Another early morning found the Myth Seekers, this time standing outside the gate as the sun came up over the horizon. It was a hot, dry day, but in the coming weeks the summer would transition to fall, bringing rain to the river and its valley.

  A cloud of dust in the distance was the first indication of the caravan’s approach, but soon the wagons could be seen. At least a dozen of them evenly split between fully enclosed boxes and open flats. Pairs of horses pulled each one, a slow and steady plod forward that the animals could keep up for hours.

  Another five riders positioned themselves at the front, back, and flanks of the wagon train. Bows and swords marked them as another adventuring team, likely working a [Quest] of their own.

  Neither Raith nor Thea were speaking to Tolliver, and an awkward silence hung over the team as they waited for the caravan to reach them.

  “I’m a spy too, you know,” Zinny said conversationally.

  Everyone turned to stare at her with incredulous looks. She returned the looks in equal measure.

  “What? I thought we were allowed to say now. It was just too boring to stay invisible, so I joined the team. You were absolutely right to tell them, Tolliver. It is much more fun to be a spy this way.”

  The noble gave a panicked looked and shook his head vehemently.

  “I assure you, I have no idea what she’s talking about. Zinny, please don’t bring me into this.”

  Raith knew Zinny had been following them before she approached him to join, and that she almost certainly had other motives. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it. He’d asked the pixie to leave several times since yesterday evening, and she blithely pretended she didn’t understand him. Thea insisted he stop, saying that it was an honor to have attracted the interest of the fae.

  Looking at the irritating pixie on her absurd dragon, it didn’t feel much like an honor.

  One of the front riders broke off and galloped ahead towards them, saving Raith from having to address the fae’s remarks. As the rider grew closer, Raith could see she wore a fine suit of chain armor and a rapier on her hip. A crossbow dangled from one side of the huge, white steed and a quiver of bolts secure to the other. The woman gave them a fist to chest salute as she pulled her horse up.

  “The Myth Seekers?”

  Raith stepped forward.

  “Yes. I’m Captain Raith Quirric.”

  “Gerta bel Stanton, Capitan of the Troublemakers.”

  Raith knew of the gold ranked team and their rebellious noble Capitan. Nearly everyone in Tethia knew of Gerta’s famous duel with her father and subsequent disinheritance.

  “It’s an honor, ma’am.”

  Gerta gave a wry smile.

  “Tell me if you still think that in a few weeks’ time. You have no mounts?”

  Raith shook his head no, but Zinny spoke up.

  “I do!”

  The woman looked at her in surprise, as if seeing her for the first time. Which, for all Raith knew, it was. The fae had a peculiar knack for going unnoticed when she chose.

  “Is that a pixie?”

  “It is,” Raith confirmed.

  “And will it be coming with us?”

  Raith nodded.

  “She’s on my team.”

  “I’m the archer!”

  “I see.” Gerta frowned before turning her attention back to Raith. “The Troublemakers are responsible for caravan security, and I expect you to follow my lead in the event of an attack. Understood?”

  “Of course, ma’am. We don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. Do you know which wagon we are meant to be guarding?”

  She pointed towards a covered wagon near the back of the train. It was one of the smaller ones, but tall and finely crafted. Even from here, he could see the etched rune phrases in the dark wood.

  “Your counterpart is inside. Doesn’t come out much, and isn’t the friendliest of sorts when he does. Come see me after we break for camp tonight and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team. Good luck.”

  With another salute and a dubious look at Zinny, she resumed her spot at the front of the caravan. A short time later, the train pulled up next to the city and a small group went through the gates to get supplies while everyone else waited.

  “Let’s go meet this guy,” Raith said, heading off towards the rune-etched wagon.

  The driver sat beneath a retractable tarp that overhung her perch behind the horses. It was a luxury few of the other wagons had. The driver herself was an older woman with short gray-brown hair and a sun worn face. She wore comfortable riding clothes and tall leather boots. Although she had no obvious weapons, Raith didn’t miss the wand sitting casually on her hip.

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  “Excuse me, ma’am. We’re the Myth Seekers and supposed to help guard this wagon.”

  She gave him an easy smile.

  “Name’s Cross, and this is my rig.” She patted the wagon, then jerked a thumb behind her. “That’s Pridian back there. Not sure what they needed you lot for with him along, but he’s who you’ll need to talk to.”

  She turned and opened a sliding window on the wall behind her that Raith hadn’t noticed before, even with his [Hawksight].

  “Hey Priddy boy, I got the Myth Seekers out here.”

  The deepest, growliest voice Raith had ever heard came rumbling through the opening.

  “I have told you repeatedly not to call me that. I shall be there in a moment.”

  The wagon rocked as something heavy shifted within, then the steel-banded door in the back creaked open. The entire team took an involuntary step back when a whyver emerged. Said to be the closest of the dragon-kin to True Dragons, whyver were fierce, solitary creatures. To the extent that they involved themselves in human affairs, it was usually as landbound representatives of the Merdragon Empire.

  Pridian was over seven feet tall, with obsidian scales and a hint of the red undersides showing around the edges of each one. Huge wings unfolded and stretched as he cleared the doorway. The wings framed an absurdly massive sword strapped across his back, and he wore black steel armor with dark red accents to match his scales.

  Reptilian eyes appraised them as the Myth Seekers stood there wide eyed and mute.

  “You will call me Pridian. I do not know why your Duke has chosen to send you on this journey, nor why my employer has agreed to this foolishness, but I do not approve. My protection is more than sufficient, and your presence only draws attention to our asset.” He raised a taloned finger. “Understand this, human. I am here to represent the interests of the MerScales Bank. I am not on your side. Should you find yourself in danger, do not expect my help unless it serves to protect the asset.”

  Raith wasn’t sure what to say to any of that, and just sort of stood there feeling like an idiot. With a slight bow of his head, the whyver turned around and retreated back into his lair.

  Thea was the first to recover.

  “Knotted gods. He's kind of an asshole, right?”

  Cross let out a bark of laughter.

  “He sure is, young lady. Now I see you kids don’t have mounts, so you can take turns sitting next to me so long as you follow the rules.”

  “What are the rules?” Raith asked.

  “Just two. Laugh at all my jokes and don’t bother me. Keep those in mind and we’ll get along fine.”

  The caravan made good time on the first day, and the Seekers settled into a comfortable rotation of walking and riding next to Cross. Tolliver found the ceiling of a cargo wagon to tuck away in as a bat, and could be seen emerging to fly periodic rounds, but otherwise kept to himself.

  They broke to camp for the night in a clearing where there was room for the wagons to circle up defensively. Director Sukash briefly introduced herself as the woman in charge from the Caravaner’s Guild, but she was too busy organizing camp and getting the cooks moving to stay and chitchat.

  A fire was set up in the center, and everyone not responsible for some other duty began to gather around and socialize. Most of the wagons were merchants, including a dwarven group down from Kingsforge who knew of Thea’s mother. Satyrs were uncommon residents in the citadels.

  Gerta introduced the three members of her crew who weren’t on guard duty, but everyone was a bit standoffish. It took Raith a while to realize that the Myth Seekers presence here was an unwelcome surprise, especially as agents of the Duke.

  Pelligrine, the Troublemaker’s [Rogue], moved with an ease that belied his too-thin frame. His manner made Raith suspect him as a Thieves Guild member, so he took a risk and flashed his Guild medallion. A sharp grin and Pelligrine flashed his own before stalking over to have a seat.

  “Wouldn’t have figured a Duke’s man to be in the Guild. Joined in Beckhaven, then?”

  “I’m a Journeyman, although I don’t expect to climb much farther. Hard to focus on both as an adventurer.”

  Pelligrine nodded sagely.

  “You don’t need to tell me. Twenty years and I’m only a rank above you as an Operative. Came up in Dunhall, and I don’t mind saying the politics just weren’t for me. Better life with this crew, where if a blade is out there waiting for me at least I’ll see it coming.”

  The rest of the Troublemakers loosened up with their [Rogue]’s approval, and the smell of dinner brought the stragglers out to the center of camp. One of the largest wagons had looked strangely familiar, and when its occupants finally emerged, he knew why.

  “Figbert?”

  The short, immaculately groomed man’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Gerard, look! It is our erstwhile cellmate. The gallant scholar, Raith.”

  Both men rushed over and gave him hearty, back-slapping hugs. It was a bit more than he felt their relationship warranted, but they seemed so sincerely pleased to see him that he didn’t discourage it.

  “You look marvelous, young man. I daresay this leather armor suits you. And who are your friends? Randy gods, is that a pixie?”

  He bent into a low, sweeping bow.

  “An honor to meet a True Fae, my lady.”

  Zinny giggled and blushed.

  “Oh, I like this one. And so handsome.”

  Raith made introductions while a line formed up for dinner. He soon found himself shuffling slowly forward in front of Terra, who seemed considerably less pleased to see him than Figbert had been.

  “How are you liking it with the players?”

  She rolled her eyes. He’d forgotten how irritating that was.

  “Did my mom send you? Because I’m not going back.”

  He shook his head in vehement denial.

  “What? No. I haven’t seen your mother since leaving Beckhaven, and last time I did she nearly bit my head off for introducing you to these guys.”

  Terra relaxed visibly at this and offered a small smile.

  “She really has a way with words when she’s mad. Comes with being a [Bard].” She shrugged. “I love this life. The stage is all I was ever meant for.”

  The woman standing behind her, who Raith recognized as another member of the troupe, spoke up.

  “Our beautiful Terra isn’t wrong about that. She's a natural. Next year, we’ll be back in Beckhaven filling up the stadium.”

  Terra blushed at the compliment and quickly changed the subject.

  “Gerard wrote you into his play, you know. It’s a small part, but I thought you’d like to know.”

  Now it was Raith’s turn to blush.

  “I’d heard something and wanted to ask about that, but wasn’t sure how without sounding overly vain.”

  The other woman laughed and gestured around to the other players.

  “You could never hope to match the vanity of our little troupe.”

  A lot of preening and tossing of hair accompanied her declaration, followed by a round of laughter. It ended abruptly as an enormous shadow passed by overhead.

  They all looked up in alarm to see Pridian returning to his lair with a dead deer hanging limply from his mouth. He landed out of sight on the other side of his wagon, but they could all clearly hear the crunching of bones and rending of flesh as the whyver consumed his meal. It was thankfully over quickly, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the creak and slam of the steel banded door.

  This was going to be an interesting journey.

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