I promised this for Monday, but I had unplanned issues interrupt my life. This included injuring myself just walking. Hurts a lot. But today I have time, and the pain meds didn't hit my memory too hard.

---

Chapter One

"The old world was filled with powerful magic and wondrous things. It was wiped out, and no one truly knows by what, how, or why. Not even the long-lived elves remember. Most folk just assume the ancients either angered the Mother or summoned something they really should have left alone."

The job posting read:

ESCORT AND RECOVERY: C RANK MINIMUM, 4 REQUIRED. Aldenmoor Merchant Consortium requests retrieval of a shipment of pre-Collapse artifacts from the ruins of Dunfell Keep, three days east along the Merchant Road. Shipment was being transported by the Consortium when the wagon was attacked by unknown assailants. Driver fled. Wagon is missing, presumed to be in the keep itself. Escort of Consortium representative Aldric Vane required both ways. Danger level assessed at moderate. Compensation: 400 gold, split by band. Bonus of 100 gold if Vane is returned unharmed.

Posted by: Aldenmoor Merchant Consortium Expires: 3 days

The guild hall smelled of iron, pine resin, old leather, and the particular staleness of a room full of people pretending not to watch each other. The light was good and Calamar had been nursing the same cup of lukewarm water for the better part of an hour. The barmaids avoided his table now.

He was trying to be as inconspicuous as someone his size could manage. Which was badly. He slouched alone at one of the stout oak tables crowding the hall. He pulled the hood of his dark brown cloak a little lower. His black leathers made a soft sound that didn't carry, but they didn't need to.

Just walk up to someone. Anyone. Ask if they need a rogue. A really big rogue, with secrets. Secrets that scare people away.

It wasn't the first time he tried to talk himself into moving. He hadn't been successful yet. He didn't move. He couldn't force himself to risk rejection yet. He looked at the front of the hall. There was something loud going on there.

The argument at the front desk had been going on long enough that most of the hall had stopped talking amongst themselves and had turned to listen. The woman, short red, curly hair and built like she'd been assembled specifically for the purpose of hitting things, wearing a suit of chainmail, red tabard and red gloves tucked into her belt. She had a finger pointed at the posting board, punctuating each word with a harder point at the board.

"It says C-rank minimum, four required," the half-elven clerk said, his voice firm, even and devoid of any inflection. He rubbed his short well kept beard, his head up looking at her with his pointed earslaid back. He shook his head, put his hands down flat on the table. "Three does not satisfy four, regardless of rank."

"But we're really good C's."

"Miss Smithsdotter..."

"Kia."

"Miss Kia. The requirement exists because the Consortium assessed the danger level. I don't set the postings, I only..."

"Fine." She pulled her finger back. Blew a strand of curly red hair out of her face. Turned around.

Her eyes swept the room, pausing at a particular person, considering, then moving onto the next, looking for something, Her eyes kept moving along and landed on Calamar like an arrow finding a target. He watched her expression go from deflated to delighted in the span of a single heartbeat.

Oh, no. I'm not ready. Pick someone else, anyone else. Please.

She was already walking toward him.

She crossed the room without regard for the people scrambling to get out of her way. Her chainmail made a soft, but noticeable ringing sound as she crossed the room. She stopped in front of his table, planted both hands on the surface, and leaned in just far enough to be close, and just far enough to show pale neck, collar bone and the opening of the top of her shirt.

Oh no, don't stare there! Look at her face, her eyes, look her in the eyes!
Up close her eyes were startling. Ice blue, direct, and staring directly into his, She smelled of metal and something else. Something nice.

She looks like she could kill me and smile about it.

"You're alone," she said. Just that, nothing more. A smile lit her face and made her eyes sparkle.

"Uhm, yes?" Calamar said. He felt a flush creeping up his neck.

I am flailing. She is overwhelming.

"B-rank?" She was looking at the small pin on his cape, the guild's designation system reduced to a simple marker most venturers wore without thinking about it.

"Uhm, yes?"

Not better, not better.

"Excellent," she straightened up and stuck out her hand, "Kia Smithsdotter. Warrior. With the Three of Knights. We need a fourth for a job and you look like you're not doing anything."

Direct. Fast. Is this how recruiting for bands works now? Did I forget? What do I do?
He looked at her hand. Then past her, toward the table near the job board where two women sat at a table together. Turned slightly to face one another, but faces toward Kia.

The one sitting on the right was a tiny woman in white robes and had both hands over her face. Ebony black, delicate. Matching pointed ears. She had long alabaster hair, part of it gathered in a bun at the top of her har, the rest allowed to flow down to her shoulders and down her back. A dark elf. They had a vile reputation as a people, but he'd never met one before. Her outfit marked her as a clergy. The white staff leaning next to her and a gold circlet at her temples said she was something more.

Next to her, a woman in green had her arms folded, watching the exchange at the desk and now the table without moving, eyes half closed. She had blonde, close cropped hair and she also had pointed ears. A bow and quiver hung from the chair behind her. A wood elf, by her looks. Gven the legendary hatred between wood elves and dark elves, this was an odd pairing.

There's a story there. They don't know anything about me. Clean start. Just shake her hand. They are an odd bunch anyway. What's one more?

He reached out and shook her hand.

"Calamar Blackthorn. Rogue."

"Perfect," Kia said, nodding to herself. "We're taking a job to Dunfell Keep. You in?"

"I'm in. Introduce me?"

Forgot to ask details. Can't now or I'll seem desperate. Try to work it into the conversation. Don't act the fool.

He stood up. Kia was five and three-quarters tall. He was six and almost a half tall. He looked down at her. He was taller than almost everyone, but somehow he never expected it from people who were so big in personality.

Goddess, now she's going to think I'm a freak or something. Say something!

"After you," he swept his arm down and then pointing at the far table where the rest of her band waited.

Kia looked up at him, and kept looking up, with her smile growing brighter by the moment, eyes twinkling..

"Oh you're tall," she said. She nodded to herself, turned and headed back toward the table confident he was following.

She said that out loud. She just said that out loud.

He followed her anyway.

The woman in white robes had lowered her hands from her face but they fluttered on the table, off, then back down. Up close she was even smaller than she'd appeared from across the room, the gold circlet at her temples catching the light and standing out against her skin. She was looking somewhere in the region of his collarbone. It looked lie that was as close to eye contact as she was going to get.

Kia dropped nonelssly into a chair. The blonde woman slid a neat white piece of paper toward her. The priesstess, her hands deciding what to to do, reached into her robs and pulled out a small, well worn book tied with a leather cord. Many loose pages at the back in a neat stack.

"Liz, Ciri, this is Calamar Blackthorn, he's a B-rank rogue and he's our fourth." Kia leand forward and picked up the piece of paper. "Calamar, this is Liz and Ciri."
"Elizabeth Gaston," the small woman said quietly, in the direction of his chest. "Cleric. It's very nice to meet you."

That's a human name. That is very odd. What's going on here?

The blonde elf said nothing for a moment. Her eyes moved over him, slow and patient, eyes narrowed. Arms still folded. breathing steady.

"Cirisatra Lómelindi," she said finally. "Ranger."

A pause that lasted exactly one beat too long.

"You have nine knives in quick draw sheaths."

She's very observant. I need to be very, very careful around her.

He nodded. "Most don't spot them unless I want them to. Everyone expects an even number, so the last one always throws them off when I draw it. Only had to do that twice in a fight. Worked the first time. Not long enough the second."

What a way to lead the conversation exactly where I don't want it to go.

"Kia neglected to mention what the job was about, just where. And that it required four."

Deflect, deflect, deflect.

Ciri's expression didn't change, but her eyes blinked once. Not deflected, merely delayed. She kept her eyes on him, boring into him.

Liz had looked up briefly at the mention of the ninth knife, then back down at the book in her hands.

Kia looked down at the paper Ciri had slid to her. Nice paper, new. Precise, elegant penmanship on it. Not the usual rumpled paper and scribbles he was used to seeing on the posting board.

"Escort and recovery," she said, spinning it to face him. "Merchant consortium lost a wagon of pre-Collapse artifacts at Dunfell Keep, three days east. We escort their representative there and back, retrieve the goods. Four hundred gold split four ways, hundred bonus if the merchant comes home pretty."

"Vane," Ciri said quietly. "Aldric Vane. I know the name. Consortium man, middling rank. He talks."

She already knows the consortium rep. There are so many stories here.

"The artifacts concern me more than the client," Calamar said, leaning forward to read the posting. His lips moved as he slowly worked out what it said for himself, "Pre-Collapse artifacts draw things. The posting says moderate danger but whoever assessed that wasn't the one going."

Liz made a small sound and nodded her head, still looking down at the table.

Kia waved a hand. "That's why we're four instead of three."

"What attacked the original wagon?" Calamar asked.

Kia opened her mouth.

"Unknown," Ciri said, before she could. Her eyes were still on Calamar. "The posting says unknown assailants. The driver fled without looking back apparently."

A beat of silence.

That's odd. How did he know he was under attack if he didn't see anything?

"The ninth knife. It worked twice. What happened the second time?"

Crap.

"Apparently, bugbears can't count. Ambush. I got seriously messed up. Left at the temple for healing. Woke up alone."

Sob story, way to earn respect.

Kia's expression had gone flat during his answer. The brightness so present all the time so far left her eyes, a suggestion of a frown before she smiled and looked back at him.

"That's why I'm here," he said into the silence, "Still sticking to nine knives. One success versus one failure. Going for a tie breaker before I decide. Anything else about this Vane, other than he talks. Anything that might make it difficult to keep him alive, like he snores at night?"

Liz coughed, just a sharp breath of air. She covered it. One delicate ebony hand winging up to cover her mouth.

Ciri held his gaze for one more measured second before. He looked away first, blinking.

"He gambles," she said, as if continuing a list she'd started earlier. "And his talking is constant. About himself, mostly. He once talked a tollkeeper into waiving a bridge fee through sheer exhaustion." She paused. "The tollkeeper cried afterward. I was there and I suffered with him."

"Ciri did a job with the consortium two years ago," Kia offered.

"One job," Ciri said. "Never again. Until now."

"She won't tell us why."

"No."

Liz put her hand down and was studying the posting now, her staff still leaning against the table beside her. "The ruins themselves concern me," she said quiet voice just loud enough to be heard, still not meeting his eyes. "Dunfell Keep specifically. There are accounts of it in the temple library." She paused; one hand landed on her small book. "They're not very reassuring accounts."

Kia leaned forward, eyes sparkling, grinning, but somehow looking feral at the same time, "How not reassuring?"

Liz hesitated.

"Liz."

"There's something in there that the pre-Collapse people put in there deliberately." She folded her hands on the table. "And apparently couldn't get back out."

Calamar shivered inside, looked at Ciri, "Never again you said. This is a consortium job. You ok with that?"

Smooth. Get her thinking about herself and the job, rather than me. She is very smart...

Ciri's eyes moved to him again, staring, unblinking. The corner of her mouth did something that wasn't quite a smile and wasn't quite not one.

"I will manage Vane," she said. "I managed him before." A pause. "Barely."

"She threatened to leave him in a ditch," Kia said cheerfully.

"I said I was considering it. There is a difference."

Liz had looked up at Ciri, her mouth quirked into an almost grin before settling back again.

"The consortium pays reliably," Ciri continued, looking back at him, back to business. "Whatever I think of their representative. The job is sound." Her eyes hadn't left Calamar. "The question is whether you are sound, B-rank rogue, alone, looking for a band." She let that sit for exactly the right amount of time. "We are C-rank. You would be slumming."

"Ciri..." Liz said quietly.

Calalmar raised his hand, interrupting her, "It's a fair question."

Kia looked between him and Ciri.

*She's not wrong. Why would a B-rank sign on with three C-ranks? I need a reason that isn't "nobody else will have me."

"Because I was abandoned by fellow B-rankers who I thought were my friends and I hadn't worked up the courage to try and join a new band yet. Kia just kind of happened before I was ready. I'm getting the impression that's not out of the ordinary."

Nothing but the truth. Let them draw their own conclusions.

Kia looked at Ciri, smiled her smile, and pointed at him. "See, I knew I liked him."
She looked back at him, "But I'm like that. All the time. With everyone."

Liz had gone very still. A freeze that held for exactly one heartbeat before her eyes flicked up to him, wide, a single tear running down her face. She looked away, then down at the posting again but wasn't reading it. Her hands smoothing the paper that didn't need any smoothing.

Ciri said nothing for a long moment. Quiet, still.

"Abandoned," she said finally. Not a question. Not quite sympathy either. her Mouth moved like she was tasting it, and not liking the memories is stirred.

"Ciri," Kia said leaning toward her.

"I am not pressing," Ciri said. She unfolded her arms, which Calamar took as a significant gesture from her, and placed both hands flat on the table and looked at him directly. "B-rank working with C-rank band on a C-rank job. You take point on traps since that Is presumably where you earned your rank. We split four ways, equal shares despite rank difference. If Vane becomes unbearable I reserve the right to say I told you so."

"Ciri speaks for the band on terms," Kia told him, smiling with her entire face and body all at once. "Even though I'm nominally the leader."

"You agreed to let a merchant shortchange us on a delivery job last spring," Ciri said.

"He had a sad face!"

Liz put her face in her hands again. Took a deep breath, let it out after four heartbeats.

Calamar looked at the three of them. Kia already looking at the posting with casual confidence, Ciri’s arms finally unfolding as she leaned in, Liz quietly straightening the corners of her book with careful fingers without really looking at it. For the first time in a long while something in his chest eased, just a fraction, like a knot he’d forgotten was there suddenly giving way. If nothing else, this might be entertaining.

Equal shares. She didn't have to do that. New to the band, tradition said half share. By some people's opinion, I could ask for more by rank. I won't. Bad way to start. And point is where I belong.

"Terms accepted," he said, "but I'm good in cities and ruins, not in the forest. On the road, You and Kia should split point. I will leave the woods to you. I'll be in the back, watching." He turned to Kia. "You good with a sword?"

Kia's cocked her head, narrowed her eyes and smiled. The smile didn't reach her eyes.
"I'm very good with a sword, and, with axes. And my fists if it comes to it." She paused. "Ciri says I lead with my chin."

"Literally and figuratively," Ciri said.

"It's worked so far."

"It has worked so far," Ciri agreed, in a flat tone.

Calamar nodded, more to himself than anyone present.

Front and flanks covered then. Liz stays center and back, protected. Traps and ambushes are mine. This could actually work.

He looked at Liz. She was already looking at him, and looked away the moment their eyes met, near-black brown eyes. Her hands fluttered, trying to decide on covering her face or resting on the table.

"You're a healer," he said, small smile taking the edge off what was coming. Some healers couldn't fight, couldn't harm others, better to know. "How are you in a fight if it gets past the front line?"

Liz straightened. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but steadier than he expected.
"I can hold my own long enough for Kia to notice," she said. "And the Mother's blessing isn't only for healing."

"She set a man on fire once," Kia offered as she grinned at Liz.

"He was going to stab you."

"Still counts."

Calamar looked at the three of them again. A berserker, a divine fire starter, and an elf who counted knives at twenty paces.

Right then.

"I'll get my gear."

He shook his head.

This was going to get interesting. Don't get attached, Calamar. Arm's length. Won't hurt as much when they abandon you.

"Still need to know when we leave, dawn, bit before, after someone gets Vane?"

"Dawn," Ciri said, before Kia could. "I will collect Vane from the consortium offices, not a tavern. If he is in a tavern and drinking at dawn we leave without the bonus." She paused. "I will send word to the consortium after we are done here confirming we have taken the contract. They will have Vane ready."

"He won't be happy about dawn," Kia said, not unhappily.

"No," Ciri agreed. "He will not."

Liz was quietly folding the job posting with exacting precision, folds just so, all sides even. "I'll need an hour at the temple before we leave," she said softly. "Morning prayers. I won't be late."

"You're never late," Kia said, beaming at her.

"Someone has to not be late."

Kia grinned and looked at Calamar. "Where are you staying? There's a decent inn two streets over, the Thatcher's Rest. Marta who runs it is lovely, the beds don't have anything living in them, and the eggs in the morning are genuinely good."

Arm's length. This is a job. Four people, one job, go home, find another band or don't.
He looked at Kia's open face. At Liz's careful stillness. At Ciri who was watching him the way she had been the entire conversation.

"I'll find it," he said. "Dawn then."

He picked up his leather pack, stood up and paused, looked back at the table. He turned around again and headed for the door.

I like them, but I shouldn't.

---

Calamar looked around as he left the Guild and when he felt no one was looking, he ducked into a dark, almost hidden, alley.

The alley was narrow and smelled of old rain and kitchen scraps from the inn backing onto it, all overlaid on something worse he refused to think about. Not the worst place he'd slept. Not even close.

He stretched his legs out in front of him and tipped his head back against the stone wall. He'd found the spot before the afternoon light faded—a place where the wall met the building at an angle that blocked the wind.

Four hundred split four ways. A hundred gold. Maybe a bit more if Vane survived his own personality. Enough for a room. Decent gear. A start. Again.

The afternoon light was doing something gentle at the mouth of the alley, turning the dust golden. Somewhere nearby someone was frying onions. His stomach made its opinion known.

Ate this morning. Can't afford it anyway. I'll survive until dawn.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander.

Wonder what they're doing now? Eating a good meal, drinking ale, and talking, I'd wager.

He shook his head, pulled his hood up, and settled deeper against the wall. Around him the city moved through its evening without noticing him, which was exactly how he preferred it.

Ciri, the blonde one, she's going to figure it out. That's when they'll leave.

He heaved a sigh, chest tight again. He ignored the pain.

Do the job. Take the gold. Move on.

He almost believed it.

He drifted off into dreams he wouldn't remember.