Ror pulled his head out of the stream and shook it. Most of the coloring had washed away, according to the others, but streaks of orange still bled into the stream each time he dunked his head.

“It’s gone,” Gund said impatiently. “You look yourself again. Now come on, I’m tired of not having something over my head.”

“Good thing we didn’t take that dimroad I found for us,” said Nava, the Daughter of Doom. Ror smiled at the name Neri gave her. Nearly every word out of her mouth was some sort of lament.

“I’m wary of dimroads,” Halfur replied.

“Afraid you’ll find you’ll be Hoodwinked?” said Gund. Ror and Buri laughed, while the others smiled but kept reverently silent.

We’re going to need to dispense with some of our formalities, Ror thought. He saw a long and difficult road ahead, even if Val proved true. It would be easier if their companions felt free to be more familiar. Not entirely, to be sure. We’ve got to keep some sense of order.

Halfur picked a roll of linen from Ror’s pack and thrust it against his chest. Ror unrolled it and wiped his hair till the towel was soaked. His hair was still damp, and the towel was half orange, but Gund was right, it was time to finish the first of their sojourns. They came down from the north when they emerged from the Dawnwood, passing through a string of houses and small inns. People gathered along the road to gawk at them. No one was riding the wain anymore, and Ror had taken Malgond out of the case it was hidden in, and Halfur wore Yalla at his hip. They were in view of the kingdom’s gate when a troop of armed men in light plate approached them. They were mostly spearmen, with a few archers, and one mounted knight.

“Hail, my lords,” said the knight. He was of average human size, with middling quality arms and armor. “I bring the greetings of King Derrion. May I ask your origins and business in our realm?”

“I’m Ror Narhim, Crown Prince of Thrond. This is my brother, Halfur, and our Army Chief, Gund Yormun. You likely know him better as the White Bull.”

The knight lifted his visor and leaned forward. “You come lightly guarded, Dread Highness. May I have some token to prove your identity by?”

“You travel to Thrond often, boy?” Gund said impatiently.

“No, Chieftain. Not even once.” He looked at them intently, scanning each in turn.

Ror hoisted Malgond over his shoulder and started walking, but Gund caught him by the shoulder and held him still. “How long have you served the Arcadians?”

“Eight years as a landed knight, three years as a squire before that.”

Gund nodded. “I see,” he said aloud. “I’d hoped to use a hidden phrase Verrold taught all his outriders to listen for,” he said quietly to Ror, “but I doubt this child knows it. We don’t look like who we say we are, with only the eight of us. Had I known you planned to blurt our names to the first patrol who came by, I might have urged against it.”

Ror sighed. Gund was right. “Are dwarves not allowed in Eruhal? Your king and the Hay Knight fought in our Provings years ago. They’ll know us by sight.”

“That may be,” the knight replied, “but I’m tasked with preserving peace and security outside our walls.”

“And fine walls they are,” said Gund, looking up at the mountains.

Ror looked at them as well, seeing the narrow cleft Gund was looking towards. Passing through the Towers of Wind would be easy. Explaining why they did so when confronted afterwards would not.

“You made a grand claim,” the knight said after a moment of quiet. “Either you’re mad, or you are who you claim. I find it strange for the Crown Prince of any realm to be travelling to the court of a foreign king with so small an escort.”

Ror felt a peculiar vibration in the road beneath his feet. Someone was tapping, but it was difficult to make out on the cobbled stone, with so many treading upon it not too far away. “We need to consult for a moment” he told the knight.

They all turned towards each other, except for Buri, Neri and Koll, who stood in a crescent facing the soldiers.

“Primus’s attack may not be common knowledge,” Halfur said in a low voice.

“That was your foot signaling me?” Ror asked.

Halfur nodded. “If we want Derrion’s aid, we need to respect him with every step. He doubtless knows what we did to High Alden. Us slaughtering a friendly realm of his own kin will make negotiating difficult, but the fact that his sentries don’t have orders to slay us on sight is a good sign. All the same, we should tread softly and take care not to insult his people.”

“I agree,” said Gund.

Ror looked to Nava and Audun. “Any suggestions?”

“Yes,” said Nava, “ignore anything I have to say, and do what you deem best, and if it all goes amok, you can’t blame me.”

Ror smiled, then looked at Audun. “And you Audun? What do you suggest?”

The boy rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment, looking straight up with his eyes closed. “Everyone wants the ohr,” he said at length.

Halfur raised an eyebrow. “I think that’s the first useful thing he’s said his entire life.”

“I don’t like offering Derrion mannarim,” Ror said.

“Diluted,” Halfur replied quickly. “A weakened alloy, Ror. We’ll stretch it as thinly as we need to, and ours will always be superior.”

“Boys,” said Gund, “we can’t tarry. We’re being observed. Lead the way, Ror, but lead well. I know you can.”

Ror turned and approached the knight. He set Malgond’s head down on the road and gripped its haft just below the spike. “I understand the position I put you in. If we are who we say we are, you’d best see us safely to your king. If we’re not, he’ll have your head for bringing common riffraff to court. But Ser Gammon will know us. Surely his time is not as precious as your king’s, nor his temper as sour. Won’t you let us gp to the Heavenly Keep, and call Ser Gammon out to verify our claim?”

“You make a fair request,” the knight said with audible relief. “Would you have not claimed to be a prince of Thrond, I would have let you pass unhindered, as dwarves from south of the Shield Lands are indeed welcome beyond our walls. But now I’m compelled to escort you. If you be who you claim, I beg you not to take offense. Should you prove false, we’ll have words, and more.”

“Fair and fair,” Ror replied. “I’d like your name, Ser. You seem a quality soldier.”

“Ser Marc, of House Athon.”

Ser Marc’s escort proved a hidden blessing. They were spared answering anyone else’s questions, and were instead taken directly to the Heavenly Keep. Ror found the name pretentious, as well as the names of all the towers. The three built onto the foothills of Mount Solis sparked a small measure of curiosity, but for the most part all of Castle Gwynd seemed to him an example of humans trying overly hard to celebrate themselves. His father’s stories of Amani-of-the-sky had intrigued him, and what he saw of High Alden seemed sensible. This place was audacious and grandiose, and yet the ‘Heavenly’ Keep was no larger than a common mansion in the citadel.

It was over an hour before Ser Marc came from the keep with Ser Gammon. They used the time to form their plans for the next stage of their mission.

“I want you two to find out anything you can about Val,” Ror told Buri and Koll. “Check the inns, taverns, winesinks, alehouses, anywhere they sell their watered down swill. Nava, Audun, we’ll need maps, and anything you can learn of the land between the Towers of Wind and Solstice. If the Underguard are anywhere we can reach in time for them to be useful, we won’t be traveling much further than Solstice. Hopefully they’ll be closer, and somewhere north of there. I don’t fancy being caught between the gnolls and elves. What we saw of their war was brutal, and it’s only just begun.”

When Ser Gammon came with Ser Marc, he looked close to tears for an instant, then took a deep breath and bowed low.

“It’s been some time, Sons of Obrus.”

Ser Mar bowed at once. “Dread Highnesses, it has been my honor to escort you.”

“You have our thanks,” said Ror. “Gammon, it has been a while. I thought you’d have grown a bit.”

The human smiled, but his eyes still looked forlorn. “I’ve grown in skill, Dread Highness. Mayhaps I’ll have chance to show you.” He tried to give Ror a devious grin, but he couldn’t hide his melancholy. He knows, and is keeping it from lesser tier soldiers.

“Is there a place we can talk?” Ror asked. “I’m sure Ser Mar is more needed elsewhere, now that he’s delivered us safely to you.”

“Ser Marc,” said Gammon, turning to the man. “Find rooms for them in the undercroft, and house their beast and wain. Return to your patrol once your done. I’ll have your horse stabled and a fresh one ready.”

“Ser Gammon,” Marc said with a sharp bow, then went quickly on his way.

Gammon snapped his fingers and a pair of servants emerged from the keep to take Marc’s horse.

“This way,” Gammon said. He went to a cluster of houses in the shadow of the keep, and knocked on the door of a dilapidated hovel that was half covered in vines. A swan as tall as Ror came waddling up the path and looked on inquisitively. The door opened and an old human with long white hair wearing a blue robe and round spectacles poked out his head. His left brow raised over his lenses when he saw the dwarves. He looked at Gammon and shook his head in confusion.

“May we come in?” Gammon asked the man. He spoke with the same quiet, nervous tone Ror remembered. That fooled Halfur in the Proving. He expected an easy fight after speaking with him. He must use his meekness to great effect here.

“No,” said the old man.

“Dan,” said Gammon, “please. It’s important.”

“Then take them to Derrion. I’m busy.”

“Dan, I beg you. Don’t you know who they are?”

The old man looked at them over his spectacles. His gaze hovered on Gund for a moment, then his right brow raised. He gestured hurriedly for them to come in, and one by one they filed through the narrow door. The swan came in behind Nava, who was beaming ear to ear at the big white bird.

“Intolerable beast,” the man said. He opened his door and kicked at the swan, which fluttered away, honking angrily.

The house was dimly lit and cluttered. There were numerous desks, tables and benches, all cluttered with books, loose pages, inkwells and half melted candles. Audun must love this place. He looked over his shoulder and the boy was beside himself with joy.

“Dread Highnesses,” said Gammon, “this is my good friend, though he seldom admits it. May I present Ser Erudan Penwright, Elder Sage of the Squared Circle, Master of Guesses at the Three and Thirtieth Grand Mystery School.”

“Esper!” Audun’s arms shot into the air. Halfur rubbed his temples with both hands.

“One of you knows something worth knowing,” the man said. “Gammon, this is awful.”

Gammon sighed. “I know. They just arrived, unannounced. Dread Highnesses, may I enquire a few things of your Royal Persons?”.

“Don’t call us that,” said Halfur, grumbling furiously. “Just speak your mind, Gammon. You know us well enough. We don’t have time for your kin's exhausting codex of courtesies.”

“As you wish,” said the farmhand. “Why are you here? You slaughtered all of Cavanal, murdered King Salimod, and made refugees of his family and their people. Your father was well regarded by our former king, but Derrion is very much his own man.”

Ror propped Malgond against a wall and set himself on a chair by what seemed to be the old man’s dining table, though every table in the room had dirty plates and mugs on them. “Gammon, I asked if there was a place we could talk.”

“You can speak freely in front of Dan, Dread Highness.”

“And I’d take a humbler stance, young prince,” Erudan said. “You mean less here than you do in Thrond. Your murderous behaviour toward King Salimod may not yet be common knowledge, but those of us who do know view you with uncertainty.”

"Dan!" Gammon shouted. "He's still a prince, and far above such speech from the likes of us. Besides, we don't know what happened between High Alden and Thrond, so we'd do well not to judge."

Erudan rolled his eyes and shook his head. Ror thought hard for a moment. He couldn’t figure out why Gammon would bring them to this old man’s house instead of to Derrion. And was this man truly a knight? Derrion and Gammon are close, Gund signaled through a series of taps with his foot. He’s right, Ror thought. Gammon’s shielding us from something. And what harm could Esper do us? If this man is their version of a knight, then they’re little to no threat. Gammon is the gatekeeper here. I’ll do well to open this gate gently.

“Salimod betrayed us. Our kingdom was attacked by Drow Primus and Goblin Town. Salimod snuck spies in from Primus within his company and they opened us up to a surprise attack. Salimod's death was just, payment for my uncle Balvor, who fell in the assault.”

Gammon’s face turned white. “And why have you come to us?”.

“That, Ser, we will discuss in Derrion’s presence.”

Gammon looked at Ror and Halfur, then Gund, then each of the others. “Very well. But I’ll need time to speak with Derrion. Dread highness, he has much to care for as it is. He’ll want to speak with you, I’m certain, but we’ll need time to see to other matters first. I’ll have to ask you to stay in your rooms until after evenfall. I’ll come for you then, with word from Derrion.”

“Adun!” shouted Halfur.

Audun had climbed onto a bench and opened one of Erudan’s books. It was a massive tome, bound in red leather.

“This has everything!” the boy shouted, heedless of Halfur.

Erudan walked slowly to the bench. “You’re fond of the Tides, are you?”.

Audun shook his head vigorously. “I was making my own book, with all the parts ours are missing. Halfi helped me. It’s so hard to find all of Imanna’s fire. Most books only have the four poems, but she got me one with Thunderbolt, and I found out where to get Chaka’s Last Stand, Revelations of Rev, and the Embersong.”

Erudan whistled. “The Embersong! That’s a rare piece. Did you find it?”

Audun shook his head so hard it almost flew off. The little cuffs Yemi wove into his hair and beard clinked lightly.

“What’s your name, boy? And can you write?”

“Audun! And yes!”

“And how’s your penmanship, Audun?”

“Superb!” Halfur blurted, his eyes glowing excitedly.

“I can watch the boy for you, if he doesn’t mind helping me with some work.”

Audun was so excited he almost fell off the bench. Ror smiled. “Thank you, Ser.”

“Please Dread Highness, do not call me Ser.”

“You remind me of another old knight. Very well, Gammon. We’ll bathe and rest. We’ll need to eat as well.”

“I’ll have ample fare brought to you,” Gammon replied.

“Will our companions be allowed to explore the inner ward?” Gund asked. “They won’t be needed during our talks with Second Son.”

“So long as they wait until evenfall. I can explain later, though I imagine Derrion will explain all to you himself. Please trust me for now.”

Ror looked to Gund and Halfur. They both nodded. “All right, Gammon, lead the way.”