Resembling glorified paintings rather than actual people, the female and male knights reined in their horses in front of the apothecary. They dismounted to cries of "milord!" and "milady!" from a smattering of nearby villagers. Embroidered in gold thread, the stylized eagle of House Pharing (for the King) and an antlered hart (for the duke) blazed on the chests of their green-trimmed tabards. They existed within bubbles of smug grace.

A shudder shook Tash, unbidden. The years of her separation from pageantry and courtly airs fell away, and she recalled similar empty figures from her youth. Gifted from birth with an unearned family name, these, too, had cultivated airs of superiority. In all fairness, they had not themselves created the zone of idolization that followed their every movement. Others generated the buzz of voices and the suffocating swarm of admiring glances. But the chosen ones had fallen without friction into the trap of believing that fame was a real thing. Accordingly, they did their part to complete the circle of illusion. They waved like royalty. They received their applause as if always receiving and never giving was the balanced, correct order of things.

A snarl of a smile twisted Tash's face. The day was warm, yet they wrapped themselves in full armor and surcoats. A light frock would be infinitely more comfortable, but appearances, to folk like these, must be maintained. The village peasants that had hailed them had not lingered.

Séa drew in a breath, then whispered, rapid-fire, "Torugg Endurer, grant me patience."

Tash's eyes zipped to the paladin. She's as prejudiced against them as I am. Amazing.

Séa clapped a fist to her chest and bent slightly at the waist. She called, "Dame Sunstar. Sir Fawk. Well met."

Dame Sunstar favored the paladin with a dimpled, rehearsed smile. "Ah, Séa."

Sir Fawk's toothy grin never faltered. "Ladies."

Séa opened her mouth to speak, but the Dame spoke quicker. "Did you practice your archery before you left your cloister today?"

A wave of dark pink rose from below Séa's collar, up her corded neck, and over her resolute face. With the slightest quiver in her steady voice, she replied, "Yes, Frullan. And yourself?"

Tash lifted an eyebrow and separated herself from the doorframe. The conversation had undercurrents. The two armored women had history. Séa's on a first-name basis with Dame Frullan Sunstar. That's far more interesting than me wallowing in an attack of envy. What will happen next?

The Dame's facial expression oozed satisfaction. "I practice when the mood strikes, and when more important duties do not interfere."

The two armored women stared at each other with blistering intensity. Fawk's grin faded a notch as his eyes roved between Séa and Frullan. He cleared his throat and announced, too loudly, "We're here to see the potionmaster."

"By all means. I won't hold you back," Séa said through jaws that remained clamped tight.

Ghomarck chose that moment to bustle from the shop door with a swish of wizard robes and faint glassy tinkles. "Comrades, let us depar— Oh! Knights!"

Sir Fawk's teeth beamed full force once again. "Well met, master. You're one of the circle wizards, are you not? Those hats are distinctive. King's wizard. Now, that reminds me of something. What was it?"

The wizard took Tash's elbow and steered her out of the knight's path to the apothecary. All of sudden, he seemed rushed. "Yes, yes. Ghomarck of Liria, at your service. So sorry to truncate niceties, noble knights, but my party and I have need to depart."

Sir Fawk and Dame Sunstar exchanged a glance. The Dame said, "Depart to where, might I ask?"

"No idea," Ghomarck said, gravely. "None whatsoever." He tapped a finger on the side of his nose. "Yet."

"No idea where, but it's urgent?" pressed Dame Sunstar. Her voice rose in pitch and became more nasal.

Well, well, thought Tash. If I didn't dislike her before, that tone of voice would push me over the edge.

"Ah." The wizard's bushy eyebrows rose, and suddenly he seemed to have all the time in the world. "Perhaps you are less than fully acquainted with the subtle arts of farseeing and scrying and divination. In short, the clairvoyant arts?"

Frullan Sunstar's eyes grew guarded.

Ghomarck continued with breathless enthusiasm, "As one rather well-versed in these subjects, allow me to summarize the salient points. Let me begin with the first and most salient point, which salient point being the importance of an open mind. Preconceived notions of which way the outcome of a scrying ritual might fall are inimical, inimical, I say, to the success of said scrying ritual."

Both Fawk's and Sunstar's faces tightened in growing discomfort as the impromptu lecture accelerated. Séa and Tash exchanged perplexed glances. The wizard began pacing, one hand at the small of his back and the other gesticulating in the air. "This term 'open mind' I might be so bold as to rephrase as 'blank mind,' because in order to receive magical guidance, one needs almost to drain away one's opinions, one's notions of truth, one's notions of falsity, one's notions of time, one's notions of location, one's physical distractions, one's history, and so on and so on."

Fawk shuffled his armored feet, but the lecture continued.

"So my claim of having no notion of any location is not only true, but necessary for a successful scrying attempt." Ghomarck peered at the pair of knights as if expecting applause.

Fawk raised both his hands and splayed his fingers in the gesture universally understood as "whoa!"

"You have a question already, sir knight? How wonderful. I wish my apprentices had your curiosity. Dullards, the lot of them, lately. Dullards, I say."

"Ah, no. We wish to shop." Fawk said.

"What are you shopping for, might I ask?" Tash put in, wide-eyed and studiously innocent. Intentionally she modeled her inflections after Dame Sunstar's when she had said, "Depart to where, might I ask?"

Séa choked back a bark of amusement, and an answering warmth spread in Tash's belly.

Sunstar narrowed pretty green eyes at Tash.

Ghomarck's face fell. "I see. I see. Shopping has its own urgencies, I suppose."

Fawk gripped Sunstar's upper arm. He overcame her physical resistance and steered her inside, jovially blustering, "Fare thee well, wizard, ladies. I do hope your ritual is a success. B-bye, now. B-bye!"

A sunny expression brightened Séa's face as she gathered her charger's reins in her hands. The wizard clucked his tongue and gestured to the right. "To the stable, if you please. Two of us need horses."

The trio fell into step and trudged along the village track. Séa glanced sidelong at Tash. "Thank you for your mockery, Tash. Frullan noticed, but it was too subtle a slight for her to call out."

Tash shrugged. "It was fun. So, what is it between you two? Some bad history?"

Séa strode in silence for a few heartbeats, then cleared her throat. "Yes."

"Go on." Tash flipped her hood over her head. Shadows were her friend. No sense in risking accidental recognition, and her companions were near enough to read her facial expressions despite the shade from her hood.

"You sure? Normally, I'm a talker, but I don't like to talk about myself."

Tash assured her, "You're not talking about yourself, you're talking about the catty knight."

The paladin digested the distinction as puzzlement chased across her features. Her forehead cleared of wrinkles. "Oh. In that case, her name is Frullan Sunstar, daughter of Evaneth Sunstar." Séa glanced expectantly at Tash.

Tash returned the glance with a blank expression. What does she want? Like I know who she's name-dropping?

The paladin regrouped. "Evaneth Sunstar is a famous demon hunter, the greatest hero of the Crusade." The paladin enclosed her pewter amulet in a fist and bowed her head in reverence.

"Crusade?" Tash said lightly. "The word vaguely rings bells, but I don't recall where I heard it."

The wizard flapped a floppy sleeve. "An on-again off-again invasion of the Abyss by various religious orders."

Séa's voice rang like heraldic bugles. "It's much more than that! It's the cleverest and bravest endeavor imaginable. It's a diversionary tactic of genius proportions. It has the potential to put an end to demonic meddling in every corner of the material plane. I've wanted to join the Crusade ever since my first cosmogony class. That, and the day I stumbled upon Evaneth Sunstar at combat practice. I'll never forget that hour."

She really is a talker. She didn't lie about that, either. Let me see if I can refocus her. "Oh, I'm sure it's great. But what about Dame Frullan the shiny shrew?"

Séa slowed down, selecting words carefully. "We were both acolytes at the Priory. She and I were friends as girls, but competitors as women. Friendly competitors, at first. The incident of the adamant dirk turned us into, well, I guess you'd have to say enemies."

Tash wondered if her pointed ears had deceived her. "The what? The adamant dirk? Sounds naughty."

A hint of a frown briefly tugged downward on Séa's lips. "Only if you have a dirty mind. Adamant is an unbreakable crystal. A dirk is—" Séa cut off as Tash grinned and waggled her eyebrows. "Oh, all right, you win. It sounds naughty. As for archery, Frullan legitimately won most of our archery contests. It is a point upon which she can goad me."

Tash said, "And she never fails to goad you, I take it."

Séa grew a wry expression.

This woman is an open book. Everything she thinks just writes itself across her face.

Ghomarck summed it up. "She is your nemesis, Lady Séa." He airily volunteered, "Jakliss of Liria is mine, the bloviating charlatan. May she broil in her own conjured flames."

Séa regarded Tash speculatively. "What about you, Tash? Do you have a nemesis?"

Tash frowned. She was looking at my scar, wasn't she? If I throw her a crumb, maybe she'll stop bugging me. "Yes, but he's just a plain old enemy, not some former friend who turned catty."

"Details, please." Séa beamed at the rogue.

Tash shook her head in the negative. "Naw."

"At least a name?"

"Ugh. Fine. He's known as Pogrosh the Oily."

"That's quite a name."

Ghomarck said, "Here is the stable."

The stable had but one horse available, a bony gelding with all the pep of a half-dried mud pie. The old horse regarded the party of three with a reproachful eye, perhaps attempting to lay as much guilt on them as possible. But the stratagem failed. After money changed hands, he allowed Ghomarck upon his back.

Séa's bay charger carried both women, with Tash behind Séa. The robust steed seemed not to notice the extra weight as they quit Brook-upon-Tricklewater and headed east toward the disputed Omnius-Mevia border.

Staring at wall of armor in front of her eyes, a foul mood settled over Tash. True, she had entered this bargain with eyes open, but the time to deliver her obligation had begun. Compared to dreaming about treasure and how to spend it, this phase reeked. If she became unhappy with the quest's execution, she would be powerless to alter it. When she was alone, she was free. Now, she was trapped. And somewhat in pain.

"Your club-thingie keeps mashing my leg," Tash said.

"My mace? Well. Sorry. Um." Séa fussed with her belts, trying to rearrange her weaponry.

A few minutes later, Tash huffed. "I can't see, you're so tall. Do you have orcish ancestors?"

If Séa detected an implied insult in the question, she didn't show it. Calmly, she said, "Who knows? To have a pedigree, one must be able to read and write, and neither my parents nor grandparents could. But I saw elf in your bloodline. Your ear tips."

If there was one thing Tash hated, it was being pumped for information. "That could be anything."

"But it's not. It's elf."

The path east remained clear, but not heavily travelled. Mevia lay near, and war brewed between Mevia and Omnius. Mevia was a duchy gone separatist, claiming sovereignty for itself. The former duke of Mevia now called himself a king. His daughter Chantelle was, by extension, a princess. The Uncivil War had simmered for years, now. Merchant traffic had all but stopped, but after sundown smugglers emerged in hordes.

Tash heaved a sigh. Back to the border, after all, then. So much for turning a new leaf and seeing new territory. On the other hand, what did I see? Glorious Brook-upon-Tricklewater, surely number one in manure production in the entirety of Omnius. Only now is my nose unclogging.

At a lonely farmhouse, the last rooftop visible before a stretch of rougher terrain, a gawky lad with red hair and ragged work britches ran to intercept them. He skidded to a stop at the side of the track and raised his hands for them to stop. His eyes stared and worry pulled the corners of his mouth down.

"Hullo, there, young master!" Séa called with a wave.

"Milord. Miladies." His abrupt bow lacked grace but radiated energy. "Is there a healer amongst you? We are in sore need."

The paladin reigned in her horse. "Torugg is with you this day, lad. I am his servant."

"Praise be to the one-eyed god!" sang the sun-browned teen. "A snake bit my little sister and she's caught a fever. She's so hot all she can do is thrash around and moan."

Master Ghomarck's gelding clopped well past the large mare before he tugged it to a stop. He twisted around and called, "Why don't you take her to the village, boy? We're on a journey."

"It's just m'maw and me, milord. P'paw's in town, selling our harvest."

Séa tsked at the wizard. "Master Ghomarck, this won't take long. It is part of my oath to lend succor to those who suffer." She swung an armored leg over her mare's neck and slid to the ground with a metallic clatter.

"Succor?" Tash mused from atop the charger's rump. "Sounds like sucker."

Séa bent to meet the lad's eyes. "Show me where, young master. I'm Séa. What's your name?"

"We're in a hurry," protested the wizard.

"I'm Merrano, Lady Séa. Oh, you're tall. Come to the house. This way." He scampered off with the paladin striding behind.

"What kind of catchphrase is 'succor those who suffer?'" Tash asked the air. "My motto is more like, 'if you're a sucker you deserve to suffer.'" She scooted forward and took up the muscular mare's reins.

The wizard sent a plaintive whine toward Séa's retreating back. "But we're in a hurry."

In the end, the delay consumed a scant quarter hour. Tash skulked around the thick-walled farmhouse, energetically failing to spot something of value in the humble abode. The paladin laid hands on the feverish child and the girl quieted. With strokes of her thumb Séa seemed to smooth the snakebite wound itself away. When she left off, the twin puncture marks had disappeared altogether.

The tiny visual change stunned Tash rigid. No spell, no potion, no poultice, no nothing. Feck me, that was slick.

Séa led a prayer to Torugg for the family and instructed the mother to make the girl drink water.

A shower of praise, fresh apples, fried eggs, cheese, wine, and salted pork followed. By the time the trio remounted their horses and rode away even Ghomarck had altered his outlook. "The horses got a rest and we got provisioned. Onward!"

"You run quite a racket," Tash told Séa's back. "You say 'drink more water' and people just start shoving food at you?"

"It's ... not really like that," the paladin said helplessly.

"Well, you didn't pay for the food. How many coins do you have in your purse?"

"Coins? Purse?"

Dismay washed over Tash, soon to melt away into amazement and wonder. I can barely fathom it. She might never in her life have held a gold piece in her hand. "Never mind, Séa. You just keep on living in your fairy world. I'm sure it's a pleasant place to inhabit."