Today is the first of Belvar, Diavla thought. Threeday, to Tom. I should learn the human calendar at some point. I wonder if they keep the same months we do?

  As evening approached, they passed by the main campsite. There already were two groups setting up around the well-crafted fire pit. They continued for a few minutes more for privacy, before pulling off the road into a small clearing.

  One more day, Diavla thought. Tomorrow night, we sleep in an inn. She wasn't looking forward to more interactions with humans, but she was definitely looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed.

  All of them worked to set up camp, in what was becoming a routine. Even Eubexa contributed by keeping watch. She insisted that she could see through the veil just fine, though Tom obviously had his doubts. Kervan started and tended the fire, and made dinner. Tom and Diavla set up their tent. Then Tom walked off and practiced, working his body hard.

  Two nights ago it had been sword drill. The next evening he had brawled against an imaginary opponent, twisting, jumping, miming punches and throws. On Threenight, Tom appeared to be walking around, squatting, and other things, while carrying a full bag of salt on each shoulder. He was very careful to ensure that the bags were closed tightly and would hold under the abuse. After that, he lifted the back end of the lead wagon and held it a finger above the ground for a surprisingly long time.

  Diavla licked her lips, anticipating private time with Tom later.

  Reluctantly, she managed to tear herself away after a while because she wanted to practice her Temple exercises while not on a moving wagon. Spirits tended to stay in one location, and it felt somewhat rude to call local spirits in passing and then move away from them a minute later. She needed the practice, because she was still trying to discover the extent of the changes in her Affinities and abilities. She was working on grasping how to call upon spirits of Cleanliness, though that was one Affinity that it would probably be easier to practice in a city. It felt alien to her, but she was trying to open her soul to more possibilities.

  They took a break for dinner, and then Tom joined her for more meditation. He still wasn't great at it, and he was far from being able to call the spirits, but when he was well-prepared and focused, he could usually sense when she threw magic his way, and he was able to...well...splash some of the magic back towards her, one might say.

  The similarities were strong between Tom using magic, and a person treading water frantically while trying to figure out how to swim.

  Eubexa would usually come over to watch, even though the woman wasn't spirit-touched herself. She would give quiet words of encouragement, and oddly, that actually helped both her and Tom focus better. It almost felt like magic—so much so, that Diavla had privately checked herself over for unexpected magical influences a couple of nights ago. She didn't find any, yet she still had a vague but persistent notion that Eubexa was somehow working magic that Diavla couldn't detect. It was a silly idea, but the half-trained scholar couldn't quite shake her soul free of the suspicion.

  She's just really persuasive, Diavla told herself. And somehow a natural at inducing meditative states. I have to wonder what kind of training they give in the brothels. Maybe Temples should consult with them.

  During these joint sessions, Eubexa would also make lewd suggestions, which felt a little weird, but Diavla had to admit that she enjoyed the effects they had on Tom, and on herself as well. It was an odd habit, to be sure, but Diavla suspected that that was just Eubexa still trying to find new ways to make herself useful—she had learned these skills, and was trying to be helpful with them. The sickly elf might have stopped calling him Master, but she still clearly was carrying a burden of worry.

  ° ? ? ? °

  The next morning dawned slowly, with heavy clouds blocking most of the light of day. A well-heated room, Diavla thought, shivering. At this point, I'm looking forward to that even more than the bed.

  “What do you suppose we will find in the town?” Kervan wondered over breakfast. “A demon taking over? Elf-haters?”

  “Custom for you?” Diavla countered. “Maybe an elf-haven, wouldn't that be a pleasant surprise?”

  “Now, you're just being ridiculous,” Kervan muttered. He seemed to be conflicted over his brief experience as a courtesan. Diavla wondered whether he would continue it in the new town. She suspected that Eubexa had spoken with him privately about it, probably to warn him off.

  “We go fast today,” Tom managed in Elvish. “I go one, ask, come back.”

  Eubexa asked Tom for clarification, and translated, “He wants us to hurry today. He wants the rest of us to wait outside the town while he goes in and asks questions this evening, then returns.” She paused as Tom added more comments, then translated, “He definitely wants us all to sleep in town tonight, and he apologizes for the delay.”

  “You are our leader, Tom. We will follow you,” Kervan assured him.

  That said, they broke camp with all haste, and got back on the road.

  The day passed with slowly mounting anticipation. Diavla wondered how it would go. Would they have better experiences? Would they have to turn and run from a demon infestation? Tom had Eubexa teach them a few more Western phrases to use in an emergency, and she drilled both elves on them relentlessly until they had them down perfectly. Diavla worked hard on it because she could see how it eased Tom's growing worry.

  They passed a few people heading in the other direction, and Tom called out to each of them and asked questions, trying to get a feel for the town. A couple of humans looked at him askance. A more common reaction was confusion and curiosity. They were certainly a strange group to be traveling in Baria, by any measure.

  When they grew close to town, Tom appeared to get nervous. He kept looking for a place to have them wait, but nothing looked good to him. He was more worried about what might happen to them when he left them alone, than about what might happen to them when they tried to enter the town together.

  So, he abandoned that plan, and they rolled right up to the town gate. Diavla had decided to ride in the front wagon with him for moral support, with Kervan agreeing. She watched the visible signs of Tom's nervousness fade as he got into his role, and gave him a warm smile full of confidence. He's a talented actor, she gloated. He's quite a catch, all around. And—

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the conversation between humans. Eubexa kept up a rapid, quiet translation for her.

  “Hello!” Tom called out cheerfully.

  “Hello. Purpose of your visit?” the guard called back.

  “Commerce! I've got goods to sell, and I'm looking to buy before I head on to Middleton. How are things in town?”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “What are you selling?” the guard asked, ignoring his question.

  “Salt! Is there a town tax?”

  The man grunted when Tom mentioned salt. “There is, but it's a flat fifteen silver per wagon. That other wagon with you?”

  “Yes, it is. Thirty silver, then? Fair enough. Diavla, my coin.” She passed him his money pouch obediently. As expected, the guard reacted to hearing her name, and then stared at her.

  “An elf!” Hostility radiated off of the man. Tom laid a hand on Diavla's possessively.

  “Yes. And she's all mine,” Tom answered, gloating cheerfully. “They all are.”

  “They? How many do you have?” The guard craned his neck to look at Kervan in the second wagon, scowling.

  “I have three with me right here, but I own more than that. I've sent some of them out to do some hunting in the woods. They'll be along later.”

  “Do you have title to these elves? Proof that you own them?”

  “Certainly. Do you need me to go dig it out now, or...?”

  “You should do that at the Guardhouse.”

  “Oh! Sure, I'm happy to.” Tom pulled out three large silvers and handed them to the guard. “My name's Tom Walker.”

  “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

  Tom stiffened. After a moment he asked, “Does that mean one of my elves turned up in town already?”

  “Maybe. If you can prove you own him. He wasn't wearing a collar.”

  “WHAT?!” Tom shouted, sounding outraged. “Did the little sneak manage to lose his collar again? Wait, which one is it?”

  “Yellow eyes, brown hair ring a bell?”

  “Arven, damn him. I knew it. What's he done now?”

  “He's at the Guardhouse. Straight ahead. I suggest you go clean up after your property and take better care of it.”

  “Oh, I will,” Tom promised angrily. “Count on it. Thank you, good sir. Come on, Diavla, let's go see what new trouble Arven's gotten into this time.”

  “Yes, Master,” Diavla responded on cue. Tom flicked the reins and started them rolling into town.

  “Make sure Kervan isn't being stopped,” Tom murmured. Diavla leaned to one side to peer back.

  “Kervan come,” she informed him.

  “Good. I'm going to have to act mean,” Tom warned them. “Sorry about that.”

  “Of course, Tom. Do what you need to,” Eubexa reassured him, and Diavla nodded her agreement.

  “Eubexa,” Tom said, switching to Elvish, “You stay. I and Kervan and Diavla go on. No...in.”

  “Inside,” Eubexa corrected gently. “Understood, Tom.”

  “Inside. Yes. Thank you, Eubexa.” He pulled up right in front of the Guardhouse, and Kervan jumped down when Diavla beckoned to him.

  “What's happening?” he asked as soon as he was near.

  “Arven is here, in the jail. You, Tom, and I are going in to get him out.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “We're about to find out.”

  Tom climbed out of the back of the wagon; he had disappeared for a few moments to fish out the slave tokens from his secret belt pocket. His right fist was tightly clenched, probably around the tokens. Diavla was grateful that he was always extremely careful not to lose the vital tokens to a pickpocket or anyone else.

  “Ready?” Tom asked. Kervan and Diavla nodded, so he walked up the steps and inside. They trailed after him like obedient slaves. Diavla was curious as to what they would find inside.

  Tom marched right up to a man sitting behind a desk. “Good day, sir. Is it still the day watch, or (something something) changed?”

  “Still the day watch for a little (something). Can I help you?” The man was looking at her and Kervan and squinting—perhaps he was nearsighted.

  “My name is Tom Walker. The guard at the gate told me that you have a (something) elf (something) here. What's he done now?” The man frowned at him, and leaned forward, squinting more intently. “Ah. These are two more of my elf slaves, Kervan and Diavla. They are much better (something).” The guard stiffened.

  “What are you doing with (something something something) elves?”

  Tom answered him with a long string of Western that Diavla couldn't follow at all, but the man seemed to get a little less tense. Tom sounded a bit contemptuous as he waved a hand at them, so he was probably insulting elves and implying that he treated them poorly, or something like that. It appeared to be working.

  After a few more exchanges, during which Diavla really wished that Eubexa were present to translate, the guard called out to another to take his place, then led the three of them through a door and down a hall. At the end, on the right side, was a jail cell, and inside it was Arven.

  Diavla's breath caught. He looked awful. He had apparently been beaten, likely more than once. His left eye was swollen shut and his lip had split and bled. He looked up, startled, as they approached.

  “ARVEN!” Tom shouted angrily.

  Arven's good eye widened. “Diavla? Kervan? T—“

  Tom cut him off, yelling, “I act! Guard not know Elvish! I say I am very bad man now! You act!” He waggled a finger threateningly. “Do you understand? I am sorry you bad. We four go. You act sorry. Guard open door. You understand?”

  “Play along,” Diavla urged him. His gaze fixed on her, confused. “It's all right. We're getting you out of here. Act apologetic. And remember to call him Master, not his name!”

  Arven squinted, then turned his gaze to Kervan. “He's a good man,” Kervan told him. “It's all right. Follow his lead.”

  Tom shouted a few threats in Western, then waited expectantly, hands on his hips. Diavla held her breath, trying to watch everyone at once. Kervan moved closer to the bars. “Say, 'Master, I am sorry,'” he urged.

  Slowly, Arven stood, favoring one leg. He cleared his throat, and bowed his head. “Master. I am sorry.”

  Tom yelled, “Thank you! I help! I act bad! Where is your collar?” he demanded in Western.

  “He's asking you where your collar—” Kervan started quietly.

  “Never mind! Tomorrow, we are (something something) get your collar, and—“ Tom made a threat or two in Western, from the sound of it. Then he turned and in a much calmer voice asked the guard a few questions in Western. Diavla guessed he was asking about damages and what trouble Arven had caused.

  He did a good job sounding cranky, but friendly to the guard. He thanked the human a couple of times, and chatted almost normally. The guard asked questions back and Tom gave what sounded like reassuring answers.

  Finally, the guard pulled out a key and unlocked the jail cell, pulling the door open. “Get out of here,” the human growled at Arven.

  “You two watch him,” Tom ordered. “Let's go.” He marched back out towards the entrance without looking back, and Arven limped forward.

  “I've got you,” Kervan told him, offering his support. “We'll explain everything once we're out of here.” As quickly as they could manage, they followed Tom.

  They caught up with him at the front desk, where Tom was apologizing and handing over a few silver. The second guard glared at Arven, but a few moments later, they were outside the Guardhouse. “Arven go in wagon,” Tom urged in Elvish. “Sorry, Arven. Thank you for act.” He hurried around front and started talking rapidly to Eubexa.

  Kervan helped Arven up. “I'm heading back to the salt wagon. Take care of him. Arven, very glad you're alive. Let's get out of here.” Diavla nodded and climbed in herself.

  The back of the wagon was a bit crowded with three elves, but Diavla wanted to reassure Arven.

  Eubexa spoke up. “Hello, I'm Eubexa. You must be Arven. Tom says that he tricked the guard into telling him about a place that will rent rooms to people with elves. We're headed right there. Tom wants to know whether you need a Healer right away or if it can wait a day.” Arven stared at the veiled elf in confusion.

  “Tom rescued her in Rivermarch. She's fluent in Western and has been translating for us,” Diavla explained. “Arven, quickly—are Sheema, Brallik, and Rillik all right?”

  Arven nodded. “Not sure about Rillik. The others are fine. The kid decided to sneak into town, and I was trying to find him when I got caught. No sign that they caught him, though, so he's probably on his way back to the camp.”

  Diavla sagged with relief, and found tears welling up. “I'm...really glad they're okay. Arven...it's so good to see you!” She hugged him gingerly, wary of his injuries, but he pulled her tighter and kissed her cheek.

  “I'm so glad you're alive, Dee.” He turned his head towards Eubexa. “Tell him I can wait.”

  “Bath, bandages, and bed,” Diavla told him. “We'll get you those, and then talk.”

  “Food?”

  He must be starving. Diavla dove at one of the bags and pulled out some trail rations. “You can start with this. You'll have better soon.”

  “Thanks.” Wincing, Arven carefully took a bite. “I guess...things have gone well for you guys?”

  Diavla beamed at him. “They've been amazing.”

  “I can't really believe it,” Arven mumbled.

  “It's not all sunshine, but we're going to get out of here as soon as possible,” Eubexa told him.

  “What's the bad news?”

  Diavla held up her hands in protest. “No. Not right now.” She glared at Eubexa for just a moment. “It's important but not urgent. For now, let's get you taken care of.”

  Arven suddenly reached out and took her left hand. “What's this?”

  Before she could answer, Eubexa said, “Tom is courting Diavla and Varga.” Diavla winced.

  This is going to be awkward.