Rworg makes a noncommittal sound and turns the meat over. "Still a bit longer. We will leave once we have eaten."

"Leave where!? Do what? How can we mend a… leak in magic?" I shout. My tolerance for the preposterous and the impossible has risen a lot since I saw Lictor for the first time, but I'm not so far gone that this wouldn't shock me. Neither Rworg nor I know anything about magic. Lictor licks his lips, hand still lingering on his temple. Ah, right, it doesn't matter we don't know magic. I don't enjoy the idea of going on a mission with Lictor, but with the power he has, nothing would be able to challenge us. "You would be coming with us? We would escort you there, and you do whatever needs to be done?"

"No, I won't," he says. "It's all on you."

"Better that way," Rworg says, flipping over a drumstick. "We will face—"

"Absolutely not!" I grab hold of Lictor's tunic, pulling him toward me. I'm so shocked, I don't even know what to say. My mouth opens and closes as I want to shout at his face, but I take a breath and slowly let go of his tunic, letting him sit back down.

"Ahem," he says, smoothing out his clothes. "The problem is that any real mage can't approach the site. The mana runs so thick that it activates even the memories of runes. People burst into flames, turn into stone, or get flung into the sky, sometimes at the same time."

I sit down. At least the meat smells good. "But we're going to be fine?"

"Neither you nor Rworg know any runes, and you are both especially unattuned to magic. Finna will probably get a headache, but she should be safe otherwise."

"You are certain we can heal her?" Rworg asks. He portions off the meat on three plates Lictor brought with him in his saddlebags. There are even knives and forks and small white cloth squares to place on the ground below them. I can practically see the wizard in Tenorsbridge packing the things for him, wearing a conical hat and an apron, making his best guess what a person needs on a 20-hour ride to the border.

"Nothing is certain at the moment. But it's her best chance. I will explain the concept along the way. We can travel together, and we'll have plenty of time for explanations." Lictor looks at his hands, rubs the pads of his fingers against each other. "I know I have made such promises to you before, in this world or another. This time I have no quick way out, no situations I could align to interrupt the questions, no omissions that I have made sure pass by without notice."

Rworg passes him a plate, but looks at me while talking. "The sooner you stop explaining yourself and start explaining the rest, the sooner Folke and I will decide what will be our path."

Fine. I accept a plate from him as well. The meat smells amazing, thick with Kertharian spices, the only spices we still have left, with the rest being frozen in time. It's been such a long time since I ate. Lictor brought a loaf of bread, and Rworg tears it into large chunks, sweeping up the oil and juices still left on the pan with them.

Lictor smells the meat. "Star anis? Saffron? They told me the trip would be worth it, and they were right." A familiar gleam appears in his eyes, his tone reverent. "I have a keg of beer with me. The one thing I packed myself."

There's comfort in the oddest of things. I chew, savoring the gamey and lean meat, strong and stringy. If this were a story, I'd be excited to hear what the next adventure is going to be. Rworg pulls the stopper out from the small keg and smells at it. At least Lictor doesn't have gold chalices or something equally silly, but two sturdy wooden mugs.

Lictor waves a hand at the mugs and the plates. "Please. Drink, enjoy. I'll talk while you do, but let me eat just a bit first."

Lictor licks the platter, then wipes his hands on the white cloth. "You can guess the generics of what happened. The border region bore the brunt of the attack, even if some Kertharian advance forces managed to cut deeper into Velonea. Most of the Kertharians that made it to our side weren't organized forces. Just villages or communities that decided to pick up the nearest weapons to attack the nearest settlements they knew about."

He scratches at his chin, then moves his hand to cover a yawn. "Families from grandparents to grandkids, farming communities from farmers to farmhands, guard posts with the cooks and the stable hands fighting side to side with the soldiers." He shakes his head. "Senseless, utterly senseless. We know there would have been more organized forces arriving soon, but you managed to do what you did in time. You saved both us and them."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I take a drink as I listen. Unlike the thin and bitter beer I got at the Wily Wizard, this beer is excellent. It's dark and thick, slightly sweet. It tastes like coffee and brown sugar. Just like Durn made, back home. I didn't know eating bread and drinking beer could be something that almost moves me to tears. It feels like it has been an era, instead of a week, since I ate something else than gamey meat, hard tack, and yellow fruit. Lictor's praise doesn't even register, as I focus on ripping a piece of bread into two, lifting it to my nose to take a whiff.

"The stakes changed the course of the war. Magic became harder and harder to use with every stake. Spells became unstable, more difficult, and risky to use. Channeling more taxing. It made the Kertharian mages even more dangerous, as they ignored the risk. At least some blew up themselves." Lictor rolls his eyes and leans back to rest on his hands.

I stop with the mug touching my lips. "Mandollel didn't say anything about that."

"The elf would not have admitted having trouble. Too proud," Rworg says.

"Or he has lived through even more turbulent times and knew how to manage the situation," Lictor says. "The rest of us do not. Flying is out of the question at the moment. Otherwise, I would have been here sooner. I'm sorry."

It's true the auroras reacted to the flying Kertharian mages, and even Mandollel's sword sparked and crackled at the end. Lictor looks genuinely sorry. I look away from him, before I start to believe it, gazing into the mug and the almost black beer.

Lictor sighs, then continues talking. "The Mountain Ride is still being used to keep up with what happens in Velonea, but the toll is starting to show. Now that the threat of the Kertharians has passed, people are less willing to risk the side effects and spend months reliving days." His voice sounds bitter, scornful.

Rworg frowns. "Janitor, why does—"

"I'm no longer a Janitor!" Lictor snaps, then continues in a quieter voice. "I am lost, discarded. But I will still do what I must to save this world, again and until the next crisis." He glances at me, eyes burning below his brows, his voice a hiss. "You have bought us a respite, but at a high price. And the rest of the cost will be due in thirty years. For everyone's sake, I hope we will be ready to pay it at that point."

I take a drink, savoring the thick malty taste of the beer. Now this is more what I hoped for. It might be childish, but he played me, lied to me, tried to get a whole nation killed. I tried, but I can't keep just ignoring it. "What were you going to ask, Rworg?"

Rworg swallows. He didn't see him fight Corum to keep a secret, didn't get his pockets picked by him, didn't get manipulated by him time and time again. Rworg nods at me, making his decision. "Why does this concern us? We will do what is required to save the thief, but…"

Lictor drags his eyes off me, schools his face into a neutral expression. "You mean, why don't they solve this just by using The Mountain Ride? The simple answer is that they can't. The location is inaccessible. Reaching it is barely possible during a single Ride, but even that is not the problem. The disturbance is so strong, going there on a Ride poses risks. To the person on the Ride and to the world. You will understand when you get there."

I don't even correct him, say "if we get there." I'm tired. I want to go home and loiter in the kitchen and tell Durn how I saved Velonea and watch him snort and scoff. I want Ral to pat me on the back and for Bann to listen with eyes wide to my stories. I want Lille to say I did good. And yet, I know I can't just leave.

Finna deserves to go home too.

Lictor is asleep. He kept yawning so much that Rworg told him to lie down. He started snoring before I had time to argue with him about new vague explanations and new promises of understanding things later. Maybe it's for the best, as the beer went straight to my head. I couldn't have paid attention to the explanation anyway, or would have just said something that I'd regret later. "After everything, I still can't completely hate him. He put together our team, did what he felt was necessary. Our difference is that for him, the end justified any means. Us, not them. Every choice, large or small, unburdened by morals or other unnecessary scruples. Yet, what else is life than choices? Lictor can't say that the only results matter because every step along the way matters as much. The final destination doesn't exist, as after that, there will only be more steps, more means. And—"

Rworg pats me on the shoulder. "Folke, it is time to go to sleep."

"Oh, right," I say. I didn't realize I was thinking aloud. My cheeks blush, and I stumble as I stand up.

Rworg reaches a hand to grab me in case I fall. "Drink some water."

Maybe. Maybe I should. When we were in the desert, we nearly ran out of water. The best thing about the desert was that there were no teratomes. Otherwise, it was the worst.

I really hope the place where Lictor is sending us won't have teratomes.

In the morning, even the sunlight sounds loud.

"Slept well?" Rworg booms. He clangs pots and cutlery together, banging them against each other. "Lictor has brought provisions! We will eat well!"

"Do you have to?" I say, crawling out from under the pine I have slept. There are needles on my face, my hair, and inside my shirt.

"Ha!" Rworg says.

I wince and squint my eyes against the sunlight. The day is beautiful, birds chirp and tweet and screech. Rworg has a fire going—a real fire. I gaze up at the smoke and realize it doesn't matter anymore. We're not in hostile territory anymore.

"Morning," Lictor says. He's sitting on the ground, gazing at the clouds. "I have discussed the route with Rworg already. Once we have eaten, I'll guide you to the Monolith."

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