Shrouded Hills

[moonshadows]

“So, tell me about yourself,” Virgil said cheerfully as he led the way down the mountain path. “What does the Living One like to do in her spare time?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

The look he gave me was half hurt reproach and half insulted pride. “I’ll thank you, madam, to have more respect for my religious beliefs – even if you don’t share them.”

I sighed. “It’s not that, Virgil. I’m sorry if that’s the way it sounded. It’s just that…” I bit my lip demurely, eyes downcast, and the affront melted from his posture.

“Just what?” he asked, more kindly.

“It’s just that…someone wanted everyone on the Zephyr dead badly enough to not only shoot it down, but also send a killer to the crash site and ensure there were no survivors. You calling me the Living One – even if I am – is as good as announcing my status as a survivor when none were intended.”

“I-I’m sorry, Miss Clarisse,” he half-wailed, anguished. “I wasn’t thinking again.” Shame-faced, he hung his head. “I won’t call you that any more – even though you are – so that I don’t get into the habit, and it doesn’t slip out in front of the wrong person.”

I wondered what had happened to uproot him from his gentle, sheltered upbringing, and found gentle pity growing in the rocky wastes of my heart. He was a kind man, that much was clear despite the hard edge he sometimes showed. Carefully, I closed the distance between us and took his fisted hand, the one not gripping his staff tightly, in mine.

“Thank you,” I said warmly.

The fist unknotted itself and he brought my hand lightly to his lips. “For you, Miss Clarisse. I beg of you, madam…if I should need correcting in the future, do not hesitate. I won’t be a very good protector if I’m accidentally putting you in danger.” Sheepishly, he smiled. “I’m afraid I have a bad habit of not thinking things through.”

“And just who is protecting who?” I teased, smiling back at him.

He laughed. “Hey, protecting you until we get you to Elder Joachim is still my job, even if I’m not the best at it. No one told me I’d be escorting th- you down a mountain, or I would have studied the scriptures harder…and maybe brought some more supplies.”

“Don’t blame yourself if we find other hired killers in our path,” I said as we resumed our trek. “Dead men may tell no tales, but they speak just as loudly in other ways.”

Virgil nodded grimly. “We may have muddied the trail, but it’s still there. After all, someone killed that fellow. It might have been the Panarii acolyte on a pilgrimage to the shrine, but Shrouded Hills is a small town, and someone’s bound to remember a young woman wandering in. We probably want to wait until it’s darker before going to the inn – the fewer people that see the direction you came from, the better.” He paused while we contemplated that, then continued in a lighter tone, “So what does a young lady like yourself do for fun?”

“Read,” I replied primly. “Textbooks, mostly.”

“I said fun, Miss Clarisse,” he teased.

“That’s what I meant. The…town I grew up in had precious little in the way of books. Learning about the world – about plants, and chemicals, and what can be combined to make what – it’s fascinating. My childhood was…shall we say, less than intellectually stimulating?”

“I’d trade you for mine,” he said fervently. “My childhood was nothing but reading, it seems. History, geography, politics – all the boring stuff. I’d much rather have been gallivanting around the countryside than cooped up in a stuffy little room while the sun shone outside, taunting me.”

“Is that why you joined the Panarii?” I asked, but the closed expression on his face warned me away from the topic. “Question withdrawn,” I said hastily.

Virgil stopped in his tracks and stared at me with an unreadable expression. “Thank you, Miss Clarisse,” he said at last.

The smile I gave him was tight and humorless. “You can thank me by not asking why I left my apprenticeship to start my life anew in Tarant.”

That made him chuckle. “It seems we both have pasts we’d rather not discuss. Fair enough! If you can trust me to protect you despite my dubious history, then I can turn a blind eye to whatever may lurk in yours.”

“Deal,” I laughed.

 

Virgil’s startled yelp was my first hint that something was wrong, although the growl that followed immediately after clarified things somewhat. I rushed over to find a wolf – fortunately quite elderly, and not at all well – snapping at Virgil’s legs while doing its best to avoid the wild blows of his staff.

“I’m alright,” he protested before I could do more than reach for the longer dagger. “I’ve got this. I- yeargh! Let go! Let go!”

Despite being beaten soundly about the head and shoulders, the wolf did not let go of Virgil’s shin. I moved in with my dagger, slashing at the beast’s eyes. Quick as thought it snapped at me, grazing my wrist and fingers but not catching hold.

“Miss Clarisse!” Virgil yelled at my cry of pain, flailing again at the wolf, who caught his staff in its jaws.

This time, I hit my mark and the wolf, like the young boar on the previous day, felt its life spill out at the bite of cold steel.

“Let me see your leg,” I demanded, reaching for the makeshift pouch of herbs I’d gathered.

Stem and root were crushed together between knife-blade and a convenient rock, and with steady fingers I spread the resulting paste on the bleeding punctures revealed as Virgil pulled up the leg of his trousers. He exhaled sharply as the pain ended almost instantly, and moments later the wounds began knitting back together.

“Well,” he said gamely, “I guess I can’t argue with you taking the time to pluck flowers and weeds, now can I? Still…”

He reached for my bleeding hand, covering it in both of his, and I felt my cheeks start to warm at the heat of his half-soft, half-rough skin. Then I noticed a faint glow about them, and heard him whispering in elven, and when he released me, the wounds had healed to nothing.

“I may not be the brightest pupil,” he said with self-depreciating humor, “but I managed to learn at least one trick.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a blade of some kind?” I asked gently. “If you’re serious about protecting me…”

The hard, closed look returned to his face. “I don’t want to resort to violence, but you’re right. I can’t protect you if I can barely hit an attacker. When we get to Shrouded Hills, we’ll ask around and see what there is to be had in the way of weaponry – and armor. For you as well as me,” he continued grimly. “Get some thick wool, maybe even leather, cut your hair or find a helmet, and you could pass for a man. If anyone’s looking for a woman who survived the crash…”

My mouth had dropped open at some point; I shut it. “And you wouldn’t be scandalized to see me in trousers?”

“The way you wield that knife? I’m not asking, but it’s clear that there’s more to you than just a gentlewoman.” He shook his trouser leg back down and stood gingerly. “If we can manage it, I want swords for both of us, and we’ll train with them. A staff and a dagger aren’t exactly the best weapons for warding off wolves – four-legged or otherwise.”

“I’m not asking either,” I replied, “but it’s clear that you’ve more than a touch of familiarity with the rougher side of life, and I’m glad for it.”

The hardness faded into anguish, but “Let’s get moving again,” was all he said, and I let the subject drop.

 

“Joachim’s room is at the end of the hall, on the left,” Virgil whispered to me as we approached the inn. “I’ll meet you there.”

He slipped inside, and I gave him a count of one hundred before I followed. The few coins I had fished out of my tiny stash were handed over in exchange for a room key, and I walked down the quiet hall to the last door. When I got there, I found it open and Virgil staring in silent horror at two dead men and a note on the floor. Quickly, I pulled him inside the room and shut the door.

“Good god! What's happened here?” he said in a strangled whisper. “These men...I-I've never seen them before...”

That neither of the corpses were Elder Joachim was a relief; I picked up the note and scanned it, then handed it to Virgil. While he read, I checked the bodies for what I was sure I would find.

 

Virgil-

     I assume you are not alone.

As you can see, there are people

in Shrouded Hills looking for

me. Luckily for me, these

fellows were easily dispatched.

Do not speak with anyone

about the zeppelin crash, or

your new companion’s involvement

with it. When you are able to

make your way to Tarant, check

the telegram office there. I will

leave a message telling you

where to contact me.

                        Joachim

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said as he finished reading, “but it seems Joachim has discovered something...these individuals seem to be a part of some larger plot. A plot against you, Miss Clarisse.”

“Yes…” I held up what I’d found. “And don’t these amulets seem a bit familiar…?”

“They’re the same amulets we found on the half-ogre and that fellow by the shrine,” he said promptly. “The ones who wanted to make sure no one survived the crash. Did…they somehow know you were going to be on that blimp? The Elder Joachim seems to think that they know who you are...I-I mean, who you really are...”

“Or it could be that the gnome with the ring was their target, and they’re only after me for what I might have been told before he died.”

Stubbornly, Virgil said, “Well, yes, but why would they attack Elder Joachim if they were only after the gnome? I think they hold stock with Panarii prophesy, even if you don’t, and saw our coming here as a sign. You can’t deny that, prophesy or not, you are now as much a threat to them as the gnome was. You know things…or at least, they think you do.”

“It could be coincidence,” I protested, “but facts don’t matter to belief. They believe me a threat, and so I am.”

“Apparently, they think Elder Joachim is also a threat to them…”

He trailed off as I began searching and stripping the bodies. Their boots were better-suited to hard travel than what Virgil and I were wearing, and the rest of their clothes would at least provide Virgil a change from the robes he wore. Not wanting to alert any authorities to whatever organization they’d belonged to, I pocked the amulets as well. Virgil, meanwhile, was rummaging through the trunk at the foot of the bed. The pack he pulled out was a welcome sight, as was the heavy, jingling bag.

“If Joachim thinks we're in trouble, then we are. Let's get out of here as swiftly as possible, and get to Tarant...” He blushed. “Ah…might I share your room tonight? I don’t fancy sleeping with these chaps, and it’s far too late for anything to be done about them before morning. I’ll be fine on the floor,” he added hastily.

“I’ll feel more comfortable knowing you’re there,” I said honestly, and he blushed harder.

“Thank you, Miss Clarisse.”

Once the door of my room was locked behind us, we both relaxed a bit.

“As soon as it’s light out,” Virgil said, “I’ll report those two chaps to the authorities and see what I can find for armor and weapons. Joachim left us enough coin that I should be able to get what we need, but it’s a long walk to Tarant. I don’t want to stay here more than two days.”

“Agreed. The sooner we can vanish into the wilds, the better.”

Virgil paused in the act of shaking out a nightshirt, his robes and somewhat-stained linen shirt bundled up for a pillow, when he realized that I was staring at his naked torso. The paleness, I had expected. There were a few marks of old wounds, again, not unexpected. His chest was deeper than I’d thought it would be, however, hinting at the powerful frame he could have if he lost the softness of excess weight he now carried on his arms and in the pouch on his belly.

“I told you I’m no warrior,” he said dryly, one hand making his stomach jiggle for emphasis.

“Warriors are made here.” I touched the pale skin above his heart briefly. “Not here,” I continued, resting my hand on his soft bicep.

He looked away, uncomfortable. “As I said. I’m no warrior.”

“I think you do yourself a disservice,” I countered firmly, “but this is a battle I will not fight. You may continue to believe that I am…who you say I am, and I will continue to believe that your belief makes you a warrior, else you would not seek to protect me so.”

Virgil flushed, the color going a significant way down his chest, and pulled the nightshirt on over his head. “I’ll probably be gone when you wake up,” he said briskly. “I may be out most of the day. If you feel like exploring, there’s an old Panarii temple in town...the Elder Joachim told me that it was once a very important place to the Panarii.” Resolutely, he lay down on the floor with his back to me, facing the door. “Good night, Miss Clarisse.”

I sat on the bed and blew the candle out. “Good night, Virgil.”

 

I had just finished a lovely bath when there was a quiet knock on my door and Virgil whispered, “It’s me.”

Quickly, I let him in and locked the door again.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, wringing his hands. “I spoke with the constable – bloody useless no-good spineless slug, if you ask me…”

“What did he say about the bodies?” I asked, blood running cold at the possibilities.

“Oh, he said they’re probably drifters and he tries not to get involved.” Virgil waved one hand dismissively. “That’s not the problem. Elder Joachim left sometime in the last two days, and just after that, some bandits swept in and are holding the bridge ransom. They’re charging an obscene amount to get out of town!”

I frowned. “But we got into town just fine…”

Virgil sat on the bed, head in his hands. “We came from the west. Shrouded Hills sits in the fork between two rivers. Unless we want to hike up one of those rivers and try to find a place to ford…we’re stuck here.”

That was unwelcome news. Between my lack of proper footwear and Virgil’s lack of general fitness, it had taken us two days to limp from the crash site to town, and my meager supply of food was gone. Panic sent my mind racing.

“What about our plan? Armor, weapons?”

“What good will they do us if we can’t get out of town?” he half-wailed.

My orcish blood raced. “Can we fight the bandits?”

Virgil looked at me oddly, and I forcibly reined myself in.

“I went up to talk to them,” he said slowly. “There’s three men – a human and a pair of half-ogres, all three armed and armored. I’m not stupid enough to try to fight that.”

“Could we talk our way past, perhaps?”

Dimly, hope returned to his eyes. “The human fellow used some big words, but they weren’t proper words. Perhaps…no, it’s no use, it wouldn’t work.”

“What wouldn’t work?” I sat on the bed beside him and took one of his hands reassuringly.

“Trying to pass myself off as a higher-up member of the Thieves’ Underground,” he said hopelessly. “He already knows I’m not, or I would have said something.”

 “He hasn’t seen me,” I pointed out.

Slowly, Virgil turned to look at me. “No, Miss Clarisse. It’s too dangerous…I couldn’t ask you to…”

I cut him off sharply “You’re not asking, I’m telling. As for danger, need I remind you that we’re easy targets as long as we stay here?”

“Y-you’re right, Miss Clarisse.” He seemed shaken by my tone, but surprised into action rather than having his wits further addled. “Ah…if we’re going to do this, we’ll need to do it right. You’ll need armor and a weapon still…”

“Should I cut my hair? Do you think I could pass for male?”

“Yes, and no,” he said, distracted. “Your voice is too melodious for a man, but any woman in the Underground is bound to be more dangerous than her peers. Let me see what I can find for you…in the meantime, I’d suggest you check out and try to quietly disappear. Joachim showed me the back door to the Panarii temple when we first came here – they use the main chamber as a town hall now, but the acolyte chambers haven’t been touched. Don’t go in the front door, there’s a smaller entrance around the back. I’ll make sure that’s open before I do anything else, and meet you back there.” Suddenly, Virgil remembered that I still had my hand in his, and blushed a deep beet red. “I…ah…”

“Thank you,” I said softly, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “I don’t know what I would do without your knowledge and experience.”

“I-I’ll just get started on that, then, shall I?”

Still flushing, Virgil fled.

 

The acolyte chambers were just as deserted as Virgil promised, the wooden floor carpeted in undisturbed dust. I picked a room larger than most and set about exploring with the aid of a dusty candle I’d found in one of the smaller rooms. It didn’t take long to find an abandoned cache of supplies – robes like the ones Virgil wore, sheets for the beds, old pillows, and more candles. I also discovered the door leading to the main chamber, two sets of recent footprints venturing only a few feet in before turning back, and to the side of the door…

For a good long minute I stared at the ring of keys, half-invisible under their dusty coating, before taking them down and cleaning them off. The key to the main chamber was easy enough to identify; it moved smoothly in the lock and I turned it the other way, locking that door. The lesser acolyte rooms – hardly more than cells – all opened and locked again with the same key. The larger room I’d claimed had a key of its own, and out of the few that were left, I found the one that secured the outer door to this wing. Virgil hadn’t mentioned keys; I was sure that if he’d known about them, he would have given me the key to the door. The inevitable conclusion was that he had gained entrance some other way, which spoke quite a bit about his recent past. I left the outer door unlocked for the time being and secured the keys to my belt.

Spare sheets made adequate, if awkward, dust rags and I had just finished making my chosen room more habitable when the outer door opened and Virgil called my name softly. I peered into the hallway, and he straightened with relief.

“I'm so glad that you're safe...I mean, I never doubted that...well, it's good to see you, anyhow.” Sheepishly, he smiled and ducked into the room, his arms full of leather and metal. “I got studded leather for you, and regular old leather for me, and swords for both of us. They’re not the best, but they’ve got an edge at least. Have any trouble getting out of the inn or finding this place?”

I shook my head. “No trouble at all. I even found the keys – why don’t you go lock the outside door while I try this on?”

“There were keys? I mean…uh…in this room?” Virgil squirmed and busied himself propping two sheathed swords against the wall and separating the two sets of armor.

“Virgil…”

The tops of his ears pinked, but he made no other reaction.

“Virgil, until we find Elder Joachim, we are going to have to rely on each other for survival.” I took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter to me where you may or may not have learned certain skills, so long as you do not hesitate to use them for our mutual benefit. I hope you feel the same way, and will not hold back something that could help us for fear that I might question where you acquired the knowledge.”

“I picked the lock,” he said sullenly, back still turned. “Is that what you want me to say? Fine. I picked it.”

“And because of that, we are able to hide here, out of sight. Wherever you learned to pick locks, or why, is of no matter to me,” I reassured him. “What matters is that because you were able to do that, we have a safe place to stay until we can deal with the ruffians at the bridge.”

Virgil sighed. “I’m sorry, Miss Clarisse. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just…” His hands tightened on the leather armor he was holding. “I don’t like using those kinds of skills because…well…because I don’t like who I was when I learned them. But you’re right, we don’t have a choice.”

A thought occurred to me. “By chance is there a bow for sale in town? As you said, it’s a long walk to Tarant. I would be able to augment our supplies much better if I were able to shoot wild animals instead of stabbing them.”

Surprised, Virgil turned to look at me, his expression still somewhat hard and wary. After a minute, he nodded. “Let’s get you settled with this armor first, and take care of the bridge situation. We may need to do some…unsavory … jobs to gather enough coin for it, and we’ll want to make sure we can get out of town in a hurry if we need to.”

I nodded. “Put your armor on, so that I can see how the buckles work?”

“O-of course.”

And just like that, the tension was broken. After some scrabbling and a few explanations, Virgil left the room while I changed into some of the clothes I’d taken from the assassins in the inn, and struggled with my own armor. The freedom of trousers made me feel more like Vorak than Clarisse, and it took a few minutes of carefully marshaling my thoughts before I felt confident calling Virgil back in.

“I…uh…wow.” He flushed, alternating between averting his eyes and feasting upon the sight of me. “I-It, uh, looks good on you. M-Madam.”

“Does it really?” I spun a turn, as though testing the flow of a new dress. Black leather breeches hugged my legs, and the studded black leather jacket held my bosom quite securely.

“I-I…ah…yes,” he stammered. “You look quite…um…dangerous.”

To judge from where his eyes were, ‘dangerous’ wasn’t precisely the word he wanted. I elected to test for myself how threatening I could be, and a breath later Virgil paled as I grabbed a fistful of his light-brown hair and pulled his head to the side so he could feel the cool prick of my dagger against his throat. Surprisingly, he did not babble apologies or plead for his life. Instead, he went stock still and nearly held his breath. Whatever his past contained, it apparently had given him familiarity with being in mortal danger. I sheathed the dagger and released his hair.

“Forgive me,” I said as demurely as I could with my blood singing in my veins. “I wanted to be sure I could truly pull this off.”

“Yes,” he gasped, breath coming in great gulps now that the danger had passed. “Yes, you absolutely can. However…your hair…”

Sadly, I regarded my nearly waist-length black locks. “Is there a mirror I can use?”

“Just my shaving glass,” he apologized. “I’ll, ah, go get it. My pack is in another room.”

I tossed him the key ring. “Lock the outside door while you’re out there?”

“O-Of course.”

Once Virgil had made his retreat, I grabbed a handful of hair and used the smaller dagger to shear it off close to my scalp. I’d gotten both sides of my head done by the time he returned, my ears feeling quite exposed, and instead of trying to get the back of my head I just handed him the knife. All too soon I felt a draft on the back of my neck, and the shaving glass showed me a sharp-cheeked woman with eyebrows that arched in a slightly exotic way, pointed ears standing proudly out from a nearly-shaved scalp, with only a handful of finger-length locks adorning my forehead to hint at my femininity. I did look quite dangerous if I did say so myself.

“Let’s do this,” I said briskly as I re-sheathed the dagger and ran my fingers through what remained of my hair, disturbed by how comfortable I was with it – or without it, as the case may be. “The sooner we get it over with, the less chance that they realize this armor came from town.”

Swords strapped to our sides, door locked behind us, we set off for the river. Virgil coached me on the way – things I should say, things I should avoid saying, how I should act – and stepped out of sight behind a tree as the bridge came into view, leaving me to stride brazenly up to the pimple-faced young man and his two brutish companions.

“Hmmm?” Bored, he didn’t even glance at me as I strode up. “What do you want?”

“Excuse me,” I said crisply. “And who are you, sir?”

“Who am I? WHO AM I?” His eyes bugged out in disbelief, spittle flying as he ranted. “I am Lukan! Lukan the Witless! Where I roam, the masses quabble in pertubisiveness and trepidunction! You dare pretend not to recognize me?”

“Oh, yes! Now I see...please forgive the disrespect, Lukan...” I bowed to cover my grin. Big words that weren’t proper words, indeed. “Witless. Quite apropos, I'd have to say...”

Lukan puffed out his thin chest at the perceived compliment. “Yes don't you think? My two vehementuous companions gave it to me. Witless, you see! Without humor! Without laughs! My irascibanality is unmatched!”

I made a noncommittal sound. “Where did you pick up these fellows?”

“At university, where I became disenchortled with the drudgery of the structured, academedial life,” he proclaimed grandly. “Of course, these gentlemen were cooks at the cafeteria...but we all shared a common hate for authority and a honest day's wage...”

“University. Ah. I should have guessed.” My heart went out to whatever teachers had had to put up – however briefly – with Lukan the Witless.

“Yes, but my mind outgrew their subterraneous teachings! I bent not to the will of tyrantulocity! And so Lukan the Witless, thief extraordinelle, was born! The Scourge of Shrouded Hills and beyond!”

“I see. And the bridge?”

“Ah yes, the bridge...that's a different matter.” He smiled in a sickly way, as if he were trying to smirk but hadn’t got the hang of it yet. “You see, my friends and I have found it advanatarious to require of travelers a small toll for the use of our bridge...you can be assured the funds are benefiscal to our little group here.”

Casually, I pretended to inspect my nails. “Hmmm. I may be able to persuade you otherwise.”

“Really?” Luka sneered while the half-ores chuckled darkly. “What could you possibly tell me that would change my mind about taking your money?”

I smiled, showing off teeth too pointy to be human, but he wasn’t even looking. “I'm a thief as well.”

“Is that a fact? You don't seem much of a thief to me.” He yawned in a show of feigned boredom. “I'd peg you for a tourist, or aristocracy. Nothing like the degenerals I usually keep company with...perhaps you'd better just cough up the toll.”

My fingers itched to press a dagger to his throat, but the half-ogres put a damper on things. “This is my disguise,” I said patiently. “I’m posing as an outlander.”

The silence stretched as his underworked mind struggled to form a thought. Finally, he said, “I suppose it is possible...your dress seems fairly non-descrepit. Hmmm. If you are a thief, what are you doing here?”

“The word gets around,” I told him haughtily. “You know how it is...”

“Oh! So you've heard about us through the Thieves Underground! Fantabulous!” He beamed, and I fully expected him to clap his hands with glee. “I knew it was only a matter of time before we were noticed! Which organization are you from? Tarant's? Caladon's?”

Virgil’s advice hadn’t prepared me for this. Taking my courage in both hands, I feigned superiority once again and faked it. “Tarant's, of course. We're the best informed of them all.”

Now he did clap his hands. “I knew it! I knew the Underground in Tarant would hear about us if we tantalized Shrouded Hills long enough! Things are looking up, boys! We're going to be famous!”

Sharply, I said, “Don't get ahead of yourself...your work here has been shoddy.”

“Shoddy?” His eyes bugged out again. “Shoddy! How dare you? I am Lukan the Witless! You'll pay double the toll!”

“Control yourself,” I snapped. “Your work here hasn't gone unnoticed.”

Lukan’s thin chest swelled with pride again. “Of course not! I know the Underground sees all...and I made very sure not to step on anyone's toes here in the area. I know the Underground is VERY careful about keeping members out of each other's territories.”

“Actually, that's the reason I'm here.”

Amazingly, he heard the note of warning in my voice. “What? Oh no! We've gone and trespassed on someone's territory, haven't we?” His voice climbed an octave in fright. “Believe me, good woman, we'd never do such a thing intentionarily! You must believe me!”

“I’m not so sure,” I said sternly.

The young man visibly quailed. “No! Please...you must tell the Underground that we were unaware of any activity in the general vasectomy!  We would never dream of moving in on someone else's business!”

“Okay, Lukan. I believe you,” I said in my least reassuring voice. “But we do have a situation here.”

“Y-yes...b-but I'm sure there's something we can do about this, right? I mean, we could leave right away! No one would be the wiser! And you could tell the Underground that Lukan is a man who respects authority...?”

“That might be a possibility,” I told him doubtfully. “You haven’t been here long, but there could be reparations…”

I hadn’t thought it possible, but Lukan’s voice climbed another octave. “Of course we'd pay whatever the Underground thought necessary! Yes! We'll just pay what you think is fair, and get out of here!”

“That does sound fair,” I conceded. “Let’s call it…two hundred gold pieces.”

“Two hundred it is!” Desperately, he rummaged in a barrel and fumbled with a clinking bag. “Here it is! Thank you so much!  And again, please send my most humiliatory apologies to the Underground in Tarant. We would hate to ruin our chances for membership in the future.”

“This money will go a long way towards clearing your name,” I soothed, accepting the bag but not looking at it.

“Thank the gods they sent someone as patient and understanding as yourself,” he simpered. “We'll cause no more troubles in Shrouded Hills! Here...take the key to the bridge gate with my thanks. And with that, we're off!” Nervously, he started trying to herd the two confused half-ogres away.

I tried not to smile as I called out, “Take your time...but I don't want to see you here if I return!”

“Understood! Farewell, good woman! You're a tribute to the vigilance and voyeurism of the Underground!”

Fearlessly, I turned and began walking towards town. After all, they hadn’t any ranged weapons. As the road curved enough to take me out of sight of the bridge, Virgil stepped out from behind a tree as if he’d been following me all along, and I handed him the bag.

“There should be at least two hundred in there,” I muttered to him.

“Excellent,” he muttered back, tucking the coin away as nonchalantly as I had. “The constable hangs out by the well in the center of town, and he’d been offering a fifty-coin reward for anyone taking out the bandits. Claiming that from him and asking about the town ought to establish in anyone’s mind that you’ve just arrived, but watch out for a gnomish gentleman standing around by the front corner of the temple – he was asking me if I’d seen the crash, if there were any survivors...” Virgil paused, then continued grimly, “…and if I’d seen a gnome in the wreckage. A relative, he claimed, but I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Alright. You go see if you can find me a bow and some arrows; I’ll talk to the constable and see what I can get in the way of supplies, and we’ll meet back up in the temple around dusk.”

“But you have the key,” he protested.

I let the silence stretch.

“Right. I-I guess I don’t really need the key, do I?” He laughed somewhat nervously. “Ah…how powerful a bow?”

“Get a shortbow,” I said. “Easier to travel with.”

“You’ve got it, Miss Clarisse.”

He peeled off again as the road curved to enter town, and I strode boldly in alone.

“Excuse me,” I said to the man lounging against the well in the town’s central plaza. “Might I ask who you are, sir?”

“I'm Constable Owens...the local law and order.” He looked me up and down as if assessing my potential threat. “May I be of assistance?”

“I removed some thieves from your bridge, good sir,” I told him primly.

He looked relieved. “Nicely done! I've offered fifty gold pieces for the job...” Owens reached into a pouch at his hip and pulled out a small, heavy sack. “Here you go. Welcome to Shrouded Hills.”

I looked around, the first time I’d really gotten a chance to do so. “What can you tell me about this town?”

Owens rambled on with little encouragement from me – the silver mine that had dried up, the local businesses, his own self-importance. I thanked him politely and moved on, talking to shopkeepers and buying something here, something there, never too much all at once. The blacksmith, I steered clear of, afraid he would recognize his own wares. I spent the better part of an hour chatting with Doc Roberts, who seemed as familiar with causing injuries as he was with healing them. Once, I saw Virgil out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t look.

When it started getting dark, I took my purchases and strode confidently off into the trees – only to circle around to the back of the Panarii temple and let myself inside. Virgil peeked around one of the doors, sword drawn, but relaxed when he saw it was me.

“Thank Nasrudin that you're...wait, you are Nas...oh blast it!” Briefly, he leaned his head against the doorframe, then straightened again and followed me down the hall. “I'm glad you finally returned. I got the shortbow and a goodly amount of arrows…and we’ve still got a nice bit of money for when we get to Tarant. I think we should set off early in the morning.”

“I agree.”

I began sorting out our various supplies, and Virgil added his hands where they were needed. It wasn’t long before we had two packs made up, and there was nothing left to do but dine on the loaf of bread I’d picked up because neither of us had really eaten all day.

“You take the bed,” Virgil said abruptly. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

Instead of answering, I leveled a chilly look at him and strode from the room – only to return dragging a mattress from one of the smaller cells, stripped of its dusty sheet. “You’ll sleep on that,” I told him firmly, and tossed him a spare sheet and pillow.

He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. “We’d best sleep in the armor, if we can,” he said after a minute. “The sooner we get used to it, the safer we’ll be.”

I nodded and unbuckled my sword, laying it on the bed before stretching out beside it. “I’m keeping the keys when we leave,” I said as he blew out the candle. “With how much dust was on them, they won’t be missed…and I’ll feel better knowing I have someplace I can call my own, even if it is an abandoned room in an abandoned temple.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Virgil said softly. “Good night, Miss Clarisse.”

Wide awake, I stared at the dark figure of my protector on his mattress, marveling that I could be so calm in the face of the world as I knew it going mad. “Good night, Virgil.”