“Well, that’s a little disturbing,” Arthur said after Morgan explained that he could sense Bronwyn but that she was extremely distant and not in any clear direction that he could tell.

“You haven’t heard anything from her? Or from those Urghat she had following her?” Issa asked.

“No. It’s not surprising with regard to the Urghat, though. They’ve made themselves scarce since we repelled their invasion. I don’t imagine any of them would come around without Bronwyn present to vouch for them.”

“My people still hunt them on the plains. The hunters in the lodge claim that most Urghat have retreated to the Blue Spines.” Issa said, a slight frown on her face. “I hope Bronwyn’s followers aren’t among their prey.”

“Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that. Hopefully, they’re with her or far from here.” Morgan drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, nothing we can do about it for now. Take heart that she’s alive. Is there anything you need from us before we travel to Tarn’s? I don’t think we’ll be gone more than a couple of weeks, but I can’t be sure.”

“If you’re going to Tarn’s Crossing, I have a diplomatic package I’d like you to bring to their governor—just some correspondence and some artwork that our artisans want to offer as a gesture of goodwill and thanks.”

“Sure, no problem. Everything else going alright?”

“Quite well, actually. We’ve got a burgeoning flock of those sheep-creatures, the bolyo, or something.”

“Holbyis,” Issa said.

“Right, right. We’ve also started up some trade with a few of the local nomad bands. So far, nothing has come to threaten us. We’ve continued to build our arsenal of defensive weapons, though. Boris has figured out a way to make rifled cannon barrels, and they’re on the verge of making Energy powered projectiles—black powder may have a very short-lived use for us.”

“That’s good, I suppose, though I wish it weren’t necessary. Still, I’m not naive—there are a lot of hostiles out there, and as our territory expands, we might run into things much worse than Urghat.” Issa nodded along with Morgan’s words. “Any word from Olivia?”

“Not a peep, though she thought it might be difficult to communicate with us.”

“Right, hey, hang on a second.” Morgan closed his eyes and concentrated for a minute. “Yep, I can feel her. She’s south and east of here, quite a lot farther than Tarn’s Crossing. It’s good to know she’s alive, though, eh?”

“Yes, quite. That’s a handy skill, Morgan.”

“Well, it sounds like the council is handling things just fine, though now that we’re out of any immediate crisis, maybe we should see about an election to replace me? Maybe Bronwyn and Olivia too? I feel bad doing it while they’re gone, but we did talk about it before everyone left.”

“For now, the six of us in the colony aren’t having any trouble organizing things. If it becomes a problem, we have a quorum and can vote to fill your seats. Your connection to the locals is valuable, though, Morgan, and I’d rather not have you leave the council for now.” Arthur glanced at Issa when he said “locals,” and Morgan chuckled.

“He does have a good connection to the locals, doesn’t he?” Issa grinned at Arthur, but her sharp teeth, and the squint of her eyes, didn’t make the grin seem exceptionally friendly.

“Um, I didn’t mean any offense,” Arthur sputtered.

“Of course, Arthur. Well, if there’s nothing else?” Morgan scooted back his chair.

“No, nothing else. Let me get that package for you, so you don’t have to look for me in the morning before you leave.” Arthur stood, and Issa and Morgan followed him out of the little meeting room and through the bustling tavern. “It’s in my house on the north end, not far from your tower.” They walked along the cobbled road, and Morgan noticed the new streetlights for the first time—outside buildings and at every street junction, they added a level of civilization that had been missing before. In the twilight of evening, they spread warm glows of orange-yellow comfort.

“Nice lamp posts,” Morgan noted.

“Yes, the artisans completed them as one of those ‘quests’ from the Town Stone. Supposedly, there was quite a hefty reward for each post completed. I can’t complain when the System makes managing the colony easy like that, but I must admit I balk at the loss of autonomy.”

“Those sorts of things will become less common as your town develops,” Issa said. “Though, we still get occasional infrastructure quests in Tarn’s Crossing. My father recently picked up a quest to repair the runes on our bridge.”

“Intriguing,” Arthur murmured, turning down a side path toward a large, single-story home. “Please wait just a moment while I run in for the package. I’d invite you in, but I’m sorry; I wasn’t expecting guests.” He didn’t wait for a reply, just turned and walked up the dimly lit path to his dark home. Morgan watched, lightly resting his hand on Issa’s shoulder.

“I want to spar a bit before we sleep; I haven’t worked with my new style nearly enough,” Issa said quietly. She’d used the scroll that gave her the Whispering Death fighting style during their journey, and they’d only practiced a few times since then. It was a complex, offense-oriented style that favored quick movements and feints. It fit Issa and her rapier perfectly. She’d improved in speed and in her ability to chain attacks, parries, and dodges when her sword skill moved to “advanced.” So much so that she had little trouble besting Morgan when they limited themselves to blade work alone. Still, it was good for him—he felt like he was even more on the cusp of breaking through to advanced than he had been back in the citadel.

“Sure, I’m not tired yet, anyway.” Morgan watched as lights flickered on in the windows of Arthur’s home, and then, a few moments later, Arthur stepped back out through his door and approached them. He held a small leather bag out to Morgan.

“Everything is in here. Sorry to give you another bag to carry, but at least it isn’t heavy. Please don’t lose it, though; many of our artisans labored for the items contained within.”

“I’ll keep it safe. Well, Arthur, if we don’t see you again before we leave, stay safe.” Morgan reached out his hand and shook Arthur’s. Issa surprised him by giving Arthur a quick hug.

“You’re doing good work, Arthur. Thank you for befriending my people,” she said as she pulled back, holding his shoulders. It hadn’t really registered to Morgan until just now, but she was as tall as Arthur was and far more substantially built. She made him look frail. Having evolved his own race along with hers, she still seemed small to him, but that was far from reality.

“Well, thank you. Safe journeys, you two.” Morgan thought the older man might have blushed, but it was impossible to see in the dim light. Arthur turned with one last quick wave and then walked to his home.

“That was nice, Issa,” Morgan said as they walked down the cobbled lane that now ran within a few dozen paces of his tower.

“Well, it’s true. The Ardeni I spoke with said that they’d been treated like heroes by the people in First Landing and that Arthur gave a speech honoring some of them for their exploits on the plains.” Morgan grunted in acknowledgment, picturing the scene. He hoped things continued to go so well.

That night, they practiced together for more than two hours, and halfway through their session, Ykleedra came into the dueling hall to watch. Morgan paused their sparring long enough to give Ykleedra a small dimensional container he’d bought from the artisan hall. “It has lots of good food in it—fish, small game, birds. It’s yours to keep.”

“Thank you, Morgan!” Ykleedra’s raspy voice rose slightly with excitement. “Did Tiladia tell you about what we learned?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you so much for helping her to learn your language, Ykleedra. You can stop working on that project for now, though. I spoke with a very nice woman in town today about you. She’s going to come and visit you to get to know you a little. How do you feel about that?”

“Why, Morgan?” Her voice was quiet now, and she edged sideways so that Issa, who was working through her rapier styles a few paces away, couldn’t see her face.

“Not for anything bad, Ykleedra. I want you to become part of this community, and you can’t do that if you’re holed up in this tower all your life. I told her that the sun bothers your eyes, so she’ll come in the evening. My hope is that she’ll be able to find people to be your friends and teachers.” Morgan hunched down, putting his hand on his knee so that his eyes were on a level with hers.

“I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No! Of course not! Tiladia told me how much help you’ve been, but there’s a lot more to life than just helping me, okay? I want you to learn and grow and start working toward your own goals. Tiladia will be giving you some lessons, also.”

“Truly? Do you think I could learn to work magic and how to weave?” Two of her legs began to tap rapidly on the wooden floor, and Morgan took it as a sign of excitement.

“I don’t see why not. You should ask Tiladia about it first; she knows a lot and can start to guide you. When Maria comes here, let her know your interests, and she’ll be able to find the right tutors for you.”

“I’m going to talk to Tiladia right now, Morgan. Good luck with your big knife practice! I’m sorry your mate is so hard on you.” Ykleedra turned and scurried out of the hall while Morgan slowly closed his gaping mouth. Was Issa kicking his ass that badly?

The next day, Morgan and Issa loaded up their gear, packed a plethora of new travel rations, and saddled their roladii. “Looking forward to seeing your dad?” Morgan asked as they rode through town toward the south gate.

“Of course! I’m also looking forward to his cooking! He’ll owe us a welcoming home meal, don’t you think?”

“Hah, for sure!”

“Morgan! Jeez, buddy, what happened to you?” A friendly voice called from the walkway to their right. Morgan looked and saw Boris waving.

“Oh, hey Boris! Glad to see you before we leave again!” Morgan stopped Munch, and Boris walked over.

“Well? I don’t know if I should compliment you on getting better looking, again, or if I should make you tell me what the hell happened to your arm?”

“Ahh, you see, when someone plays with sharp objects, there are bound to be accidents.” Morgan laughed.

“Ancestors! It’s not something to laugh about!” Issa said, slapping his shoulder.

“Uh, hmm. I wonder what kind of prosthetic I could come up with if I research the right runes.” Boris’s eyes started to glaze over in thought.

“Hey, man, thank you for the thought. Issa and I might have a solution, though. I just need to keep upgrading my race, and apparently, at some point, my body is going to kind of renew itself or something. I’m not really clear on it.”

“At each tier, your body will go through a kind of metamorphosis,” Issa supplied.

“Oh? How fascinating!”

“Hey, Boris, it’s not exactly easy to get racial upgrades, though, so it wouldn’t hurt to advance the prosthetics field, you know, in case of other ‘accidents.’” Morgan grinned down at his friend, and Boris gave him a wink.

“I like the challenge! If you can’t find a solution, maybe I’ll have something for you next time you’re in town.”

“See you soon, Boris!” Morgan said, giving Munch a little kick. A short while later, they’d passed the main residential area of the colony and out through the gate. “Let’s see if we can get to the Chebli Sea before dark. What are the odds we’ll run into Teric and his crew?”

“The sea is a big place, Morgan; besides, I think their next run isn’t ‘til after summer.”

“Huh, good points, darlin’, but I’m still going to hope for it!”