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it was on Trixess two moons ago. You should consider keeping it!” The last bit faded as the wagon picked up speed down the avenue.

Liv offered a side appraisal, “It’s not drow. It’ll suffice.”

“And then some,” quipped Twigs.

The whinny of a horse snatched their attention. Their dark-orc escort was leading a chestnut stallion hitched to a wagon of bucket seats. Rather than facing rows, this was a side-straddle guard carrier. The dark-orc led the horse to them and stood at attention.

Twigs regarded the others, and then asked the Elite, “How is it Haraden has horses? With everything I’ve seen, it’s unlikely they’d be able to weather the outer blizzard.”

The dark-orc thrust his halberd toward the wagon. Liv caught his undercommon retort, dripping in condescension.

Ruein flinched at it. Motioning to the others, she assisted Twigs into his seat while Ceer and Liv settled in.

Dipping as she turned, Ruein bolted upright before the dark-orc. Steel clanged against steel as her glaive connected beneath his halberd. The move of her body against his twisted it from his grasp. The halberd landed in the dirt. Ruein shoved a hand at the Elite.

Tusked jaw clenched, his eyes flamed.

Bending at the hips, Ruein retrieved his weapon. She returned it to his grip and drew in closer. In common, she replied, “A ‘pint pinner.’ I’ve not heard that one before. Shall we get underway?” She extended an open hand.

Relenting his jaw, the guard straightened. He climbed into the bench and reached to help her into the seat alongside. They both settled polearms into mounting brackets. The guide lifted reins and slapped them forward.

Guess being alive or dead didn’t much matter to her sister. The living Rue never could overlook being trifled with. Was probably good Haraden came to know, as well. So long as she kept it civil.

Beneath a darkening overcast sky, their wagon rolled onto the main avenue. Liv couldn’t help but marvel at the beautiful strangeness of the city. Underdark influence was woven throughout their handiwork here, yet it was devoid of its more horrific aspects. In its place were various machinations of unbridled creativity. Ornate spires, sculptures to wild shapes that one could only imagine and not believe to take form.

The people about the streets did not move with the usual trepidation of under dwellers. Their children seemed almost carefree.

Ruein’s neck made her characteristic crick as she turned to their driver. The dark-orc still steamed from his comeuppance. She asked, “I have no doubt you would not have been assigned to us if you did not speak our surface tongue. You know our names. What is yours?”

The dark-orc focused upon the road. “Tull.”

Ceer slapped upon Tull’s back. The Elite jostled forward, tightening his grip on the reins. Ceer gruffly called, “Tull of Haraden seems a hardy orc. When Tull last been challenged by—”

Liv smacked at Ceer’s arm. “Still not the time, Ceer.”

“Tull,” Ruein continued, “is this a tour of the city, or did you have a destination in mind?”

“Council orders to seek convict heads for answers.”

“That’s no good. I have already seen those heads. I’d not waste necromancy upon them. They are too far mangled to be worth my while.”

“The council ordered—”

“And I’m redirecting.” Ruein stared. “The bodies that were kept within the Apex… They were moved. Take us to where they are now.”

Tull regarded her, making his own assessment. With a halfhearted shrug, he nodded. Tugging on the reins, their wagon turned to a new avenue.

There was little in the way of portents available for Liv to read. Lacking an open sky and with no sun for reference, she’d even given up east from west. There was only the base of the mountain and the city walls.

The roads were uncommonly level save for the burrows crisscrossing the city. On occasions where the wagon required the crossing of a berm, elaborate brass bridges arched over so as not to impede the azer tunnels. She marveled at the etchings which hallmarked these rails.

Despite her intent upon these works, Liv did not diminish her vigilance. She was used to being the focus of others in her gleaming armor. However, against all this bronzed artistry, she’d have thought she’d blend more. The sense of eyes upon her not only did not subside, it lingered along their route.

At least Twigs moans had lessened. Ceer single-handedly kneaded at the little guy’s scalp to the gnome’s praise. “Ah. It isn’t much. But those big old mitts do make do, buddy.”

Flexing his jaw sideways, Ceer asked, “What? Twigs rather have both hands?”

“As well as a couple of voluptuous pillows, like what we missed out on last night.” Twigs sighed, closing his eyes.

“Ceer had fine pillows.”

Twigs peeked out. “That you did. But you can’t tell me you didn’t also have eyes for the earlier set as well. Oh my, and those eyes…”

“Ceer not forget eyes like those.”

“Like satin gray pools, one could sink deeper than our bath.” Twigs slapped at Ceer’s leg. “And with dainty hands like hers, she could rub away my aches any day!”

The two traded knowing laughs, to the scrunch of Liv’s face. Unbelievable. “With all the whores you two had last night? You still didn’t get your fill?”

Twigs craned his head. “What’d you expect? The babe of the baths had eyes for someone else.”

Ceer snorted an agreement.

They trundled into a market square.

Liv regarded Ruein. She’d stuck around last night. Did her sister know what they were on about? There seemed no sign of interest. Ruein had remained intent on their surroundings, scanning various shops and vendor carts. Outside of the mixed patrons of this market, it was pretty much as expected. A usual hustle of trades.

The half-orc released Twigs and deftly rolled to sit next to Liv. His meaty finger prodded against her shoulder plate. “Tolrah have strong ki. Ceer knows these things.”

Liv squinted. “Yeah? Strong like yours?”

“Liv, not all can do,” he retorted.

She shook her head, taking his comment in stride. Yet, as Ceer settled into his seat, he leaned closer. His knowing look held the Lightbringer,

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