Lucy shook her head. “That is up to you. If you want to, and if you can, then go ahead.” She turned her gaze back, staring into Sally’s eyes. “But if you can’t, well… as long as you’re both alive, there is always another chance.” Then, Lucy gave her a small smile. “And I don’t see you dying anytime soon.”

  Sally snorted involuntarily, her mood lightening somewhat. She stood up and held her hand out to Lucy. “Want to go down to the market, buy some things and get out of here?”

  Lucy grabbed her hand and Sally pulled her up.

  Lucy beamed at her, happy at either the change in mood or in topic. “Let’s. Lake Dread awaits!”

  12. Gifted – August 4, Year 216

  After their talk on the Lovesse cliffside, Sally and Lucy spend the rest of the day on the caravan grounds, wandering the market. They rebuilt their stock of ammunition, food and water and purchased a new set of clothes for Sally to repce the ones she lost in the battle with the silver Demon, the Kispan Dalqa.

  Sally had tried to be frugal with the money she had. While the money she’d received from Ain had been generous, her initial purchases were costly and the ammunition she’d fired in battle likewise weren’t cheap. She went looking for cheap, dense foods and had initially refused to buy new clothes, thinking that two sets were enough for now.

  Lucy, however, would hear none of it and begin purchasing things for her for her, going so far as to repce her destroyed knife. Any protest Sally made, Lucy cut through by saying the money of the Praesidium was better spend than returned. She didn’t know what to say after that.

  Afterwards, they spent the rest of the day and night on caravan grounds, setting of on the morning of the August second.

  The journey on the second and third of August was peaceful enough. Their pace was steady at a bit over ten miles a day, slowed down only by a daily detour into the hills and mountains to the south in order to spend the night. It may add a mile or two to the journey, true, but there were plenty of spots where they could spend the night in comfort and safety. Neither wanted a repeat of their journey toward Lovesse.

  On the fourth of August, early in the afternoon and twenty-five miles from Lovesse, they reached the Red Circuit bridge crossing over the river Madus.

  It was to be their jumping-off point, from where they would enter the Red Wastes and travel beside the river’s course for about ten miles or so. Then, if all went well, they should be able to spot Lake Dread lying amidst the red dunes and could walk the rest of the way by sight.

  They had pnned to spend the rest of the day on the other side of said bridge rather than jumping straight into the Wastes. The more nights they could avoid spending within its clutch, the better.

  What they hadn’t expected, however, was the bridge itself to be occupied.

  The bridge was built on top of a hill the river split in half. This meant that who, what or how many people were camped on the other side was impossible to tell. The only thing they could see was five people-shaped silhouettes occupying the bridge itself. Hopefully, the occupiers had yet to spot them.

  “So?” Lucy asked. “What should we do?”

  Sally wasn’t sure. A bridge crossing one of the Circuits deadliest rivers was a prime target for bandits. She couldn’t tell whether the five on the bridge were bandits or caravanners, and had no way to know what hid behind that hill. Was it a rge caravan? A group of bandits strong enough to rob caravans? Or were these five all there were, targeting smaller groups like Lucy and Sally?

  The problem was, there was no easy or safe solution either way. They wouldn’t know if they were bandits or caravanners until they got up close. And realistically, they couldn’t simply avoid the bridge. It was the only way across the river, and they were on the wrong side to enter the Red Wastes.

  Following the river from the side they were currently on would turn the journey from around a fifteen mile one – around three days – into at least a six-day, thirty mile one. Worse, not only would they need to travel longer and deeper into the Red Wastes, they would lose the protection the river could otherwise provide them.

  “It’s safer to wait until they leave,” Sally hated to say. “They can’t stay here forever.” If they were a caravan, they would leave ter that day. If they were bandits, they would have to wait and hope they either ran out of supplies, or encountered a caravan they would either rob or die to.

  Rationally, Sally understood that this was safer than approaching them or trying to enter the Wastes. But Sally hated the fact they had to cower before the unknown, and wait who knows how long before they could continue. She hated the feeling of powerlessness, but she could only accept it.

  Lucy, however, had another idea.

  “I… think I could perform some divination,” she said, somewhat uncertainly. The pilgrim sat down and rummaged through her bag. “I’ve never done it before, but there’s a first time for anything.”

  Sally instantly didn’t like it. “You really think this is the best time to try your hand at divination? Even with experience, isn’t soothsaying, well… unreliable?” Quackery, was what her mentor had taught her, but she censored herself.

  Lucy eventually grabbed two sacks from her bag, both clinking with the sound of cshing metal. “Ahh, but this is divination, a respectable branch of augury and prophecy. Much better than those vagabonds and swindlers mucking about on the street,” she replied, jokingly snooty. “So sayeth the Praesidium in their infinite wisdom.”

  Another one for the tally, Sally thought.

  Sally sighed. “Lucy, be serious. Is this reliable or not?” She was not in a joking mood, not for this.

  Lucy rose, a handful of coins in one hand and bullets in the other. She stared into Sally’s eyes. “Sally, do you trust me?”

  Sally looked at her for a moment longer, but eventually nodded and motioned her hand for her to continue.

  Lucy brought her hands to her mouth and muttered something unintelligible into them, before throwing their contents into the air. Bullets and coins crashed into one another before cascading down into the dirt below.

  Both Sally and Lucy crouched to see the result.

  Sally tried to figure something out herself, but found nothing. It all looked random to her. “So? What does it say?”

  “The coins are majority heads with some tails or on their side, meaning that they seek profit while preserving their ‘heads’,” Lucy said, pointing at the coins. They were indeed mostly heads. Then, Lucy moved to the bullets. “The bullets are all facing away from us, which means that although they are wary, they won’t attack first.” Then, she looked thoughtful. “Though, there is one oddity.”

  Sally looked at the scene and thought she saw what Lucy meant. “The three bullets pointing at a coin?” It was the only one that didn’t follow Lucy’s expnation.

  “Yes. I don’t know what it means.” Lucy looked a moment longer, before shrugging. “Oh well, at least we know they aren’t a threat.” She moved to gather

  Sally thought on it herself. Could bullets facing a coin indicate they’re about to be robbed? But if she accepted that symbolism, she would also have to accept the rest, meaning the people at the bridge wouldn’t be after them. Either way, they could cross.

  Together, they walked up to the bridge, stopping at its edge. Before the figures spotting them or could lift their rifles, Lucy greeted them.

  “’Lo there!” Lucy waved, “You caravanners or bandits?” Sally had to refrain from smacking Lucy on the back of the head, if only so she could keep her hand on her pistol.

  The five seemed to look at each other, before one – a man – stepped in front of the group.

  “Caravanners! Don’t suppose you are here to rob us?” The man shouted back. “We could use some excitement!” Sally could see the others shake their heads at that.

  “No dice!” Lucy replied affecting regret. “Just looking for company!”

  “Ah, that we can do! Come on up!” The man said, beckoning them.

  Lucy looked at her, grin wide and eyes shining. Sally rolled hers in exasperation.

  They began moving across the bridge. Sally remained wary, just in case this was an ambush, but the armed men and women never tensed, their postures loose and demeanor calm. Seems they really were just caravan guards.

  When they got a view of the other side of the bridge, this belief was confirmed.

  In front of them was an encampment of over a dozen tents both rge and small, carts filled with goods stored in crates or covered in tarps interspersed between them. There were carts with a higher canopy, presumably for people to sit when necessary.

  There were also a number of beasts of burden resting at the campsite, nearly all of whom fell in one of three common types. There was the tried-and-true camel, an animal that had allegedly been used for long-distance travel since the Old World, if myths were to be believed. The second was a specialty of the Grand Central Union: the water-ox. Large-horned, thin of fur and with skin thick enough to catch small caliber bullets in them at some points, they, much like the camel, could journey rge distances without needing water. The third was a Leagueran staple, a mariandrake, a type of magically-bred, overgrown lizard partially blended together with stone. In that sense it was simir to a saltfly, but with stone instead of salt. The final one was, surprisingly, a horse.

  The people were more various. Sally guessed there were around fifty to sixty, sitting, talking or walking around doing their duties. The vast majority seemed to be mercenaries and traders from the Grand Central Union, dressed in either desert fatigues and carrying automatic rifles, or dressed in a more-loose-than-traditional and well-weathered three-piece suits.

  The second rgest group of people consisted of Circuit runners. They were dressed in rough but thin fabrics and sturdy leather, carrying rifles more suited for range. They looked less disciplined compared to the Grandies, but also looked less tired and generally more acclimated to the journey.

  Then there were a small number of people either from Southwall or further south, dressed in thinly woven and eborately decorated cotton, linen and chiffon. They looked to be more specialized or – for ck of better words – elite than the other people, carrying ornate firearms and even unconventional melee weapons – unconventional in this meaning ‘anything but a knife’. They reminded her somewhat of the guards of Cardinar, albeit without metal cuirass.

  Lastly, two individuals stood out uniquely from the crowd, both of them near the animal outlier: the horse. One of the two was combing its mane and fur while the other talked. The one combing it was dressed in materials common to the Circuits, but in a more yered, colorful and decorated style. More noticeably, he carried a bird of prey on his shoulder, a small one with a hooked bck beak, brown feathers and a white tail. The other man wore robes in the signature style of the Arcanist’s Guild, dyed in purple. In short, a Drover shaman – which expined the presence of the horse – and a member of the Arcanist’s Guild.

  Seeing the diversity of the group and the plurality of people from the Grand Central Union, this was likely a Grandie caravan on their return trip from the League south of the Circuits. This was to be expected; Grandies were by far the most prolific caravanners between east, west and south, far more so than the Merkahn and Leaguerans.

  Sally and Lucy were guided towards a rge tent at the heart of the camp. Their guide held the fp open and they were ushered inside.

  The likely leader of the caravan was a thin, well-weathered older woman well-groomed in spite of her apparent exhaustion. She wore the standard three-piece suit in brown with a white undershirt and a bck bolo tie with a red ornament. Her clothes had a slightly reddish hue to them, likely dyed by sand-bsts coming off the Red Wastes.

  She sat at on a cushioned chair without legs, so more like a cushion with a backrest. In front of her was a simirly low wooden desk with a pot of ink, a pen, a map and some papers, along with a variety of metal measuring and navigational tools. The caravan leader was absorbed in her duties, head low and not looking up even as they entered.

  “Ma’am, I’ve brought you guests,” the man guiding her spoke, the grin he’d worn during their first greeting still stuck on his face.

  The woman looked up. Sally wouldn’t say she was unamused or disapproving – there was too little of a gre in her eyes for that to be the case – but her face seemed to be permanently stuck in a half scowl.

  “So I see,” the woman said, setting her pen down. “It is always good to meet people of a non-hostile variety on these roads. Please, have a seat.” She gestured at the trio of cushions in front of her. The caravan guard remained in the tent’s opening, keeping watch.

  “Likewise. Sally here was worried you were bandits occupying the bridge,” Lucy said, giving Sally a single sp on the back. While talking, they’d moved toward the cushions and sat down. “I’m Lucy, by the way, Lucy Orta. And this is Sally Palters.”

  “A pleasure. I am Jesse Mallory, owner of the Red Graces Caravan Company,” Jesse csped her hands and leaned forward. “Now, is how may I help you?”

  “Well, you see,” Lucy replied. “We were pnning to spend the rest of the day at the bridge and enter the Red Wastes tomorrow.” Jesse’s face remained as stone, with but a subtle twitch of her eyebrows to hint at surprise.

  “Now, this was obviously before we knew you were here, so I suppose our request is two-fold, the first being if it’s alright to share this camp with your group until you leave? And the second, well, we believe you have something in stock that could help us on our journey. May we look for and purchase this thing if we find it?”

  We believe that, do we? Sally thought, but remained silent.

  “I doubt you are bandits scouting our caravans – especially if what you say about travelling into the Red Wastes is true – so staying with us for a while is of no concern. Preferable, in fact,” Jesse then narrowed her eyes. “But what is it you seek to purchase? Food, supply? Or something more… specific?”

  Sally could practically smell the woman’s suspicion. It was an understandable one, she supposed. They were either here to scout the caravan for valuables and ter return with others to grab it, or she was in possession of something valuable without her knowing. And if the tter was true, the caravan boss wouldn’t let herself be hustled by a duo of travelers.

  “Food and supply are always welcome, but only if you have supply to spare. As for the unknown item…” Lucy leaned back for a second, deliberating on how to expin. Whether the gesture was real or theatrics, Sally couldn’t tell. “Before we approached, I performed a little divination – it is what convinced us you weren’t bandits yourself, in fact– but there was an outlier in the pattern. So, to be honest, we don’t really know what it is we’re looking for, though most likely a weapon of some kind.”

  Hearing that, Jesse leaned back herself. “A divination, you say?” The woman said, stalling for a second as she thought over the proposal. “Why are you journeying into the Red Wastes, if I may ask?”

  “We’re bound for Lake Dread. I’m on a pilgrimage to the great kes before I take my Seventh Sip,” Lucy said. That statement got the rgest reaction Sally had seen so far of the woman. A sharp glint in her eyes, a suppressed startle and a tensing of the muscles, though her expression remained almost eerily still. “And Sally here is my bodyguard.”

  Jesse’s eyes darted to Sally, taking her in and eyes lingering a bit too long on her missing left arm. When they met eyes, Sally merely lifted an eyebrow.

  “Lucy Orta, you said your name was?” Jesse asked, to which Lucy nodded. “Well, as long as you bring your discovery to me for approval of the sale, I don’t see why not,” Jesse said. “Though, if you could bless some of the runners travelling with us...”

  “Of course, gdly! ‘Tis the part of my duty I most enjoy,” Lucy said. Sally could nearly taste the sarcasm.

  “Good. Alex!” Jesse addressed the guard standing behind them. “Bring our guests to our weapon stocks. Give Sekar the job.”

  Alex nodded at his boss before addressing them. “Alright, come with me you two. Let’s get this thing done.”

  They followed Alex to one of the canopied carts. Within it were a number of long, irregur crates of varying sizes, all carefully secured with multiple locks and strapped to the carriage with ropes and belts.

  “You two wait here while I fetch Sekar,” Alex told them.

  Watching him move back toward the camp, Sally turned to Lucy. “Soooo, we’re looking for a weapon of some kind?”

  Lucy shrugged in response. “What? It’s obvious you’re missing your rifle.”

  Sally blinked at that. Was it obvious? Since When? Though she supposed her firing her Guardsman from too rge a distance might’ve been a tell.

  “Yes, well, it’s not like I have a choice if you haven’t noticed,” Sally spoke pinly, wiggling her left shoulder stump – for all the good that did, it barely moved.

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean there aren’t substitutes. Maybe some kind of long pistol?” Lucy put her hand to her chin. “And who knows what odd Leagueran weapons they’re transporting. Something bespoke, mayhaps?” She said, wiggling her eyebrows.

  Sally sighed at the woman’s antics, ready to retort when Alex returned with another man. He was dressed like most of the Grandie traders, in a bck three-piece.

  “Greetings and be welcome!” The man, Sekar, greeted them theatrically. “Mid-journey customers are always my favorite, especially when they’re looking for a selection from our fine armory!” He said, rubbing his hands together and carrying a winning smile. “So, how may I help you?”

  “Well, with finding us a weapon, for starters,” Lucy replied.

  “Of course, of course!” Sekar said, moving past them and climbing into the cart. “But what are you looking for, exactly? I hope you do not want me to open all the crates.”

  “Something for my friend over here,” Lucy put her hand on Sally’s shoulder, squeezing it. “She’s looking for something special, preferably something with range, but as you can see rifles don’t quite do it for her anymore.”

  The trader pinched his chin, examining Sally. “Yes, I suppose I can see the problem.” Then, he smiled. “However, I have solutions!”

  Sekar moved to the back two crates and began untying the robes. He struggled trying to lift the top crate, before turning to the entrance of the cart. “Alex, if you could-” But Alex was long gone.

  Ahead of any comments, Sally half-jumped, half-lifted herself onto the cart, walked to the long wooden crate, grabbed it by the handle and lifted it. She hadn’t expected to barely feel the weight, so it shot up faster and farther than she expected. The insides rattled and shook with a loudness like a metal toolbox carelessly swung about.

  Sekar raised his eyebrows. “Strong arm you got there,” he commented, before grabbing the handle on the other side.

  Together they lifted and carried the crate outside the cart. Sally jumped down first while keeping trying to keep the box stable, while Sekar carefully slid down, huffing and grunting. They carefully put the crate on the soft sandy ground.

  “Ooooh! Very tough!” Lucy appuded. Sally deliberated whether to roll her eyes or not, fearing the strain of doing it so often would hurt. She still did it, though.

  Sekar opened the box and lifted a trio of trays one by one out of it. On these trays were numerous weapons obscured by the rough cloth they were bundled in.

  “Well then, let’s find you a new piece,” Sekar said, rubbing his hands together before unveiling the buffet of firearms.

  There were, as Lucy had suggested, a number of long pistols, ranging from revolvers of higher and lower calibers, to semi-automatic ones like her own Guardsman. There were also stranger weapons, like a type of short-barrel harpoon gun and what she guessed was a compact grenade uncher. Then there were firearms she couldn’t even guess the function, like one an oddly wide and long drum with many tiny holes in it? What type of ammunition did that thing even shoot?

  Sally still didn’t know what she was looking for. The whole reason behind this little sidetrack was but a vague sign of bullets and coin, and nothing more.

  Lucy had said she might need a repcement for her rifle, but did she? The belief that distance was king had been thoroughly drilled into her by Niall, and that doctrine had served her before, well, everything. When she was but a regur Warden, a regur woman that could barely stand toe to toe with even the more mediocre threats of the Circuits.

  Now though, she was much tougher – maybe even unkilble, albeit not invulnerable – and much faster than she’d ever been. She could survive fatal wounds and could keep up with a hells-damned true Demon, even if only on the defensive. Still, an option to attack from afar would be nice to have.

  Either way, revolvers were right out, with or without a long barrel. Trying to figure out how to quickly reload one in battle would be a nightmare, and although filling magazines with bullets was a pain in the ass to do one-handed, she could prepare them beforehand and quickly utilize them in battle.

  The more excentric looking weapons were also out, simply because of practicality. If I can’t resupply them, what’s the point? So, no harpoons, no grenade uncher, no rotating crossbows or anything like that.

  That left the undecipherable as the only option. But before she could ask Sekar for guidance, Lucy shouted: “Found it!”

  Both Sekar and Sally had remained at one tray, while Lucy had moved further down to another. In her hand was an odd-looking, wide-and-short barreled pistol. In fact, it was double-barreled and not a pistol at all, it was-

  “A shotgun?” Sally asked, surprised. “Isn’t that the exact opposite of what you said I should look for?”

  Without a word, Lucy walked over and handed her the short double-barreled, break-action scattergun. It was an eborate thing, decorated with spiraling and almost flowery imagery on both the metal barrel and wooden stock.

  It felt strangely good in her hand, as if it were custom-made for her. Both the release and barrel selector were within range of her thumb, meaning she could operate it single-handedly. She could imagine reloading the weapon by putting it in a fitting holster, cracking it open and inserting the bullets much like she could her Guardsman. It was perfect.

  “Isn’t it?” Lucy replied with a knowing smile, as if reading her thoughts.

  Sally thought it over. Specifically, she thought of the battle with the Kispan Dalqa, the Half-Knight. A rifle wouldn’t have worked; if the Demon could deflect bullets and spell-bolts with ease, it likely wouldn’t have mattered if they came from her pistol or her rifle. A long pistol would fare even worse. A scattergun, though…

  Her newfound speed allowed her to close in to her enemies and duke it out on an even pying field – as the battle with the bloodfiend and Demon had shown – while her durability mitigated the risk. Her increased strength could, hopefully, ensure that she wouldn’t break her wrist shooting it. Even if she did, she’d already healed from worse.

  A buckshot wouldn’t be parried, was difficult to dodge and could pack a nice punch, depending on the target. And while a slug would have less effective range than her Guardsman, it was still a nice option to have.

  “Ahh, that one. An oddity if I’ve ever seen one. A short-barrel 12-gauge that fits in one hand and one hand only. It even has some Leaugueran artifice, so it should be capable of firing sorcery-rounds. If you can find them that is,” Sekar smiled. “Still, a strong weapon with a stronger recoil. A weapon fit for a strongman,” Sekar spoke, examining the firearm. Then, he examined Sally and nodded. “Strongwoman.”

  Obvious fttery aside, she loved the feel of it, both in her hand and in her mind. It was the opposite of what her old self had trained for, and would be perfect for a new self.

  Which made this all the worse. “I’m sorry, I can’t-” Sally began.

  “I’m paying for it,” Lucy interrupted. Sally turned toward her in surprise.

  First the knife, now this?

  “Lucy-” This is too much. But once more, Sally was interrupted before she could finish.

  “Nope. My divination, my money. I’m paying,” Lucy turned to Sekar. “So, how much is it?”

  Sekar returned a predatory smile and they began haggling.

  X

  After Lucy had purchased the shotgun, she purchased slugs and buckshot for it as well, alongside topping of their food and water supplies, all on her dime. Then, she’d done as Jesse asked and did a number of rituals and blessings for the Dekantists among the caravanners. All in all, it was a busy day for Lucy, and less so for Sally.

  It was ter in the afternoon when the caravans took off, leaving Sally and Lucy to find a spot further up in the mountains to prepare and spare the night. They didn’t bother setting up the tent, having found a suitable shallow cave to shelter in.

  Sally, of course, took the first watch. The long, six-hours one that had become routine by now. It left her with plenty of time to think in soce. Or rather, solitude, since peace remained far out.

  She should feel grateful, she knew. Sally wasn’t a rich woman, furthest thing from it, so she’d take what she could get. But that didn’t she didn’t have her pride.

  Lucy had bought her a knife, clothes, food, ammunition and now a shotgun. She even brought a fitting holster-annex-bandolier for it she could strap on her chest! All things taken together, wasn’t practically half of what she now possessed a gift from Lucy?

  Sally knew Lucy, or at least she though she knew. The woman was kind, like to banter and tease, but Sally didn’t think of the pilgrim as a frivolous woman. Nor was she a stupid one, quite the opposite in fact.

  So then, why the gifts? Was it simply out of friendship? If so, then this was too much, especially since Sally couldn’t return the gesture. Was it out of pity? That thought turned her stomach and pained her heart. She didn’t want charity, not from her. But in all of their interactions, Sally could honestly say that Lucy had ever showed her pity. Compassion and empathy, yes, but never pity.

  But then there was the other side of her; the other side of this whole journey. The religious one, the mystical one, the prophetic one. The one that had told her Sally would come to Cardinar, the one that allowed them to meet in the first pce. The reason they now journeyed together to Lake Dread, the reason they faced a Demon, the reason her reunion with her brother turned to experiments and shouting. The reason Sally was likely alive at all. Was that the reason Lucy bought her gifts? Why they were even friends at all?

  And that thought, that burned within her more than anything else.