“So what are we going to do then?” Vaselle asked. “Even once Lord Tommus comes back, we are going to need to go into town and get supplies. We are going to need someplace we can rest or camp, a secure location for dream walking…” he gestured to the shamans.
Tal Gor shook his head. “Yes. Unfortunately, it’s a day’s flight to my clan, where we would be safe and secure, and we only have one D’Warg.”
“Gastropé, you’ve been to this city,” Damien stated, looking at Gastropé. “Do they have any place that might sell us a flying carpet?”
Gastropé twisted his head slowly from right to left, thinking, hedging. “I would seriously doubt it; the city’s something of a backwater.”
“Schwarzenfürze and I can wait here while the rest of you go into town to look for a carpet,” Tal Gor said. “Maybe bring me back some water. Or if there is no carpet, get us some camping gear.”
Damien shrugged in agreement. “That may be our best bet.”
“Ugh,” Beragamos moaned, easing down onto one of the two small beds in Teragdor’s room at the inn. Stevos sat down on the bed across from him as Teragdor positioned himself to sit next to Stevos while holding two bottles of wine that Hilda had purchased in a local shop.
Hilda pulled out the small table and set upon it the tray of meat and cheese she had gotten from the inn’s kitchen master. “The sausage options were miserable; some passable venison sausage, a pot of too-fatty goose liver paste. I refuse to call it pâté! There are also some slices of beef and a very hard cheddar cheese, plus their standard bread loaf, which appears to be made of stone…” she clanked the loaf of bread against the side of the table to make her point.
“At this point, my dear, I just want a glass of wine,” Beragamos said.
Hilda snorted, shaking her head. “We shall see if that is what we have purchased.”
“This was an unusually long day,” Stevos remarked.
“Seriously bad luck running into those Grove people,” Beragamos agreed.
“I don’t think they were able to sense anything,” Hilda said, arranging the clay wine goblets.
“That Trevin D’Vils is very perceptive,” Beragamos said. “She’s clearly a skilled enchantress and I have no idea what race she is.”
“She’s not human?” Teragdor asked.
Beragamos shrugged. “I don’t believe so. We were not the only ones shielding ourselves today. I am not sure what she is, though. Possibly fae, or half-fae.”
“That would explain the association with the alvar,” Stevos said.
“But not the dwarves,” Teragdor said. “Dwarves and elves get along only slightly better than orcs and elves.”
“The Grove is a rather odd place, and I know very little of it,” Stevos stated.
Beragamos nodded. “We have zero visibility into that place. It is quite odd and extremely opaque to magical prying.”
“It is also in the heart of Norelon and we have never been strong in that region,” Hilda added, handing Beragamos a goblet of wine.
“On the plus side, you managed to attract a new fan with that animage.” Stevos chuckled at Beragamos.
Beragamos shook his head weakly from side to side. “Talk about the wrong cover! I walked up to a member of the Society and told him I was a Voyager.”
Hilda laughed. “I am sure you will be getting an invitation to join the Society before long.”
“I had no idea that there have been no known Voyagers in Astlan for the last nine hundred or so years!” Beragamos groaned.
“I wasn’t sure he was going to let you go.” Stevos grinned.
“I am sure he would have preferred to strap me to a chair and pry the secrets of Voyagery from me!” Beragamos took a sip of his wine and grimaced. “I have been spoiled by you, Hilda. This atrocious grape I might previously have thought barely passable, but no more.” He shook his head. “At least it soothes the nerves, if not the palate.”
“Actually, it’s pretty decent compared to most of the wine around here,” Teragdor noted, setting his goblet down after taking a few sips.
“You should try something from Hilda’s wine cellar. You would think you were in heaven!” Beragamos grinned at Hilda.
Teragdor looked at him, puzzled. “If I were tasting wine from her cellar, I think I would be in heaven — Tierhallon — by definition.”
Stevos laughed and clapped the priest’s knee. Beragamos raised his goblet in a toast, chuckling. “You have a point, my friend. You have a point!”
“The real problem,” Beragamos continued, “is that this undercover work, while effective, requires a very large web of lies.”
Hilda nodded in agreement while tearing off a chunk of bread. “It does, and in fact I should probably work out a corresponding story for Trisfelt about us being here today. At some point, Jenn will be in contact with him again.”
“So my fame for practicing a defunct animage discipline will grow!” Beragamos shook his head and took another drink, emptying his goblet.
“What happened to you today?” Jenn asked Gastropé as they sat down for dinner. They were back on the Nimbus for the evening. Gastropé had taken a later carpet than Jenn had. “You promised to be right out to the research site. You missed a great surprise.”
Gastropé looked at her and gave a wry grin. “Probably not as big a surprise as I had.”
“Hilda is here!” Jenn exclaimed.
“Hilda?” Gastropé asked, puzzled. “You mean Trisfelt’s friend?”
Jenn nodded. “The same. She’s with her grandfather and two people in the service of Tiernon, one of whom is a half-orc priest!”
Gastropé’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well… I am not sure which part of what you just said makes less sense. Is it that Hilda is suddenly here, as fast as we got here? Or that you just told me she’s with a half-orc priest of Tiernon? Or that there is actually such a thing as a half-orc priest of Tiernon? I had no idea Tiernon or any of the Etonians had any non-human followers.”
“Neither did I, but that’s what he is. He does outreach here in Murgatroy and the surrounding region,” Jenn told him.
“That is a lot more progressive than I would expect from the helmet heads.” Gastropé shook his head. “So how did Hilda get here, and why is she here?”
Jenn shrugged. “Same reason we are: to investigate the D’Orcs.” Gastropé seemed to grow a bit paler, but Jenn was not sure. “Her grandfather, Gamos, is a Voyager and came to investigate; fearing a raid as we did, he brought her along.”
“What is a Voyager?” Gastropé asked.
“It’s apparently a very rare form of animage. Maelen nearly went insane when he met Gamos. I have never seen him so excited. You’d think he was a priest meeting an avatar or something.” Jenn shook her head, grinning.
“Another animage? What is up with all these animages just popping out of the woodwork?” Gastropé asked, puzzled.
“I know. But they are related, so it makes some sense,” Jenn said. “We had to pry Maelen off Gamos so we could all exchange information on the D’Orcs.”
“Oh, really. Did you learn anything new?” Gastropé asked with a very odd tone of voice.
“Why did you say it that way?” Jenn looked at him suspiciously, and Gastropé blanched a bit.
“No reason. Just not sure what they could tell us that Trevin’s crack team would not have discovered on their own.”
“Well, that’s where you are wrong. Hilda was the person who drank the orcs in the wargtown under the table!” Jenn grinned.
Gastropé shook his head. “Well, then, from what you have told me about Trisfelt, the two must make a perfect couple.”
Jenn grinned ruefully. “We will just need to be careful at their dinner table.”