After dropping a full stein of piss yellow beer in front of Huan, the bartender walked away without a word, his shoulders high and his eyes narrowed. Like his patrons, the bartender didn't approve of Huan's presence in his bar, but Huan just rolled up his sleeves and let the room see that he was ready for a fight. That would work until the alcohol did its work, and Huan planned to be gone before then. Without further pause, He downed the beer in one gulp. That turned out to be a good decision since if he'd sipped the beer, he would have spat it out, the bartender would have thrown him out, and Tiger would have ripped out the man's throat.

Disaster averted, he placed a count on the bar. "Three more."

The bartender glanced at the coin. "That's only enough for two," he said, reaching for the money. A soft growl stopped him.

Painting on a stiff smile, Huan shoved Tiger back into his corner and said, "Three. I know your prices, and I ain't haggling."

The bartender raised his chin. "Three and then you're gone, foreigner." He refilled Huan's stein, plonked down two more, and walked to the other end of the bar to other, better patrons.

Huan drank his second beer slowly, dragging out the miserable experience long enough to resemble the predicament he was in. Since arriving in Walton, he'd had his passport stolen, nearly been gutted by the thing that had taken it, and then had the passport returned to him while the opportunity of a lifetime vanished into smoke. He glared into the bottom of the stein.

If only Mei hadn't been there. A future as Lord Kalan's babysitter was galling, and his sister had... No, not now. He downed the second beer and started on the third.

If he didn't need Lord Kalan's sponsorship, he could have just traveled around Soura, doing what he pleased, where he pleased. Instead of going to that damned dead city in the middle of nowhere, he would have stayed in Anders for a time, made a little money, and then moved on to Soura's capital city with its rich merchants and dumb nobles to make even more money. The ShengXiao guard wouldn't have caught up to him, and he wouldn't have a sword hanging over him, waiting to drop. He'd be free.

By now, Huan's tongue was numb to the flavor of the beer making it easy for him to finish it in one swig.

What about Mei? Of course, his sister would be better off too. She'd still be hunting outside of Anders and hanging out with the rough and tumble folk who made a living that way. They'd be better friends than Magdala and Dwayne, who would never understand Huan or Mei. Huan pulled the fourth beer towards him, chuckling. Yes, she'd betrayed him, but she was his sister, and he wouldn't leave family behind.

Still, it wasn't my fault that Liraya got away.

With one shot, Mei had forced the witch to retreat before Liraya had over-committed to the fight. As long as Huan and Tiger had been fighting the giant, Liraya had a choice of either retreating and letting all her work go to waste or committing and possibly getting it all. But Mei's rifle changed all that.

Huan downed his last beer. What now?

He could return to the garrison and receive his punishment for disobeying orders, or he could find Liraya and force her to give him that damn title. With that in hand, he could saunter over to the other side of the Southern Line and live like a king. The choice was obvious. Pushing away the empty steins, Huan slid off his stool and left the bar.

***

"I heard you were there for that kerfuffle this morning."

Magdala swallowed a squeak and turned to the speaker who pushed thin gray hair out of her eyes.

Nifa Giordano was the local merchant Elder, and she'd been a sailor in her youth, making runs all around the Ilyon sea. She now bore the wrinkles of sun and salt.

Magdala nodded. "It was handled."

"I heard." Giordano pulled a cerulean shawl tighter around her shoulders. "A Wesen boy calmed the crowd with nothing but words. I'm glad it was resolved so quickly." She did not smile though.

Below them, Warren lit the pit's pyre with a torch, and Magdala watched the flames eat at the bodies. "He is my lord uncle's apprentice after all," she said.

Giordano tsked. "I've lived here for thirty years, and I've never gotten the impression that your lord uncle knew what he was doing. There was that shameful business with that Wesen woman a decade back, and now, he's taken on a Wesen apprentice and named him heir." She glanced around. "Where is this Dwayne?"

Magdala smiled. "When I left him, he was making a list of what Walton's residents needed."

Giordano raised an eyebrow. "Is he going to follow up?"

"I think he will."

Dwayne hadn't looked comfortable sitting on the church steps, but he'd been patient and open while Magdala had found all the complaints and requests frustrating. When she'd nearly decked a man for his stupidity, Dwayne had gently requested that she step away. She could still feel the warmth of his hand on hers.

"He'd better." Giordano waved over a young man who placed a chair behind her and withdrew. He had Giordano's eyes.

Magdala nodded at him. "Your grandson?"

The elder sat. "My grandnephew. My sister, bless her, thought he'd make a good assistant for me. It was supposed to be a learning experience. Well, I'm sure being able to take care of the elderly will pay off in the end."

Magdala hid a smile and faced Giordano. "I'm sure it will." She bowed. "Thank you again for meeting with me."

Giordano watched Warren rake hot coals over corpses below in the pit. "I heard about that business in the garrison. When you deal with Vanurians on a regular basis, you hear about monsters like that, and if you're unlucky, you'll see them too."

Magdala raised her chin. "We pushed her back."

Giordano raised an eyebrow. "But?"

Magdala winced. "She'll be back. She's out there, waiting for a chance to get her prize."

"And that's why we have to leave. Last night we lost a thousand dukes worth of goods. That's three caravans worth of profit gone. The mayor wants me and mine to stay, but... my grandson is down there." Giordano pointed at the pit.

Magdala covered her mouth with her hands. "I... I'm so sorry."

"I am too." Giordano deflated in her chair. "I'm sorry that his family lost so much money, that this town will die when we leave, and that I can't take his body back home to Adhua because we don't know if he'll stay dead."

Magdala tensed. "So, you're definitely leaving."

Giordano's eyes met Magdala's. "We are not a charity."

"But we're so close to catching her."

Giordano shook her head. "You just said that she'll attack again. What guarantees can you give that me and mine will not be attacked in the next struggle or worse, that a riot will not break out in the city?"

"I can't give any."

"Then-"

"I can't give any," said Magdala, standing up straight, "but Walton needs to stand as a chance for us to reach out to Vanuria."

"Pretty words."

"If we can keep this city going we can-"

"We merchants have traded with the Vanurians for centuries." Giordano drew herself up in her chair. "They are a divided, proud people with incomprehensible ways and a heretical church. Saving Walton will not change that or change anyone's minds. Is that all you offer, Lady Gallus?"

Magdala's remaining arguments withered under Giordano's gaze. What would her mother do? She would be able to handle this. She would have convinced a grieving grandmother to put aside her loss and save Walton. She could have done this alone, but Magdala didn't have to. "Dwayne is my lord uncle's heir," she said.

Giordano dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "Only as long as the crown allows it." She tilted her head. "He's not Lord Bart's love child, is he?"

Magdala's mouth fell open. "No!"

Giordano smiled. "That's something then."

Blushing, Magdala pressed on. "Once Dwayne is confirmed as heir, we can help you with trade in the city."

Giordano raised an eyebrow. "Caught the bug from your lord uncle, have you?"

Magdala feared her blush would become permanent. "I don't... what are you..."

Giordano's eyes turned to the horizon. "Having the ear of both the Guardian of Walcrest and Gallus's heir would be quite the thing to have in one's back pocket. Does the boy have a title?"

"No. He was-"

"A slave. Yes, I know." Giordano tapped her fingers on her lap. "I was told a brisk wind blew through the square when Dwayne spoke. No, not just a wind. A chill, like something had swallowed the heat. I've seen Wesen mages, and they're not all fire mages. Some deal with the cold, you know."

Sweat broke out on Magdala's palm. She tried a shrug. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Is Dwayne a Ri mage? If he is, then the Ri will want him no matter how low born he is."

So that was why Lord Kalan had ordered Dwayne to never use Ri magic in public; he didn't want to lose his apprentice.

Magdala coughed. "He's not. He's a Qe mage. Maybe he had a Souran mother some time back?"

Giordano let Magdala's question hang in the air. "Stranger things have happened." She got to her feet. "So a titleless mage is in line to get an estate. Interesting. Now you've given me a price, Young Lady Gallus, but what do you want?"

"I want you to shelter the Vanurians."

Giordano's eyes widened. "Oh, why?

"I want Walton to thrive, and in order to achieve that, the Vanurians have to feel safe here."

"You're betting that my people will be able to hold their tempers?"

"I'm betting that your people know that not just any Vanurian could execute last night's attack. I'm asking you to help me keep this city alive."

Giordano looked down into the pit. "All for the future backing of two children. That's not particularly tempting."

Magdala's heart fell.

"But I'll take it."

"Y-You will?"

"I'll remember what you said tonight." Giordano waved her grandnephew over. "I will not stand in Baron Harvey's way of course, but Walton's Vanurians will be protected for tonight at least. You have my word."

Magdala curtsied. "Thank you!"

The old merchant let her chair get taken away. "Good luck with Harvey."

Magdala frowned. "The riots have been quelled, and you're willing to help the Vanurians. She'll listen to reason."

"So young to be dealing with politics." Giordano chuckled. "As I said, good luck. I'll be expecting my price soon enough."

***

Huan staggered down the street, warmth bubbling into his limbs. He caught himself on a handy wall, sniffed the air, and wrinkled his nose. Human sweat, refuse, and, simmering underneath both, sour fear all assaulted his nose. Huan scowled. He'd had those people in front of the church ready to do his bidding, but Dwayne's speech had cut the mob's anger off at the knees. By the time the Wesen was done, even the huge laborer had been nodding along, his suspicion of foreigners subsumed with empathy, and so shame and hope had overwhelmed fear and anger. It wouldn't last though. When hope was dashed and shame faded, the mob's anger would return.

Pushing away from the wall, Huan continued down the street, cursing the fact that there were only humans here, not moving corpses and baneful witches. Grunting, he kicked the street and bit back a yowl. He'd stubbed his toe.

His nostrils flared. They got in my way. If Sir Marcus and Mei hadn't interfered, Huan would have found Liraya and wrested that title from her by now. Why am I even here?

Weeks ago, it had made sense to follow Lord Kalan and his merry band of mages into Soura where Huan had thought the ShengXiao guard couldn't follow, but they'd had found him anyway, and worse, even after hunting dragons, dueling magically animated suits of armor, and fighting undead thugs, he still had to follow the law. Sure, he had a new sword to show for it, but that wasn't enough.

How did you even get here? The lack of hostility in Tiger's question stopped Huan cold. For once, the beast was genuinely curious.

Huan closed his eyes. I had to run away because of you.

But you were free in Anders. Why are you here?

Because of... Huan's skin prickled. Mei.

If it weren't for his sister, he would have just brushed Sir Marcus off. Hell, the knight wouldn't have even made it that far without his sister's tracking skills. Back in Yumma, Mei had let him fall alone into that hole and left him with a moody Wesen and a crazy Vanurian, and in Anders, it was Mei who'd insisted that they go with Lord Kalan on his quest for idiotic magical mumbo jumbo.

Tiger's voice rumbled. She doesn't want to be free. She doesn't want you to be free.

My own sister... Huan pushed the thought away and sniffed the air again, prompting the beast to sift through the jumble of scents. When the wind picked up, the scents of rotted flesh, fresh turned earth, and the sweet tang of magic wafted by. Huan smiled and turned towards its source.

A hand landed on his shoulder. "What are you doing out here?"

With a snarl, Huan whirled around and lashed out with his foot, but his assailant snatched his foot out of the air and pushed him to the ground. Swallowing a yelp, Huan flipped back ontoto his feet and dropped into a stance, but his assailant hit Huan with two right jabs, then pulled the dazed thief into an arm lock.

Huan elbowed his assailant in the stomach and hit armor. "Ow!"

"Huan." Sir Marcus's voice was slow, patient. "I was asking politely. Do you want me to be rougher with you?"

Huan tried to pull Sir Marcus's arm away, but the knight's grip only tightened.

"Well? Will you behave?"

Huan stopped struggling and nodded.

"Good." Sir Marcus released Huan, who gasped and coughed.

How had he done that with just one arm? "I'm not going back to the barracks," Huan said.

Sir Marcus furrowed his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"You can't- what?"

"Why not?"

Huan stepped back. "I... I don't belong there. I'm a thief and a scoundrel and a cheat. This mask you see? I stole it."

Sir Marcus shook his head. "That doesn't matter here. Those crimes are against Tuqu."

Huan's eyes caught on Sir Marcus's emblem. "I won't swear allegiance to your queen."

Sir Marcus kept his hand open and by his side. "You aren't sworn to defend the queen or Soura. You're sworn to defend Lord Kalan."

Huan scoffed. "To what end?"

"Irrelevant. He's your sponsor."

"So just because of that, I can't do what I want?"

Sir Marcus's brow furrowed again. "What do you want to do?"

Huan spread his hands wide. "I want to be free. I want to do whatever I want!"

Sir Marcus sighed. "Are you in bondage to Lord Kalan?"

"What?"

"Are you his slave?"

"No, but..."

"So you can leave whenever you want, yes?"

"I can, but I'd get deported."

Sir Marcus's brown eyes bored into Huan. "So you don't want to suffer the consequences for anything, is that right?"

Huan's cheeks burned. "No, I... I..."

Sir Marcus took a deep breath then pointed at a nearby tavern, a quieter one than the one Huan had left. "I need a drink and you need a story."

***

Magdala strolled through the Southern Line garrison's front gate, knowing that, between Elder Giordano's assurances and Dwayne's becalming speech, they'd prevented the worst case scenario where Liraya's fiend horde overran Walton, the garrison, and Walcrest. All Magdala had to do now was convince Colonel Harvey to postpone the Vanurians' deportation and gave her time to corner and catch the enemy mage.

Pausing, Magdala glanced up at the back gate and the stairs beyond it, which led to Walcrest and her neglected study list. She should be reviewing, not creating concussives, escaping burning buildings, or fighting reanimated giants, but she had no regrets. From the moment she and Dwayne had saved her lord uncle's life, this had all felt right. Last night, she'd spent hours in bed trying to anticipate Liraya and figure out how to best leverage her friends' skills when they finally caught up to her. The biggest surprise was that Magdala wasn't frustrated like she'd been in Yumma. That was probably because, while Liraya was using magic Magdala hadn't seen before, the witch was still human and not a bundle of arcane and ancient magic. Besides, she could always study later. Her lord uncle was even conscious now, so she could get his opinion on her study list. Though that actually meant she'd get Dwayne's opinion as her lord uncle never bothered with mundane tasks. She smiled. She'd like that.

She continued onwards, reached Colonel Harvey's office, and entered, saying, "Colonel, I spoke to Giordano, and I have assurances that..."

Two people sat in front of the colonel's desk.

The one on her left, Mayor Dietrich, gave a relieved smile. "You spoke to Elder Giordano. Did she say she'd help?"

On her right, Bishop Hansson scoffed. "You've been busy. First, you have your companion coopt my speech in front of my own church, and now you're negotiating with merchants. You do get around."

The mayor looked between them. "Her companion? Who are you talking about?"

"That Wesen boy that follows her around. He gave a speech to-"

"He did what?" The mayor jumped to his feet. "That is not his place. I don't care what Lord Kalan says. That boy's place is not at Walcrest."

Magdala advanced on him. "Dwayne protected this town."

Hansson snorted. "Convenient justification for knocking me out. After all, it was for my own protection."

Magdala glared at her. "Thousands would have died if you'd had your way. Vanurians and Sourans!"

The bishop placed her hands together. "Where those who drink from the true Cup stand, so does justice."

Colonel Harvey's words cut off Magdala's reply. "Enough. Dietrich, sit down. Lady Gallus, why are you here?"

"I... I've spoken with Elder Giordano." Magdala summarized her conversation with the merchant elder.

When she finished, Hansson crossed her arms. "Of course she would say that."

Dietrich released a slow breath. "It's good that she now sees sense, but the bishop has convinced me. We cannot allow Vanurians to stay in Walton. It is too dangerous."

Magdala's eyes narrowed. "You were against deporting them this morning."

The mayor sniffed. "Lord Kalan's... apprentice just tried to coopt a peaceful gathering of Sourans, and your hunter friend has reported that she not only failed to find the enemy but that dozens of those things have been stashed around my town. By the cup, I am not a military man, but we are in an untenable position."

Hansson's eyes glittered. "This is justice. After all, without the presence and support of her heretic brethren, there would have been no way for that witch to find such deep purchase here. I recall a proverb: remove the rot to save the orchard."

Despite the heat coursing through her, Magdala schooled her features still and faced her last hope. "Colonel, you can't do this. We know that the enemy has been stealing corpses from the fire pits for months, and since Vanurians aren't allowed anywhere near those pits, there's no way that they could have helped her."

Colonel Harvey clasped her hands together and placed them on her desk. "We need to take control of this situation, and while I thank you and Miss Mei for finding significant weaknesses in our defense, this is a job for adults and professionals, not children and students."

Her heart shrinking, Magdala looked between stern Harvey, embarrassed Dietrich, and snide Hansson. Because of them, Walton would burn, and her lord uncle would fall into the hands of the enemy. "When do you plan to deport the Vanurians?"

The colonel's hands unknotted themselves. "Tomorrow. The mayor has been cooperating with my aides to get things set up."

"Do you want me to do anything?"

"Stay in Walcrest."

"Sorry?"

Colonel Harvey stood up, her hands shushing the bishop and the mayor. "You are daughter of the Water Sage and the Lord Commander and the niece of the Guardian of the Wall's. You are a valuable target and a weakness that the enemy can exploit. What would I say to Lord Kalan, to your parents, if you got captured?"

Magdala crossed the room and slammed her hands onto the colonel's desk. "I have more experience fighting these things than your soldiers!"

Colonel Harvey's eyes narrowed. "Not all of them."

The mayor stood up and tried to pull Magdala back from Harvey's desk. "Please, see reason. I hear that your studies have been aborted, and someone with your lineage should be focused on her future, not this."

Magdala shrugged him off. "I'll talk to my lord uncle."

"He agrees with us." Colonel Harvey jutted her chin out. "Now, go back to Walcrest and leave it to the adults."

***

When a metal cup full of water was placed in front of Huan, he glared at the non-alcoholic drink. "What's this?"

"Drink it, and with any luck, you'll have a clear head tomorrow." Nodding at the bartender, Sir Marcus took the stool next to Huan. "We have a big day tomorrow. We're deporting all of the Vanurians in Walton."

Huan eyed the knight's drink. "I don't see what that has to do with me."

Sir Marcus picked up his beer. "You're attracted to crowds. I bet after we sent you away you ended up in front of the church, didn't you?"

Ignoring the knot forming in his belly, Huan picked up his cup, drank deep, and swallowed. "Of course not. I just left. Got to stay out of trouble after all."

Sir Marcus took a swig of beer. "Good. Good."

Guilt pricked Huan's heart. I can't believe he... What does he want? "You wanted to tell me something? A story?" Huan's face was starting to swell, so he placed the cool cup against his cheek. He'd have a bruise by morning.

The knight peered into his beer, searching for something. "Hopefully, this will help you on your way. I can see that you're holding onto something hard, trying to wrestle it down without really understanding what it is, and when you're working that hard, anything anybody says just sounds like bullshit, like they're insulting all the work you've done, but... you need to hear this. Even if you won't listen, you need to hear this so that maybe you'll understand before it's too late."

Huan squirmed. "Just get on with it."

Sir Marcus's eyes lifted from his beer and met Huan's. "Barty ever tell you how he and I met?"

Huan rolled his eyes. "Lord Kalan doesn't talk to the help. He barely talks to his niece."

A wry smile etched itself onto Sir Marcus's face. "Ah, yes, he was born with a blindspot for anyone and anything non-magical, but for a while there, he was capable of seeing past it in short spurts. He just needed an interesting problem to solve.

"When we first met, oh, decades back, he was already heir apparent to Walcrest and the Guardian of the Wall. Up in the capital or out in Anders, those titles don't mean anything since, to most Sourans, the Southern Line is just like a mountain range, something that's been there since the beginning of time. But, for them who know what lies beyond it, it's a thin piece of paper holding back a storm.

"Back then, since I didn't know what lay south, I didn't think much of Barty. He was just the younger son of a baron, barely nobility. I was raised to be a knight and had only really met other knights, all big strong fighters who could take a punch and laugh it off, and Barty was never, you know, well built. The Kalans have never put out warriors before. When you go to the capital, you'll meet the rest of them and see for yourself. They're all either too short, too stout, or too thin to make good fighters." Sir Marcus chuckled.

"Anyway, Queen Sophia, the previous queen, dispatched the two of us east to find out what had happened to a certain crown princess's consort, Tor Jensen. The man was a mage with more family prestige than magical ability, but he liked to roam the countryside in his spare time, trying to solve the problems of the commonfolk. He was supposed to have reported back by windsong but-"

Huan leaned in. "Windsong?" He'd scammed Souran nobles but hadn't bothered to learn how they interacted with their monarch. In Tuqu, the aristocracy spent all of their time in the capital, hanging on the Emperor's every word. The idea of any of them going out among the populace was unthinkable.

Confusion wrinkled Sir Marcus's forehead for a moment. "Right, nowadays Barty's not keen on staying in touch. Windsong is a message carried by flying Qe mages. Qe mages aren't as common as pigeons nor as strong as horses, but if you want to ensure the message gets where it's going and, even better, for it to remain private, there's no better way." He frowned. "I think Harvey's sent both of the garrison's off to Lord Gallus."

He blinked. "Where was I? Right. Tor Jensen. The man hadn't sent word in days, so the royal family was getting more and more antsy and sent Barty and I out to Cairnborne, where he'd last been seen. When we got there, we found Jensen's retinue absolutely despondent. They hadn't heard from him either, and they were terrified the crown princess would punish them for dereliction of duty. I wasn't worried though. A weak mage is still a mage.

"With that in mind, I thought it was a simple search and rescue or if Jensen was dead, a simple search and retrieve, and so I proceeded to go around the village, asking what Jensen had been doing. Barty though had different ideas. While I consulted the head of the village, Barty disappeared into their tiny library and fell asleep on top of a book. While I interviewed the farmers that Jensen had tried to help, Barty wandered around the village muttering nonsense to himself. Finally, while I was organizing the villagers and the consort's retinue into a search party, Barty took a nap."

"What an asshole," said Huan. Those actions fit with his impression of the noble mage.

Sir Marcus smiled. "I would have agreed." His eyebrows furrowed. "From what Barty says, you've only met two Qe mages so far, Lady Pol and himself, correct?"

Huan smirked. "What? Miss Prissy Pants and Dwayne don't count?"

"Young Magdala hasn't graduated yet, and Dwayne isn't..." Sir Marcus shook his head. "I'm not comfortable with thinking of him as a Qe mage."

"What? He too dark for you?"

Sir Marcus's eyes dropped to his beer. "Do they have stories about Wesen mages in Tuqu? Qe mages can move earth, sky, and sea, but Ri mages can summon powers that no one should be able to wield, powers that can reduce a body to ash in an instant. The only Wesen mage I've met before Dwayne, the same woman who gave Lord Kalan that book that Dwayne carries, she split a ship in two." He finished his beer. "I'll need more."

While Sir Marcus waved the bartender over, Huan tried to imagine Dwayne wielding that kind of power and failed. Yes, the Wesen mage had stopped dragon flame and sure, that thing he'd done in Yumma to save himself and Mei had been impressive, but none of that sounded half as impressive as what Lord Kalan had done to subdue the dragon.

Sir Marcus paid the bartender and sipped his fresh brew. "Ah, that's the stuff. So, if you'd seen any real Qe mages other than Barty and Lady Pol, you'd know that most of them are lazy, pretentious, and obnoxious. There are a few like Lady Pol who do meaningful research and others that try to do what Jensen did, but for the most part, they just sit in the Magisterium doing nothing, and so when I saw a minor noble and a mage lazying about being useless, I got angry. After I sent out the search parties, I called Barty out and told him what I thought of his 'work'." Sir Marcus leaned in, his eyes sparkling. "Do you know what he said?"

"What?"

"'My job starts now.'"

Huan's head jerked back. "What the-"

"Right? I nearly punched him in the face." Sir Marcus laughed. "Instead, I left him in town and coordinated the search. For hours, we found nothing, but then I started to notice that a few of the search teams were out of position and were checking out random rock piles here and there without regards to my orders. When I grabbed one and asked them what they were doing, guess who had given them new orders."

"Lord Kalan," answered Huan.

"The very same. When I heard that, I tracked him down, punched him right in the mouth, and demanded to know what by the cup he was doing. The man got back up, brushed himself off, and answered, 'I'm eliminating all possibilities. We only have one left.' Then he told me to follow him, leading me and a half dozen villagers to a pile of rocks that my searchers had walked right on by. He patted the ground, told all of us to stand back and be ready, and before any of us could ask for clarification, he cast a spell, and the rocks wrenched themselves out of the ground and rose into the air. I thought he was just showing off, but right under those rocks, bruised, tired, and dusty, was Tor Jensen.

"After we bundled the man onto a carriage and sent him home, I asked Barty how he knew where to look. He explained that while I'd been talking to people, he'd been researching the geological history of the area."

Huan ran his hands through his hair. "The what history?"

"How the rocks and soil have changed over the years. When a mage actually bothers to do anything, they record their findings and store them in the local library. Barty found out that Cairnborne had a history of sinkholes, and he'd heard about an underground river Jensen had gone to investigate from one of the farmers I'd interviewed, and so he decided to follow up by ordering a few of my search teams to trace the course of that river. When I asked him 'what did he need me for if he'd figured it out all on his own?', he answered, 'I'm not good with people, but I know how to do research. You don't know research, but you can organize a search party in less than a day.'"

Huan sipped his water and gave Sir Marcus the side eye. "And your point?"

Sir Marcus faced Huan. "We can't do it alone, and sometimes you need to ask for help."

Huan snorted. "Lord Kalan asked you for help and you lost an arm. Was that worth it?"

Sir Marcus looked at his one remaining hand. "Would I prefer to still have both arms? Yes, but we would have lost more if I hadn't been there. I can't claim to understand what Barty and Dwayne are working on, but I know it's going to change the world, hopefully for the better."

A growl rumbled out of Huan's throat. "I don't see how that helps you. You're not a mage."

Sir Marcus pushed his stein away, stood up, and stretched. "I just wanted you to hear what I had to say. With any luck, you'll listen later." He left the tavern.

The bartender shuffled forward. "Do you want anything?"

Huan glanced at the half-empty glass of water. The strong don't need help. "No, I'm fine."