Chapter 3.9 – And Then There Were Six

Reaching Andara felt like progress. I was on the right landmass at least. Cutting through the south of Andara, dangerous as that might be, was the fastest way to Rish.

I had expected to traverse the Southern Plains alone, but an Andaran hunting party was waiting for me. They knew about my mission. I had misgivings, but I also felt some relief. If they were truly there to help, it would make my job that much easier. Yet they refused to tell me how they had known I would be there, or why they were helping me.

 Which risk was greater, the great beasts that roam Southern Andara or humans claiming to be there for my benefit? It was a coin toss at best. At length, I decided to trust the humans, though in reality, I had little choice.

 My would-be escort was an Andaran hunting party. If I said no, and they’d wanted me dead, they’d track me anyway. I had no doubt they could keep up. Plenty of high level Andaran warriors had running skills. Resigned to this new risk, I allowed them to accompany me, wondering how many others knew of my trip, and what that might mean.

 

                                                                                             Excerpt from the Journal of The Emissary

 

Sixth Day of Striving 1142

This was the second time the five siblings had met on the Plains of Xarinos. The five who were one, or so they had learned the last time they’d been here. They shared what the humans would call a soul. A human from Earth would call them clones. Though each had been given a different aspect, gifted to them by Sylinar, their core design and implementation was identical. For all intents and purposes they were one being.

For Sheba and Sarith, that would have been extremely annoying, seeing how much they hated each other, but Se Karn took it in stride. Everyone was looking toward Iorana waiting for her to start the meeting, but Se Karn had other ideas.

“I have no idea what happened, but it is surely the strangest thing I have experienced during the span of my existence.”

There was surprise in the faces of the others as they turned to face him, as if they were human rather than just dressed in human flesh.

“He speaks,” said Sarith. “And he speaks of strangeness, but I’m not clear. Does anyone know what actually happened?”

Mitra, the goddess of lore, took over. “As far as I can tell, we had all come, at Sheba’s request, to see if she should be allowed to save Queen Treya from Gallen, the Undead King’s assassin. Sheba had asked Se Karn to come first, and he assured her that leveling Treya at that moment, thus saving her life, would not interfere with her death date. Is this correct so far, brother?”

Se Karn nodded. “It is. It was not Treya’s time to die. But I did not intervene, because interfering in mortal matters directly breaks the compact, a thing I refuse to do.”

“But you did that. We all did it,” said Sarith. “We all enhanced the new skill Sheba provided, marking her as our own. Queen Treya is the only being tethered to five gods.”

“Is this true?” asked Iorana. “Are we not one being?”

Sheba shook her head. “We may share a central creative core, but our aspects differentiate us. I am bound to follow honor, just as Iorana is bound to magic. These are not choices, but part of our internal workings.”

“None of this is certain,” said Mitra. “It’s all conjecture. There is only one certainty. We have all tethered Queen Treya. She belongs to all of us now.”

“I don’t understand why you did it,” said Sheba. “Treya was mine.”

Iorana finally spoke. “I’m not convinced we did. It is my belief that Treya tethered us.”

“Impossible,” said Sarith. “She’s a mortal.”

Se Karn shook his head. “She had been a mortal. After her ascension, if that is indeed what it was, she no longer has a death date.”

“She lost her death date? How can that happen?” asked Sheba.

Se Karn shrugged, a gesture only barely visible through his black cloak. “I do not know, for it has never happened before. To my knowledge, during my reign, no death date has ever changed, much less been removed.”

Mitra stepped forward, almost in spite of herself, her interest keen. “Io, how could Queen Treya have tethered us?”

“It is a feature of her Soul Salve skill. She had never used it before she transferred Queen Raven’s soul into Lord Ormund’s body and fused it with his, thus repairing the two souls. In order for her to m, she had to take control of Raven’s tether, which I relinquished to her, thinking nothing of it at the time. But I believe now that her soul has learned to create tethers, and that at the moment she thought she was going to die, she reached out to save herself, as any human would under similar circumstances. We were the driftwood in the ocean while Treya was drowning. Her soul sought stability and purchase, and lashed out. We were all present, connected. Furthermore, I suspect we all had reason to wish Treya to survive that encounter. We’ve already heard from Se Karn, who claims it wasn’t yet her death date. What was your reason, Mitra? I assume you had one.”

“Treya is central to many of the events going on. The Undead King is our enemy. Xarinos is a place closed to us, and he is its king. I did not wish to lose the Queen of Twyl, especially at a time when King Terrence had marched off to war. It would have destabilized the kingdom greatly. She did not deserve to die, and once I heard that it wasn’t her death date, saving her became common sense–compact, or no compact.”

Sarith spoke before anyone asked for her opinion. “I too wanted to save Treya, but not for her sake. I hate the Undead King and would thwart him at every turn, given the opportunity. We are fighting a war, and he is the enemy.”

No one asked Sheba why she wanted Treya alive, the answer was obvious. But now all eyes fell on Iorana.

“I too have a reason for wanting her alive. She has a job to m I require, and if she’d died, she would not be able to do it.”

“And that job is?” asked Sheba. “She is my servant, not yours.”

Iorana bowed her head briefly as if to acknowledge the point, but then shook her head. “She was your servant first, but now she belongs to all of us.” 

Mitra scowled. “Does she? If she tethered us, does that not imply that we all belong to her?”

Iorana chuckled. “Do you not see? She is one of us now. A sixth sibling god, though a fledgling to be sure. I believe the correct term is godling.”

Mitra’s eyes widened in surprise. “A new god? Created by us? But how? None of us have had the power to create other gods before.”

“Ah, said Se Karn, “I believe I understand now. I had noticed that one of my aspects was no longer present, not as it once had been.”

“Oh?” Mitra leaned forward, her thirst for knowledge, as ever, insatiable.

“While I am the god of the dead, I also oversee mourning. That aspect of my being seems to be missing. I believe that Treya may have taken it.”

“Does that make her the goddess of mourning,” asked Sarith.

They were all silent, considering the magnitude of what they had just heard. But Iorana was already shaking her head. “No, because she stole enchantment from me.”

Every head turned in Iorana’s direction, and then each of them started taking a mental inventory of their own aspects. Mitra spoke first.

“I’m missing perseverance.”

Sarith spoke next. “She stole tolerance from me. I don’t think I shall miss it.”

They all looked to Sheba. “She took introspection from me. How can this be possible?”

Iorana shrugged. “Is it so different from Sylinar shedding gods, really? She loses aspects all the time, 153 of them last I checked.”

“So Queen Treya is a goddess that combines perseverance, mourning, tolerance, enchantment and introspection? What kind of goddess would that be?”

Mitra was the one who answered. “I think we might be looking at resilience. It not only fits what has been taken, but it fits Treya as well.”

Sheba nodded. “It feels right. There was a new major god…godling at this point…and she is the goddess of resilience. How did you come up with that, Mitra?”

“I have been investigating Treya, studying her, as is my wont, trying to understand what had happened. That word, resilience, kept appearing in my thoughts. She has already named herself, though I did not understand it until this moment.”

“A new goddess,” said Sheba. “A new sister. Well, I for one welcome her into the fold.”

“We have little choice,” said Se Karn. “I will not see her harmed. She is one of us now and is protected by the laws of the compact.”

“But she doesn’t know of the compact and has not agreed to it,” said Sarith.

“That is true, but she is still just a godling. Let her learn to walk before she is forced to learn to run,” said Iorana. “She is one of us, and I will protect her.”

“As will I,” said Mitra. Even Sarith nodded agreement.

Sheba turned to Iorana. “What do your sources have to say about all of this?”

Iorana smiled. “They are beside themselves with confusion. They saw everything coming but this. I think it may interfere with their plans.” 

“Which are?” asked Sarith.

“Theirs. They have an agenda I know nothing about.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Mitra.

“No more dangerous than watching magic disappear from the world. It will still take ages, but will happen if we don’t find a way to stop it.”

None of them spoke, each picturing what Thysandrika would look like without magic.

*

Striker ran as fast as she could, aware that the pack of kreve she ran with could easily keep pace with her. They ran all around her. She raised her head and sniffed the air. She was doing that more lately, as if she were becoming kreve herself. She could smell them all around her. The pack–her pack. There was a comfort in that belonging.

When she had been with the misfits, she was always pretending, acting like something she was not, hadn’t been for a long time. Striker was reborn, not human. Perhaps it was time she started acting that way.

Striker had nothing against humans. She really liked the Misfits. She’d even liked the Undead Queen before her reign had begun, while she was still a human. She could see why the Undead King had fallen for her. Though most of their interactions had been at a distance, she was proud to serve the Undead Queen now. She had never felt that way about the Undead King.

Yet now the humans had declared war on the undead–on her people. No, not the humans–the gods had declared war. The humans were in an impossible place. If the gods said the undead were evil, of course the humans would believe them. They believed anything the gods said. It was different for the reborn.

The Undead King didn’t control reborn. Reborn were free to question him. She had questioned him herself, and though she didn’t always agree with his way of doing things, she did serve him from time to time, when he offered her jobs compatible with her own morality. Somehow, he managed to m. Perhaps because of the link they shared. He seldom asked her to do anything she wouldn’t have done on her own. Perhaps that was the right way to use your assets.

But the Undead Queen stood against him, and Striker was in the middle. She enjoyed a link with both of them as did most reborn. And though the gods had declared war, the Undead Queen was against it. Which put Striker in a difficult place.

She had kidnapped Dahr and Eric at the Undead Queen’s behest. She was not told why it was necessary, but it didn’t feel like a well laid plan. It felt more like an opportunity that had presented itself merely by chance. Striker, through a bizarre set of circumstances, happened to be in the palace at Rish. She happened to have a certain set of powers. Surely the Undead Queen couldn’t have arranged this, nor could the Undead Queen have leveled her. But Dahr told her who had leveled her. George, his god.

More than anything that made no sense. He had leveled her by feeding levels into a kreve, then forming a bond between her and that kreve and finally transferring those levels through the newly created bond. Gods didn’t behave like this. It was against the rules.

What did that make George if not a god? He had to be as powerful as a god regardless. She had to think of him as one, treat him as one, but what the hell was he?

He was too powerful to be a demon. What then?

She realized she had no idea. So she had three powerful entities all vying for her loyalty. Well, she’d make them work for it and, in the end, she’d still do whatever felt right. It’s what she did when she was alive and it was what she’d do now. She might not be tethered to Sheba anymore, but more and more, she realized, she was still Sheba’s disciple, tether or no tether. And when the real decisions had to be made, she would apply those standards as if she was still tethered to the goddess of honor.

She paused briefly and sniffed the air again. Salt. The channel. She was nearing the ferry that would take her to the Brotherhood. She would finally be reunited with Dahr and Eric. She wondered what that reunion would look like.

It was clear Dahr was more powerful than he’d ever been, even more powerful than she was, kreve or no kreve. But he wasn’t the enemy. She had to remember that. Her job was to protect the princes, not to harm them. If only she could tell them. If only they could understand.

She laughed. Understand. She hadn’t a fucking clue what was going on, and it was killing her. How could she possibly expect them to understand. No, she’d follow the Undead Queen’s instructions. She’d bring them to Xarinos. She’d not tell them who or why they were required. And she’d let the powers that be deal with the specifics.

At least she wasn’t betraying her oath to Sheba in performing the tasks she’d been given. It wasn’t much, but it was something to hold on to.

*

“This is as far as we take you,” said Ganan. “Beyond the next rise is a town called Kreach. Like many in Melar, they’re not a big fan of Andarans. A hunting party like mine would just inflame tensions. You’ll be safe enough there, until you can arrange passage to Trilsk.”

“Kreach…I know the Mayor,” said King Leonid. “Thank you for your assistance, Cass…Ganan. But you’re right, we’ll be fine from here.”

With those words, King Leonid turned and walked away. Chari sighed and spoke to Kirir.

“Sorry about my father. He doesn’t have a grateful bone in his body. But I’m really happy to have met you, and Ganan, of course. It’s been…enlightening. So many Melarians see you as barbarians. But the more time I spent with you, the more I think it’s the other way around. We’re the barbarians.”

Kirir chuckled. “A barbarian wouldn’t have come to that conclusion, Chari. Maybe there’s hope for your people yet.”

“Oh, it’s more than hope. I’ll talk to my mom. She knows how to keep him in line.”

“I heard that,” said King Leonid. “I have very good hearing.”

Chari shrugged. “Anyway, we’d better go. I wish we had more time together, there’s a lot more I want to know.”

Ganan smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Talk to Terrence. He’ll teach you about us. Even Eric would have learned a lot by now. Andaran culture is very important to the rulers of Rish. It’s passed down through families. We may live in a palace right now, but we don’t want to forget the reason. It’s to keep Andara safe. To have a presence in the greater world that the greater world understands and respects. So we don’t see a repeat of King Herrold’s attempt to move into Andara. The world learned a lesson, but people forget. We won’t let them. Terrence won’t let them. Eric won’t let them when he takes the throne.”

Chari nodded. “I won’t let them either. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that Andara is protected. You have my word.”

Kirir hugged her. “Go, your father is getting impatient.”

sure enough King Leonid had stopped and glared back at her. Chari returned the hug, then surprised Ganan by hugging him as well.

Kalutu and Sam said their goodbyes, as did each of the familiars, though the Andaran’s couldn’t hear them, of course.

Chari made sure to take her time saying goodbye to the rest of the hunting party as well, not because she needed to, but because she knew it would annoy her father. Then, finally, she joined him at the bottom of the rise.

“Can we go now?” he asked.

“You’re the king. I am but a humble servant.”

Leonid snickered. “There’s nothing humble about you. We have that in common, at least.”

Sam had come up behind them. “He’s got a point.”

Chari shot him an annoyed glance, then brightened. “Hey, they’re sure to have a pub in town. I can finally buy you that beer.”

“Yes!” said Sam and he picked up his pace. “It’s so close, I can almost taste it.”

Kalutu, walking behind them, shook his head. “I think you’d probably have to imbibe it first.”

Sam turned back to him and scowled. “It’s a figure of speech.”

“He knows,” said Chari, chuckling. “He’s developing quite the sense of humor, is Kalutu.”

Chari thought Kalutu looked quite pleased with himself. She could almost see him smiling, though of course, that was impossible. His beak made it hard to know what Kalutu was actually thinking.

*

What Kalutu was thinking at that moment was that he was sad to see the Andarans retreating. He turned his head to watch them, while still walking forward.

Sam squeaked. “Must you m? It’s unnatural.”

Kalutu looked at him. “It’s not unnatural for me, I assure you.”

“If I turned my head that far, I’d break my neck. Anyway, let’s pick up the pace. There’s a beer with my name on it over this rise.”

Kalutu didn’t reply but kept walking. There was a spring in his step that had been absent for a long time now, but it was back. They had heard from Dahr. He’d be meeting them at Trilsk. His masters were okay. At the thought, Kalutu increased his pace without realizing it.

Dahr had found a way to contact him. He’d have thought it impossible, but Kalutu had given up using that word around his master. Dahr had continually and consistently shown himself to be capable of doing things that no one else could. Kalutu was lucky to be the familiar of such a man.

Of course, it also put pressure on Kalutu to get better. If Dahr was that powerful, why would he need a familiar? What could Kalutu do for him that he couldn’t do better himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked himself that, and he still didn’t have an answer. Well, he had some time before they reached Trilsk and then some time before Dahr reached them most likely. He’d have to figure out something.

Off to the side he saw Zephyr and flapper walking together, chatting telepathically. He could have listened in, but gave them their privacy instead. The other familiars ranged around them. It was a good thing they were approaching this town with the king. It might be hard to explain away all his familiars or his lycanthropy without some powerful support. Perhaps they needed to get bear some sort of hat so people would know he wasn’t wild. And what would they make of Obby?

Kalutu tried to imagine the Lost Wisdom team walking down the main street of some small town in the middle of nowhere. Would they be attacked? It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. When people were scared, they had the tendency to lash out.

This time it wouldn’t be as much of a problem. They were traveling with a retinue of guards in the livery of King Leonid’s house. It seemed unlikely anyone would risk attacking them. But just in case, he’d have to figure out how to make it safe for them to travel together.

As they reached the top of the hill, Kalutu looked down on the first small human town he’d seen on Thysandrika. It looked like a lot of small towns from his own world. It had a street with shops, a few houses, but from this higher vantage, he could see in the distance, the entire area was surrounded by farms. It was a farming village.

Everyone had stopped to look at the town, except King Leonid and his guards who’d already started down the other side of the hill. The others hurried to catch up.

“I can almost taste that beer,” said Sam. “You still buying?”

“I said I would,” replied Chari. “When I say something, I mean it.”

Sam nodded satisfied.

Kalutu looked around, and when he saw Bruce missing, he sent a message telapthatically.

Are you invisible, Bruce?

I am, and I intend to stay invisible. I find it’s safer for all concerned if humans can’t see me. It was different when I was walking through the city with Veloran, who was well known and trusted.

We’re with King Leonid here, though.

I suspect that High Priest Veloran is far more trusted than King Leonid. Just a guess.

Kalutu nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps King Leonid would be better received in his own country. Kalutu knew Chari had little respect for him, but that could just be family issues. Kalutu decided to keep an eye on how people treated him, since their own reception might be negatively affected if King Leonid was actively disliked. This was a potential problem he had not anticipated.

Kalutu had been so lost in thought he didn’t realize Sart had approached until he was right next to him. Kalutu chided himself. He’d have to be more aware if he was ever going to be useful to his masters.

“Would you mind if I asked you a question?”

Kalutu was surprised as, prior to this, Sart would have asked him a question whether he minded or not. The man had something against him, or at least lycanthropes.

“What’s on your mind, Sart?”

“Why did you argue to bring me along on this trip? You know my feelings about lycanthropes.”

“I do indeed know your feelings. I don’t know why you feel that way or what experiences you may have had in your life to generate the kind of blind hatred you displayed, but it hardly matters. You’re capable of growth and learning, like everyone else. You don’t have to allow ignorance to define you. Sheba herself vouched for me. Do you know more than the goddess?”

Sart looked surprised. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to imply…”

Kalutu cut him off. “I understand that you’ve never seen anyone or anything that looks like me. For all I know, I’m the only were-owl on all of Thysandrika. Judge me not on my looks, not on what you know about other lycanthropes, but on my actions and my abilities. Does that sound fair to you?”

Sart nodded, curtly. “I’m afraid I got off on the wrong foot with Princess Chari, and it’s going to cost me.”

Kalutu nodded. “It is possible that your previous action caused her some ire, true. But I’ve found that Princess Chari is fair and just and can even be kind. Show her that what bothered her before is no longer an issue, and I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Thank you, Kalutu.”

“You are most welcome. Perhaps one day, we can even be friends.”

Sart looked surprised, but shook his head slightly. “Give me some time to adjust. This…” he gestured expansively taking in the remarkable group of familiars and even a brethren, “is going to take some getting used to.”

*

Striker stood alone on the docks, watching the ferry from The Brotherhood approach. Garret, as usual, sat in the smaller vessel, guiding it into position in such a way that the larger barge came to rest against the dock. Garret’s precision control never ceased to amaze Striker though she’d seen his abilites on a number of occasions.

“Striker, you’re looking well. Where are your kreve?”

Striker looks surprised? “You knew about them? I left them a distance away so as not to startle you.”

“Dahr informed Gabby you’d have them with you, so I was prepared. Well, as prepared as anyone could be for seeing a pack of kreve close up. What’s it like?”

“Being part of the pack? It’s amazing. It’s like having a family all the time. I know where they are. I know what they’re doing. They’re a part of me, and I’m a part of them.”

“It sounds like being brethren.”

“Oh, that’s true, isn’t it? Maybe I finally have an appreciation for your people, now that I’ve experienced something similar.”

Striker tried to imagine what it would be like for her pack to expand across a thousand minds and a hundred generations and gave up. No wonder the world feared the brethren. They had immense power potential. Of course, they weren’t dangerous if you treated them like people, much like the reborn. If only humans weren’t so provincial in their reactions.

Striker summoned the pack and they came running, a sight that many would have found terrifying, but having her family nearby comforted her. Stalker, of course, led them, black, ferocious looking, huge maw dripping saliva as she ran. If you didn’t know better, you’d call her a wolf, but wolves were more dog-like. Kreve were bigger than wolves, with a wider jaw, more teeth and red eyes that seemed to burn with malice. Not for the first time, Stalker wondered at the original of the species, but having little expertise in such matters, soon turned to other thoughts.

Striker and Garret didn’t talk much during the trip across the strait, probably because Garret needed to focus on what he was doing, but also because Striker had quite enough to think about without the distraction. She’d get to the Brotherhood, find Eric and Dahr, get them packed up and ready to go. They’d already lost so much time, and the Undead Queen was waiting.

The pack huddled together in the raft, staying away from water. Kreve could swim, but never did so out of sight of land. Striker calmed them mentally and tried to think about the days ahead. What would she need to make the trip to Xarinos? What obstacles might they face along the way? What strangeness would Dahr bring to the table. He was already the strangest human Striker had ever met, and she’d barely spent any time with him at all.

On the surface, he looked like a fourteen year old boy, but he wasn’t…not anymore. His eyes were older, his power, immense. She had no doubt Dahr had already left his humanity behind and now, if he were to be believed, she shared a connection to the same power that had evolved him. The thought did not comfort her.

She saw him waiting alone on the shore. Of course he knew she was coming. He’d been tracking her all along. Probably George had been the one to send her in the wrong direction in the first place. Admittedly, she didn’t regret encountering the pack, but she hated the idea of disappointing the Undead Queen. Well, it wasn’t her fault, and there was nothing she could have done about it.

She waited until the ferry had docked, waved briefly to Garret, who returned the gesture, and disembarked, aware that the kreve followed her without having to turn.

Dahr stood silently waiting for her to get closer.

“Hello, my friend.”

Well that was new. “Friend, huh? When did you come to that conclusion?”

“Just now. I can tell from the threads that you don’t mean me any harm.”

“The threads?”

“It’s how I see the world now. Psychics can read auras, I can read threads. I know more about you now that you’re here than I ever have before. I can see the people you’re connected to, understand you’re intent, admittedly I’m still learning, and you’re complex as hell, but yes, I can see now that you don’t mean me any harm. If anything, the opposite.”

“Well, I’m glad. Does that mean you’ll willingly accompany me to the Undead Queen?”

Dahr grinned, sheepishly. “Not exactly. We’re taking this ferry back as soon as we get supplied up and find someone to care for Eric.”

“Care for Eric? Is he sick?”

“Not exactly. He’s on an extended soul journey. I’m guessing he can’t end the journey, because he’s in Orientation Village. Maybe his soul can’t follow the link back to his body through the shield that surrounds the Plains. It’s possible that the same thing that stops the gods from seeing into Xarinos is preventing Eric’s soul from sensing his body or returning to it. So I need a brethren to come with us to keep him alive.”

Striker stood, stunned. Not only was Prince Eric, a man she was responsible for kidnapping, not well, but there was something else that bothered her.

“Dahr, how do you know about Orientation Village?”

“I talked to Eric and Suzanna, who’s with him, while he was there. Why?”

“Dahr, no communication spell works between the plains and the rest of the world.”

Dahr chuckled. “I guess it’s good that I wasn’t using a spell then. I was able to talk to the gods too while I was on here, so I guess the normal rules might not apply to me.”

Striker shook her head, as if trying to process the information. Giving up, she finally returned to a topic that she could actually understand. “So, you’ll come with me willingly?”

“Not exactly,” said Dahr. “You’ll be coming with me willingly. We’re going to back to Aestra. Then we’ll had north to Trilsk.”

“Dahr, we can’t. I promised the Undead Queen I’d bring you to her and keep you safe.”

Dahr shrugged. “I don’t care. I am going to get Chari and Kalutu, and then reunite Eric with his body. I will be going on this ferry, with whatever supplies I can muster and a brethren to care for Eric. I’m assuming your instructions to protect me will mean that you, and your unusual entourage, will be joining me.

Striker started to respond but bit her lip. Dahr had made up his mind, and she wasn’t going to change it. This was a battle she couldn’t win. Probably couldn’t have won it before Dahr was Tier 2, and she had no doubt, looking at him, that he was.

“No one can level as fast as you have.”

“Said the woman who leveled six times in one night?”

Striker looked embarrassed. “It wasn’t really me leveling though was it. That was …George.”

Dahr nodded. “Yes. Oddly enough, we have the same benefactor. The same rules don’t apply to either of us. I’m not really human anymore, and you’re not really reborn. We’re something new, both of us. In this world of millions, perhaps billions of beings, the two of us are in a class by ourselves. Well, maybe Merck is in that class with us, I don’t know. But you and I currently have more in common with each other than either of us do with anyone else.”

“Then why not trust me and come with me to Xarinos.”

“We are going to Xarinos. We’re just not going directly. Trilsk first, then Orientation Village, then the Undead Queen.”

Striker nodded. “Okay. I can’t make you go. I won’t. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Dahr grinned. “That makes two of us.”