The rogue sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands. Despite being immersed in pain, Séa wanted to kneel and hug her frustration away.

Ghomarck stayed on the far side of the room. His head drooped forward. "Indeed, I feel quite the fool at the moment."

Séa's armor disintegrated at the shoulder, and she slipped off her gauntlet and metal sleeve. Blood stained her gambeson at the upper arm. Instead of dressing her injuries, she knelt and rubbed between the rogue's shoulder blades with her bare hand. "Hey, Tash. Are you hurt? I mean, you dodged those fireballs, and that was amazing. I never saw a person move so fast. You were like a greased pig at the fair, uh, except you're not like a pig at all. You're lots cuter."

The rogue peeked at Séa through her fingers and mumbled, "Yeah, I'm all right." She dropped her hands from her face and mock-scowled. "And that was the most back-handed, inept compliment ever uttered in the history of the world."

Séa's lips curved upwards. She shrugged and spread her hands. "So I'm original?"

"You are without peer," the rogue pronounced, "in the madwoman category."

With assorted bangs and rattles Séa sat next to Tash. She used her breathing-meditation to rise above the waves of pain like an albatross coasting on ocean rollers. She lowered her visor, then wrestled her helm off. Her lips and chin felt sticky Cave air passed over the congealing blood and cooled her lower face. She summoned a grin. "I feel like it's time for a snack. We can decide what to do while we eat."

"You need more than a snack," Tash accused. "You need a week of convalescence. You're a mess. Can't you heal yourself, like you healed me after the succubus attack?" Tash shrugged out of her pack, now with scorch marks added to its long list of traumas and stains.

Séa swigged from her canteen and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, thereby smearing her knuckles with blood. "No, no. That's not how it goes. Torugg wouldn't approve."

"Sure he would." Tash scavenged in her own pack for a pair of honey cakes. She handed one to Séa. "How can you finish a quest when you're half dead?"

Séa tore into the dry waybread. "I see your point," she said around chewing, "but I'm not impaired, yet. Just banged up. I couldn't do it even if I were worse off. It's better to tough it out."

"Better how?" When Tash squinted, the stiffer scar tissue of her eye-slash pulled at her brow and cheek.

"Better to not bug Torugg with selfish whining. We endure. We succor those who suffer and we endure." Soberly, Séa bit off another chunk.

"But you're suffering. Right now. Brightly and redly. All over the place." The rogue licked her lips.

She licked her lips at the sight of my blood. And she calls me crazy. Séa waved her bit of bread to emphasize her point. "I'm in pain, yes, but I'm not suffering. I accept my pain as part of my life journey, and, in this case, proof of conquest. In case you didn't notice, we made a great team just now. We sent one of the Abyss's most feared demons back to the Planes of Darkest Torments."

"I noticed." A grin flitted across Tash's expressive lips. "Tell you what, Séa, I won't argue any more, but I don't get you. Not at all. You ought to take care of yourself. That's first priority always."

The women had all but forgotten Ghomarck. From across the room, he suddenly spoke as if addressing a listener an arm's length away. "Ghomarck party trapped beneath Buzzard Keep." The wizard held a glowing circle of wire by his lips as he spoke. He faced obliquely to the women. Each of his words pushed a puff of light from the petite circle as if he blew spectral, eldritch bubbles. "Princess captured by demons. Repeat: demons. Their objective is unknown. Please send aid. A dwarf would be nice." The wire evaporated into the air and its magical illumination ceased. Ghomarck's magelight still bathed them all in eerie light.

"Aren't wizards great?" Séa nudged Tash, then she called over to the wizard, "Master Ghomarck, did you really just talk to somebody?"

"Aye. A one-way sending to the King's high wizard." He wheezed a soulful groan. "Oh, I ache everywhere. I had better drink a potion. My last, alas."

Séa said, "Go ahead, Master Ghomarck. The demon crumpled you like paper. But that disjunction spell was brilliant. It broke his invisibility."

"And his stoneskin armor spell. And then Séa broke its knee." Tash flowed to her feet and jogged toward Ghomarck. "Let me see that lever, wizard. Doubt it can be fixed, but it's worth a look."

Ghomarck surrendered the leg-long hunk of iron. "We appear to be in no danger at present. Perhaps we can simply wait for rescue."

Tash hefted the lever and eyed its vacated floor socket. She speared a sour glance at the wizard. "You really think the King can rescue us? Wouldn't he need an army to do that?"

The wizard quaffed his potion and smacked his lips. "I suggested a dwarf. With a pickaxe. Or hammer and chisel. The dwarf would chip us a passage out."

The rogue observed, "Your message omitted those details."

Ghomarck stuck his beard out. "According to Spliny's theorem of weave coherence, long-distance messages must be brief."

"Gnoll testicles. Nobody's coming. We're on our own."

Gnoll testicles, she says. She sure has a talent for vivid metaphors. She's a very interesting person.

Séa relaxed and finished her snack as the other two investigated the lever's mechanism. Tash required the wizard's magelight to descend into the subfloor cavity. After a few minutes, when she was satisfied, the trio sprawled on the stone floor.

Tash summarized for Séa's benefit. "It's big nope. The lever was connected to a sliding bar, but nothing else, not even a trap. A complete decoy."

Séa paraphrased Father Kay. "It is said that the only reason a demon will tell the truth is so you'll believe their next lie."

"In case you two were thinking of charging off again," the wizard wheezed, "I request a short rest." Perhaps it was the harshness of the magelight that brought out shadows, but dark half-moons sagged beneath his eyes. His narrow shoulders hunched even narrower.

"Sure, Master Ghomarck." Séa leaned back on her elbows, of which armor encased only one. She concentrated on pain-mastery, monitoring her breathing and practicing her meditative acceptance.

Silence descended, and it was profound. Not even water drips could be heard over the breathing of the three. Faint hints of wormy decay and charred brimstone hung in the dead air.

Tash stirred first. "So, Master Ghomarck, what's your story? I want gold. Séa wants a new temple to Torugg. What do you get out of this?"

"A lot of bruises, apparently." The wizard's face scrunched together so much that his eyes disappeared under his jutting eyebrows.

Séa chimed in brightly, "Poor thing. But a sincere question deserves a sincere answer. What drives you?"

Ghomarck eyed the paladin and the rogue in turn, raising one eyebrow, then the other. He blew air through his mustache. "Nothing profound, I assure you. Despite my court position I'm not ready for the settled life. But neither am I young and foolish. This rescue attempt seemed like a good compromise between boredom and peril."

"What about your nemesis," Séa chirped, "Jakliss of Liria? Does she figure in?"

His eyebrows lifted. "No. Years ago, a position opened at the Star Citadel in Liria. She landed it, the faker, and I ended up in Omnius. That's the end of that story."

I'm travelling with two liars. There is definitely more to that story. "We'll hear the full story some other time." Séa laced her fingers together.

"It's not that interesting. Just like my motivations. Strictly average." His voice sank to a gruff mutter. "But I expected kidnappers or spies, not demons." His bushy eyebrows knotted into a single hairy mass. "Next time, I'll stay home." He shifted his position with a grunt and a wince.

"Fair enough," Tash said, "but what do you want, in the end? Fame? Money?"

"Yes. That, and more." Briefly, wry crinkles appeared at the corners of Ghomarck's eyes.

Séa's face fell, but Tash grinned. "More? Do tell."

"I happen to like Omnius," he said. "But the scryers say that the Kingdom of Thwick has made an alliance with the orcs of Gurg."

"Huh?" Perplexity covered Tash's face.

Séa shared Tash's confusion, but a ray of hope lifted her eyebrows.

"Allow me to rephrase it in two short words: War comes." His weary eyes fixed upon Tash's, steady and unwavering. "War comes and Omnius may not survive the combined onslaught of berserkers and orcs. Not when the Uncivil War has divided its army. Therefore, part of the reason that I am here is that I don't want to end up dead. Or worse, shackled and collared, a court jester for Gurg the Merciless."

"This," Séa said, her eyelids descending to half-mast, "is altruism. Seeing the greater good and working toward it."

Tash stuck out her tongue. "It's just like listening to any longbeard philosopher. Pretty soon, up is down and black is white. Omnius isn't the only sword on the rack. If you don't like the local politics, move on."

A gentle expression flitted over the wizard's face that the women had never seen before. "Lady Séa, Lady Tashiel, your youthful earnestness charms me to the core. Your unbending personal codes sing like clear bells and admit no ambiguity."

Séa's eyes narrowed. "I get the feeling that's not entirely a compliment."

The rogue next to her stiffened as if electrocuted. Her face darkened and her jaw clenched. Quick as a mongoose, she swiveled to confront Ghomarck and through tight lips said, "I never gave the name Tashiel."

"Ah." The wizard waved a gnarled hand. "My tongue slipped. But I'm from Liria, originally. The tragic tale of House Whitelark is well-known, so when the looter called you by name I made the connection."

She spat, "Call me Tash and don't slip up again, whitebeard."

That's real, raw anger, there. There's no way to disguise that.

The rogue's fists clenched and unclenched, and Séa wondered if Ghomarck was about to get his nose flattened.

But the wizard remained wrapped in his cocoon of calm and spread his hands. "I meant no offense, milady."

Tash leveled a finger at him. "You're slipperier than you look, old man."

Séa opened her mouth to speak, but Tash swiveled her finger to point at her. "No. Do not ask."

Séa closed her mouth so fast it clicked.

Ghomarck scrunched his nose and squinted. "We're, you know, still in the trust-building phase of our relationship, albeit its late stages." His mustache lifted into the sort of smile a professional butler might employ. "Lady Séa, you have made your opinion known about bearing injuries with stoicism, but could you do me a favor?"

"Uh? Sure, Master Ghomarck. What is it?"

"Purely for my benefit, could we at least wipe the blood from your face and bandage your open wounds? I find it distracting and aesthetically objectionable."

A flush rose up Séa's neck to her face. He's right. I have others to consider besides Torugg. Immediately, Séa stood and began to shed her armor plating.

As more armor came off Ghomarck mumbled something about inspecting the broken portal and shuffled off to the room of pillars.

The paladin said, "Better light your candle again, Tash." As Tash complied, Séa schooled her voice to a whisper. "Do you think he's embarrassed?"

The rogue pursed her lips. "Yes, probably. He's prudish as a paladin." When what she said sunk in, her eyes widened. "I mean, paladins other than you. You're ... different."

Amusement bubbled up inside Séa. "Healthy. That's the word you're looking for."

"Randy, maybe. Horny." Tash knocked her steel and flint together and showered her candle wick with sparks.

"Right. Like I said. Healthy."

"Whatever, crazy woman. I didn't expect it, though. I assumed I would be the frisky one." Her voice rose in insistence. "Because I am. I'm frisky. Very frisky." The candle caught a steady flame.

With all the metal pieces off, the paladin's second-to-last layer was a long, padded undershirt: her gambeson. Séa rummaged in her pack for a roll of linen. Frisky, she says. In what ways, exactly, I wonder. "I believe you. If you were a sailor, you'd have a lover pining for you at every port. I know I'd be one, standing by the lighthouse with my spyglass, hoping each ship I see would be yours." Oh, socket. I might have been too honest just then.

The paladin's glance was met with two raised eyebrows and a jaw that dropped. The rogue said, "Me. Me, in particular?"

"Yeah, you." In hindsight, I'll probably remember this as a sad moment. But I can't lie, so off the cliff I go. "You're dang attractive."

"No?" Tash's eyes squinted in suspicion. "I'm all scarred."

"Nice try, but the scars are like the honey on a cake. Sticky, maybe, but so sweet." Séa dropped her gaze. "Sorry, Tash. I run off at the mouth so much. So much. I know you're not a lesbian like me. I know, and I respect that, and I'm not coming on to you and I'm really sorry if I'm offending you and the thing is that I respect you and I seem to always say disrespectful things but it's fun to chat with you and maybe it shouldn't be but it is and you're so clever and oh, by Torugg's empty socket I'm just going to shut up, now. Here." Séa thrust a soft, white cylinder of rolled up linen at the rogue.

Eyes owlish and jaw slack, Tash stowed her steel and flint and reached for the bandage roll.

Séa snuck a glance at her face and dimpled. "See? I can't be quiet, but you can. Amazing self-control. Anyway, to business. I packed a fair amount of linen, so wrap what want. If you can't see where the cuts are, use a wad of wet linen to clean things up a bit." Séa dimpled deeper. "Unless you want to use your tongue." Her eyes widened. "I mean, for the blood! Because that you seem to like the taste of blood. I mean, you do, don't you?"

The rogue met Séa's eyes.

Séa stared back. I can't tell what she's thinking. But she hasn't pulled out her dagger and stabbed me. That's a good start.

Tash said, "I do, yeah. I licked my own cuts as a child. When I learned to hunt, they taught me that if I drank the blood of my kill, I would inherit a measure of its strength or agility."

"Oh!" Séa blinked. "Is that ... true at all?"

"No, Séa." Tash flopped a hand on the paladin's shoulder and leaned a little closer. "People lie a lot. To others. To themselves."

I feel like she's trying to teach me something. "That's wrong." Séa searched Tash's brown eyes.

"It's the way it is. After a while, you get used to the burn of it, and it doesn't even hurt anymore." Tash's gaze wavered, then broke. When she lowered her gaze the paladin's crimson-stained gambeson caught her attention. "Let's get you patched up before you bleed out."

"Pff. It's not that bad." Four buckles later, Séa shrugged out of the diamond-stitched, padded garment. The linen shift underneath bloomed even redder. The paladin glanced down at herself and grimaced. "I don't feel the least bit faint. Honest."

"I believe you." Tash snickered. "Firstly, you're a hefty tank of blood. Secondly, you don't lie. You probably don't know how to lie."

The paladin loosened the strings at the front of her shift and frowned. "I can lie!" I can. Honestly.

"Ha," said Tash. "I'll believe it when I hear it."

"I'll have you know that I can be very deceptive when the situation calls for it." Séa tried to pluck her linen shift off over her head, but dried blood had glued it to her shoulder. "Um, Tash? Start with my knee. I'll work on getting my shirt off."