1st Day of Harvester, 565 CY

Chendl, Furyondy

Elrohir, Argo, Aslan, Tojo, Cygnus, Zantac, Nesco, Sir Dorbin, Unru, Sir Menn, Sitdale and Talass waited in the midst of the crowds slowly being herded through the city's western gate.

It was perhaps an hour until sunset, and Elrohir could see the lengthening shadows of the men and horses just outside the outer portcullis; parties as eager to enter the city as the ranger was to leave it.

None of Elrohir's band was standing next to each other. The mass of people, many tending to horses or other animals as well, constantly jostling around all them were to a certain extent to blame. Only partially however, as Sir Dorbin was still standing in a tight knot with his three compatriots, talking quietly with Talass.

The major factor in the case of Elrohir's party was that each member was once again focusing their spare thoughts inward.

Argo was in an uncharacteristically foul mood.

It hadn't helped the big ranger's disposition that, as far as he was concerned, they were all facing the wrong way; both literally and figuratively.

The capital city of the kingdom boasted four gates, each aligned more or less with the cardinal points of the compass. If Argo had been intending to take a nice, leisurely, month-long stroll home, he would have left by the southern gate. The road from there led to the town of Worlende, by the banks of the Att River. Travel on or by that river southeastwards would eventually take Bigfellow to the independent city of Free Borough and from there, a well-paved road east-southeast all the way home.

To Caroline.

Of course, he had not intended any such journey. Argo was looking forward with undisguised anticipation at teleporting back to the Brass Dragon with Aslan, or Sir Dorbin, or whoever. The ranger wanted to be with his wife so badly it hurt. From what little Aslan had told Argo of what Dorbin had told him, there wasn't any time to lose.

And speaking of being separated from one's spouse…

The gist of why Talass was leaving them had been supplied to him and the others. Elrohir had given his version and Talass had supplied hers.

Not surprisingly, there were some discrepancies between the two.

Despite his deep friendship with Elrohir, Argo accepted Talass' version in terms of veracity simply because of who she was- a priestess of Truth. In terms of what action needed to be taken however, the big ranger thought that wasn't even a point worth debating. If Elrohir loved his wife as much as Argo loved his; and Argo was sure that he did, then Elrohir would follow her all the way back to Rhizia. Covertly, if necessary.

Damn the consequences, Argo had told his fellow ranger. Without that special someone to love, you might as well go for a nude swim in the Abyssian Ocean.

Elrohir however, had been firm to the point of curtness. He was going to let Talass go and wait for her message that all had gone well, and it was safe to take Barahir and head northeast to join her.

"You're going to trust in the gods over your own heart?" Argo had asked in disbelief. "You're insane if you do that!"

"Coming from a nut job like you, I'll take that as a compliment!" Elrohir had snapped back. "Deal with your own wife, Bigfellow. Don't tell me how to deal with mine!"

And to make matters worse, mere minutes later as Argo had been stomping through the courtyard of the palace, he had suddenly been accosted by a rather regal-looking elf. Despite the top of his head not quite clearing Argo's chest, the elf, clearly a noble of some kind from his dress, had gazed up at Bigfellow as calmly as if they had stood eye-to-eye.

"I am Cerenellyl. I bring you a message," he had stated without preamble. "A party of three urgently wishes to meet with you at sunset this day. Meet them outside the western gate. They will be expecting you."

With that, Cerenellyl had turned around and strolled off, blithely ignoring the ranger's questions.

Bigfellow had had quite enough. He'd given the message to Elrohir and agreed to go with the others to meet these people, but there was no way in Hades Argo was going to wind up travelling anywhere but back home. No more distractions. There had already been too many, in his view.

Cygnus was feeling wretched.

Like Argo, the tall mage wanted nothing more than to get back to the Brass Dragon and viewed their upcoming encounter with annoyance. Whoever these three people were, Cygnus was sure that they would request some kind of service from him and his friends. A service that would in all probability involve another lengthy journey of some kind.

Unlike Bigfellow however, for Cygnus the Brass Dragon was to be only a stopover. The Aardian wizard's ultimate destination was the Hidden Jewel within Welkwood.

Cygnus was going back for his son, and he had no intention of coming back to the inn with him.

He had not specifically told anyone else of this, although during a drinking session the previous night with Zantac, Cygnus had talked- and later mumbled- constantly about what a terrible father he had been and how he let first thoughts of revenge and later other concerns keep him from being there for his son.

"Other concerns?" Zantac had repeated, the Willip Wizard's face screwed up with the effort to keep his concentration. "You mean like putting your own life on the line to protect your friends?" He shook his head. "Yeah, that sounds like you, Cygnus. Selfish to the core. Don't know why they put up with you."

"You don't lock your own son away in a box or send him to live with strangers just because you've got other things to do," Cygnus growled. "Other parents manage to raise their children just fine."

"First off," Zantac countered, holding up an unsteady finger, "you started off with a handicap you didn't antici- anti- you didn't expect. You didn't know what was going to happen. That he was going to be born… that way. No one but you could have recovered from that shock at all."

Cygnus took another swallow of Celene Ruby. "That was only because I spent more time thinking about how to kill Iuz than I did about Thorin, or even Hyzenthlay. I still think about it," he muttered darkly into his goblet.

"Second," Zantac went on, holding up three fingers, "your friends gave you the time you needed while the elves gave your son the mind he needed. And what did you do then, huh? Huh? Did you tell this Alias, 'That's awright, you keep him?' No! You went back for him and then you did what every good father does."

"What's that?"

"The best you can." Zantac shrugged. "Then you pray like a madman it all works out."

Cygnus scowled. "But I didn't do the best I could have! That's the whole point! I should have taken Thorin and left as soon as I could have! Then at least I'd have been with him all this time!"

"Yeah?" his fellow mage challenged. "Well, thirdly-" Zantac blinked dully at his three raised fingers and lowered one, "well, secondly, what were you gonna tell Thorin when he looked up at you one day and asked, 'Father, why did you leave all your friends to die when you knew they were in danger?' Huh?"

Cygnus drained the rest of his goblet and slammed it down on the table as he got up.

"I'm going to bed. I'm obviously not getting through to you. We're just going around in circles."

"We are?" Zantac queried and then nodded wearily in relief. "So that's why the room's spinning."

Cygnus's eyes scanned the crowd until he caught side of Aslan. The wizard chewed his lip, thinking. Elrohir not being in a very receptive mood, Cygnus had gone and told the paladin that there was a matter of great importance he had to tell the whole party once they had arrived home. He wondered if Aslan would guess what it was. Very possibly, especially considering that Cygnus had already started down this road once before. He only hoped that Aslan wouldn't start talking about it with the others before Cygnus could broach the subject himself.

The mage still had no idea of the words he was going to use. He also didn't know how he was going to be able to hide from all of them how much leaving them was truly going to hurt him. He had to, though. He didn't want them clamoring for him to change his mind.

Better if they all thought of him as callous, manipulating, and unfeeling. It would make the goodbyes easier.

The unfeeling Cygnus steadied himself against the interior gatehouse wall as he felt his eyes well up.

Aslan felt overwhelmed.

Although immune to normal sicknesses and disease, Aslan still felt as if a rampaging chariot had run him over. His muscles ached, and he felt as if he hadn't slept a wink last night. A pounding headache rounded out these physical delights.

He had actually slept, although it had taken a while. He'd come back from his audience with King Belvor deeply troubled, disrobed and lay down in his bed, trying to ignore the sounds of Elrohir and Talass making love in the next room over. Normally the paladin would have been delighted with the renewed filial affection that might imply, but in his current frame of mind the paladin was only irritated that the adjoining walls of their chambers weren't as thick as he had originally supposed.

He should have known. He should have seen it coming.

It had never occurred to Aslan that Nesco would resign from the Azure Order in order to stay with them, but in retrospect it made sense. Going off for months at a time as they were wont to do made one unavailable to serve if the call to arms came in.

The king's request, he had to admit, was what he might have done in the same circumstances. The ironic thing was that Aslan would not have felt morally bound in the slightest if he had not been a paladin himself.

Lord, we paladins can sure be a crafty lot when we want to.

It was stress and anxiety that was making him feel this way. Aslan knew that, although it gave him no relief. Just as it seemed things were going to start quieting down at last, they were heating up again. And not just to a boil, but to an explosion.

This circle of friends as he had known them was coming to an end.

The paladin recited the litany in his head again for the hundredth time.

Talass really was leaving them. That topped the list for several reasons. Firstly of course, because Talass was one of them. As Elrohir had told Nesco several weeks earlier, they were a tight-knit group, at ease- as much as they could ever be at ease- only with themselves. And now one of them was departing forever.

It was like watching an iceberg calve off from a glacier, knowing more were to follow.

Aslan knew he would miss Talass terribly. Although Elrohir and Cygnus also worshipped the Aesir, only Talass drew power directly from them via faith as Aslan did. Perhaps they had never shared deep, warm conversations together, but in its own way that special bond had strengthened their relationship. They had shared the same values of morality, justice and order.

Now the group would be fractured forevermore by this. Either Elrohir would leave them in a few months time to rejoin Talass, or he would be so heartbroken by what he felt was the desertion of his wife that he would never be the same. He might even take his son and leave the Brass Dragon anyway, just to escape the memory of Talass' presence there.

Then there was Cygnus and his upcoming announcement. Aslan was certain he knew what it was. Cygnus was going to collect Thorin and depart. Out of all of them, the tall mage had always been the least enthusiastic about returning from retirement. While he had seemed initially to Aslan to be uninvolved in Thorin's upbringing, that had been gradually changing over the course of this year. Aslan was glad of this, of course- as much for Cygnus as for Thorin- but it boded ill for the rest of them.

And what of Zantac? Would he remain if his best friend left the inn, or would he decide to return to Willip?

Then there was Yanigasawa Tojo. The more the party fractured, Aslan knew the more likely it was that the samurai would decide to resume his quest for the Pearls of Hamakahara. After all, it was only the bonds of friendship that held him here. Alone if need be, he would head out into a world not his own. A world that would never understand him.

Aslan didn't want that to happen, but now the paladin might not even have the option of accompanying him.

And then of course, there was Lady Nesco Cynewine.

Aslan massaged his temples as the throbbing in his temples grew worse.

Would her arrival help to avert or at least slow the departure of any of the others? They all were looking forward to her coming to live with them. Elrohir had requested it, with unanimous agreement.

But what if things didn't work out? Nesco would probably regret her decision- resent the sacrifices she had made. Not only her own honor, but the very Cynewine name had taken a blow to its reputation. The news had already spread through the castle like a plague.

And in some way that he couldn't- or perhaps wouldn't- understand, Aslan felt somehow responsible for that.

Pushing that thought aside, Aslan turned his mind to all the concerns that awaited his disintegrating group of companions.

The Emerald Serpent was as active as ever, and it seemed a certainty that they would make another attempt against the lives of Aslan and the others. He was sure they would be better prepared this time.

And what of Nodyath? Aslan could still remember the sight of his own eyes, familiar and yet utterly alien, staring out at him behind the visor of his counterpart's great helm.

He still wasn't certain what Nodyath's ultimate goals were, or if he had indeed parted company with the Emerald Serpent. That would be welcome news, but Aslan knew his own Talent well enough to know he would never be able to rest easy knowing that an enemy possessing the exact same ability was on his trail.

One of them, sooner or later, was going to have to either leave Oerth or die.

And now there was Sir Dorbin's latest news. Whatever it was, it boded ill and could only serve to make the Brass Dragon an even less inviting place to stay for a dysfunctional group of people like them to even try to stay together.

Oh, yes, Aslan remembered. And now there are those three people we're supposed to meet. They've undoubtedly heard of us and want to request a favor from us. From me, most likely. They probably need to get to someplace far way in a hurry and want to use my Talent as their pack mule.

But what if it was a legitimate, urgent appeal for a good cause? Could he really refuse?

There are days, Aslan admitted to himself. There are days...

Without even realizing it, he had glanced over at Nesco.

Lady Cynewine, formerly of the Azure Order, wondered how she could still be alive.

Surely the misery and woe flowing through every vein in her body like diseased blood would kill her; stop her heart, shut down her brain, cease the suffering.

It wasn't fair.

She had always envisioned this moment as a happy one.

And yet, she had to concede that the actual logistics of telling everybody when and why she was leaving Chendl forever had kind of been skipped over in her mind. Then the moment had come upon her unexpectedly, like a troll lurking around the next dungeon corridor, and there was no time for careful considerations. It was fight or flight.

In her mind, Nesco was definitely fleeing.

And she had never even gotten around to explaining the why. Sometimes she felt as if she didn't know herself.

The worst part had been her brief trip back home to retrieve her things early this morning.

Nesco knew she was never coming back the moment Jeffers had opened the front door of the Cynewine mansion, and she had stepped through into the foyer. The manservant's eyes told Nesco in a moment that he knew fully what was going on. There was sadness there, but no disapproval at all.

Lady Cynewine's hug was half-embrace, half-sob and totally inappropriate for a noblewoman, but she didn't care.

Neither apparently did Jeffers, although he retained his stiff demeanor even while patting Nesco's shoulder.

"There, there, miliddy," the butler intoned softly as he straightened her up. "I have tikken the liberty of packing your things for you. They lie in a rucksack in your room. Do forgive my presumption, but I thought you would-"

"Jeffers!" Gella yelled from the parlor. "Take Lencon into the kitchen and have him eat lunch in there! Stay with him!"

"Yes, miliddy!" Jeffers replied, giving Nesco a final almost-smile before turning and heading down the corridor. Nesco followed.

Her mother was, not unsurprisingly, lying on the divan. She had a fan unfolded in one hand but wasn't even bothering to use it. Her grey eyes had lain in wait for Nesco to appear and now they attacked, fastening themselves on her daughter's face with the full force of her cold fury.

Nesco had of course, expected this, and returned her gaze with one of equal fervor- or at least she hoped it was. Thoughts of rapprochement with her mother were long gone. She cast a glance towards the kitchen door just in time to see the miserable and terrified face of her youngest brother disappear as Jeffers pulled him backwards and closed the door.

Grief at being refused a proper good-bye with Lencon fueled Nesco's fire.

"I'm just here for my things, Mother. I won't sully your home any longer than necessary."

She headed towards the staircase leading upstairs when Lady Gella's voice hit her in the back.

"It's not the house that's been besmirched, Nesco. It's our name."

Nesco whirled around, but the retort died on her lips. Her mother stood up now, keeping her gaze attack going.

"That family name your grandfather did such great deeds to acquire, and cherished and nurtured for half a century since then. All of it now trampled underfoot by an ungrateful child. Why, Nesco? Why?"

The ranger felt like she was turning to stone under that gaze. She could only mutter, "You're exaggerating, Mother."

"Perhaps it seems so to you Nesco, but then you have other concerns to occupy your mind, don't you? You aren't going to stick around and live among the debris of everything that you've wrecked."

She wanted to strike back, but Nesco's throat closed up on her. The noise she made sounded disgustingly like a whimper to her as she turned and ran up the staircase.

She was already crying by the time she made the top landing.

Sheer effort of will kept the ranger going as she lurched towards her bedroom. Joseph apparently wasn't at home- he'd have joined in the attack by now if he had been. Nesco was glad for his absence, but there also seemed to be no sign of Grimdegn. She'd never get to say good-bye to him either and that thought touched off a renewed sob, which she choked off only with great difficulty. She pushed open the door of her room with a shove.

Nesco's father was waiting inside for her.

Sir Alexor Cynewine glanced up from the bulging rucksack lying on Nesco's bed to regard his daughter. It wasn't an easy face to read that the retired knight showed his daughter.

Nesco just stood there. She was no longer crying, but she knew her father could see the tear tracks on her face. He'd probably heard the confrontation below.

Sir Alexor dropped his gaze to the bed again.

"It seems you're ready to leave."

"Yes, Father."

It seemed ages until Nesco could get even those two words out, but time was slowing to an agonizing crawl for the ranger. All the pain and guilt and shame was burrowing into her and waiting for time to stop completely so they could lay in her heart forever.

The head of House Cynewine cleared his throat and looked back up to eye his daughter.

"I warned you to be careful, Nesco."

She didn't understand what he was talking about, but Alexor's next question struck Nesco like a thunderbolt and made everything all too clear.

"Which one of them is it, Nesco? Which one of them has stolen your heart?"

Time stopped completely.

Nesco suddenly realized that she was no longer breathing. She inhaled with considerable effort, but her mouth and throat had gone dry and she coughed with the effort.

Sir Alexor waited until Nesco looked back at him and then continued.

"Is it the wizard? The tall one?" He snapped his fingers. "I don't remember his name, but I saw the way he looked at you."

"No," Nesco croaked out, but she could see in her father's expression that he took this as a blanked denial of his earlier question and looked pityingly at her.

"I was once young Nesco, and not so long ago, either," he said. "Do you think me so blind?"

The ranger was about to sidestep this as she always did, but before she could do so, The Truth leapt out of her.

Nesco couldn't help it. She'd never intended her father to be the first one to know. Yes, there were others who knew or at least suspected- Argo, the late Hengist and who knows who else, but she simply hadn't said anything to them. She wished Helgin was still alive. She could have talked to him. But now two small words were leaking out on their own.

"The paladin."

Sir Alexor's eyebrows rose. "Aslan?"

Nesco nodded mutely, then looked down, too ashamed to meet her father's eyes any longer.

She was aware of her father taking a few small steps toward her.

"Does he know?" he asked, though the inflection in his voice showed he already knew the answer.

Unable to speak, Nesco shook her head. The tears were starting up yet again.

The knight sighed deeply. Nesco looked up. Her vision was clouded by tears again, but she saw Alexor place his hand over his eyes for a moment before withdrawing it and looking back at his daughter.

There was reproach there, to be sure. There was disappointment. But there was also sadness.

"You've burned your bridges behind you in the worst possible way, Nesco. Why didn't you tell Aslan earlier how you felt?"

"Because," she said softly, simply and truthfully, "I was afraid."

"And now the rest of your life rides on a faint hope that he will return your affection?" her father replied, trying but unable to keep anger from seeping into his voice. "Is this the creed of your god Zeus? And what of me? Have I taught you nothing?"

Not knowing where her courage came from, or indeed if it was indeed courage or just a false and foolish pride, Nesco wiped her eyes clear, stood up tall and faced her father squarely. Words as strong and formal as she could make them began to flow.

"You have taught me all that is good, noble and worthy, father. For the shame I have brought upon our family, I am sorry. I hope one day you can forgive me, even if that day does not come until long after I am gone. I have no one to blame for my situation except myself and so I shoulder that burden willingly. If it transpires that Aslan does not feel as I do, then I will cross that bridge. The ones before me are as yet unburnt. Just know that I shall love and honor you always, even if I have lost your favor."

Nesco stood, trembling, her energy spent.

Now she could see the brightness in his eyes. The same as hers; green with a touch of hazel. He walked the remaining few steps until he stood directly before her.

"You will always be my daughter, Nessie."

The memory of that final embrace with her father brought even more tears to Nesco's eyes and pain to her heart, and yet it also carried the memory that despite all that she had done that wounded him, the great Sir Alexor would never abandon his oldest daughter in his heart.

And that did help some.

Someone tapped Nesco on the shoulder from behind.

"Lady Cynewine."

She spun around to stare into the face of a palace guard.

More anxiety set in at once. She had surely done something else wrong. Why else would they send someone from the palace after her? If it was to only deliver a message, they would have used Comitello. Was she due for still more censure, more torment, more-

Then she recognized the man.

Eyes the green of olives stared at her from a bronzed, almost golden face. A strand of black hair peeked from underneath the guard's chainmail coif, and when he smiled the skin on his cheeks stretched the faint scar that ran alongside the right one.

"Plisken!" Nesco gasped, relieved at not only the sight of her brother-in-law, but even more by the fact that he was obviously pleased to have found her.

"I'm glad I caught you, Nesco," the guard said, grasping the ranger's shaking hand and giving it a warm squeeze. He was about to say more when a thought clicked in Nesco's mind and she began scanning the crowd around him. Determining Nesco's idea, Plisken said only, "Yes, she's here," and turned around.

Slipping through the mob just behind them as adroitly as a pickpocket looking to approach a mark was the slender figure of Nesco's sister, Bretagne.

A smile appeared on that narrow face seemingly too thin to hold such a wide grin.

And yet those grey eyes looked so sad.

"Nessie! Oh Nessie!" she half-squealed, half-sobbed as she flung herself into her older sister's arms. They clung tightly together for some time. Even though Nesco had hoped against hope that Bretagne, whom she had always been close to, would not abandon her, the ranger had deemed it too risky to attempt a visit to their home. As it was, it had been almost a whole year since they had seen each other.

Nesco looked back towards Plisken as she separated from Bretagne. "Aren't you on duty now?"

The guard nodded. "I'm having friends cover my post, but I'd best not stretch my luck. "Honeysweet, I'll see you later," he said, giving his wife a quick peck on the cheek as he turned to leave. "Nesco, just know that Bretagne speaks for me as well. You've always been kind to us and if we can help in any way, let us know." Then he was gone, using his uniform to part the crowd as he headed back towards the inner gate.

Nesco turned back to her sister. Bretagne was wearing a simple velvet gown in her favorite color, silver. It had several layers to it, including a fairly wide ruffled skirt, but Bretagne still managed to look slender in it. No doubt the fact that she was a good thirty pounds lighter than Nesco despite being almost the same height had something to do with it.

"Listen, Nessie," Bretagne began, her voice nervous and her eyes darting around the crowd. "The whole palace is abuzz. First there was that incredible mission you completed for the Crown, and then I heard you were about to be knighted for it and then the next thing I know everyone says you've resigned your commission!"

The ranger nodded soberly. "In summary,that's about the case, Bree. I'm sorry, I wish I had time to tell you the whole story-"

"Hush." The twenty year-old held up a disarming hand. "You don't have to explain, Nessie. I know you, and I know you haven't taken leave of your senses. At least, not any more than you usually do," she finished with a wan but sly smile while shoving Nesco's shoulder.

"Gee. Thanks a lot," Nesco responded, playing the old game and returning Bretagne's shove.

"I just came from the house," Bretagne confided, trying to keep her tone low enough not to be overheard but yet loud enough for Nesco to hear her over the din of the crowd. "Mother of course is apoplectic, but what else is new?" She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Father wouldn't say much. I know he's hurt, but he won't speak a word against you." Her face assumed a conspiratorial expression as she leaned in closer. "It has to be a man. Tell me I'm right, Nessie."

Nesco hesitated. She wanted to confide in Bretagne. Indeed, the thought of sharing her Dark Secret with someone else no longer seemed the impossibility it once had now that it had leaked out of her once already, but she was still terrified that it might get back to Aslan before they had even left Chendl. And this was definitely not the place for it.

"I can't give you any details here, Bree. I'll send you a post as soon as I can."

The youngest Cynewine daughter nodded in glum acquiesce, but her eyes held a spark of satisfaction that she had divined the truth. "Don't let anyone stop you, Nessie. Mother tried with me and Plisken, and see where that got her? You've got to take care of yourself first."

"I will," Nesco replied, not quite sure if that was the truth or not. "Where are our brothers? Mother wouldn't let me say good-bye to Lencon."

Bretagne scowled at the ranger's words.

"Can't say I'm surprised. Whenever Lencon's home, she keeps him on a very short leash; won't hardly let him out of her sight. Well, guess what? All three of them left a few hours ago. Their Order unit is heading back to the Vesve. Plisken said they were heading for either Laurellinn or Ironstead. Scuttle is that the orcs and goblins are pressing the Forest Road something fierce."

Nesco tried to swallow but couldn't. Joseph, somewhere between foolhardy and stupid, was bound to jump into the first possibility of combat that presented itself. Especially now. He'd be bound and determined to repair the stain his "traitorous" eldest sister had left on the Cynewine name. Nesco cursed silently. While she despised Joseph wholeheartedly, she didn't want him getting hurt and she certainly didn't want him getting killed. Resurrection was far beyond the means of the Cynewine household.

Grimdegn was still the squire to Sir Juntaros. Perhaps one of several; Nesco had forgotten. He'd look after the teenager. Nesco knew that, but there were still no guarantees. Plenty of squires never lived to see knighthood, dying alongside their masters.

And Lencon? Little Lencon? One of the many pages that attended to both the knights and their squires; out in the Vesve?

It suddenly occurred to Nesco that if she were now a Knight of the Azure Order of The Hart, she'd probably be out with her siblings now. Able to protect them.

And then it occurred to her that Gella knew where all three of her surviving sons were heading.

My god. What must that feel like? They're my brothers, but they're her sons! And then the news about me!

Silently, Nesco Cynewine partitioned a portion of her heart to forgive her mother. She looked up to see a sober expression on Bretagne's face that she knew must mirror her own.

"Take care of yourself first, Nessie," she repeated, giving her sister a quick kiss on the cheek and then shoving her shoulder one last time. "And try not to-"

Bretagne's voice suddenly broke, and her grey eyes shove silver with their unexpected load of tears.

"Try not to get killed again, okay?" she eventually finished, although the earlier trace of humor was long gone.

Nesco shoved her sister's shoulder again.

"Sound tactical advice. Now I know why you never took up the sword."

Bretagne smiled shakily and then turned and walked hurriedly away. Nesco couldn't hear her cry, but the puzzled faces on the commoners who turned their faces to watch the young noblewoman quickly dash by told Nesco the truth.

"At last!" Elrohir exclaimed, thoroughly irritated.

The twelve of them had finally been able to exit the outer gate and extract themselves from the throng waiting patiently- and in some cases not-so patiently- to be interrogated by the gate guards and pay the one copper common fee to enter the city.

The Royal Highway stretched as far as the eye could see towards the west. A good thirty feet wide, it was paved uncommonly well. Furyondy boasted one of the best road networks in the Flanaess, and the Royal Highway, being one of the kingdom's major trade routes, was perhaps the one best maintained, even in winter.

By unspoken agreement, the dozen moved aside to stand against the thirty foot-high smooth stone walls that surrounded the city.

At least, eleven of them did.

Holding the bridle of her new light warhorse tightly, Talass stood about twenty feet away. The priestess was clad in a simple traveler's outfit; leather boots, a woolen skirt, a silk blouse with overlying leather vest and a hooded cloak, all in shades of dark grey or brown. She looked at her closest friends with a sadness that suggested that she shared everyone's worst unspoken dread.

This was it. This was goodbye.

Zantac looked around at the others, then shrugged and walked up to Talass.

The Willip wizard was wearing brand new bright red robes, now accented with an orange chapeau, apparently in homage to Unru's headgear, although the illusionist's hat of disguise currently looked like the black twin to Aslan's new hat.

Talass grasped Zantac's hand and holding it up between them, planted a small kiss upon it.

"Goodbye, Zantac," she said, trying to smile. "Thank you for everything."

The magic-user did not return the smile. "I wanted to make it up to you, Talass," he mumbled.

She looked at him curiously.

"That overgrown stalagmite; remember?" Zantac explained. "It made me attack you. I swore to myself that I would make it up to you. I never got the chance."

"Zantac," Talass said, her face carefully neutral. "Elrohir and I would not be here today if not for you. You were the one who dispatched that monster on the ledge. We never could have made the jump otherwise."

"But," Zantac protested, squirming with actually having to say the dread words. "But- you died."

Now Talass really did smile. She released Zantac's hand and pulled out her silver representation of a bearded man that hung on a chain around her neck.

"With enough faith, even death need not be the end. Remember that, Zantac. Have faith. You may need it."

Now it was the wizard's turn to look curious.

"I suspect difficult times lie ahead for all of them, retirement or no," the cleric explained, her light blue eyes gazing over the mage's shoulder at the knot of people standing by the city walls before returning her gaze to Zantac. "Even more so than for me. Promise me you'll stay with them, Zantac. Be there for Cygnus. Be there for all of them."

Zantac stared at Talass for a moment and then gave a small but gallant bow.

"I promise, Talass. I'll consider that the true payment of my debt," he said solemnly. Then, on an afterthought, the wizard shrugged.

"Besides, someone has to teach these poor people some fashion sense."

Talass laughed out loud despite herself and gave Zantac a quick hug before the wizard returned to his fellows, passing Lady Cynewine coming forward.

"Nesco," Talass took the initiative as she greeted the ranger with a quick hug. "I'm so sorry. When Elrohir gave you our offer, it never occurred to me that you would have to sacrifice so much for us."

"Sacrifice? Who along among us knows the real meaning of that word?" Nesco asked her, a wry but sad smile on her lips.

"Don't belittle yourself," the priestess chided. "My decision seems to loom so large to you all only because you haven't experienced what I did."

For a moment, Talass' eyes seemed to mist up with a faraway look before she refocused them to regard the ranger.

"My god will take care of me. I grieve at what I have to do, but I'm not afraid. And I admit I am glad you're going back with the others to the Brass Dragon."

"I wish you were coming back as well." Nesco couldn't help but speak her heart.

Talass nodded. "I know. I do too, but my path is set. Thank you for everything you've done for us, Nesco. I will miss you as a good and true friend."

The two women exchanged a few more words of parting, hugged briefly, and then Nesco returned to the others. Seeing her returning, Argo Bigfellow Junior took a deep breath and approached the cleric.

"Well, my good lady," the big ranger offered. "I guess this is it."

Talass frowned slightly. She had expected more.

"Don't I get a good-bye hug?" she ventured.

Bigfellow bit his lip, his expression serious. "You know I always believe in speaking my mind."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," replied Talass.

Argo glanced sharply at her but upon seeing the smile on Talass' face broke his own resolve and the ranger smiled back, although sadness quickly infused his grin.

"Elrohir doesn't think he's ever going to hear from you again, much less see you. He won't say it, but I know he feels you're abandoning both him and your son."

"I know," Talass replied wearily, "but my future has been laid out before me."

"Only if you wish it to be," Argo responded quietly. "Assuming Forseti hasn't charmed you, you're free to make your own decisions, and I know you don't really want to go. Sure," he shrugged. "I don't want you to go either. Now I've only got Aslan to annoy, but what I want doesn't and shouldn't factor into this. Only what you want."

"Argo," said Talass, eyeing the big ranger firmly. "Haven't you ever done something you had to do instead of something you wanted to do?"

Bigfellow folded his arms across his chest.

"No."

Talass took a step towards him. "Speaking as a Priestess of Truth, I find that hard to believe. You're too good a person for that."

"My good lady, I have always arranged things so that the thing I wanted to do was the good thing to do."

"Arrangements don't always work out, Argo," she said quietly.

The two stared at each other for a moment and then, with his famous pained smile, Argo embraced her.

"Thank you for being there for me when I needed it," Talass whispered into his shoulder.

Argo knew what she was referring to. That time in the stockade, after Elrohir had been petrified and it looked like all hope was lost.

"And thank you for being there for me," he whispered back. "You've been a true friend, Talass."

They pulled back. "Come and visit Elrohir and me after we've settled down in Rhizia," she said, wiping her tears away.

Argo couldn't even hide the skepticism on his face, but the ranger nodded and backed off, allowing Cygnus to come forward.

"Elrohir owes his life to many people, Cygnus," she told the tall mage, "but no one sacrificed more than you did. Keeping your telekinesis on him as long as you did allowed you to save him, but only at the cost of being struck by Lamonsten's fireball. You might well have died."

Cygnus shrugged. "You would have done the same for us." Then he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at the cleric. "You know, I think we're more alike than either of us might have guessed. We're both willing to do whatever has to be done, no matter what the consequences."

Talass looked back at him in kind. "I have a god to back me up, Cygnus. Whom do you have?"

"Unlike Elrohir, I haven't lost faith, Talass. I still put my trust in the All-Father."

She walked up to the wizard and clasped his arm.

"Then listen to him, Cygnus. All actions have consequences, even for gods. Lord Odin knows this. Remember the tales. I know how badly you want to protect Thorin-"

"I want to protect my son, Talass," Cygnus interrupted, "but that's only half the story." His mouth settled in a tight line. "I also want to be with my son."

The priestess removed her hand and glanced down at the grass beneath their feet.

"I know, Cygnus. And I want to be with mine. It's been so long…"

The mage waited until she had composed herself and looked back up at him.

"You will find what you seek, Cygnus, but let your friends help you in your search." She stood up on tip-toe and planted a kiss on his cheek, the wizard obligingly bending down to make it possible.

"Goodbye, Talass," he said softly.

"Goodbye, Cygnus. Until we meet again."

Cygnus retreated. He saw Tojo visibly hesitate before coming forward.

Before Talass could say anything to the samurai, he stopped, somewhat further away than the others had stood.

And then he bowed. Long, low and deep.

"Domo arigato gozaimos, Tarass-sama," Tojo said, unable to hide the tremor in his voice completely. "You show me right, Tarass, where I think there be onry darkness."

"I will pray for you, Tojo-sama," the cleric replied. "I will pray you find honor and I will pray even harder that you will find happiness."

The samurai lifted an eyebrow at that but said nothing.

"Tad knew you, Tojo," Talass said in a small voice. "He knew how big your heart really is. How much you can offer others; not just as a samurai, but as a man."

She smiled. "Take the best of both worlds, Tojo. I think you know how to do that by now."

So slowly she wasn't sure it was going to happen, Tojo smiled back and then bowed again.

Talass returned the bow. When she stood upright again, Tojo was retreating and Aslan advancing.

Without a word, they embraced.

"Take care of them, Aslan," she said, with almost a note of pleading in her voice.

"Nothing will happen to them as long as I'm around, Talass," the paladin replied softly as they pulled back, "but there may be complications. I had an audience with the king last night and-"

"I can take a guess," Talass cut across him, and by the expression in Aslan's eyes, she knew that she had guessed right. "Is there a specific date?"

"No." Aslan shook his head. "But anytime in the near future will be a bad time, I fear."

The priestess nodded soberly in acknowledgement. "Still, you may be able to turn it to your advantage."

"How?"

She shrugged. "Contacts. You'll have a position of influence you didn't have before. Wheel and deal. You can do it if you have to."

Aslan grunted. "That's more Argo's forte. I'm not very comfortable bartering favors."

Talass smiling. "And yet you've done it more than anyone these past few weeks. Getting us what we needed."

"Yeah," the paladin groused. "Buy now and pay later. Unfortunately, it looks like later is coming sooner than later."

"I have faith in you, Aslan," Talass reminded him, "and so does the High One."

Aslan nodded and gave a tight-lipped smile before asking, "How are you planning on getting home?"

The cleric looked instinctively towards the northeast before replying. "I'll take the Royal Highway east to Grabford and take a boat down the Veng to the Shield Lands. From there, I'll head northeast towards the Duchy of Tenh; either by way of the Artonsamay or overland- I'm not sure yet. From there it's just a quick hop over the Rakers and I'm home."

"That's got to be over a thousand leagues," the paladin stated, before trying, not for the first time, a different approach. "Are you sure you just won't let me teleport you home? I worship the Aesir as well! I'm sure they wouldn't-"

But Talass cut him off. "You're a known friend of Elrohir, Aslan. I can't risk having my arrival start off on the wrong foot. Besides, I think the Justice Bringer wants me to head home on my own. Perhaps he feels the journey will cleanse me; prepare me for what lies ahead."

"And what does lay ahead, Talass?"

She sighed and gave him a weak smile.

"That, even I don't know. But Forseti has given me another sign."

Rather than elaborating, Talass suddenly hugged him again. "May all the blessings of the Aesir be upon you, Aslan."

The paladin wanted to reply but suddenly words failed him.

But apparently, none were needed. For an instant, it seemed to Aslan as if Talass wanted very much to tell him something more, but then the priestess shook her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Aslan returned to the others. Now everyone was looking at Elrohir.

Each step a mile, the ranger approached his wife. Eventually, they stood facing each other.

It seemed to Elrohir that he was looking at someone different now.

"We will be together again soon, dearest," Talass urged him. "Please, don't let our parting be like this."

"What about Barahir?" Elrohir asked in a calm, cold voice. "Are you going to leave without even saying goodbye to your son?"

Talass' eyes filled with tears.

"I can't," she said tremulously. "I'd never be able to face him and then leave."

"I should have Aslan go and bring him here then," Elrohir countered.

His wife looked as if he had struck her.

"Why are you like this, dearest?" she cried. "Have I not done everything to explain to you how I must-"

"-and yet your decision not to see your son before you go is based on what you want, not what your god wants, Talass!" he shot back. "Yet with your own husband, divine rule must prevail?"

Talass actually leaned against the flank of her horse to support herself. She buried her face in the animal's mane and wept.

Elrohir turned around. Argo Bigfellow had come up behind him.

"I know you love her," he said, quietly enough so that Talass could not hear.

"Be quiet," snapped back Elrohir, his eyes not leaving his wife.

"Go with her," the big ranger pressed on, undaunted. "If she says no, then follow her. The Fruztii are no match for you now, anyway. Make them accept you. Damn the gods and make your own future! If your true love slips away, you won't find another!"

"I can make them accept me," Elrohir replied tersely, "but they'll never accept Talass as High Priestess with me around causing trouble. I know Talass will succeed in her task and be appointed."

"And then?" Argo hissed. "If she calls for you, will you come, or will you let this wound that you inflict upon yourself cripple you forever?"

Elrohir waved him off angrily, then called out, "Talass!"

She turned her face, wet now with tears towards him.

He didn't know what to say. Always, Elrohir didn't know what to say.

He knew what he wanted to say. There were a thousand things he wanted to say.

Yes, he wanted to rage at her. He wanted to tell her not to do this. Tell her to abandon her god in order to stay with her family. Tell her that she had already sacrificed enough; her very life. If he, Elrohir, could retire from his chosen profession, then so could she.

And in the same breath, he also wanted to tell her how much he loved her. Despite all the frustrations and hard times they had suffered together, they had loved each other; enough to produce a son they both loved dearly. Flesh of their flesh. Loved enough to plan a future. A future together.

Talass waited.

"Send word," Elrohir said, then turned around and walked away.

By the time he had reached the others and turned around, his wife had mounted her horse and was riding off, heading northwards along the city wall. He knew she would turn right at the corner guard tower and soon be lost to sight. Even as the ranger watched, he saw her urge her horse from a cantor into a gallop.

Then she was gone.

And as always, Elrohir found the right words too late.

"Goodbye, dearest."