Archive of Our Own

“--Already dead?” Ed demands.

The barkeep nods. “Four, maybe five days ago. Fellow came into town and said he’d heard we had a hydra problem. We all told him not to go, not alone, but he didn’t listen. Came back a few hours later with one of the heads.”

“Well,” Simon says, into the startled silence. “That’s not great.”

He’s right, it’s not. They’d been traveling for days to get here, after hearing about the reward. Now there’s no money and no hydra.

Worse, Ed is starting to look like he’s thinking about something, which is never good. He’s probably coming up with some other plan for what to do now that they’re here. That has to be headed off immediately, so Holga decides to try for a distraction. “That’s some fighter, to take down a hydra by himself.”

The barkeep nods. “Guess he’s well known around these parts, but I’d never heard of him. Did a good job of it, though, we’re back to fishing the marsh already.” He pauses, grins, and adds slyly, “Not bad on the eyes, either.”

A well-known do-gooder who’s confident enough to go after a hydra alone. There’s more than one of them riding around the realms, sure enough, but there’s only one that will absolutely make Ed froth at the mouth. Holga asks, as casually as she can, “Oh? What’s his name?”

“Xenk Yendar,” he says, and Ed chokes on his beer.

She fucking knew it. The man’s a legend. Damn good with that sword, knows his stuff, and the barkeep’s right about his looks, if you’re into that kind of thing.

Not that Holga is. But she’s willing to look out for anyone she knows who might be.

She pounds Ed on the back absent-mindedly while the barkeep stares. Simon is wide-eyed, Doric as calm as ever. “Old friend of ours,” she tells the barkeep. Ed glares.

“No he’s not,” he says.

“Sure he is,” Holga argues back, mostly to see what will happen. “Worked with us on that Underdark job and everything.”

The barkeep’s eyes widen, but Ed isn’t impressed. “That doesn’t make him our friend,” he says.

“Saved you from that dragon,” Holga reminds him, helpfully. “Fought off those Thayan assassins.” This town must be sleepier than she thought. If the barkeep’s eyes get any wider, they’ll pop right out of his head.

“Hah,” Ed says, scowling ferociously. “He might be useful to have around, but you really think I’d make friends with a sanctimonious bastard who thinks he’s better than us because he can take down a hydra single-handedly and knows the wisdom of the Ancient Texts Of Extreme Tedium?”

The barkeep’s friendly smile is gone. “Well, he’s made plenty of friends here,” he says cooly.

“We’re glad your troubles are over,” Holga says, before Ed can make any more progress on endearing himself to the locals. “Can I trouble you for another round for my friends, and a lemonade for the kid? And a couple of rooms for tonight?”

They get the drinks without any more friendly smiles, unfortunately. The man’s offended enough to leave them alone after that, though, which is convenient. The last thing they need is anyone else overhearing Ed.

“So we don’t get to fight a hydra,” she says. “Big deal.” She’d been looking forward to it, actually--she’s never gotten to fight a hydra--but there’s no point admitting that to Ed.

Ed glares at her. “And the four hundred gold as a reward isn’t a big deal?” He pauses to think, glowering. “I bet he’s going to do something like give it to his temple or distribute it to the poor.” His tone sounds like he’s describing Xenk throwing the money into a cesspit. And then shoving Ed in after it, which at this point might not be that bad an idea.

“Quit complaining,” Holga says. “It’s not like you were going to be the one fighting anyway.” She’d never let Ed near a hydra.

“Yeah,” Simon says, scowling. “Doric and I have been practicing our fire spells for days.” He holds up a singed edge of his tunic in demonstration.

“And now you’re all ready for next time,” Ed says, with unconvincing enthusiasm. “Look, it’s not my fault,” he adds. “If Xenk fucking Yendar--” He gives Kira an apologetic look, then shrugs and goes on, “If that guy hadn’t gotten here first then you’d be in that marsh chucking fireballs tomorrow morning like we’d planned. Don’t blame me.”

Kira mutters something--she’s been sulking ever since Ed said that she’d have to stay behind during the fight--but Holga overrides her ruthlessly. “I don’t get what your problem with the guy is.” That’s not entirely true. Holga knows exactly what Ed’s problem with Xenk is, but Ed doesn’t, so she can probably get away with it. “He helped us out. We never would’ve gotten that helmet on our own.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ed asks. “We would’ve found a way to take down Forge and Sofina without that helmet. The treasure wasn’t even behind that seal thing after all.”

“But you said--” Simon starts, then gives up.

“We had it figured out,” Ed insists. “We didn’t need Xenk Yendar to take down Forge, just like we wouldn’t need help taking out a hydra.”

Ed doesn’t always know what’s good for him. That’s his problem, usually. Sometimes he ends up making it everyone else’s problem, though, and then Holga has to get involved. “Plus he’s a Thayan,” she says, and takes a strategic swallow of ale.

Ed looks down and says, after a long pause, “He’s not that bad, for a Thayan.” He glances up, sets his jaw mulishly, and adds, “But that doesn’t mean he’s good for much else.”

Doric is looking over Ed’s shoulder with wide eyes. Holga only chances a quick glance, but that’s enough. She grins into her tankard. This is going to be good.

“I don’t know,” she says. “He’s not wrong about everything.”

Doric nods. Holga wasn’t expecting her to help out, but she says, “You gave all the treasure back to the people of Neverwinter, just like he asked you to.”

Ed sets down his tankard and says, a little too loudly, “That was a strategic decision.” The others don’t look any more convinced than Holga, so he goes on, “Look, Xenk Yendar is a smug, self-righteous bastard who thinks he knows what’s best for everyone. Trust me, if he knew we were coming here to kill a hydra and win some gold he’d show up just to get it first, in case we used the money to do something that he didn’t approve of.”

The sudden hubbub from behind them is loud enough to interrupt even Ed, and he finally twists around to see what’s going on. A few feet behind him, at the center of a circle of staring locals, is Xenk.

He’s standing at the bar, apparently trying to ignore his audience. As far as Holga can tell, he’s arguing with the barkeep about accepting gold for his drink. To no one’s surprise--at least, no one who’s ever had to actually talk to the man--Xenk is clearly losing.

“See?” Ed says after a stunned moment. At least he’s lowered his voice. “He won’t even accept a drink on the house.”

Holga doesn’t see how that’s their problem, or really a problem at all, but now that Xenk’s actually here there’s probably no need for her to wind Ed up any further herself. There’s no time for it anyway. Xenk glances in their direction and Simon waves at him, and then he’s making his way across the room towards them.

“Why did you do that,” Ed hisses. Then, more loudly, “Hey, Xenk, imagine running into you here.”

“Edgin,” Xenk says with a nod. He turns and gives the same nod to each of them in turn. “Holga. Simon. Doric.” He gives Kira a curious glance, but she ducks her head away shyly and he looks away in what seems to be mild alarm.

Easy on the eye or not, the man’s impossibly awkward. “Hey, Xenk,” Holga says. Doric nods silently, and Simon mumbles something flustered and inaudible. “Well done on the hydra.”

“You have heard that tale already?” Xenk looks surprised, as if he isn’t aware that half the town is falling all over themselves to tell it.

“Couldn’t go five paces without someone telling us about the hero who cleaned up the marsh,” Ed says, which isn’t even true. They hadn’t heard anything until they’d gotten to the inn and asked.

Holga considers pointing that out, but Xenk, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, says quietly, “It was not such an impressive feat. It was a very small hydra of only six heads.”

He’s starting to look slightly flushed. He’s . . . embarrassed? Holga’s not sure that makes sense--they weren’t making that much of a fuss--but maybe paladins aren’t allowed to take credit for what they do, or something.

Ed’s trying to come up with something clever about six heads. Simon must see it too, because he asks hurriedly, “Did you use fire?” and then winces, as if asking the question is humiliating all on its own, which, to be fair, it is.

Xenk’s about to reply when there’s a strumming noise from across the room. A young bard has set up next to the hearth. Now that she’s got the attention of a good quarter of the people in the room, she gives them a wide smile and announces, “I’m going to start with a song I just composed in honor of someone who’s actually here tonight.”

Ed’s eyes widen indignantly, but before anyone can say anything there’s another loud chord and then she’s off and singing.

There’s no doubt who the song is about, especially once she gets to chorus. Holga’s almost impressed. Not that many things rhyme with Xenk, but she’s given it her best. Catchy, too. Holga’s foot is already tapping along.

She might be the only one who thinks so, though. Xenk is staring at the floor like he wishes it would swallow him. Having a song written about you doesn’t seem that horrible to Holga, but apparently he doesn’t agree. It doesn’t help that half the room has turned to stare at him, as almost all the conversations fade away.

“This music is terrible,” Ed says, three bars into the second verse. “I’m going to bed.”

“She’s not so bad,” Holga says.

Simon says, “I’ll just be a few minutes,” and Doric holds up her half-full tankard in explanation. Kira grins and shakes her head, clearly intending to make the most of the evening. Ed gives the bard one last scowl, and disappears up the stairs.

Looking at Xenk is starting to make Holga uncomfortable. “Sit down,” she says. There’s space at the table now, and he’ll be less obvious sitting with them than looming over the crowd.

He eyes her, and the table, and then the door. “Perhaps I should--” he says. Holga’s already shaking her head.

“You can’t leave yet,” she says firmly. He’s going to lose all his new friends if he does that.

He nods once, resigned, and sits. The song is, in fact, terrible, but the chorus is catchy and Holga finds herself humming along while Simon attempts to hide his laughter. Doric, who’s a lot kinder than she gets credit for, asks Xenk, “So, what did happen with that hydra?”

Holga knows Xenk can tell stories well--they’d all been there for the tale of Szass Tam and the Horn of Beckoning Death--but he seems to stumble over this one. It’s enough to get some of the technical details across, though, and Holga’s even more impressed than earlier. Ed can say what he likes, the man knows his way around a sword. Maybe she can get him to fight her, while they’re in town.

As the bard starts on an unremarkable drinking song Xenk looks relieved, stands, and says, “I’m afraid I must leave. I wish you a good night. And”--he hesitates, then gives them all a small smile--“thank you for the company.”

“Huh,” Doric says, watching him leave. “He’s really not that bad.”

Simon snorts. “Don’t say that in front of Ed.”

“Ed’ll come around,” Holga says. Eventually. Once he thinks it’s his own idea.

“What are we going to do now?” Doric asks.

“We can’t go home yet, we only just got here,” Simon says. He’d been horribly seasick on the trip down south. Holga won’t be surprised if he finds an excuse to go home over land.

“There are some old tombs in the hills nearby,” she says. “Might be worth a look.”

“I hate tombs,” Simon says. “Last time we went in a tomb I almost got eaten by an ooze.”

Doric says something vaguely sympathetic, but Holga’s already made up her mind. Tombs. She’ll suggest it to Ed in the morning.

**

Simon hates tombs. They’re always dark, and creepy, and he can’t think too hard about how many pounds of dirt are over his head or it gets hard to breathe. No amount of treasure is worth going in a tomb, and that’s before you start thinking about who else might already live there.

This particular tomb is infested with giant spiders, and judging by their numbers they’ve been here for a while. One or two wouldn’t be an issue, except that they’re disgusting, but there seem to be dozens of these, and a few of them are huge, and so things aren’t going very well. Holga’s fighting her way out of a web that one of the largest ones threw at her, and Ed is improbably upside down in another one. He can’t see Kira, which hopefully means she followed Ed’s shouted orders and got out of here (although, knowing Kira, he’s skeptical. Growing up with invisibility sure does something to a child’s development.). Doric’s picking off smaller spiders with her slingshot, but that isn’t doing much against the bigger ones, and Simon’s getting some use out of his fire spells after all.

One of the spiders bit him on the ankle earlier, and the only reason he’s still on his feet is Doric, but she’s never been much of a healer and that’s probably all she can manage today, so they’re in trouble if anyone else gets hurt. Simon rummages frantically in his pocket for a candle stub and the small twists of paper he’d prepared for the hydra, shaking the powdery contents out into his hand before scattering a pinch over the tallow and muttering the words of the spell. A ball of flames erupts in front of him and rolls away through the spiders, which is at least enough to get them a little breathing space but also gives out enough light to show just how many spiders there are.

They’re screwed.

Holga finally rips herself free, swinging her ax through the strands trapping Ed. It’s too bad that he lands on his head and is bowled into the wall by one of the larger spiders before he can even stand up, but even so that’s probably an improvement over dangling upside down. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to be much help for a while, though, so Simon braces himself and shakes out another pinch of powder.

Things improve now that Holga’s fighting again, but they still aren’t great. She roars with satisfaction as she sweeps her ax through three spiders in one blow, but several smaller ones swarm out of the darkness to fill the gap, and a moment later one snags Holga with its web and she falls, hard, against the wall of the tunnel. The spiders are creeping up around them, more and more of them every minute, and they’re running out of options. Even the way out is blocked now.

Doric cries out, and Simon turns to see her grasping her wrist with the other hand. He’s pretty sure she’s been bitten, which is bad, because even if she manages to shrug off the poison the injury is going to put her slingshot out of commission, and there’s no one here who can heal her. Simon sends his second-to-last fireball spinning past her, which will hopefully give her some breathing room, but there’s not much else he can do. There’s not much that any of them can do.

Then, so suddenly there it’s almost painful, a bright light flares from somewhere behind the spiders. Simon’s gotten so accustomed to the darkness of the tomb that for a moment it’s blinding, which is why he misses the hand-sized spider until it makes its way halfway up his leg, which in turn is why he’s flailing frantically and yelling in a high-pitched but dignified way when Xenk Yendar bursts into the chamber and starts hewing down spiders with his glowing sword.

By the time Simon’s managed to fling his own spider off, Holga’s up on her feet and fighting at Xenk’s back. Ed’s swinging his lute around, although he doesn’t seem to be very successful at connecting with anything. Even Doric has her emergency knife out, although she doesn’t look particularly steady on her feet either. It doesn’t matter. In the face of Xenk and Holga’s assault, there’s a growing clear space around them, and as he watches the spiders start retreating, flowing away down the corridor like a really disgusting torrent, too fast to even stomp on as they flee. Simon sends one last fireball after them, then stands blinking in the darkness as the light of the fire and the light of Xenk’s sword die out in the same moment.

“Well,” Ed says, into the sudden darkness, sounding more resigned than anything else. “Fuck.”

They stagger out of the tomb in a sad procession. Ed’s arm is draped over Holga’s shoulder as she half-drags him along. Simon would very much like to do the same thing for Doric, who isn’t looking that good, but his tentative offer of help was refused so flatly that he doesn’t dare try again. Only Xenk is completely untouched, guarding their rear vigilantly while the others do their best to work on getting one foot in front of the other.

Once they’re a safe distance from the tomb they collapse under a grove of pine trees. Holga lets Ed down with her usual gentle care, and he gasps up indignantly at her, “Hey, that hurts.”

Simon thought Xenk was still a little ways behind them, watching for any more danger, but suddenly he’s kneeling in front of Ed, regarding him seriously. “May I heal you?” he asks, with more intensity than the question really warrants.

“Nope,” Ed replies instantly, sitting up--although he’s still listing sideways, so it’s not very convincing--and eyeing Xenk suspiciously. “I’m fine.”

Xenk hesitates, but only for a moment. “You are injured,” he insists, nodding towards the growing lump on Ed’s forehead.

“Probably a concussion,” Holga agrees, although she doesn’t sound too concerned about it.

“You have a concussion,” Ed says, not very steadily. He’s the only one who seems to think that helps make his case. He blinks owlishly and calls, not doing a very good job of feigning calm, “Kira? Kira, where’d you go?”

“I’m right here,” a voice says. Xenk jumps just a little bit and Ed apparently feels well enough to smirk at him as Kira appears out of nowhere, just at the edge of the clearing. She takes a few tentative steps forward. “Dad, is everyone alright?”

“Yep,” Ed says, despite the mountain of evidence to the contrary. “You got out of there ok before the fighting started, right?”

“Sure, Dad,” she says, with an air of sincerity that only someone with a moderate concussion would find believable. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Ed says. Kira, justifiably unconvinced, looks to Holga, who grimaces.

“He’ll be ok, bug,” she says. “He just fell over and hit his head in there.”

“Perhaps I may be of assistance,” Xenk says, from where he’s still kneeling in front of Ed. “It would not take more than a moment—“

“Absolutely not,” Ed says. Behind him, Doric is slowly letting herself down onto the ground. When she catches Simon watching she glares ferociously, and he makes himself stay where he is instead of going to help.

“Ed,” Holga says, in the tone of voice she only uses when she’s completely fed up with Ed’s bullshit, the one that’s terrifying even when it’s not directed at you. Simon’s heard it a lot.

So has Ed. Apparently enough times to become inured, because instead of the appropriate terror he just mimics back, “Holga.”

“I do not understand,” Xenk is saying. There’s just the slightest edge of impatience creeping into his voice, which Simon didn’t even know was possible. Especially when he’s talking to Ed, who everyone—except maybe Ed—can tell is his favorite, which is fine. Obviously. But now he definitely sounds frustrated when he adds, “You are wounded, and there js no reason to refuse aid. I promise, I shall do you no harm.”

“I only let people I trust heal me,” Ed says.

“No, wait, hang on,” Simon protests, despite his better judgment. He knows better than to get involved in these things. “What about that dodgy cleric back in Longsaddle? And the druid who tried to steal our horses last year?”

Ed glares, but it’s Xenk who speaks up. Quietly, not sounding as angry as would be reasonable for someone who’d just been told he’s less trustworthy than dodgy clerics and thieving druids, he asks, “What must I do, then, to earn your faith?”

“Why did you follow us into that tomb?” Ed asks, apparently having decided, not for the first time, that the best defense is a good offense.

“I did not do so,” Xenk says, looking surprised.

“Really?” Ed asks, skeptically. Simon can’t even blame him this time, because it is suspicious that Xenk just happened to show up right when they needed him, even if they’re really lucky that he did. “You want us to trust you, try not sneaking around following people who weren’t up to anything ‘illicit’ in the first place.”

That’s maybe a little unfair, especially when Xenk did save all of them from the spiders. At the memory, Simon’s half-healed ankle throbs. He makes his way over to Doric, limping maybe a little more theatrically than necessary, which works well enough that she only gives him her gentlest glare as he settles himself down on the grass next to her. She’s quiet, biting her lip, and Simon doesn’t really like the way she’s holding onto her wrist. “Look, guys,” he tries, but it’s too late.

“I went into the tomb for purposes of my own,” Xenk says, so controlled that Simon can tell he’s having some kind of emotion but has no idea which one. “I assure you, my movements have nothing to do with you. I was unaware of your presence until I heard the sounds of combat, and wished only to come to your aid.”

“Just as well you did,” Holga says, which is the closest she’ll ever come to admitting that they’d all be dead now without Xenk’s help.

It’s also so obviously true that, despite all his previous experience, Simon’s still surprised when Ed growls, “We could’ve handled it.”

“No we couldn’t,” Simon says. “We’re not even handling it now. Just let--”

“I shall not force you to accept help,” Xenk says, in the same careful tone. Neither he nor Ed have even glanced aside at Simon or Holga, which is, frankly, a little hurtful. “But it shall cost you nothing, aside from your pride. I should have believed you to have more sense than to allow such a thing to prevent you from returning to a state where you will no longer be a liability to your friends and your daughter. There is nothing to gain from this refusal.”

At the mention of Kira, Ed’s eyes grow wide with fresh outrage. Doric flinches back from the impending explosion, just a little, and Simon’s suddenly had enough. “Shut up,” he says, not quite yelling but also not not-yelling, just as Ed takes a preparatory inhale.

It’s loud enough that it actually catches his attention, for once. Ed turns to stare at Simon in wounded indignation, and Simon says, “Shut the hell up, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but seriously, you two need to stop whatever this is and shut up and listen. Doric got bitten, and I hurt my ankle, and if Ed doesn’t want to be healed that’s fine but the rest of us aren’t idiots, and Doric really needs help right now.”

Doric doesn’t even bother denying it, which is not a good sign. Xenk gets up, looking remarkably sheepish, and hurries over, while Ed gives them glower number 5, which is the one he uses when he feels guilty about something but isn’t ready to admit it yet.

After that, things get a lot better. Xenk has enough healing to go around, it turns out, which is good, because even Holga got banged up in the fight. Once Xenk’s finished with the rest of them Ed offers out a hand without comment, which is probably for the best even if Simon still thinks, privately, that a little concussed stupor might be good for him this time.

Somehow Doric ends up building a fire, and Holga breaks out provisions, and it becomes clear that they’re camping here for the night instead of trying to get back to the inn and their horses, which is probably a decision they’ll regret tomorrow but which sounds like a great idea right now. Xenk hangs back an awkward few feet until Kira considerately rolls over a couple of stumps and offers him one to sit on. He looks astonished, and like he’s considering running away, but it’s very difficult to say no to Kira and after a moment he sits, cautiously, as if he’s afraid the stump might bite him.

Ed, who’s no better at saying no to Kira than any of the rest of them, scowls over and says, as if continuing a conversation that none of the rest of them knew they were having, “Ok, fine, I guess you can camp with us for the night.”

“I don’t think that’s what he--” Holga starts, which seems reasonable enough, but Xenk says, just a little more loudly than normal, “Thank you, I would be most grateful.”

“Yeah, well,” Ed says. “Thanks for the help.” Just in case that sounds too generous, he adds, “Although that still doesn’t explain what you were doing following us around in a tomb.”

“As I told you, I was seeking something unrelated to you or your friends,” Xenk says. “It has been rumored, for some time, that a certain sword of great power was concealed in these hills. I have allies who have dire need of it, and I hoped to find it in the tombs.”

There’s an instant of stillness, as three of them freeze, for just a moment. Doric looks up with her usual hair-trigger wariness--someday Simon’s going to convince her she doesn’t need to be so on edge around them, he is--and Xenk pauses, looking curious. Then Holga strikes her flint, Ed gets very busy looking in his bag, and Simon takes refuge in a fit of coughing. Very casually, Ed asks, “What does this sword do, then?”

“It is a potent weapon against that which is already dead,” Xenk says. “Tales are spreading of a new lich king to the north, and there are those who believe it may provide the only means to end his reign.”

“Right,” Ed says, and Holga nods in support. Simon starts coughing again, which earns him a skeptical look from Doric and a glare from Ed. Apparently it isn’t working. “This weapon,” Ed asks, while Simon tries and fails to find a graceful way to stop coughing now that he’s started. “It wouldn’t happen to be the Sword of Darius, would it?”

Xenk nods. “You have heard of it?”

The pit in the bottom of Simon’s stomach widens. “Oh,” he says, giving up the coughing as a bad job. “Shit.”

**

He assumes that the footsteps are going to continue past his doorway, echoing away down the long walkway. It should be a safe assumption. They always do.

He’s been very careful to carve himself the right little niche here. Friendly but not too friendly. Allied with just the right powerful protectors, helping them out with the little favors he’s always been so good at. He behaves just well enough to fly under the radar without seeming weak. The guards never come for him.

Except for this time, apparently, because the footsteps slow, and stop, and a gruff voice barks out, “On your feet, prisoner.”

Forge stands slowly, cautiously, hands held out to his sides. It’s important, very important, that he not seem like a threat. In a friendly tone he says, “Of course, guardsman. And what can I do for you today?”

“You’ve got visitors,” the guard says. Then, to someone behind him, “You sure you don’t want me to stay, sir?”

“No, we’ve got this,” says a familiar voice.

It’s not one that Forge was ever expecting to hear again. He doesn’t have a strategy planned out for this--an understandable oversight, surely--and he barely has a moment to even consider the options when Ed appears in the doorway. His arms are folded across his chest and his voice is unusually neutral when he says, “Forge. Just imagine meeting you here.”

Well, he is an old friend, and it’s been a while. Forge tries a wide smile, spreading his arms in welcome. Perhaps, if he’s warm enough, they can just slide right over all the little awkwardnesses of the situation and get down to finding out what Ed wants, which will inevitably have some opening for Forge getting something he wants too. “Ed,” he cries, in his best delighted voice. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

“Are you?” Ed asks. His tone isn’t encouraging, but it’s not precisely discouraging either. Under the circumstances that’s probably a good sign.

“Of course I am,” Forge says. “I don’t get very many reminders of home. You’re a breath of fresh air.” He frowns. “Although not that fresh, in comparison. Do you know they make you go outside? I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had so much healthy exercise.” He pauses, and adds, “Well, I suppose you do know, from your little sojourn here.”

“Mmm,” Ed says, in a discouraging tone that makes it clear Forge’s little joke has fallen flat. Not over it, then. Pity. “Believe it or not, Forge, we didn’t come all the way here to hear about your exercise regime.”

We? Ed moves aside in the doorway to reveal an entirely unexpected, if not entirely unfamiliar, new figure. Forge has always had an excellent memory for faces, if he says so himself. Even so, it takes him a minute to place the newcomer. Then the man nods his head formally, eyes never leaving Forge’s face, and the stiff, entirely humorless expression is enough to trigger the memory.

Well. That’s certainly interesting. He’d have expected Ed to travel with Holga--in fact, unless something has changed drastically Holga is probably lurking around here somewhere, terrifying all onlookers--but this self-righteous paladin really doesn’t seem like Ed’s type. Given Forge’s own brief experience of the man, it’s a wonder neither of them has murdered the other yet. “You know, I don’t think I ever caught your name,” he says, trying the old-friends-reunited smile on the paladin. It’s got to work one of these days.

“Xenk Yendar,” the paladin says, offering a hand in greeting. Forge takes it and is unsurprised by the firm, almost crushing grasp. Paladins. Always so predictable.

“Well, do come in,” Forge says, gesturing grandly. “Have a seat. There’s a cot, or . . . another cot. I suppose that’s it.” He perches on the edge of the slab that passes for his bed, pleased when Ed sits across from him. Yendar, unsurprisingly, stays on his feet, looming at Ed’s shoulder.

Ed sits and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees in an earnest pose that would be more effective if Forge hadn’t been the one to teach it to him. “So, Forge,” he starts, then stops. It’s fascinating, as always, to see the moment his brain catches up with events. He glances at Forge and then at Yendar, eyebrows rising. “Wait, you know each other?”

“Oh, yes,” Forge says airily. “We met some time ago. In the Neverwinter wood, wasn’t it? Sadly, we didn’t have that much time to get acquainted before he handed me over to the municipal guard. A promising friendship cut short, I sometimes think.”

Ed turns his wide-eyed, accusatory stare from Forge back to Yendar, who says, “I found him fleeing Neverwinter with the remnants of his treasure and ensured that he returned to face justice, no more.”

“You didn’t know?” Forge asks delicately. This is going better than he’d even imagined. “Well, that’s . . . awkward, isn’t it.” Before Ed can say anything--he hates not getting the last word, this should keep him nicely off-balance for a while--he says to Yendar, “It’s probably for the best that we’re getting the chance to talk now, and not then. I don’t mind admitting, I did some things in Neverwinter that I’m not proud of. Made some mistakes. I’ve had a lot of time to think, you know, and I--well, I would do things differently now.” A redemption story ought to appeal to a paladin. Given Ed’s recent inexplicable behavior, it might even work on him, too.

Except that, when Forge glances artistically up, it seems like neither of them even heard him. They’re still staring at each other. Yendar’s wary. Ed’s glaring back at him with that ruffled indignation he does so well. “You found him?”

“Yes?” Yendar says.

For a moment, Forge is sure Ed is about to explode. He knew they couldn’t be getting along as well as it seemed. He’s already calculating how to take advantage of the ensuing rift when Ed narrows his eyes at Yendar and says, simply, “Huh.”

That’s unexpected. And, in its own way, fascinating. Unfortunately, Forge doesn’t have time to unravel everything that’s going on here. “Well, isn’t this a nice little reunion,” he says into the widening silence. “Although we’re missing a few people, aren’t we? Where’s Holga? And of course my favorite, little--or maybe not so little by now, I suppose--Kira?”

The silence takes on a new, dangerous quality. “You think I’d bring Kira here?” Ed asks.

“Well, it’s not much of a place for a child, but you do like to bring her with you everywhere. A prison isn’t the most dangerous place she’s been, surely.”

“No,” Ed says. “Turns out that the most danger she’s ever been in was on a nice sunny dock in Neverwinter.”

“Ah.” There is, unfortunately, not much Forge can say to that. He leans forward and tries a sincere tone. “I hope you know I would never have harmed her. That’s one of the things I regret most, bluffing about that. I care very much for Kira, as difficult as that might be for you to believe. I only wanted the best for her.”

“You held a knife to her throat,” Ed says, and Forge winces.

There’s no time to defend himself, though. Yendar, tone unexpectedly frigid, asks, “He did what?”

It’s possible that Forge has messed this up more seriously than he realized. Bringing up Kira was possibly unwise, but he had no way to expect the paladin to know her too. Just how had he gotten so attached, anyway?

“Tried to get me to hand over his treasure using Kira as a hostage,” Ed says. “Holga took care of it.”

“Well, really I--”

“Perhaps we should leave,” Yendar suggests. He sounds dismissive, as if Forge hasn’t even spoken. “I do not know that he will be able to assist us.”

“Worth asking, when we came all this way.” There’s a pause, and then, still to Yendar, “She’s fine. She just didn’t want to see him.”

It hurts to hear that. But Kira isn’t one of Forge’s priorities right now. He can’t afford to lose sight of the big picture. “Assist you with what? I warn you, I don’t have very many resources right now, but if there’s something I can do--”

“Yeah, there is,” Ed says, with quite rude abruptness. “Xenk here is looking for the Sword of Darius.”

It takes Forge a moment to think that through. He’s uncomfortably aware that both the paladin and Ed notice the pause before he says, slowly, “I’m afraid Xenk here is right. I don’t think I can help you with that.”

“Yes you can,” Ed insists. Forge had forgotten how tenacious he can be. It’s just as disagreeable as ever. “You stole it from the temple six years ago.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea--”

“You kept bragging about it. Holga, Simon, and I must’ve heard that story about a hundred times.”

Upon reflection, it’s possible there’s some truth to that claim. The misguided paladin is watching Ed as if he believes it, at least. Ridiculous, to trust Ed. Maybe there’s something there to work with. “I do remember it coming up during that job in Yartar,” Forge says, reminiscently. “When you took us all along to rob that--”

“Yeah, sure,” Ed says, a little too quickly. So he doesn’t want the paladin to hear about that little adventure. Useful. “And a dozen other times. Where is it, Forge?”

“I’m afraid it’s been quite some time,” Forge says demurely. “And my memory isn’t what it once was. Age, you know.” He sighs and glances at Ed. “Perhaps, with a little time, I might remember.”

Ed says nothing. It’s the paladin who ignores Forge again—it’s really getting quite rude—to say to Ed, “If he does not recall, then our journey has been for naught. I must return to seeking the blade another way.”

“No you don’t,” Ed says. “He remembers. He’s just waiting to see what he can get out of us in exchange.”

“You know, Ed, you’ve always had that little cynical streak,” Forge says. “I do think it says more about you than about me.”

“Tell you what,” Ed says, leaning forward again. “You tell us where the sword is, and we won’t tell the guards about your little stash of contraband.”

Forge doesn’t move. He’s positive his gaze hasn’t flicked anywhere incriminating. All he does is crease his eyebrows a little and give Ed a sorrowful look. “There’s that cynicism again. You know, Ed, I really think it’s unbecoming to--”

Ed’s already looking around the room with a worryingly confident expression. To Yendar--why do people keep acting as if Forge isn’t even in the room--he says, “Not a lot of space in here to hide anything from the guards. Maybe . . .”

He gets up and strides to the window. It’s truly unfortunate, those flashes of intuition he gets. Forge shakes his head and sighs, but he already knows it’s probably futile. As Ed leans halfway out the narrow slit he wistfully considers the potential of a short, sharp shove. It’s unlikely the paladin would let him get that far, though, and it’s not much good with a witness anyway.

Then there’s an ominous grinding of stone against stone and a triumphant “Hah.” When Ed leans back in he’s holding a leather-wrapped bundle. Damn.

“Now, let’s see what we have here,” he says, unwrapping it. He’s enjoying this. Forge pastes a smile on his face, as if they’re all in on the joke. “Copper wire for sending spells, eggshell for . . .”

“To create a bond between minds,” the paladin says. Apparently he can’t even let Forge have the satisfaction of explaining that one to Ed.

“Of course.” Ed peers back down at the small collection. “Gum arabic, with--I’m not sure I want to know what’s inside that. Bitumen--what, you don’t keep the live spider in here too?--agate, vial of . . . something. You’ve been spending too much time around wizards, Forge.”

“Just a few odds and ends in case of emergencies. I really don’t think that’s such a crime.” Especially not compared to some that Ed’s pulled off. Perhaps it would be helpful to mention that again. It might at least divert the conversation.

“No? I wonder if the guards will agree.” Ed sits again. He’s wearing an offensively smug grin. “Where’s the sword, Forge?”

“Edgin,” Yendar says. His tone is urgent and hushed, and once again he’s talking right over Forge’s head. “If he is engaging in illegal acts, we must inform the guards.”

Ed stops and stares at him with a deliciously flabbergasted expression. “Wait, what?”

“I will not be complicit in such wrongdoing.”

Forge considers adding fuel to this fire, but it doesn’t seem necessary. He wasn’t so wrong about the paladin and the thief after all. There’s no way Ed will—

“Ok,” Ed says. He takes an entirely unprecedented deep breath, and pastes a smile on his face. “Look. Is there anything here that can be used to hurt someone?”

Xenk considers Forge’s bundle seriously. “That crystal,” he says, after a moment. “And the flint.”

“Right,” Ed says. He scoops out the offending objects out and stuffs them into a pocket.

“Hey!” Forge protests, then remembers to keep his voice down. “You can’t just take those.”

“Why not?” Ed grins at him. “I am a thief, you know.” He turns back to Xenk, expression serious again. “Alright. The rest isn’t going to do that much harm, is it?”

“We cannot know that,” Yendar says. It’s really remarkable that Ed is working with the man at all. The self-righteous tone is already starting to get on Forge’s nerves, and Ed’s never been very tolerant of that sort of thing.

Not to mention that Ed’s apparently slipping. Usually he’s better at avoiding losing arguments, but it’s blatantly obvious that he’s not going to convince the paladin to go along with this. Forge knows this type, although he usually tries to stay away from them. Their lack of flexibility makes them as much of a liability when they’re on your side as when you’re up against them.

“Yeah, but that’s not very likely,” Ed tries. “Not compared to whatever that lich is doing up north, right?”

There’s a long, dangerous hesitation. Forge should probably be wishing the paladin would take Ed’s bait--he’s not going to enjoy the consequences of being turned in for hoarding contraband--but it’s hard just now to wish Ed success with anything. “Lesser of two evils?” Ed suggests, delicately.

Yendar’s lips firm into a narrow line. “I dislike allying with evil of any kind,” he says. Typical, if not precisely useful. Then he pauses, sighs, and says, “You believe it to be worthwhile.”

“Yeah,” Ed says. “And trust me, I’d love to turn Forge here over to the guards for extra ice duty.”

“That’s really not necessary--”

“But you need this sword more than I need revenge. Or,” Ed says hurriedly, “more than the guards need to know about this. They’ll find out soon enough anyway. Forge is never as good as he thinks he is.”

“You know, Ed, you’re being remarkably unki--”

“Very well.” Yendar eyes Forge with resigned disfavor. It’s only marginally better than being ignored. “Tell us what you know of the sword, and we shall not reveal your misdeeds to the guards.”

“Well, it’s true the sword, ah, came into my possession a few years ago.” He can’t help a smile at the memory. “It’s actually a funny story, I was a guest at--”

“Cut to the chase,” Ed says. “Where is it?”

Yendar must be a bad influence. Ed’s usually at least a little more fun than this. “I was planning to take it north,” Forge says. “I was in a bit of a hurry to meet up with you, Ed. You remember that little job outside--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed says hurriedly. “I remember.”

“Well, I ended up staying the night at a nice little manor house along the High Road, where the owner--impeccable taste, I have to say--recognized the sword and wouldn’t take no for an answer! I was trying and trying to turn him down until finally I realized, Forge, this is exactly the buyer you’ve been looking for, so you’d better stop arguing. Well, I hardly had to negotiate at all. Before I knew it he’d offered me--”

“Bullshit,” Ed says, at the same moment Yendar says, “That is an untruth.”

It’s bad enough that they keep interrupting him. Doing it simultaneously is just uncivil. “I don’t know what you mean,” Forge says, upon whatever’s left of his dignity.

“Usually he lies better than that,” Ed says, over Forge’s head, again. He looks meaningfully at the leather packet, and towards the outside corridor. “C’mon, Forge. We don’t have time to waste.”

It’s hard to know how seriously he means the threat. Ed’s always been fond of a good bluff--he’s never as likely to hurt someone as he thinks he is--but he’s been behaving unpredictably ever since that catastrophe with the treasure in Neverwinter. Forge has wondered a dozen times what was going through his head. Now, with the paladin glowering over Ed’s shoulder, he has a new and entirely unwelcome insight about that. Maybe it’s better not to push either of them. “Fine,” he says, trying not to sulk. “If you must know, I was traveling alone one night when it was stolen from me.” There’s an expectant pause. He finds himself obliged to add, “By a snake.”

“A snake,” Ed repeats, flatly.

“A very large one,” Forge adds, although it doesn’t seem to help much. “I decided it would be most prudent not to follow it. I’ve never been very good at snakes.”

“Where was this?”

Well, at least this time Yendar actually addressed him directly. Apparently basic civility isn’t too much to ask. “Small town along the Dessarin. Middle of the forest.” Forge shudders delicately. “Of course. That sort of thing wouldn’t have happened in a proper city.”

“Yeah, we all know how much you like civilization.” Ed twists around to look back at Yendar. Again. “Sorry. I thought he’d be more help.”

“It may be that he is,” Yendar says. “I have heard rumors of a cult in that forest, much given to consorting with snakes.”

“Wait, so a snake really did steal the sword?”

“Look, Ed, there’s really no reason to doubt my word--”

“Perhaps.” So much for civility. “It is worth some investigation. I shall ride for the forest in the morning.”

“Oh, will you.”

That sounds more promising. Forge is getting less out of this arrangement than he’d hoped, although there’s still time. But if all he can do is drive a wedge between these two apparent allies, he’ll take that moderate satisfaction. “Sounds like a good plan to me,” he says. “Yendar here goes and takes on some snake people, which I’m sure will be easy enough for him, and then . . . ?”

“Then I shall ride north.”

There’s a tense silence that Forge prudently decides not to interrupt. He’s rewarded when Ed says, very calmly, “By yourself.”

“I shall be armed with the sword.” He sounds remarkably unconcerned about the prospect. Ed forgets to look friendly and approachable and sits back, arms crossed. “And perhaps I may find allies along the way.”

“Nope,” Ed announces. “No, nope, that’s a terrible plan. Absolutely not.”

“I do not see--”

“Yeah, of course you don’t.” The calm is gone. Ed sounds bitingly sarcastic. Forge’s help seems redundant, so he sits back to let this play out. “That is one of the stupidest plans I’ve ever heard and trust me, I’ve come up with some doozies.”

“True,” Forge murmurs, but neither of them even glances his way.

Yendar frowns, opens his mouth, closes it again. Interesting. It’s certainly more restraint than he’d expect from Ed, although that’s not a very high bar. Yendar glances towards Forge, meaningfully, and says, “Perhaps this is not an advantageous time for this discussion.”

“No, I think it is,” Ed says. “Forge agrees with me, don’t you?”

“I’m not entirely sure that I do,” Forge says, just for fun. “Xenk here clearly knows what he’s doing. If he says he can do it on his own then I for one have complete faith in him.”

He offers Yendar a friendly smile, which he completely ignores. Instead he gives Ed a nauseatingly earnest look and says, “I assure you, I shall come to no harm.”

“That’s not something you can actually guarantee,” Ed says. Then, apparently as an afterthought, he adds, “Besides, that’s not the point. Doing it on your own makes you less likely to succeed. That’s just bad strategy. Hell, even the Harpers would be better backup than taking on a lich king by yourself.”

“The Harpers have many gifts,” Xenk says, then looks taken aback by Ed’s scowl. “But I shall not lead them into outright war. They are no army.”

“Neither are you.” Ed’s still scowling, although it’s probably partly due to the strain of saying anything nice about the Harpers at all. “You can’t tell me they wouldn’t be all over stealing a sword back from a snake cult, though.”

“Perhaps,” Yendar allows. “But there is no time. Every day of delay allows the lich to grow stronger.”

“Oh, sure. Then taking him on by yourself sounds like a great idea. You really know how to sell this.”

“I have faced greater odds,” Yendar says. “You need have no doubt of my capabilities.”

Ed looks at him for a moment, mouth a thin, flat line. “You’re not going alone,” he says, again.

“I shall not take anyone else into such peril,” Yendar insists. He’s developing a promising furrow between his eyebrows. Good.

“Who said anything about taking?” Ed’s glaring, using the parental voice that stopped working on their little band within about three days. It seems more effective on Yendar. “I’m bringing myself and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

There’s a sudden, wary silence. Yendar stares at Ed as if he’s never seen him before in his life. “You cannot accompany me.”

“Why not?”

“You have many talents,” Yendar says. He’s picking his words carefully, which is probably wise. “But much like the—“

Ed’s scowl is getting even darker. Yendar breaks off, wisely, and tries, “I would not put you in harm’s way.”

“Yeah, well, I would.” Ed claps his hands against his knees and stands, as if the matter’s decided. Yendar, behind him, is wearing an expression to startled bafflement that’s truly a joy to behold. Ed tosses the leather-wrapped packet back across the cell. “Thanks, Forge.”

“You know, if you truly wished to thank me you could put in a word--”

“Yeah, no. We’re going.” Ed turns to glance back. “Xenk, you need anything else?”

Yendar shakes his head, then hangs back. Forge is expecting a last word, or possibly a parting threat but as Ed stalks out of the cell the paladin ignores him completely, again. Apparently he’s content just to gaze after Ed, which leaves an awkwardly long gap between them before the paladin finally leaves.

That’s not the most interesting part, though. The most interesting part, by far, is watching the intent expression on Yendar’s face as he watches Ed walk away.

Huh. Forge hadn’t expected that.

He hopes cordially that it takes Ed a long time to figure it out.

**

“I don’t get it,” Simon says, for about the third time this morning. “It doesn’t look like an evil cult.”

“Maybe some of the cultists just didn’t feel like putting on their tattered robes and glowing snake jewelry today,” Kira’s dad says, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Simon, not all cults have to look the same.”

“Yeah, but I’m just saying. It’s weird.” Simon squints back over his shoulder, towards the sunny clearing in the forest where they’d been doing reconnaissance earlier that day. “You sure about this, Xenk?”

“If he says it’s a cult, it’s a cult,” Dad says. It’s not really fair for him to sound so impatient. Just a few minutes ago, Dad had been the one saying the sprawling cottage and neatly tilled fields looked more like a family farm than a “den of vipers,” which is just so typical of him.

Simon looks startled, then hurt. Xenk just looks startled. “I may be in error,” he says, a little hesitantly, but Dad’s already shaking his head.

“You said you’d heard about these guys,” he said. “And it fits with Forge’s story. This has got to be the right place.”

Holga’s eyeing the undergrowth warily. “Do you think there are snakes out here now?” she asks, in a hoarse whisper.

Kira hadn’t thought that until just a few seconds ago. Now it’s hard to think about anything else. She edges closer to Holga, who doesn’t look any more confident than Kira feels.

“We’re in the forest,” Doric says, in her usual quiet, reasonable tone. It’s been nice, Kira has to admit, to have someone along who doesn’t get as worked up as Dad and Simon. Even Holga, too, sometimes. “I’m sure there are some snakes that live here, and they’re good at hiding.” Doric looks at Holga, and Kira, and says a little hastily, “There’s no reason there should be more around here than usual, though.”

That’s not as much help as she seems to think it is. Simon’s openly horrified. Xenk’s harder to read, at least so far, but Kira’s pretty sure the small twitch at the corner of his mouth means he’s trying not to smile. Holga’s grimacing at the undergrowth. She’s probably trying to look menacing, but it isn’t really working. “Aren’t you supposed to sing to them or something?” she asks Dad. “To calm them down. Think you can make them listen to you, Ed?”

“Do I think I can control snakes with a nice little sing-along?” Dad raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. Holga makes a face at him, but not one of the ones that means she’s actually upset, so that’s alright. “Let’s just focus on getting into that, uh, compound. I think we can still use the plan.”

“Which plan, Ed?” Simon asks, in his long-suffering voice. “There have been five already, and we only just got here.”

“The plan,” Dad says, using the awful enthusiastic voice he pulls out when he’s trying to get them all excited about something. It’s so bad that Kira longs to bury her face in her hands, if she can’t just run away altogether, but then he’ll just make fun of her and go on and on about embarrassing her is his job, so she braces herself and stays still. “We saw kids running around the place. Kira and I go in as a family down on their luck and looking for a safe spot for the night. We do as much scouting as we can, and then Holga and Xenk come in with a distraction. I help Kira get close, she slips in and grabs the sword, and we all get out as fast as we can. Simon and Doric stay nearby as backup, Simon with his spells and Doric just in case of any . . .” Dad looks a little uncertain, for the first time. “Snake emergencies,” he finishes, and Holga gives the nearby bushes another suspicious look.

Xenk opens his mouth, and closes it. To Kira that seems like a pretty good sign that he’s decided not to say anything, but of course her dad can’t just let that go. He squints at Xenk and says, “Alright, what is it now?”

“I dislike the need for you to put yourself and Kira in peril,” Xenk says. “I do not wish for harm to come to either of you. I believe we should consider alternatives.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dad says. “You still want to charge in there alone, don’t you?”

“Perhaps it would be preferable.”

Holga winces, just slightly. Dad stares at Xenk for a moment with unnecessarily exaggerated shock--Kira has to resist the urge to cover her face again--and says, “You really think it’s preferable to take on an entire cult by yourself than accept help?”

“Than to permit you to--”

“Do you always prefer this lone hero nonsense?” Dad asks, not giving him time to reply. “Or, no, let me guess. It’s just when it’s a bunch of criminals that you’d rather do something stupid than be beholden to us?”

He waits for a moment, chin jutted belligerently, but all Xenk does is stare at him with big, sorrowful eyes. It’s Kira who finds herself saying, “C’mon, Dad.”

“No,” he says, although he’s still staring at Xenk as if he’s replying to him, not to her. “You know what? Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“Dad,” Kira tries again, but it’s too late. He’s already turning and storming away, stalking off to disappear into the undergrowth, leaving a heavy silence behind him.

Someone has to say something. Kira just wishes she had any idea what. Xenk’s looking after Dad, eyes just as sad as earlier. Holga glances at him, and at Kira, and sighs. For a moment Kira hopes she’s going to fix this, but all she says is, “Well, I guess he’s our idiot,” which isn’t helpful at all. “Someone should go make sure he doesn’t fall in the river, huh?” Before anyone else can even try to volunteer, she’s striding off, trying to pretend she’s on her way to help out instead of just running away.

The awkward silence is even worse the second time around. Doric’s staring at the ground. Kira still doesn’t know her as well as the others, but it’s obvious that she’s not going to be any help. Simon, who’s possibly worse than no help at all, scuffs one foot in the dusty track and says, reluctantly, “Right.”

“I am sure they will return soon,” Xenk says, although he very obviously isn’t sure of that at all. “I wish I had not--” He gestures, although Kira has no idea what the vague wave is supposed to mean.

“Yeah, no, you didn’t,” Simon says. “Look, I'm sorry about Ed.”

Xenk stops looking after Dad and Holga and turns to stare at Simon instead. He looks less sad, suddenly, but Kira’s not entirely sure what to make of his expressionless mask. Simon, gesturing earnestly, goes on, “Ed’s a good guy, you know. Well, I guess you do know, after-- Anyway. The thing is, sometimes he just gets carried away. He doesn’t mean everything he says. So, uh, sorry about that.”

“There is no need,” Xenk says. He sounds different than usual. Kira’s learning that he’s always precise, and maybe a little awkward, but now he sounds just a little cold. Or distant.

“No, there is. We’re glad you’re here,” Simon assures him. “And Ed is too.” After a moment he adds, under his breath, “Probably.”

“You misunderstand me,” Xenk says. “There is no need to apologize for Edgin. Nor is such a sentiment welcome to me.”

“Uh,” Simon says.

“I know Edgin Darvis to be a man of great courage and honor,” Xenk says, and he sounds like he actually means it. “He has proven himself a capable leader, and I have every faith in his judgment.”

That seems like it’s going a little too far, especially for someone who just threw a tantrum and stomped off into the forest. Kira’s known her dad a long time, and she’s pretty sure she’s justified in having less faith than this Xenk does. Maybe he’ll learn.

“He requires neither explanation nor apology,” Xenk is saying. “I shall thank you not to do so again.”

Before anyone can say anything he strides off too, although in the opposite direction from Dad and Holga. The silence that’s left really isn’t any better than the one earlier.

“I am very confused right now,” Simon says, eventually.

Doric leans forward and awkwardly pats his arm, a bit bracingly. “I don’t think he liked that,” she says, helpfully.

The worst part of having an invisibility charm is that by the time things are so awkward you just want to disappear, people are usually paying too much attention to let you. Or if you do then they comment on it, especially if they’re Kira’s parents, which is much worse.

The best part of things being this unbearably awkward is that Simon and Doric are too distracted to notice Kira taking a couple of quiet steps backwards before she vanishes.

It takes her a little while to find Dad and Holga, mostly because she has to move really carefully--they’re both used to listening to her, and even if Dad didn’t hear her coming Holga probably would--but eventually she hears voices and edges just close enough to peer at them through the branches of a juniper tree. Dad looks frustrated, but not angry anymore. Holga’s being reasonable in the way she only does when one of them is upset. “--sure this is a good idea?” she’s asking, as if she really is asking.

“How long have we known each other?” Dad demands. “I’m hurt you have to ask.”

Holga grins. “Yeah, ok, so it’s a terrible idea.” Dad actually smiles back, which is a good sign. “Doesn’t mean we can’t pull it off.”

“Of course we can,” Ed says. “We’re great at pulling off terrible ideas.”

“We have help this time, too,” Holga says. She’s watching Dad carefully for his reaction, as if she can’t predict exactly what it’s going to be.

Sure enough, his smile disappears. “Yeah.”

“I know you don’t like the guy, Ed--”

“I never said I don’t like him,” Dad interrupts. Kira wishes for a moment that she were visible, just so he could see her roll her eyes. He sounds completely unconvinced, and completely unconvincing, as he says, “Xenk’s a great guy.”

Holga waits expectantly, until it’s obvious that Dad’s completely stalled. “Yeah, he is,” she says.

“I’m just not sure he’s a good fit for us. This isn’t his kind of job. We’re not knock-the-door-down-and-smite-the-evildoer people, and I don’t know if he can deal with that.”

“Seems to me like he’s dealing just fine.” Dad eyes Holga. Because she’s Holga, and she’s the best, she ignores him. “He’s not the one who stomped off like a toddler having a tantrum.”

“I am not having a tantrum,” Dad says. “I’m just concerned. Very reasonably concerned.”

“Uh huh.” There’s the silence Kira’s heard between them so many times, both unconvinced and unwilling to let the other one talk them around. Then Holga says, “He doesn’t think he’s better than you.” Dad opens his mouth, but she glares and he actually stops. Kira needs to learn how to do that. “You just think he is.”

“Xenk Yendar?” Ed gives Holga his best offended gape. “I don’t think--”

“Tell me one thing he’s done that makes you think he’s looking down on you.”

There’s another, longer pause. “He keeps talking about Harpers,” Dad says, eventually.

“Yeah, that he thought you were still someone who was good enough to be one,” Holga says. “Try again.”

“He’s a paladin,” Dad says sulkily, which means he already knows he’s lost the argument but just can’t admit it yet. “They’re all like that. They all know so much and can do so much just because they’ve got a god on their side. It’s like they think all they have to do is look at you and you’ll be blessed by their--”

He stops, abruptly. Holga must be as good as Kira at recognizing his thinking face, because she watches instead of interrupting. “Blessed,” Dad says, vaguely. Then, to Kira’s dismay, he turns and starts striding purposefully back through the forest. “C’mon,” he says. “I have an idea.”

It’s lucky that Kira’s dad has no sense of direction, and that Holga’s sense of humor is vile enough to let him get halfway down to the river before pointing it out. Even so, Kira only gets back to Doric and Simon a scant few seconds early, with just enough time to sit down on an out-off-the-way stump and pretend that she’s been there all along before Dad comes bursting through the bushes.

“There you are,” Dad says, as if they’re the ones who wandered off. He looks around and frowns. “Where’s Xenk?”

Simon gestures vaguely towards the forest. He’s not much better with directions than Dad, but that’s fine, because apparently Xenk hasn’t gone that far. There’s a crashing in the undergrowth that’s even louder than Dad and Holga—Doric gives Kira a meaningful glance, and she has to stifle a giggle—and then Xenk’s bursting back into the clearing.

He looks . . . cautious, maybe, or even tentative. He stops just a little too far away from the rest of them and says, “Edgin. I wish to apologize—“

“Yeah, no, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we don’t have time for that,” Dad says, almost loudly enough to cover up Holga’s muttered “You’re not the one who needs to say sorry.” Xenk gives her a questioning look, but Dad ignores the interruption completely. He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his chin up in an ominous way. “You don’t want us to get hurt?” he asks. It comes out sounding oddly aggressive, like a challenge. Or a dare. “Then do something about it.”

For a moment Kira’s afraid that this is what it’s going to take to scare away Xenk. But his eyes narrow, just a little, as if he’s thinking, and he takes a step towards Dad. “In what way would you have me assist you?”

“You’re a paladin,” Dad says. “Holy warrior and all that. Surely there’s something you can do besides just charge in swinging your sword.”

Holga coughs suddenly, which is just enough distraction to let Kira tear her eyes away from whatever is going on here. She’s not the only one who’s fascinated by whatever this is; Simon and Doric are both staring, Simon looking confused and Doric as blankly neutral as ever. Even Holga is still watching, half twisted away to muffle what seems to be a very sudden and prolonge fit of coughing.

Xenk takes another two long steps forward. “Hold out your hands,” he . . . commands, really. Kira’s sure that isn’t going to go over well, but to her complete surprise Dad does it without arguing. Xenk grasps one of the offered hands, palm up, in his own. Without glancing around he says, “Simon. Do you carry a small white cloth?”

“Uh,” Simon says, sounding like he’s been taken completely off-guard. “Sure. Just, uh, give me a minute.”

There’s the usual awkward pause, as Simon rummages through one pocket, then another, then starts searching in his bag. It’s even worse than usual, really, with the rest of them standing around Xenk and Dad, neither of whom have moved a muscle. It feels like it’s been years by the time Simon finally says, “Oh, there it is,” and passes the scrap over.

Xenk reaches out his free hand to take it without, somehow, looking around. He lays the cloth flat across Dad’s palm and very lightly traces a finger over it. He’s saying something under his breath that Kira can’t quite hear. He must do this spell a lot, or have practiced it over and over, because he apparently doesn’t even have to look down to cast it. Maybe the eye contact is part of the spell. Dad must think so too, or maybe thinks that it’s some kind of challenge or argument he can win, because he isn’t looking away either.

Then Xenk reaches out and puts his free hand under Dad’s other one, bringing them together until Dad’s hands are clasped between his, the scrap of cloth in the middle. They stand like that for a moment, unmoving except for Xenk murmuring the last few words of the spell. Then they just stand for another silent, unmoving moment, until Xenk abruptly drops Dad’s hands and backs away.

For a moment Kira’s sure that he’s going to say something to her dad. She almost hopes it leads them into another distracting argument--aside from the invisibility she’s never had a spell cast on her before, and she’s not entirely sure how she feels about it now--but instead Xenk ducks his head and turns away, towards her. She only has a moment to steel herself, but to her enormous relief he looks a lot less intense than he did a moment ago. Instead he smiles at her, which is much better than earlier. Maybe it helps that he isn’t expecting her to argue back.

“Kira, I should like to give you a protection,” he says, quiet but friendly. “It shall do no more than assist you in the hours ahead. May I do so?”

He didn’t bother asking Dad. Then again, Dad was already demanding it. “Sure,” Kira says, and Xenk’s smile broadens. She holds out a hand and he takes it--she probably shouldn’t be surprised that his hands feel like Holga’s, callused but gentle--and murmurs a few words. It tickles, just a little, when he traces his finger over the cloth on her palms, but it isn’t until their hands are clasped together that she feels anything else. The brief wave of warmth is nice, but doesn’t last long. Then it’s just her standing there with Xenk again, until he lets go of her hands and steps away.

That’s just embarrassing and awkward, again, because everyone’s still looking. Kira hastily unclasps her hands and offers the cloth back to Simon. Dad looks around the circle, gives his awful enthusiastic grin again, and claps his hands together. “Great. Now that that’s taken care of, let’s go.”

**

“Alright,” Ed says, reigning in to a walk. “That should be far enough.”

Holga nods agreement, which is reassuring. “Like to see them catch up to us without any horses,” she says with satisfaction, as if she’d had anything to do with spooking them in the first place.

Doric can always tell she’s been spending too much time with these people when she starts feeling the urge to argue back. She’s just about to give up on restraining herself when Simon winks at her and says, “Yeah, Doric, you really got them all to run.” He shudders. “And that snake, too.”

“Not really,” she protests, because it’s not fair to take credit when it isn’t due. “I just distracted it until Xenk and Holga caught up.”

“And you couldn’t have distracted it a few seconds earlier?” Ed says. “That thing was strong.”

He rubs his ribs with a grimace. Given that Doric’s put all her healing into them already, she’s pretty sure it’s for theatrical effect. She’s not the only one who thinks so, either; Kira rolls her eyes, Holga ignores Ed entirely, and it’s left to Xenk to give him a concerned look, which Ed pretends not to see. “Right,” he says, swinging down out of the saddle smoothly enough to make even Xenk look reassured. “It’s going to be dark soon, and they’ll be too busy with that fire to go looking for their horses any time soon. I think we’ll be ok here until morning.” He glances around the clearing. “Roll call. Everyone alright?”

Kira, who’d actually followed orders—sometimes Doric wonders how someone like Ed and Holga ended up with a kid like her—and disappeared at the beginning of the fight, nods. Simon grimaces down at where he’d stubbed a toe, but has apparently given up complaining about it. Holga shrugs, which probably means she’s banged up but will refuse to admit it until she’s healed up on her own.

Kira’s eyes have gone wide, though, and she’s staring at something across the clearing. She’s not usually given to false alarms, and Doric’s already clambering back to her feet by the time she blurts out, “Xenk, you’re bleeding.”

Xenk’s sliding out of his saddle far more cautiously than usual. Doric takes a useless step in his direction, and sees Holga doing the same thing out of the corner of her eye. He’s already safely down on the ground by the time Ed rushes past both of them. Xenk holds up a hand and gives what’s probably supposed to be a reassuring smile. “It is of no matter,” he says.

Ed’s already pushing past the restraining hand to invade Xenk’s personal space, pulling his cloak aside to display what is, admittedly, a large and apparently growing patch of blood. “Shit,” he says. “Fuck. Ok. Nobody panic.”

Xenk gives him a bemused look. Kira and Simon share a worried glance, but stay put. Doric’s probably the only one, besides possibly Xenk, who can hear Holga’s muttered, “Nobody else is.”

Doric might have replied--she and Holga had decided a few days ago that if they all had to suffer through whatever this is with Ed and Xenk, they might as well have some fun--but Ed’s turning towards her to ask, urgently, “Doric?”

She shakes her head with real regret. Xenk can’t be that badly hurt, since he’s standing up on his own and can still make confused faces at Ed. Still, she’d like to help. “I can’t,” she says, instead. “I put everything I had into your ribs.”

“Shit.” Ed turns in a desperate, tight circle. Holga was right. He really is panicking. Doric’s about to offer to help bandage the wound and try healing it in the morning when he sighs, straightens his shoulders with what looks like resolution, and says, “Alright.”

“Edgin,” Xenk says. He’s starting to sound a little worried, which seems like a more rational response to one of Ed’s pronouncements than his usual delighted smile. Maybe he’s learning. “I assure you, I shall be--”

“Nope,” Ed says. “No. It’s fine. I just, uh, haven’t done this for a while, so, well, bear with me.”

Oh. That actually is interesting. Doric’s seen Ed use magic before, but not very often. She’s not sure why, and when she’d started asking around she’d discovered that no one, not even Holga, knows either. There are plenty of theories to pick from: Simon says Ed has a “thing” about magic after fighting the red wizards, Kira’s not sure he was paying attention when he was taught how, and Holga thinks he’s just not very good at it. Doric’s personal theory is that Ed’s usually too busy talking to remember to try a spell instead. In any case, it’s easy enough to believe that he hasn’t done this for a while.

In Xenk’s shoes, Doric would find that concerning. It’s become obvious over the last few days that Xenk’s no more normal about Ed than the reverse, though, so instead he just nods and actually smiles. “I thank you,” he says, with evident sincerity.

Ed waves that away, frowning. Looking as though it’s taking all his concentration, he puts one hand carefully on Xenk’s side, just above the splotch of blood. He closes his eyes and makes the small, familiar gesture with his free hand as he says something that sounds almost, but not quite, right.

Doric supposes she should look away and give Xenk whatever privacy she can, but it’s impossible. She’s not the only one who can’t stop watching. Besides, the way Xenk is gazing at Ed, it’s not clear whether or not he’s noticed the rest of them staring anyway.

Ed opens his eyes, frowns. “Damn it, I almost had it.” It’s on the tip of Doric’s tongue to give him the right words, but given the frustration on his face she’s not sure if it will help or hurt. Maybe she’d better let him get this out of his system first.

Ed being Ed, he’s already trying again. This time Doric can’t quite make out his annoyed mutter, but she can see the moment the nearly-hidden strain in Xenk’s face fades away. He must’ve been in more pain than he’d let on. Ed must have felt the spell catch, too, because he snatches his hand back and takes a step away from Xenk. Instead of the self-satisfaction Doric expected, though, his mouth is twisted up with some kind of regret as he says, “I think that’s the best I can do, unfortunately.”

“It is a great improvement,” Xenk says. Judging by the way he’s standing, that might even be true. “I thank you.”

“Yeah, well,” Ed says. “Next time don’t get stabbed, alright?”

“I shall do my best,” Xenk says.

He’s still staring at Ed. Ed’s still staring at him. This is starting to turn into the protection spell all over again. Holga must think so too, because she turns to Kira and says loudly, “Alright, bug, think you can find some firewood?”

That’s enough to startle the rest of them back into motion. The next few hours are busy enough that Doric only catches Ed watching Xenk twice, and Xenk staring back once. Holga can’t make eye contact with either of them without snickering, though, so Ed’s quickly distracted bickering with her for the rest of the evening. It’s not until they’ve set up camp, started a fire, and eaten a not-too-bad dinner that actually included some vegetables for once that Xenk stands, surveys the darkness beyond the campfire, and says, “I believe it would be wise to ensure that we have not indeed been followed to this place.”

“You thinking of a patrol?” Holga asks, and he nods. For a moment Doric’s sure she’s going to go with him, but she glances at Ed, then back to Xenk, and nods. “Probably a good idea.”

“I shall return in no more than a few minutes,” Xenk says, and disappears out into the night.

There’s a rare moment of silence around the fire. Usually if Ed doesn’t fill these pauses then Kira or Simon will, but he’s looking distracted and the rest seem hesitant to interrupt whatever he’s thinking about.

That level of concentration is a little worrying. Holga must think the same thing, but it’s too late. Just as she’s saying, “So, what do you think we should--” Ed stands up abruptly. “I’m going to go, uh, take care of something,” he says.

There’s another moment of silence. Ed stares at them all defiantly. Doric looks down, hoping to avoid eye contact. “Sure,” Holga says, just as it’s getting unbearable. “You go do that.”

Ed nods decisively and strides off into the forest. He even manages, for once, to go in the same direction Xenk took. Doric wonders for a moment whether they’re responsible for making sure he doesn’t get lost, but gives up. Maybe that’s Xenk’s problem now.

The silence that follows seems more companionable and less tense than earlier. It’s Simon, predictably, who breaks it to ask, tentatively, “Do you think maybe Ed . . . likes Xenk?” He gives Kira a guilty look, but forges on, “I mean, like, likes him?”

“You sound like a thirteen-year-old,” Holga tells him, then says aside to Kira, “No offense, bug.”

“I’m offended,” Kira tells her. To Simon she adds, “But she’s right.”

“I’m just saying,” Simon persists. “I know he keeps acting like he hates him, but Ed’s pretty intense around Xenk. And I’m not sure Xenk minds.”

Holga snorts. “Xenk has been wanting to--” she glances at Kira and apparently changes her mind. “Spend time with Ed since the day he met him,” she says, not quite smoothly.

She’s not wrong. Doric hadn’t been sure about Ed until much later, but at this point there doesn’t seem to be much doubt left. Unless, apparently, you’re Simon, who’s staring wide-eyed at Holga as if this is a new revelation. “You really think so?” he asks. “The whole time?”

Holga snorts. “The way he looked at Ed in that Harper hidey hole--” She stops again, grimaces, and turns towards Kira. “Uh, bug, there are probably some things we should talk about.”

Kira fends her off with both hands. “No, nope, it’s fine, I know. Trust me, I’ve been watching Dad too.” She smiles, although it’s just a little wobbly. “And I like Xenk.”

“Must run in the family,” Holga says, and Kira makes a face at her. “Seriously, Kir, this is probably something your dad should talk to you about--”

“Oh, I’m sure he will,” Kira mutters.

“--but if either of them makes you unhappy over this, you know I’ll skin them alive,” Holga finishes cheerfully.

“Are you going to say something like that to Xenk?” Kira demands suspiciously. Holga grins, and she buries her face in her hands in a wail. “Holga!”

“Mind you, I’m not sure what odds I’d give that they’ll figure it out tonight.”

“Ten copper says they have a fight,” Simon says.

“I’ll take that.” Holga considers for a moment. “My money’s on them coming back all lovey-dovey.”

Doric’s luck must be in. She has no idea how they’ve overlooked the obvious, but-- ”Both,” she declares. Kira, who’s been looking sulky since the betting began--she’s the only one who thinks thirteen-year-olds should be allowed in the pot--gives this a considering nod, which is probably a good sign.

“Alright,” Holga says. “Enough talk about Ed’s drama. Bug, did I ever tell you about the time I fought an ice giant?”

She’s nearly halfway through the familiar tale when Doric hears the distant sound of approaching voices. She sits up in alert, and Holga obediently pauses. For a moment all she can tell is that the voices are raised, nearly shouting, and she’s about to jump to her feet when they fall into the intimately familiar cadence of Ed, ranting. There’s a brief pause, likely Xenk’s more measured reply, and then Ed’s voice again, now loud enough for everyone to make it out.

“--been over this,” he’s saying. “What are you going to do, ride on up to the lich king on your own swinging that sword? You won’t even get near them. You’re out of your fucking mind if you go take that on without backup.”

“I shall not permit you to put yourself in such danger,” Xenk says.

Ed snorts, explosively. Doric can just picture his face, and then tries not to. “Like hell. You don’t get to permit me to--”

He stops abruptly as they break through the last of the bushes and step into the island of firelight. Ed glances around at the circle of staring faces, then down to where his hand is clasped in Xenk’s, and then back up at their audience. Xenk merely looks at Ed, and smiles.

“Uh,” Ed says, and then, predictably, “I can explain.”

**

Holga ducks under Xenk’s swing, and sees the tell-tale tensing of muscles a moment too late. Damn. She has to stumble back to avoid the sweeping kick, bringing her ax up in a defensive diagonal across her torso as she circles warily. Xenk, who can apparently be a bit of a bastard, smirks.

She hates being on the defensive. Xenk’s good, better than anyone else she’s fought for years. Maybe she can talk him into going another round after this one.

Maybe she’ll even win it without resorting to dirty tricks. Right now, though, she’ll use whatever she can get. “So,” she says, not bothering to flinch as Xenk feints towards her left. “You and Ed, huh?”

The hesitation she’d been hoping for doesn’t materialize. Damn. “Indeed,” Xenk says. “As I believe Edgin explained. At some length.”

It’s true. It had been too good a show to interrupt, in Holga’s judgment, so she’d let Ed ramble on until Xenk had finally pulled him into a kiss. Unfair to Kira, maybe, but it had been an effective way to shut him up. “Yeah,” she says. “But what I mean is, are you just fucking, or what?”

There’s her hesitation. Holga sweeps out a leg--she’s not above stealing a good idea--and hooks it behind Xenk’s knees. He tumbles down, somehow still graceful, without losing his expression of shocked alarm.

“Point to me,” Holga says, offering him a hand up. He eyes her warily as he takes it.

“I would not,” he starts, and then stops. “I have no such intentions,” he says carefully. “I wish only to do what Edgin desires.”

“You’ll have to get over that,” Holga tells him. “Ed has all kinds of bad ideas.”

For a moment, she’s afraid that’s going to be enough to scare Xenk off, before she gets her second round. Instead, he surprises her with a smirk. “So far I have found all his notions to be excellent ones,” he says, raising an eyebrow, and Holga realizes she’s made a strategic mistake. There are some things she doesn’t need to know about.

“Yeah, well. Just take care of him, ok?”

Xenk gives her a serious look. Holga likes that. This is serious, and he should take it that way. “I intend to do so.”

“Been Ed’s friend for a long time,” she says.

He nods. “And more than that, I think.”

It’s good he understands that. Holga doesn’t like trying to nail down what she and Ed are to each other, besides family, but it would be a problem if Xenk didn’t realize that.

Wait. What exactly did Xenk mean by “more than that?” It wouldn’t be the first time someone had thought that, but--

“No,” she said. “I mean, yes, but we’ve never, liked, fucked.”

Xenk’s face does something complicated and shocked. Alright, so that wasn’t what he meant. Too late to back down, now, so Holga crosses her arms and frowns. “And it’s not going to happen,” she says. “So there’s no point worrying about it.”

“Such a thing had not occurred to me,” Xenk said a little faintly. He sounds thoroughly convinced, so Holga relents and uncrosses her arms.

“I just want what’s best for him,” she says. Usually she doesn’t trust Ed to know what that is, but this time he doesn’t seem to be doing too badly. Xenk is going to be good for him. Holga still gets to have her fun first, though. “So you make him unhappy and no divine grace is going to be enough to help you out, got it?”

Xenk nods. “I have no wish to do so, I assure you.”

Holga believes that. It’s impossible not to. She considers Xenk for a moment. This seems unfair, somehow. Surely there’s got to be someone in the realms who will threaten Ed for him, but they aren’t here. Besides, historically Ed’s never responded well to threats. “And if he messes this up, I’ll make him regret it, too.”

Xenk looks . . . startled, maybe. But also pleased. Good. He’s good for Ed, and probably for Kira too. Besides, watching this unfold should be good entertainment for the next few years, if Ed can just avoid getting his heart broken. Which will, once again, probably be Holga’s problem. “Great,” Holga says, and decides she’s been patient long enough. “Want to go again?”