The burial at sea was a solemn affair, with twenty-seven sailors and eighteen soldiers from the ill-fated Porpoise committed to the deep under the crimson hues of the setting sun. The nearly 300 others who were not recovered were mourned with equal reverence. Tybour, his voice heavy with grief, spoke passionately about the soldiers, mentioning a few by name and sharing poignant memories. The first mate of the Porpoise also paid tribute to the sailors, highlighting their unwavering bravery even as the ship succumbed to the waves. She especially praised the Captain for his courage and honor, going down with his vessel while tirelessly striving to save as many crew members as possible.. 

The ceremony stretched on, and darkness had fully descended by its conclusion. As the crowd dispersed into the obscurity of night, Rishmond found himself in his cabin, seated on the edge of his bunk. Torg occupied the corner near the dresser, while Cantor leaned against the wall, across from Rishmond. An atmosphere of somber contemplation enveloped them as they sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

"Did you know any of them?" Cantor asked, her voice barely audible.

Rishmond sighed deeply before responding, "No... I mean... I'd met a few, and I was acquainted with others through some friends in the company. I didn't really know any of them well. As for the sailors, I hadn't really crossed paths with any of them. Captain Joppin... I'd only met him once before yesterday..." His voice trailed off as he grappled with the realization that their journey had taken such a tragic turn within a mere day of leaving port. It felt like an eternity ago.

"Yeah. I didn't know any of them." Cantor's voice sounded hollow and she swallowed hard. 

Rishmond glanced up to see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She blinked hard, attempting to regain composure. "I can't believe the whole ship sank. That's not normal, is it? Do storms just sink ships on the ocean?" She seemed to be speaking more to herself, trying to find some explanation or solace in her words.

"No, it's not common, but the ocean can be unforgiving," Rishmond replied, striving to offer reassurance. He believed that she needed facts and reason to steady herself. "Accidents happen. Maybe an anchor came loose, or someone didn't secure it properly, leading to a breach in the hull. Mistakes can cascade into disasters."

However, instead of finding comfort in his words, Cantor's expression shifted to one of fear, and tears spilled from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks.

"I mean... no. I just... I'm sorry," Rishmond stammered, feeling helpless. He rose from his seat and approached her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. As he gazed into her tearful green eyes, he suddenly found himself enveloped in a tight embrace as Cantor clung to him. Instinctively, his arms encircled her waist, preventing them both from falling to the floor.

Cantor buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing softly against him, her face hidden from the world. Rishmond stood still, afraid to move, not knowing what to do but not wanting to break the embrace. He felt her hot tears on his neck. He murmured something inane about how it would be ok and how she was safe. His mind was at a loss for what to do or say besides just hold her. Tears leaked from his eyes in response and they held each other for long moments in silence.

A knock at the door broke the spell and Cantor stepped back from Rishmond. He released her and turned his head toward the door. He took a moment to wipe the tears from his eyes and cheeks. "Y.. Yes?" His voice was thick and he stuttered a bit. "Who is it?"

The door opened and Illiar stood in the doorway. She stepped into the room, looking back and forth from Rishmond to Cantor. She then steppe past Rishmond to Cantor. They embraced immediately and Illiar turned them both so she could address Rishmond. "What did you do? Did you say something stupid to make this already tough day worse?"

"No! No, of course not! Why would you think that!?" Rishmond took great offense. Leave it to Illiar to think he'd done something terrible when he been trying to comfort his friend. He hadn't done anything wrong!

"No. Rishmond didn't do anything wrong..." Cantor pulled back from hugging Illiar without releasing her. "He was trying to help. Its ok. We just both needed a good cry. Its so sad, such a tragedy."

"Hmm... Ok. If you say so. You ok Cantor? Its a lot to deal with, I know." Illiar pulled Cantor down to sit on Rishmond's bunk next to her. "Crying is good, its ok. Its good to get it out so we can get over it and move on. Like Rishmond is doing."

Rishmond turned away from the two young women, blinking to ensure his eyes were tear free. He ran his fingers across his cheeks to wipe away any tears that might still be there. 

"Ok. Make fun if you want." He turned back and frowned at Illiar. "Crying isn't embarrassing or wrong for a man or a woman. It just means you have feelings."

Illiar winked at him and Cantor smiled. 

Rishmond realized Illiar was just trying to get a rise out of him. She always had to push his buttons! What was wrong with that woman!? He decided to ignore her teasing. He was too tired and too emotionally drained. He smiled back at Cantor. "Alright. Perhaps we can talk about things that aren't sad? Like what do you think the mines will be like? What kinds of wild animals and crazy creatures will we see in The Reaches? I've heard soldiers talk about giant creatures who have necks so long they have to eat constantly because it takes so long for the food to get from their mouth to their stomach!  And birds too big to fly but that can run faster than a beastman from the cheetah tribe!" Rishmond felt the excitement of the expedition begin to return. To see the things he'd only heard about second or third hand from the soldiers of the Phoenix Company and Tybour was all he'd ever hoped for. 

"Really Rishmond, do you believe every tall tale and far-fetched story from every soldier you talk to?" Illiar was always the sceptic, but Rishmond could hear a bit of excitement creeping into her voice. As much as she tried to lord it over Rishmond that she traveled around with her father on exciting adventures, he knew she'd never gone beyond the borders of Malminar any more than he had.

"No animal could have a neck that long," declared Cantor. "How would it live? That would make no sense." Her words of doubt were betrayed by the wonder in her eyes. "Right? Birds that run and don't fly I could believe, the sandpipers along the southern shores of Malminar almost never fly, and then not very far. They just run along the beach and they are at least as fast as any beastman I've ever met."

"Beastperson, I think you mean." Illiar said jokingly. It was sometimes a sore spot for her that it was always beastman and not beastwoman when speaking of her kind. It was of course not meant as a slight against the women of the beastmen, it had just always been the name given to her people. Rishmond and Cantor typically tried to accommodate the non-gendered name, but it was not easy since everyone else stuck with the traditional beastmen. 

"Yes," said Cantor, "beastperson."

The three young people exchanged looks for a moment before all laughing for no reason at all except the release of the tension and the alleviation of the sorrow they'd all felt.

They spent the next two hours talking about what they wanted to see on this trip, discussing wonders they'd only heard about, things of stories and legends, and what it would mean to find the Gods and have them return to the mortal world. They questioned Torg about his knowledge or experience with The Reaches, what did he expect them to see. Torg regaled them for 30 minutes with his descriptions of several exotic wild animals they may be likely to see while on their overland journey. 

The group finally broke up near midnight, returning to their separate cabins to sleep until sunrise. The ship rocked gently with the ocean, a mild wind pushing the ship ever northward towards its destiny. 

The morning came with a change to the wind. The sky was clear, any clouds that may have been around scuttled quickly westward as the wind began to blow from the east, bringing with it a chill that snatched the breath from you if you face directly into it. The sails shifted and filled to capacity and sent the ship fairly skipping across the small white capped waves. They were making good time as the sun painted the sky in gold and purple.

Rishmond joined Tybour and Haningway just after sunrise in the little dining room at the stern. They each filled a mug with acradious brew, Haningway took his black and both Tybour and Rishmond added generous measures of cream and sugar.

The low leaned back chairs had been replaced sometime in the night with the soldier's camp chairs the Phoenix Company contingent had brought with them, not exactly the comfortable, overstuffed chairs used at the company briefings Rishmond had attended at the barracks back in Retinor, but, much better than the odd deck chairs that they'd used yesterday.

Well before the end of the hour after dawn, several others made their way into the dining area; VanLief, Teilmein, Lieutenant Norft, Bantore, and the first mate of the Porpoise, Evenara Uleeta. Once everyone had gotten some hot brew and the morning meat-bread, they all gathered around the larger table that had replaced the short one from last night. There was just enough room for the 8 of them to sit mostly comfortably. Rishmond took a seat next to Tybour as people began to gather around. As people began to sit, Tybour got up and went back to the sideboard for more brew. Bantore took his place, his wide shoulders brushing against Rishmond as he sat. 

"Sir, Tybour is sitting there," Rishmond said politely. 

"It'll be ok, Rishmond," the big beastman's voice was low and quiet. "No assigned seating here. I'd like to sit next to you, if that is ok?" 

Rishmond didn't think it was really a question. He looked up the man's face. Handsome and fox-like. He smiled, showing his teeth again. "Ok. Sure. I am sure Tybour can find another seat."

Rishmond thought for a moment about getting up himself, maybe with some excuse about getting a different meat-bread, or more brew but before he could come to a decision he felt another large person sit in the chair on his left. He looked over to see Lieutenant Norft sitting there, placing a plate of meat-bread on the table along with a cup of steaming brew. The plate and cup looked comically small in this giant lion-paw hands.

"Rishmond. Hello. How are you? Its been a bit since we've had a chance to talk. I hope all is well with you." Norft was always somewhat formal when speaking, even when he knew you well. Rishmond enjoyed spending time with Lieutenant Norft and the two of them had spent a number of afternoons discussing the history or Malminar in great detail over the past turn. Norft was surprisingly versed in all aspects of Malminar history and never failed to answer the multitude of questions Rishmond had about it.

"Lieutenant! Hello! Its good to see you. I knew you were along on this trip, I just hadn't had an opportunity to come see you and say hello. Though it seems we will have plenty of time to converse during our travels."

Rishmond considered again getting up but thought that might be rude to Norft. He looked up and around the table, most of the seats were filled now and as he looked around Evenara Uleeta sat directly across from him. She greeted several others at the table. Her left eye was bruised and swollen and she had several bandages on both arms as well as small cuts on her face. She at least appeared rested, much more so than yesterday after she'd been pulled from the ocean after what was likely several hours in the cold water.

He smiled at her as she made eye contact with him. She smiled back. Her curly mane of red hair bobbed as she nodded at Rishmond as if he was an equal.

Tybour called the meeting to order and the conversations going on around the table ceased and Tybour began to address the group. "Good morning. Thank you all for joining me this morning. First things first, we'd like to hear from First Mate Uleeta." He turned toward her, he hadn't sat down, but stood just behind his chair, hands gesturing as he often did when talking. His hands stopped as he finished speaking, his right hand held out toward Evenara as if inviting her to dance. "What happened? Do you know what caused the Porpoise to sink?" 

Rishmond got the distinct feeling that Tybour already knew the story. It was almost certain that he'd spoken to Evenara last night. That meant Haningway also knew. This was Tybour though a bit of a showman and always looking to play to an audience.

"Thank you First Mage. The Porpoise was sabotaged!"

Harsh whispers and surprised gasps came from around the table. Evenara paused, letting the murmurs die away as Tybour held out his hands for quiet.

She looked at Tybour once the table was quiet and all eyes were back on her. He nodded and she continued. "Just as the storm grew violent that night, a specific piece of cargo in the lower hold broke loose of its tie downs. Not a good thing for any cargo, but this particular piece was a large wagon, one the First Mage had brought aboard in secret, only a few even knew of its existence, much less that it was aboard the Porpoise. The wagon was a large armored affair, made of iron for the most part. I don't know much of the specifics, but suffice it to say it was more than heavy enough that once it broke loose, the rocking of the ship was enough to eventually send it crashing into the hull. The Porpoise was as sturdy as they come, and well built and maintained, but there is only so much one can do against a giant iron cart made to crash through things like castle doors. It eventually smashed through the hull below the water line and the cargo hold filled with water, sinking the Porpoise."

"But you said this was sabotage! Are you accusing the First Mage of sabotaging his own expedition?" Teilmein exclaimed?

"No! Of course not! I'm saying that when we entered the hold, there were obvious signs that someone had removed the tie downs on the wagon and moved all of the other cargo out of the way so that the wagon would roll back and forth unhindered.  The blocks that had been carefully set beneath its wheels were gone, and those had been secured to the deck. The wagon was already rolling back and forth, hitting the hull on both sides." Evenara became animated and leaned forward over the table. "I and several of my crew and some soldiers rushed below to try and stop the wagon, all of the protective framing around it was already gone by then, smashed to splinters on the deck of the hold, but it did nothing to slow the thing down. Water was already leaking into the hold from cracks in the hull, but we might have been ok if we could have stopped the thing. It was designed for smashing through castle gates. I lost  four good sailors to that monstrosity and 5 good soldiers too, smashed beneath its huge wheels. I was attempting to jam a large block beneath one of its wheels when it finally smashed through the hull, ejecting itself, and me, into the ocean well below the waves. I was lucky to survive. The wagon sunk to the depths as fast as a lukadery deer from a hunt. I surfaced and clung to a box for hours, tossed about by the waves until early light revealed me to one of the rescue boats. Much longer and I would have lost my strength and drowned, I am sure."

Torg made an odd little sound from a little behind Rishmond. Rishmond seemed to be the only one to hear it as the rest of the table remained silent, some looking at Evenara in disbelief, others looking at Tybour or staring off to nowhere trying to assimilate the information they'd just been given.

Tybour finally broke the silence, "So, from what Evenara has said, it appears there was at least one saboteur and more than likely multiple. To set that up and remove the blocks and ties would be a job for several men to accomplish in a short time."

"How did they know a storm was coming? That seems a bit unlikely. Not with real certainty. Could they have meant to set up the wagon to just cause havoc but gotten lucky and done way more damage than they wanted?" Bantore cocked his head to the side, looking to Tybour for his opinions.

"Until we catch the culprits, it is unlikely we will know. There are a lot of possibilities here. We will need to investigate thoroughly, leaving no stone unturned. We don't know how many traitors there are, or if they survived to be aboard the Emberly's Pride. Perhaps there were traitors aboard both ships from the beginning. Only those in this room right now are above suspicion. None of this information should be told to anyone else. We shall not talk about this outside of this room. We will continue on as if there is no suspicion of any foul play. The official story is that a main beam that had undergone maintenance only a month ago snapped in the storm, that lead to the hold deck collapsing and the eventual sinking of the ship. The beam's cracking also prevented several of the sea doors below decks from sealing, thus allowing multiple of the ship's compartments to fill with water. This is what was told to us by the first mate and several of her crew. Unfortunately, none of the crew who witnessed the real cause survived, so we won't have any issue with anyone disbelieving our story. Except for any surviving saboteurs. So, if any of us hear rumors about the sinking, report it to me and we will investigate its origin. The traitors may try to use stories to divide us or cast doubt on our mission."

"VanLief and Norft will conduct a subtle investigation into the crew and personnel on board, searching out any who might be traitors. Teilmein will spend time interviewing as many people on board as he can with his cover being that he is evaluating their reaction to the loss of the Porpoise to help head off any issues that may arise due to mental trauma. Haningway will set up a roaming guard to watch for any suspicious activity for the remainder of our voyage."

Tybour paused for a moment. "We will meet here, every day at dawn to regroup and report on any findings. Anything important that can't wait for the next meeting will be brought to Haningway or myself as soon as you can." Tybour placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, meeting the eyes of everyone around the table one by one. "I don't think I need to emphasise just how important this is. We have a long way to travel together, through some dangerous territory and finding the traitors is of the utmost importance. Our expedition is important, I don't have to tell any of you what it could mean for all of Rit to have the Gods once again walking among us, to once and for all rid us of Demons and all their ilk."

"Tybour, what about me?  What can I do to help? I can help, you know I have lots of skills." Rishmond tried to hide his disappointment in not being given an assignment to help track down the saboteur or saboteurs. 

"Rishmond, you have an important job already, two of them in fact. Take great care of Torg here, and train and learn everything you can.  Right now that training is late because you are due in Ms Illiar's class already. Get yourself to the forecastle and dedicate yourself to all you have to learn for the next two weeks or so. Ms Illiar will tell you what your schedule is, follow it. Bantore will be seeing that you do. I will see you as I can for magic training in addition to Teilmein, so don't worry, you'll have fun too!" Tybour smiled at Rishmond even as Rishmond's face fell and the excitement left him. Training. School. Illiar. He looked at Bantore and knew that protest or any attempt to skip training was not going to go well for him and so resigned himself to doing what he had to while still looking for opportunity. Something was bound to come up and he just needed to be ready for it when it did.

"Alright. Not the job I wanted, but I'll do it," he said sullenly. "C'mon Torg, let's go learn something."

Near enough to the Salt Marshes on the northern border of Malminar that the rotting smell permeated the air when the wind blew from the north or east was a small cave. High enough in the mountains that it was difficult to get to, and with a small enough opening that no one paid it any attention, it was a perfect place to hide away from the world.

The grossly deformed creature that had made the small caverns and twisted, dark passageways its home sat on a roughly formed chair, like a throne, the high back was formed of the bones of a great serpent that had once lived in the Salt Marshes, its skull topped the back of the chair like a grotesque roof of a makeshift shelter, its ribs curled around as if they were holding the thing sitting there, protecting it against the dark. On either side of the makeshift throne crouched large, heavy creatures resembling wolves. Their fur was rough and patchy with large sections along the tops of their heads and down their backs bald, the skin that shone through was like stone, rough and solid. Their teeth were huge and yellow in the muted light from two burning torches stuck in cracks in the stone floor. Stonewolves, dark creatures corrupted from wolves by Demons, feared by most mortals, terribly hard to kill due to the stone that makes up most of their skin. Their eyes glowed with a red fire that was not a reflection of the torch light.

The twisted creature on the throne shifted his weight, his eyes focused on a much more natural looking wolf that crouched in front of him, head down like it was bowing. The wolf was skinny and mangy, it did not appear to be very healthy.

The creature who sat the throne was known by those who could speak here as Culottesjerry. The only devil in existence with a name. In fact, Culottesjerry was the first devil ever created by the Demons, well, the first successful one anyway. There'd been others, but each of them had died within minutes of their creation. Culottesjerry sometime wished he'd died as well, or at least he used to. The long turns of his life had taught him much, but nothing more than the fact that having power meant one could make their own destiny, and this he wanted more than anything. He wanted control over his own fate, to no longer be beholden to Demons or anyone else.

He shifted his deformed left leg to a more comfortable position and gestured for the wolf to rise and report.

The wolf looked up and sent thoughts, feelings really, a series of pictures accompanied by feelings into Culottesjerry's mind. 

A group of young non-wolves on a beach, only a couple at first, a chunky delicious looking one who looked like their meat and fat would be sweet and tender. A taller one that moved with confidence and looked dangerous, better to attack that one with a group.

Culottesjerry sent a sharp command for the wolf to stick to the important things he wanted to know, not the conjecture of the taste of those he observed.

The wolf let out a yelp as if it had been physically struck. It continued. The taller of the non-wolves left the area and the other one threw back some sort of cover that had hidden a wooden structure, a boat. He pulled the boat from its resting place down to the water at the edge of the sand. Stronger than the wolf had first thought.

The wolf continued to observe. The tall one returned with others, one who had the smell Culottesjerry had taught him to look for, this was one who was important and one whom his master would want to know about. The group pushed the boat out into the water and all got on board. 

The wolf considered for a moment, should he return now and report? Or stay and see if they return? He decided to stay, besides, the hunting here was good, he'd find some juicy rabbits in the woods just to the north and check back often for the group to return.

Culottesjerry scolded the wolf mentally and told it to quit wasting his time and get to the part that matters.

The wolf sent images of the group of kids exiting a hidden passage from underground very near to where the wolf was lounging with a view of the beach. Something else came with them, a human shaped, moving rock. Shiny and scary. 

Culottesjerry sat forward suddenly. A golem! They had all fallen into disrepair and been destroyed since the Breaking! How was one left and where did it come from? Had these mortals, with their symmetry and beauty built a new one? Had they rediscovered how to make one without a God to grant it life?

No matter. He would have it! He needed to discover its secrets! As much as he needed the blond human child with the great magic potential. This could be a big step towards power and his freedom!

The wolf was done with its report and it slunk off into the compartitable darkness outside the torchlight around the throne. 

Culottesjerry rasped out an order to his minions, calling for them to place spies on the boy and the golem, he wanted to know everything they did and where they went at all times. Rats, wolves and bugs hurried to obey. 

Culottesjerry sat for a moment in thought. This was a big opportunity for him, he would have to be ready to act when his time came. 

He stood then from the misshapen throne and stepped around behind it to the small alcove there. Two figures hung on the walls opposite one another. Humans. These two had been here for several days, hung on the wall and tortured, forced to watch as the other was tortured in turn. They'd been captured nearby, out in the wilderness on some human jaunt. Culottesjerry had come to the surface that day once he was told these two were nearby, 4 of his most trusted trunbul soldiers accompanying him. They'd all watched as the two humans played and laughed in the sun in an open field. Culottesjerry hated them from the moment he saw them, as he did almost all mortals. They had no right to be here, no right to have symmetrical limbs and beauty. He hated beautiful things. Why should anything else be beautiful when he was so deformed and ugly? It wasn't right and he hated it, as much as he hated ugly things for reminding him of his own ugliness. 

They'd watched as the male and female pair eventually began kissing and fondling each other, watched as they coupled on the blanket they'd laid in the field. They were a long way from any other mortals at the moment, stollen away to perform their lewd acts alone and in private, not knowing that only a few meters away, malevolent creatures watched their shame. 

Eventually they'd fallen asleep in the bright sunshine and Culottesjerry had his soldiers act. Two of the soldiers snuck up quietly and injected a poison of Culottesjerrry's own making into each of them. Culottesjerry had learned to make this concoction while be forced to serve a Warlock in the early days after the Breaking. The poison disabled the mortal's ability to access magic of any kind, but left them conscious of everything around them. The four trunbuls were more than enough to subdue and bind the two humans once they could not use magic.

Now here they hung on the walls, broken things with little life left in them. Naked, bleeding and broken. Culottesjerry took great pleasure in torturing these creatures, hearing them beg and scream. Watching them despair as the other was tortured.

The female was close to death. She would not last the hour. Culottesjerry reached up with his deformed arm with the pincher for a hand and cut deeply into her tender inner thigh, blood poured out of the fresh wound. She barely reacted, to tired from blood loss and pain. The man across from here also did not react. Culottesjerry stepped up to him and cut a large gash into the man's hip, forcing him awake and making him cry out in pain. He began begging again, pleading to have the woman let go, pleading for his own life. The fun had pretty much gone from these two now. The man's pleadings faded to nothing and he hung his head and sobbed.

Culottesjerry had better things to do now, a purpose again. He gestured to the trunbul guards watching from just outside the alcove. They rushed forward, cutting the man and woman free, stabbing at them with their short crooked swords. As the last of the life left the two humans, Culottesjerry gestured over them and a small white light rose from each of them.  Two tiny motes the size of acorns floated slowly upwards until they were caught in the outstretched claws of the devil. He grasped the magic cores pulled from the dieing humans and tossed them into his open mouth, swallowing them quickly. He immediately doubled over in pain. His body collapsed to the floor and spasmed violently for several seconds, spittle flew from his mouth and he moaned and gasped for air. Soon he lay still, breathing heavily. The dark creatures around watched carefully to see if he had survived. 

Culottesjerry sat up slowly, looked around for a moment and then stood. He hated that part but he could feel the magic cores he'd ingested merging with the one inside him, increasing his connection to the flow of magic within Rit. He felt the renewal in his bones and flesh. It was never enough to fix the deformities the Demon who made him inflicted upon him, but it kept him alive and increased his ability to use magic each time. 

The short, grotesque trunbuls dragged the two dead bodies away to their cooking pots.

The two big stonewolves stood stiffly by the throne, waiting for Culottesjerry's command. When he gave it they rushed off into the darkness to get their share of the meat.

The misshapen form of the devil with a name limped off into the darkness to await his share of the cooked meat and further reports of the mortal child and the stone golem. Plots and backup plans were already forming in his head. Soon he would find a way to be free of mortals, Warlocks, and Demons, to truly be the master of his own destiny.

The Emberly's Pride moored in the small docks at the town of Swarve 15 days after her departure from Retinor. No further incidents had occurred on the sea voyage and the traitors and saboteurs were not uncovered. 

Rishmond's days during the voyage were filled with lessons from Illiar, Bantore, Teilmein, and Tybour. He'd relished the magic lessons and instructions in magic and its theories and he'd even taken quite a liking to the various fighting techniques and styles from Bantore and Tybour. Cantor attended with him and showed a particular skill in fighting with various weapons. On the 10th day of the voyage, Tybour had introduced Rishmond and Cantor to Ueet, the older gentleman who'd had specific, probing questions in the meeting prior to the expedition's launch. He'd confirmed he was a Qoitiken tribesman. Ueet began teaching fighting lessons as well, introducing them to exotic weapons and methods of fighting Rishmond had never seen before.

To Rishmond's initial dismay, Illiar also joined in on the fighting lessons, out performing him in both swordplay and archery. Even so, the conflict in their relationship seemed to lessen and Rishmond found himself getting along with her as often as fighting with her. Her knowledge of history and politics impressed him as did her fairness in teaching and in the evaluation of his ability to absorb the information in the lessons. She was still occasionally insufferable and she still annoyed him easily, but things had been much better lately.

Rishmond and Tybour spent time talking to Torg most evenings, sometimes joined by Teilmein, or VanLeif, or Illiar and Cantor, but most evenings just the three of them discussing magic, Gods and what life was like when the Goddess Denisisie was still around.  Torg told them about his duties when the Goddess was around as well as what the library and compound on the island was like. The workshop Rishmond had seen was but a very small part of the whole of Denisisie's sanctuary.

Haningway and VanLief Aericksen went into the small town the day of their arrival and spoke to the Altemen leadership there, giving the prepared cover story of a teaching expedition and good will envoy from the Kingdom of Malminar in the interest of keeping the relations between the two countries friendly and profitable. Traditional gifts were exchanged and the town officially welcomed the envoy to The Reaches. A runner had been sent ahead to the mines to inform them of the envoy's arrival. 

The expedition left in the early morning hours the morning after their arrival in Swarve. All but two of the wagons had sunk with the Porpoise, so arranging the caravan was a short effort. The fact that most of the equipment that would have gone on the extra wagons was also now at the bottom of the ocean was of little comfort to most of the expedition. The lack of wagons did mean that most people were going to have to walk. Four horses survived the sinking and had been brought aboard the Emberly's Pride, and that brought the horse count to eight, leaving four horses to pull the wagons and four to be ridden by soldiers guarding the expedition. Inventory of supplies had been completed weeks ago at sea and it appeared they would be able to make do with the supplies and equipment they had.

The main road heading out of town was well worn, hard packed dirt that turned to mud during hard rains in the fall. The road should be passable and in pretty good condition now in the early spring. The typically light rains the region received during the spring should not be cause for concern.

The first two days travel west from Swalve was easy and mostly pleasant. Rishmond still attended lessons, but on the move. Illiar was an expert at tracking and wilderness survival, as was Bantore. Rishmond learned more about nature and wilderness survival in that two days than he'd ever thought possible. Their lessons took them a mile or more from the small caravan and the road it followed and they joined the expedition after sunset, pitching in to complete the camp setup each evening after dark. Magic lessons took place well after dark and Tybour taught Rishmond a spell to enhance his sight in the dark. Both Illiar and Cantor were unable to pick up the skill even after two nights of practice.

After lessons on the second night, Tybour sat with Rishmond and Cantor to inform them of what was to come now that the expedition was passing out of the more protected area around Swarve. "The area around Swarve is well hunted and most of the really dangerous creatures steer clear of the area. As we move deeper into the more wild places of The Reaches, that will no longer be true and we will need to be on our guard against monster and creatures far more dangerous than any you might have seen in your life."

"What creatures might we run into?" Cantor asked, more excited than scared.

"I hope we will not run into many, but we need to be prepared," Tybour answered. "Even without those who went down with the Porpoise, we are still a large and noisy group, so I hope this will keep most creatures away. The Reaches are populated with a variety of dangerous animals. Cantaboas, Ligers, Hippros, and maybe even tree-dragons. All will typically run from large groups of people, especially those they see as organized and protected. They aren't evil, just wild creatures, so if they feel threatened, or see an opportunity to drag off a lone wanderer, they might. Tree-dragons and Hippros are especially teritorial, so we will watch for any signs of them and avoid them if possible. This road is not used enough to keep them clear of it."

"So, no more tracking and nature lessons far from the group then?" Rishmond asked.

"Correct. It also means we will be striking camp earlier and setting up camp later. Night time will be the more dangerous time, but our fires and our numbers should keep all but the most determined foe away.  Demon-spawned creatures will be our biggest threat, more so at night, but even during the day.

"Demon-spawned?" Cantor blurted out in disbelief. "Are there really Demon-spawn here? How does the government of The Reaches allow that? Why aren't they hunted down and eliminated?"

Tybour assumed his worldwise teacher persona and answered, "The Reaches doesn't really have a government as such. Unlike Malminar The Reaches is sparsely populated, and contains only a few settlements outside the mines themselves. Take Swarve, it has no obligation to provide anything specific to the mines or any other settlement in the country. Swarve is loosely governed by a counsel of residences who are mostly volunteer based on age. Basically if someone lives in Swarve, is an Altemen, and lives to the age of 70 turns, that person becomes an elder on the town counsel. It works for them, and has for hundreds of years, back even before the Blessing."

"The mines are much more of a business and life there is governed by the mine consortium, a group consisting of Altemen who inherit their positions based on family lineage. The population of the mine is content in their jobs and all share in its profits and the consortium shares its profits with the few towns throughout the country. For the most part, each town operates separate from the mines and each other, doing business with each other based on centuries old agreements and traditions. Only once, during the Lake Lorettei Conflict, has the entire country united for any reason, at least as far back as any history Malminar has of The Reaches."

Rishmond remembered lessons on the Lake Lorettei Conflict but those lessons were focused on the role the then King of Malminar played in resolving the conflict without it turning into a full blown war between The Reaches and the country of Kenitt. The upshot of that lesson was that the relationship between The Reaches and Malminar was cemented as a strong one, specifically with the mine and continued today with Malminar providing goods and military support in exchange for preferential consideration for glittergreen and its associated products. 

"So," interjected Rishmond, "if the country is so loosely confederated, what is Malminar's military support used for?" He felt very adult and smart for asking the question, a very astute question that he would not have considered in the past.

"Good question, Rishmond," Tybour replied. Rishmond felt a ridiculous surge of pride at the praise. "We are the forces that keep the monsters at bay."

Cantor and Rishmond exchanged glances, both somewhat surprised at the answer.

"Malminar provides two companies of Wizards and soldiers to The Reaches, at the disposal of the mines, and these two companies ensure the towns here are protected and any Demon-spawn that become too much for the locals to handle are taken care of. This of course is primarily to keep the towns safe, the passages between these towns safe, and eliminate any Demon-spawn that threaten the people who live here. They are not enough to clear the entire country of monsters, but it keeps the country safe enough according to the Altemen who live here."

"I know this must seem strange and quite different from Malminar, which it is, but Malminar has distinct advantages over The Reaches, and most other countries on the continent. We have the western mountains and the protection of the Staff of Ceitus and its orbitals around the border of our country." Tybour used some minor illusion magic to cast a floating, glowing map in the air before them. The smell and taste of toasting marshmallows and hot cocoa filled Rishmond's nose and mouth. Around the border of Malminar, along the mountains, along the coastline and even along the border of the Salt Marshes bright blue dots sprang to life, bright blue-white strings of light traveled in wavy lines from each spot to where the city of Retinor sat along the north-east coastline. 

"Each of these points of light," Tybour pointed to several of them as the map rotated slowly in the air, "is an orb created by the Staff. They encircle the entire Kingdom and  connect back to the Staff.  They form a sort of barrier, keeping Demon energy out, or at least alerting us to the presence of it within the border formed by them.  It has been in place since the first Queen of Maliminar, Emberly Malminar discovered the Staff there in Retinor. It has never failed us. Until recently any way. The approach of any Warlock or Demon-spawned creature has always been detected well before the creature crossed the line connecting the orbs together. Until that is, Rishmond's arrival in Retinor."

Cantor reacted in surprise and glanced rapidly between Tybour and Rishmond. "What do you mean? Rishmond's not a Warlock!"

"No, no he is not," responded Tybour. 

Rishmond stared down at the ground between his knees as he sat cross-legged on the hard stony ground of their camp site. The fire seemed to get several degrees hotter suddenly. He'd never told Cantor the story of how he came to be in Retinor with his new family and he knew Toby never talked about it either. They both typically just responded to question about how they came to be in Malminar with a story about traveling from Selioria, over the mountains to Politan with a very ambitious merchant, and that they eventually made their way to Retinor where the merchant abandoned them. The story of how they had actually come to Malminar was basically a state secret and Rishmond was little surprised Tybour was telling Cantor now.

"Rishmond did arrive with a Warlock though. A particularly nasty one called Plug. Cantor, do you remember a little over a turn ago, when there was a ship at the docks that exploded? A ship from The Arrangement of Peace?"

"Yes, I think so, something to do with some sort of illegal chemicals? Not chemicals then? But what does that have to do with Rishmond?" She seemed as if she was about to defend Rishmond against some wrongdoing he was accused of but which she knew he could not have done.

"It was not Rishmond's fault, and it had little to do with him, or not completely about him anyway. Plug was on board that ship. Unusual enough seeing as how no one on board that ship seemed to know they had a Warlock amongst them. But even worse, and this is a secret, so keep it, please. I know I can trust you both," he winked at Rishmond. "The Staff of Ceitus was not aware of the Warlock until several hours after the ship had docked. We should have known about it well before the ship entered the harbor. To this day we do not know how or why that Warlock was able to enter our borders without being detected. Rest assured, we are still looking into the matter."

Tybour shifted on the rock he was sitting. "All that is to say that Demon-spawn crossing into our borders have always been detected and thus tracked down and eliminated with relative ease. Not a thing in The Reaches, thus eliminating the monsters here is a much more difficult job."

Rishmond and Cantor exchanged glances once more. Rishmond was beginning to suspect the world was a lot more complex than he knew. It appeared Cantor was of like mind. This expedition was expanding more than just the list of places he'd been, but was also expanding Rishmond's understanding of the world and his place in it.

Rishmond glanced at Torg, wondering what the little golem thought of this. Torg tilted his head in that odd quizzical way he had. He then gave Rishmond a smile, something he'd learned in his time among mortals and then he gave Rishmond a thumbs up, something he'd recently learned from Illiar and Cantor. It was an odd gesture considering his blocky stone hands. Rishmond smiled back and began to turn back to Tybour, his mouth opening to ask questions.

"Ah! There you are First Mage!" Teilmein approached from out of the dark into the circle of the campfire light. "I was looking for your Haningway. I'd like to suggest that the three of us meet in the morning, if you both are available. I have some information that may be pertinent to our search for our saboteur. I don't want to reveal anything prematurely, but I should have more information by morning. Say an hour before we strike camp? My tent?"

"Yes, of course good sir." Tybour squinted toward the otterman Wizard. "Anything I should know now?"

Teilmein glanced to Rishmond and Cantor. "No, not yet. The morning will be plenty soon enough."

"Alright. I will bring Haningway and we will see you at your tent then. Speaking of time to strike the camp, that time comes early tomorrow, so I think it is time we all turn in for the evening. We'll want to be well rested for our continued journey." Tybour gestured to the two young people. "Get some sleep you two."

"Should I be there for the meeting?" Rishmond asked, wanting to know what it was Teilmein had discovered.

"No. We'll catch you up when we can Wizard Rishmond." Teilmein smiled in that odd way that bared his canines but none of his other teeth. 

"Good night then," said Rishmond. "We'll see you in the morning. Cantor?"

Rishmond, Torg and Cantor headed off into the dark, leaving the two older Wizards in the circle of the little fire on the edge of the camp.

Rishmond laid awake for a long time once he settled in to his cot. He hadn't thought of Plug in several months. To think of him again stirred old feelings he hadn't had in a long while. He chose to examine those feelings and his memories of Plug and the fight that had freed him from The Arrangement of Peace and the Church of Peace. The memory of those feelings of fear and anxiety were there, but the crippling feelings themselves were gone. He found he could picture Plug's face as the Warlock dragged him toward the open portal, malice and hate clear in his eyes, the smell of Demon fire coming off of him in waves, the almost certain knowledge Rishmond had felt, and the feelings seemed walled away, muted, filtered. He recalled the feeling of passing through the portal, the cold acid scrape of it across his skin and mind. It no longer affected him the way it used to. It was almost like it had happened to someone else. He finally drifted off to sleep deep in the memory of his first meeting with Halmond and Beritrude. The new feeling of care and respect that later blossomed to the love he felt for his family.

Time to rise and get moving came early. An hour and a half before the sun rise Rishmond rose and packed the little he'd unpacked the night before. He struck his cot and folded it into its carrier, mounting it to his pack. He crawled out of his tent and collapsed it so he could fold it and pack it into its canvas bag. He left the packed tent by the first wagon where it would be loaded with the rest of the small tents. Shouldering his heavy pack he headed toward Teilmein's tent. Tybour hadn't expressly forbidden that Rishmond be there, so, what was the worst they could do, make him leave?

He and Torg arrived at Teilmein's tent just as Tybour and Haningway did. Tybour raised one eyebrow toward Rishmond. The fairly large central fire where Teilmein's tent was situated illuminated Tybour's face and Rishmond could read the expression on it. It was the one he had when Rishmond did something he wasn't supposed to, but something that impressed Tybour. Rishmond knew better than to ask to accompany them into the tent, but he'd be nearby to hear what they talked about as soon as they would share with him.

Tybour and Haningway approached the tent and called out to Teilmein. No one answered and after several seconds Tybour called out again, slapping the back of his hand against the tent as well.

There was no answer.

After a few more seconds both Haningway and Tybour called out to Teilmein, attempting to wake him.

Rishmond grew a bit concerned. During the trip so far the Wizard had never been late to a meeting or lesson and Rishmond had noted him as an early riser during their sea voyage as well as the past two mornings, in fact sometimes Rishmond wasn't entirely sure the Wizard slept at all. Maybe he was already up and had gone off to get some acradious brew, which Rishmond could smell across the camp site, or something to eat. Teilmein did have an incredible appetite for such a slight man.

"Alright Teilmein. I'm coming in, we don't have much time." Tybour called toward the tent. He paused for just a couple of moments before ducking under the door shade and pushing the flaps aside, letting himself into the darkened interior of the tent. 

Tybour's shout caused Haningway to rush into the tent moments later. Rishmond started and walked quickly across the open area around the fire toward the entrance to Teilmein's tent. Before he could move to duck inside the tent Haningway emerged, glancing around and grabbing Rishmond with both hands as he scanned the area. Rishmond picked up on the heightened emotions and awareness of the man. This could not mean anything good.

"Go and get Bantore and Ueet, Rishmond." Haningway's voice was calm but urgent. "Leave your pack and hurry, but don't run. Take Torg with you. Tell them that Teilmein has something important to say and they need to be present and quick. Do not talk to anyone else, do not let anyone distract you. Do not stop for anything. Be alert and aware Rishmond. Danger is afoot. Be careful. Come back here straight away. Torg, take care of him." Their eyes met and Rishmond read the urgency and warning there. 

Rishmond shrugged off his pack and hurried away towards where he knew Bantore would be, a big tent on the edge of camp. Ueet would be near there as well, away from the fire and the light, on the edge where they could best protect the rest of the expedition from any threat from the wilds. He walked quickly, hyper aware of his surroundings, watching for anything out of the ordinary, aware of anyone watching or following. He didn't run or appear panicked, just in a hurry like others were to strike the camp for their early morning roll out. Torg moved with surprising quickness, his odd gait making him appear like an odd shaped boat on a gently rolling sea.

Rishmond located both Bantore and Ueet near where their tents had been, both men had been up early and had already dismantled their tents and were packed and ready to go. Rishmond conveyed Haningway's message to them once they had congregated around Torg. The four of them headed back towards Teilmein's tent at a brisk pace.

They arrived within moments and found Haningway standing guard at the entrance to Teilmein's tent. The buzz of the camp went on around the area, tents being removed and equipment being packed and hauled to whichever wagon would carry it. The camp was well on its way to being torn down and ready to move. The sky to the east was beginning to show signs of the rising sun. 

Haningway motioned to the group to approach the tent as soon as he spotted them across the open area. He motioned them all into the tent and held the tent flap as they each ducked into the tent's interior, lit by the bright light of a light spell Tybour had cast inside. 

Rishmond entered second just behind Ueet, Torg following close behind. He stumbled to a halt as the scene before him became clear in his sight. Teilmein lay on his back in the middle of the tent, on one of many throw rugs strewn about. It was immediately apparent he was no longer alive by the large open wound in the middle of his chest. The clothing around the wound was charred as if burned by fire but the blood apparent on and around the Wizard precluded any cauterizing, so it was unlikely to have been fire.

Rishmond had seen dead bodies before, in Mott and since coming to Malminar, but seeing his friend and teacher lying there with a gaping hole in his chest affected him more than any other body he could recall seeing. He grew dizzy and his vision blurred slightly. He concentrated, looking away from Teilmein's body, willing himself under control. The dizziness passed after a moment and his sight cleared except for the wateriness of the tears welling in them.

Ueet knelt next to the body, Tybour standing behind Teilmein's desk watching Rishmond with sharp eyes. 

"This was done with a kreleit blade, that much is certain," said Ueet. "Not something Teilmein would have been expecting. It's been more than 50 turns since I've heard of one being used. Unusual and easy to hide. Very expensive and rare." Ueet looked up at Tybour. "An assassin of Wizards. Highly unusual and very worrisome."

Rishmond recalled learning about kreleit metal from Tybour months ago. The raw metal was found only in the desiccant desert of Quouribi, formed from the metallic needles of the haanth cactus. The metal canceled magic, a shield made of the stuff could protect one from any known direct spell. A weapon made from it could kill a Wizard or Warlock with a single touch, sucking the magical core from a person along with their life. It was the stuff of legend and was more rare than anything else Rishmond knew about.

Bantore's deep voice was pitched quiet and low, "Bad enough to have a saboteur, much worse to have a killer of Wizards with a Wizard killing blade among us. How should we handle this Tybour?"

"We need to find the killer or killers," Haningway spoke forcefully but quietly. Rishmond became aware of the smell of clean linens and the taste of fresh, cold water, Haningway was casting a protective spell around the tent, keeping sound from carrying out of the tent as well as keeping any casual passersby from entering the tent. The magic was subtle and strong. 

"Yes," responded Tybour quietly, his voice not much more than a whisper. "We need to do this carefully. We can't alert the traitors and we can't delay our mission. We don't want to spread panic either." He picked up a letter from Teilmein's desk and seemed to read it for a moment before continuing. "This just became a much more complex situation than I think any of us expected."

Tybour seemed to come to a decision just then and he placed the letter back on the small folding desk with its small pile of seemingly disorganised papers and parchments. His movements became precise and purposeful as he looked up at those in the tent, meeting the eyes of each in turn.

"We will keep this quiet. Only those in this tent and the murderer or murderers will know of this. We tell everyone that Teilmein received a message last night late and left on his own back to Swarve to return to Retinor at Royal request. We will pack essential supplies and make it look like he left in the night. We say nothing to anyone. We then continue on our way to the Glittergreen mines and we will conduct our investigation in secret until we ferret out the murderer, discover who is behind this and why, and then we will punish the traitors and those who put them up to these evil deeds." Tybour's eyes flashed with anger and resolve. "They will regret these actions and we will complete our mission despite their plotting."

Haningway opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but stopped before nodding. Each of the other men also nodded their agreement and Rishmond found himself speared by Tybour's sharp gaze once again. He swallowed hard and nodded as well, watching as Tybour's eyes softened slightly.

"Keep your shield up Haningway. We've work to do."

All four men moved quickly to gather much of Teilmein's most personal possessions, what they believed he would take with him in a hasty departure, stuffing a large backpack haphazardly with the gathered supplies and placing the pack next to the lifeless body of the Wizard. Tybour stepped forward and gazed down at the otterman for a moment before stepping back off the blood soaked rug. Everyone else in the tent stepped back toward the tent walls, off the rug and away from the dead Wizard. 

"May the Gods receive you into their home, may you look onto the mortal world from beyond and see that your good works have continued on past your life and into the lives of those left behind." Tybour recited the old mantra with feeling, bringing tears to Rishmond's eyes once again. "Rishmond, please cast a guise on this space, no one must see the magic I cast next."

Rishmond concentrated for a second and pulled on the magic of Rit, forming a bubble to contain the signature, smell, taste and all other evidence of magic being wielded within it. Rishmond's magic fit just inside the concealment magic Haningway continued to hold around the tent. No one, person, Wizard, or Warlock would be able to see or detect any magic done within Rishmond's spell, even where they to stand right outside close enough to touch the tent.

Tybour reached out with his magic and caused the rug Teilmein was laying on to wrap around the body, wrapping the backpack and a few other books and papers into a neat, tight package that then sank below the surface like quicksand. In moments all evidence of the murder was gone as if it had never happened.

"Rishmond," Tybour said, "take Torg and go and ask the caravan master to send some help to strike Teilmein's tent and pack his belongings. Be sure to mention that Teilmein left in the middle of the night last night after receiving a flux message from Retinor, and that I was there when he left. Also ask if he can provide you with a leather document case, the kind used to protect important documents."

Haningway stepped up to the small desk and began to neatly place all the papers thereon into a small leather case he always carried at his side. Tybour opened the few drawers and removed any papers or parchements not blank and placed those in the same case.

"Bantore, Ueet, find out who did this. Quietly. We don't want to scare the assassin off before we find out who is behind this and locate any and all accomplices."

Rishmond headed out of the tent and found his way to the caravan master, a man called Millet, a squat, bald man with an unpleasant face and a sour disposition, especially when something affected his time table or organization. "He did, did he? Just up and left in the middle of the night? Left his tent and everything for me to handle? Ungrateful, self-important... " He trailed off as Rishmond raised one eyebrow at him. "Fine. Go get yourself ready then boy." 

"I am, sir, ready to leave."

"Fine. Off with you then." Millet turned and yelled at a group of men standing near the lead wagon. "Tilly! Patt! Get a couple of boys and head to that Wizard's tent, Teilmein! We gotta take it down and pack it up! Move it! We leave in 15 minutes! With or without you!" 

"Oh. And Tybour would like to know if you can provide him with a leather document case? The tube kind used to store maps and such important documents?"

Millet frowned at Rishmond for a moment before shaking his head slightly. "Sure, I'll be sure to send one to him as soon as I can. Perhaps he'd like me to provide him with a cushioned chair he can sit his pampered ass in, with bearers to carry him to the Glittergreen?" 

"No," replied Rishmond, "taking your seat would not be something Tybour would want." Rishmond scooted away quickly, avoiding the kick Millet tried to aim at his backside. "Have a good day and a smooth trip, caravan master!", he called back over his shoulder as he hurried away. A miserable man even if he was good at his job.

Rishmond hurried along the edge of the road, out of the way of horses and people rushing about. The eastern sky was turning blue and gold. The caravan would be leaving soon, on time, as if the loss of Teilmein was unimportant, affecting nothing in the world.