside, allowing her to step up onto the bench with surprising grace given her attire, and she apologises again once she’s up, this time to Wenrich.

“No need to concern yourself, Mistress Kelsira. By all means, go ahead.”

“Thank you very much, Master Clearwood.” Even so, she’s careful as she can be as she steps over him to climb into the back of the wagon, navigating the various items of baggage arranged in the bed before finally reaching the crate itself. Finally she hunkers down, again hitching her robe up for ease of movement as she crouches, and pauses for a thoughtful moment as she says something under her breath as she pulls her own gloves off. When she lays her hands on the wood of the crate at last there’s the subtlest shine in her eyes as they narrow, looking down at it.

She stays like that for a long time, or at least it feels like it. I can feel Shay growing restless beside me, but I don’t think it’s boredom, more just her own anxiety in present company getting a little too focused in the pregnant expectation of the moment. Almost without thinking about it first I reach over and curl my fingers between hers at her side, and she stiffens for a moment, almost electric in her surprise until she realises it’s me. After a moment she squeezes my hand back as she finally starts to relax.

“That’s it.” Tulen breathes out, seeming relieved now as she settles back for a moment before standing up again. She smooths out her robes, seeming a little uncomfortable now she realises the entire host gathered here is watching her. “Um … yes, it’s here, and it’s fine. The seals are intact, the dampers functioning perfectly. It’s safe, and it’s secure.”

“Wonderful.” Arrhetel smiles brightly as she turns back to Kesla. “Once again, my most sincere thanks to you and your party, the Silver Order does indeed owe the Creeping Bam a great debt. Now please, leave this with us, Mistress Kelsira and her people can take care of the artifact from here. We have much to discuss, but for now I think the first order of business is to get you all paid, yes?” She starts to step away, gesturing for Kesla to follow her while looking to me as if in indication that she means all of us. “If you would be so kind as to join me?”