I have to admit, it was canny of Darka to ask to get some sheet music, Zia thought, as she sipped at lichen soup. The last several inns we’ve stayed at have been much more receptive than the first now that we’re singing “traditional” hymns. In her typical fashion, Zia included herself in the efforts of anyone she considered a member of her team, although she was not herself singing. It would stifle Darka’s efforts if more than one of us sang. It’s not as though more singers gets us more rooms, when she sings all evening. Zia rolled her shoulders, stiff from sleeping on the floors of the inns.

  They had experienced actual snow as they approached the center of the sphere, a rarity in the warm swamps of Dragold, but not entirely outside their experience. It was very cold until they were able to buy wool overcoats at the next inn, and Zia reflected that the Daring Kaliskast had never expressed any issues with the un-Dragold weather in his adventures. Also that wool coats were expensive.

  Acting like a woman much younger than her age, Zidrist pelted Darka with handfuls of snow until she retaliated, and the two of them ran back and forth while Zia and Drexl continued at a sedate pace. I wish Drexl and I could frolic like that. It looks like fun. She made eye contact with Drexl and raised an eyebrow, but she just shook her head. But she smiled first. What does it mean that she smiled first? Is she considering it? Should I pelt her and see? I’ll do that. I’ll pelt her with some snow. As Zia bent over to get a handful of snow, she received a scoop of it down the back of her leather armor. She shrieked and turned to see Drexl chortling. There was no other word for it, she was chortling. A nasty little chuckle or guffaw. “What in calamity, Drexl?!” I was just going to hit her in the… okay, I was probably going to aim for an ear.

  “You mad? Get even then.” Drexl stood with arms spread wide, her chest the obvious target. Zia bent over to get some snow… and Drexl pelted the back of her neck with another handful of snow! Zia shrieked, then hurriedly scooped up an armload of snow and flung it at Drexl, who blocked most of it with her arms, laughing. “Nice try, Zia!”

  After the ensuing snowball fight, in which Zidrist sided with Drexl and Darka sided with Zia, they were late getting to the next inn, each being approximately a day’s travel apart. They had all gotten at least one handful of snow dumped down their coat, Drexl being the last, and a group effort as Zia and Darka restrained her and Zidrist turned on her to dump a double handful down the front of her coat. As such, they were all quite cold, and when they were told that they were too late to perform for room and board, Zia did not hesitate to pull out her dwindling supply of silver to pay for both. They were rewarded with some kind of melon, roasted, and game fowl, similarly roasted, possibly the former inside the latter, but it was outside Zia’s experience.

  After that, they made a disciplined effort to avoid shenanigans until after the next inn was in sight. They passed on through snow, back to freezing, lichen-covered desert, and finally arrived at another monolithic gate. The flames, which had lit the night sky, were a counterpart to incredible winds on the far side, whipping up sand even through the two walls. They hurried on through, hot sand being low on Zia’s priority list to have blown into her face. Not, I suppose, that it’s any more a favorite of any of my Heirrors. Inside the gate, there was a definite breeze, but on the far side it was a constant gale. Visibility was poor, how are we going to keep a straight path when the sun is nothing but a dull haze in the sky?! Drexl startled as they passed a stack of rocks. Already irritable with anxiety, Zia snapped, “What? It’s a stack of rocks.”

  “It’s a cairn. They use them as guides on the moors.”

  Drexl knows a word I don’t? That’s a first. “What’s a cairn?”

  “A stack of rocks used to mark a path. I don’t know that it will lead east, but it’ll lead somewhere.”

  “Such as into a tourist trap?” Darka suggested cheerfully. Zidrist shook her head with an indulgent smile. I’d like to share looks like that with someone. The closest I’ve come to that was the snow fight with Drexl. Which, to be fair, was fun.

  “They’ve got a… whatchamacallit, government here? Kings or Queens or something? I doubt they’d stay standing long. We should feel for when we’re going uphill, they’re usually at the tops of hills.”

  “How do I tell a hill from a dune?” Zia asked, disgruntled to have Drexl once more being more useful than her obsessive reading of the Daring Kaliskast.

  “A whotamawhat now?”

  “Uh… like, a hill of sand, which moves with the wind.” Not my most articulate moment. But I remember in The Lair of the Djinn there were sand dunes but I got the meaning mostly from inference.

  “All I know is, we follow the high places to the rocks, we follow the rocks to get… somewhere.” She was so prepared to be helpful and then she—no, that’s not fair. She’s being helpful. This will get us somewhere, and if it is a tourist trap like Darka suggested… I’ll set it on fire. Honestly, if Drexl hadn’t noticed the cairn we’d probably already by lost.

  “Great job, Drexl. If you hadn’t noticed that… I mean, I thought the pile of rocks was odd, but I didn’t have any other thoughts on it. I’ve never gone out on the moors,” Zidrist said.

  “Yeah, and while I have, it’s never been far enough that I needed to know what the stacks of rocks were for,” Darka added.

  Everyone looked at Zia. “…definitely a great job, thank you,” Zia concluded lamely. Sarx it, I should have been the one to say what Zidrist said. Except she admitted ignorance. Ouroboros always know… except I already said I didn’t know what a cairn was. Sarx! Sarx sarx sarx!

  Drexl came up to Zia and clapped her on the shoulder. “Hey. It’s always rough being the last one to offer a compliment. Thanks for the effort. Now come on, it’s going to be slow going and we need to make it to the inn in time for Darka to perform.” Drexl is such a kind person. I mean, I knew she was nice, she became my friend, but—I’m friends with bread? When did that happen? I mean, not that anyone out here is going to know. I couldn’t bring her to a Society ball but there haven’t been those since the civil war started and then she’ll probably be elevated to ouroboros for her role in assisting me.

  It was, mercifully, just as it was beginning to get dark and cold that a walled city loomed in the distance. “Distance” being a relative term when we can barely see a hundred yards. It had walls of mud brick, and a more conventional gate of wood rather than being a gaping opening in a strange elemental wall. There was a small door in one side of it, and a woman standing guard outside it. She had a small table next to her, on which sat a scale. Great. Tolls. “Darka? Go talk to her, try to charm our way into town.”

  “Don’t be too charming, you’re mine!” Zidrist called, and they both laughed gaily. Sigh.

  It was not long—though it was too long in this perpetual sandstorm—before Darka returned. “She’s got scales. We’re paying a toll. She says I can busk inside if I want to trade music for money.”

  “Ooh, like the dancer Issa did in Daring Kaliskast and the Yawning Void!” Everyone looked bemusedly at Zia. “What? Am I the only one who reads here?”

  Drexl threw a hand up. “Reading is slow and difficult.”

  Darka said, “Mostly hymns and the church bulletins, I prefer to sit and listen.”

  Zidrist rounded things out with, “I do, but not broadsides like Daring Kaliskast, which I’m guessing is a copper dreadful?”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “I mean, it’s valid literature. It uses words like ‘busk’ and stuff…”

  “I’m sure it is. It’s just not something I’ve read.”

  ”Alright. Let’s pay our way in and consider doing some ‘busking.’ Did she happen to tell you the name of the city?”

  Darka called over her shoulder. Sarx it, I should be leading! “She said it’s called Perimeter! Also, from what I saw it is mostly mud brick, so you shouldn’t have any issues not burning things down, leader darling!” Darling? She’s calling me darling? What does that mean? She’s clearly attached to Zidrist. Is it a friend thing? Do friends call each other “darling”? I guess they must. Maybe I could call Drexl “darling” sometime. She looked over at Drexl, who caught her eye, cocked her head, then gave a gentle shake of her head. Okay, maybe not. Am I that obvious?

  Drexl leaned close after Zia had paid their entry tolls. “Leader darling, in your defense, you only burned down the one building, that I know of. You’ve just offered more than once.” I didn’t mean to burn down the mansion! The guy with the sword startled me and the next thing I knew everything was on fire! Zia wailed mentally. I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to! “Hey, relax. If you’re going to obsess over something, try to figure out what it means that I called you ‘leader darling,’ not over a few deaths. Lives end. The One God sorts them out.” You know, that’s a good point. She called me “darling” after practically reading my mind… I’m not subtle, I guess. But she’s being subtle, I don’t know what it means that she jokingly called me that! Probably nothing, given that she called attention to it, right? She’d be shy if it had been flirting.

  “I only burned down the mansion in pursuit of a favor so that we could find the God-King’s heir,” Zia said eventually. “I never meant to kill all those people. And it was for a good cause. The best cause.”

  “I know that. Zidrist knows that. Darka knows that. You really think two clerical types would set out into the unknown with a mass-murdering loose cannon? They think it was justifiable or they’re bigger hypocrites than I think they are.”

  “Mass-murdering loose cannon?”

  “Zia, I’m saying that’s what you’re not. Please, take some breaths.” Oh One God, I killed so many people. I never meant to kill anyone. Drexl said something, but Zia’s world was becoming a dark tunnel. They were likely just bread, but Drexl is bread, and she matters, what if they mattered to someone? What if someone who mattered cared about them and then they mattered and the criminal was probably wane or even hunger, the higher-ranking criminals often are, breeding shows and crime is a pastime for bored nobles. “Zia! We’re off the topic of fire.” Drexl shook Zia by the shoulders. “Come play mediator, I made a point and Zidrist won’t answer it.” That sounds fun. Drexl is so kind.

  “I have answered it. Izkarzon was both fully God and fully dragon.”

  “But I thought that was the Savior’s schtick. Is there a savior of the abominations that possess reason? A savior of beetles? There’s a lot of beetles, as someone who lives in a dirt floor hut I can tell you.”

  “Izkarzon was crowned by the Savior and imbued with a portion of His divine power.”

  “So Izkarzon was fully dragon and partially God,” Zia said, when Drexl looked perplexed.

  “Exactly! What Zia said!”

  “Besides, doesn’t Fief…” Zia scratched her head thoughtfully. “Don’t they have a Black Queen or something who’s supposed to have been invested with divine power to run the One God’s Church on Orth?”

  “That’s the Holy Spirit, dearie.” Darka kissed Zidrist’s cheek. “Going to go haggle with the barkeep. Play nice with the youngins.” What a sweet moment. Still I think Drexl breaking me out of my spiral was nicer. She was right, I’m not a mass murderer. I didn’t mean to, and we only know I killed the thug we were stealing from. It’s not like I barred the door. Zia winced. Like I suggested doing at the inn. Maybe I’m not the adventurer I’d like to be, the Daring Kaliskast kills a lot of people.

  Drexl rested her elbows on her knees and leaned towards Zidrist. “So Izkarzon had the Holy Spirit in Him, does that make Him divine? Should I not be mentally emphasizing His, uh… the words for Him?”

  “Pronouns,” Zia said absently.

  Zidrist crossed her arms. “The Church of Izkarzon says that Izkarzon was fully God and fully dragon.”

  “Like the Savior,” Drexl replied.

  “I… yes.”

  “But He wasn’t the Savior, because He didn’t die for our sins, He died at the hands of a very short woman we call the Dragonslayer. And then everything went to sarx.”

  “The Savior died at the hands of humans too.”

  “What did Izkarzon die for, then? If the Savior already died for our sins, what was left? More sin? I’ve seen a lot of sinning since He died, maybe we needed two sacrifices?”

  “No, the Savior was the perfect sacrifice. I…” Zidrist flustered.

  Zia spoke up again. “What if… please don’t excommunicate me, but what if… Izkarzon was not God?”

  “I mean, if He was the One God, couldn’t have not have been killed?” Drexl asked.

  Zidrist shook her head. “The Savior was fully One God but He died. But Izkarzon… the Church taught that He would reign forever. That His kingdom would come to fill the Orth.”

  “It still can, we’re going to find His heir. We’re the Heirrors, sarx it!” Zia proclaimed.

  “Speaking of Draconic verbiage that sounds unfortunate in Loon, there is a one… heretical school of thought on Izkarzon,” Zidrist said. “That what is a more accurate translation of His title would be ‘Godly King,’ not ‘God-King.’ Just food for thought.”

  Darka walked in and cut in cheerfully. “Either way, an heir will stabilize both the country and the Church. Let the theologians decide whether She’s a God-Queen or a Godly Queen.”

  “Darka, dearest, I’m a theologian. I’m a deacon.” I mean, you’re a hunger and the real discourse will be settled by priestesses and ouroboros but… wait, she’ll be ouroboros for finding the heir. It’s so confusing when you can’t count on caste to tell you a person’s place. I feel downright shy around the people in the inns because I can’t tell how I should relate to them. In Sasson by now I’d have made out with somebody.

  “And you’ll masterfully discourse on the subject of the God-Queen’s divinity, I have no doubt. Now I have to go sing. Don’t let discourse ruin whatever meal we get when they like my songs.”

  Gift of Grace

  Mmm, faith

  Mmm, hope

  Mmm, peace

  Trust, love.

  All that’s right, Godly trust

  Ask of Him—can’t ask too much.

  God cares for me—ooh

  God up above.

  Ooh I love His—ah ah ah

  Gracious love

  Gracious love.

  He can see the world

  And all the creatures in it

  He loves them from on high

  In each and every village

  Forgiven all they’ll ever do

  In each and every minute

  And someday soon,

  We’ll have to account for it!

  God is good, has no use for money

  Gather gold all you like, can’t buy Heaven, honey.

  God cares about how much you gave

  He doesn’t care what you had, how you plied your trade.

  Don’t get down, don’t be afraid

  God forgives us all in His Grace

  Every sin, every waste

  He forgives us yet again!

  And as a sinner, you might say sweet,

  But you’re wrong! By knowledge of His gift

  You can only say, “that’s not me any more.

  I find gluttony sloth and lust frankly are a bore.”

  And sinful human beings

  Will never understand

  The sublime beauty

  Of God’s flawless and perfect plan.

  And what a beautiful planet

  He has provided

  For mortals who are in tune

  With His Will to guide it.

  Forgive me one more time

  Forgive me twice~! Oh! Ah! Ohhhh!

  That’s rather nice.

  God cares for me—ooh

  God up above.

  Ooh I love His—ah ah ah

  Gracious love