When we reached the third floor I led us to the room with the dwarven treasure rather than back to the second floor stairs. Fortunately, Attar noticed the deviation from the map I’d given him, and returned us back on track before we became totally lost.

  Attar marvelled at the towering stone columns in the ancient cave and shuddered at the remnants of the mosaic on the second floor.

  On the first floor the goblins remained sufficiently cowed, which was good, because Brace and her party were waiting in the dark beneath the wrought metal balcony.

  “Tom kicked us out,” Brace said by way of greeting, “He kept those things which weren’t on us, by logic that that in his house was of his house.

  Stovepipe winced and brought his hand to his eyes, “Been a day without light. We didn’t want to waste our remaining torches. Scary down here in the dark.”

  My own skin was shining bright enough to light the entire room. I dimmed it slightly, so that the Delta people could stand to look near me.

  “What did you lose?” I asked.

  “Not much we were getting ready to head out anyway when he returned. Sorry to say your fish was in the room.”

  Acorn in fall turned rotten in spring. The huldra had eaten through most of my supplies anyway, but I needed to restored my strength soon. I hadn’t eaten in two days and was starting to feel it.

  “We can give you some of our things for the—” Brace cut short her apology as he eyes adjusted enough to make out the features of the man behind me, “who is this? Where it Attart? Why is there a bubble on your head?”

  The others in her party perked up and gathered around. Attar’s normally beneficent expression turned nervous and shy.

  “This is Attar; Attart without the curses laid upon her. He has no memories of Attart’s own journey, but it as honourable and capable as she ever was.”

  “And handsome too,” said Eric stepping forward to bestow that peculiar handshake hug of the Delta people on the little necromancer, “my loss shall be all of women’s gain, so I shall persevere out of happiness for them, though my own wound is great.”

  Attar looked uncomfortable the whole hug through, but smiled when Eric clapped him on the shoulders and said, “I know something of the curses the Bleak Fort holds. The warlocks left me half the man I used to be.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Attar’s eyes widened and he burst out laughing, more in disbelief than humour, though the tension had drained from him.

  Eric led the man over to one of the packs and started digging for rations.

  Stovepipe sidled over to me and with a delicate cough proffered his cape, “A kilt to warm you.”

  I tied the proffered cape about my waist, “Thank you. Most of my things were destroyed in an accident proceeding an attack.”

  His brows knitted, “Are you alright? And why is there a bubble on your head?”

  “Embarrassed, regretful, foolish, but unharmed. And because of magic.”

  Stovepipe grinned, “That’s how things should be at your age. You’ve got a few more years of mistakes left in you yet, Magus or no. What do you need?”

  “Clothes. A pack. And a way to fix my ring.”

  Stovepipe rubbed his chin. One of the advantages of being a eunuch was not needing to shave despite their time under the fort.

  I didn’t either, but I wasn’t sure what had done that at this point. It would have been my misplaced blade against the centipede if it weren’t for the dark magic protecting me.

  “I can grant you the pack. Our supplies can be moved around some. The others I couldn’t say. Elves are supposed to be a craft sort, aren’t they? Could the hob fix your ring?”

  Elves.

  Forget Tom, his price would be high even if he could, which I doubted. He was more of an information sort than a craftsman, save perhaps tailoring.

  The dark elves.

  If I sought them again, they might be able to fix my ring, but I couldn’t even remember what floor they were on. I was pretty sure it was south of the mosaic on the second floor, but did I want to risk a second encounter? I’d already murdered them once.

  Now that I thought about it, the dwarves as well had knowledge of the finest metal working. They’d been on the first floor, off near the corpse of the dryad. Either might be worth the time delay.

  Stovepipe and Cillian sorted the packs until one was empty, and proffered for me a share of their food, which I took gratefully. I’d have to find something with which to repay them soon. They were already rationing their supplies, which, without myself and Attar taking a share might have another three months in them according to Cillian, but that would weaken everyone.

  “Attar, if you wait here, I’ll leave briefly to recover the rest of my things. I loathe to leave your talents behind, but I’ll move much faster, and we already know the way to be secure, for now. The longer we leave it the sooner other creatures might move in to bar the path.”

  Attar nodded, “Hurry, if you delay, I’ll come looking for you. I’ll give you a quarter of a day.”

  Cillian nodded, “I’ll count it, then we’ll all be after you. Good luck, Oswic.”