Their second day of travel was uneventful save for Sulaiman having to scare off a pair of badgers that came sprinting alongside them, snapping ineffectively at the horse’s heels but trying their best regardless of the futility of it. Sulaiman’s simple summoning of a ball of flame in their path had them veering widely and then they couldn’t hope to catch up with the horse’s enhanced speed.

  “Nice balls!” Priscilla called and Sulaiman’s head snapped up, the concentration on his face replaced by irritation.

  “You–” Sulaiman’s reply was cut off by Kavil’s poorly hidden giggles. Sulaiman gave Kavil an exasperated look before returning a steely gaze to Priscilla. “We agreed they’d be called spheres!”

  Priscilla shrugged and gave her best innocent smile, like she couldn’t recall agreeing to such a thing. Kavil laughed a little harder.

  Sulaiman’s glare to Priscilla turned withering, like she was at fault for Kavil’s actions. That glare promised that the sparring session Priscilla had agreed to tonight might be that much more challenging.

  Priscilla’s faux innocence disappeared, anticipation flooding her system.

  Bring it on, Priscilla thought as her grin turned challenging.

  But besides that, and stopping briefly for a hot lunch at a village they passed, nothing of note happened until they once again pitched up camp.

  Priscilla barely had enough time to finish her dinner before Sulaiman was in front of her, holding out the bandages he hadn’t given back to her last night.

  “My, my,” Priscilla said, smiling, “are you that eager to be taught a lesson again?”

  “You’ll find I’m a quick study,” Sulaiman said, voice quiet and controlled compared to the frustration he held last night.

  “I’ll hate to give you a failing grade,” Priscilla said, matching his energy as she obligingly tied the bandages around his wrist, “but, alas, teachers must judge their students fairly.”

  Sulaiman said nothing, though his smile gained a cocky edge to it that had Priscilla narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

  Soon, they stood across from each other and Kavil brought his hand down.

  It was a close fight like yesterday’s spar, but Sulaiman moved faster tonight, his movements more sure as he swung at Priscilla. Sulaiman had chosen to use his higher stamina and long reach to his advantage, keeping up a near constant barrage of attacks that put Priscilla on the backfoot, stuck only to dodging and reacting rather than changing the battle’s flow to her advantage.

  Priscilla grit her teeth.

  But even if Sulaiman hit her, Priscilla made sure to sneak in a quick retaliatory blow. They were much lighter, but solid hits nonetheless, so they were tied in points.

  Before Priscilla was able to make an opportunity for herself, Sulaiman was rushing her, fists pulled tight, muscles ready for a jab.

  Priscilla started to move backwards but at the last second, Sulaiman pivoted, getting behind her as his foot came sweeping out.

  Which knocked Priscilla clean off her feet, and sent her tumbling face first to the ground.

  She hit the dirt with a grunt, the breath stolen from her lungs.

  “Now this,” Sulaiman said just a few inches from her ear, putting his full weight on Priscilla before she could recover and pinning one arm above her head and the other against her back, “this is a pin. Take notes, Priscilla.”

  Priscilla gasped in outrage, spitting out grass.

  “You stole my move,” Priscilla complained when she caught her breath.

  “A smart fighter uses every weapon presented to them.”

  Satisfaction filled Sulaiman’s voice, his words coming out in an undertone, a patronizing croon. Combining that tone of voice with his body weight pressed against Priscilla’s body reminded Priscilla of her misunderstanding from last night and that made her face flush.

  The only silver lining to Priscilla’s humiliation is that no one could see her face right now.

  “And now it’s my turn to enjoy a winner’s prerogative, I believe,” Sulaiman continued and that was Priscilla’s cue that she had to stop this right now.

  Priscilla wiggled to free herself, saying, “Let me go you tyrant. You’re going to crush me.”

  Sulaiman chuckled, lingering for just a moment longer, long enough that Priscilla knew that the only reason he stood up was because he wanted to, not because Priscilla made him. He didn’t even bother to help her up this time, a far too pleased expression settled on his face that reminded Priscilla of a smug cat whose hunting plans were executed perfectly.

  Damn bastard probably spent every moment concocting up a battle strategy to defeat Priscilla since Kavil announced she was the winner, and he likely redoubled his efforts after the balls incident. She couldn’t do anything but fume at herself for not expecting that a tactician would get his revenge swiftly.

  “You’re so fucking petty,” Priscilla complained as she sat up, tossing grass at Sulaiman.

  The blades burned before they could hit Sulaiman, whose smile was getting smugger by the minute.

  “I’ve had ample opportunity to learn that from you,” Sulaiman said, “and I told you, I’m a quick study.”

  “Oh you prick,” Priscilla breathed, pushing herself up, “you’re just begging to get your ass handed to you.”

  Sulaiman tilted his head, smile growing. “If you can. You won’t get me with the same tactic twice.”

  His audacity was infuriating but Priscilla's building rage was interrupted.

  “Does it hurt anywhere?” Kavil was crouching next to her, scanning Priscilla as he asked. His hand went to her back to help her sit up straighter, a steady press against her shoulder blade.

  “Ah, I don’t think so,” Priscilla said, giving her body a few experimental stretches. Sulaiman had pulled his punches even more today, relying less on strength and prioritizing speed, so it felt like mainly light bruises covered her body. “I’m in tip-top shape.”

  Kavil’s hand was surrounded by white light despite her words. He smiled as he said, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Priscilla sighed and rolled her eyes but allowed him to do his inspection of her without complaint. That was mainly because she knew that Kavil was going to stand up and do the exact same thing to Sulaiman. A similar look of reluctant patience crossed Sulaiman’s face and that was enough for Priscilla to shake off the sting of losing.

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  At least they both suffered together.

  Teaching Kavil how to punch let Priscilla fully chase away her irritation. Kavil wasn’t a natural, but he was dedicated, grimacing each time he made a mistake and going still when Priscilla corrected his stance. Priscilla hoped Kavil wasn’t feeling ashamed of not getting something perfect on the first try, and kept her coaching as gentle and encouraging as she could.

  Before Priscilla could end up in another awkward situation after Kavil’s lesson ended, Priscilla turned to Sulaiman.

  “Where’d you stash the rock we found in the destroyed inn?” Priscilla asked.

  Sulaiman paused in the midst of drinking. He was slow and deliberate as he brought his water skin down and turned towards Priscilla.

  “Why do you ask?”

  The wariness in his voice was uncalled for.

  “I’ve wanted to get a good look at it since we picked it up,” Priscilla said. “Want to clean it up a bit and see what it looks like properly since we have light.” She jerked a thumb toward the campfire. “Now’s as good a time as any, and I need something to focus on to help soothe my wounded pride.”

  It was a good excuse, though Priscilla was lying about just why she wanted to look at it. The summoning stone was most definitely connected to the Heinlein Fens and Priscilla was the only one who might be able to make any sense of it. Examining it also gave her something to focus on that she could act upon rather than just sit nervously wondering about Illnyea’s condition, and the information might make things easier when they arrived at the fens tomorrow.

  Or so Priscilla hoped.

  Sulaiman’s gaze was lighter than the one he fixed on Priscilla yesterday and lingered for just a moment.

  “Kavil,” Sulaiman said, turning towards his pack. Kavil perked up from where he had been wiping a wet towel across his face.

  “Yes, Sulaiman?”

  Sulaiman pulled out both a book and the stone, though he left the stone next to his pack as he turned to Kavil. Priscilla recognized the book as one of the few he had bought back in Grazda.

  “When they describe making a splint,” Sulaiman said, flipping the book open and then holding it open towards Kavil, “they mention I should watch for signs of decreased blood circulation. What should I be looking for?”

  “Oh, if their extremities are tinged with blue or if their pulse feels fainter, that’d be the most obvious signs…”

  Priscilla had set Asha to the side earlier so she didn’t have to worry about grabbing the stone, ignoring the boys’ medical talk. The summoning stone was once again comfortably warm in her hands, like a heating pad at just the right temperature.

  She snagged a rag and poured just enough water on it to begin gently digging out the mud in the stone’s grooves, taking care to not inadvertently scratch the surface.

  The more of the gray stone she unveiled, the more confused Priscilla became. There weren't traditional runes carved into the side of the stone, just long swirling lines that seemed to have no rhyme or reason why they were arranged that way. It was almost artistic in the way that abstract art was, and unfortunately, she had never been very interested in art that didn’t involve TDE in some way.

  The long, looping marks tickled something at the back of Priscilla’s brain as she idly traced them with her finger nail, trying to jog her memory of just where she’d seen it before.

  Her fingers paused as the pieces clicked into place when she turned the stone horizontal instead of looking at it straight on.

  This summoning stone was covered in the same strange language that had filled the original’s diary, the language Priscilla didn’t have a clue about how to translate.

  Why would the diary be written in the same language that had been inscribed onto an artifact used by the damn violet moon cult? By this point in the story, the original wouldn’t have had much contact with the cult beyond being open to recruitment. If this language was something cult specific, there was no reason the original would be trusted enough by the cult leader to be taught it as she wasn’t even an official member yet.

  Or had been teaching her the opening move? The step of many to bring the original onto the cult’s side?

  There was no way to figure it out because there were only two people Priscilla could ask: the original whose soul was gods’ knew where and the damn cult leader himself.

  “Have you been bewitched?” Sulaiman asked dryly.

  “Only by your beauty,” Priscilla responded absent-mindedly, thoughts stuck on the connection between the original and the cult. Sulaiman didn’t have a quick follow up so Priscilla was left to concentrate.

  Her brain could only conjure up conjecture after conjecture, each scenario and explanation becoming more absurd than the last. But though Priscilla was reluctant to show anyone else the diary because of the questions it would bring up, this stone’s existence was already known to her party, so maybe she’d be able to get some answers in a roundabout way.

  “Do either of you recognize these symbols?” Priscilla asked, turning the stone towards the boys.

  Both of them jerked up from the middle of their whispered conversation. She hadn’t even noticed the background noise fading away, she had been so focused.

  Priscilla blinked at the unexpected expressions on their faces. Sulaiman was very determinedly looking away from both Kavil and Priscilla with a stoic expression betrayed only by his red tinged cheeks, and Kavil’s smile had an odd quality to it, almost like his lips wanted to twitch into a wider expression but he was keeping them closed with pure force of will.

  “Uh,” Priscilla said, glancing between them, “did I interrupt something?”

  “No,” Sulaiman said firmly, glaring at Kavil who had also opened his mouth. Kavil glared back, though it was like watching a baby deer stare down a jaguar. Neither said anything more on the topic, both too busy having a silent stare down.

  “Okay,” Priscilla said, drawing out the word as she really didn’t believe that but knew that getting the real answer probably would require breaking more social conventions than she wanted to this evening, “then will you guys take a look at these markings?”

  Sulaiman and Kavil shifted forward, the former taking the stone carefully in his hands and turning it over.

  Priscilla already knew their answer based on the puzzlement that entered their gaze.

  “I don’t recognize the symbols, if they are symbols,” Sulaiman said. Kavil was chewing his lip and staring at the stone, looking frustrated he couldn’t be of help.

  “A library might be the best place to search for answers,” Kavil suggested. “There’s bound to be one with a section on runes.”

  “Maybe,” Priscilla said, not committing to the idea because she knew the cult leader to be a meticulous man who kept information close to his chest whenever he could. A secret language certainly seemed like the sort of thing he wouldn’t let many people know about.

  “Alas, the stone will keep its secrets for now,” Priscilla said, “and it can be a problem to solve in the future. Sulaiman, take the enigma out of my sight.”

  Sulaiman gave her a flat look. “Don’t order me around.”

  “Oh!” Priscilla said, covering her faux surprised expression with a hand. “Are you mad I’m imitating your tyrant tendencies? My bad, I thought we were just learning from one another.”

  Kavil burst into laughter, cutting off the bickering before it could begin in earnest. He wiped a tear from his eyes, dimples on full display as he looked between Sulaiman and Priscilla.

  “With how much you two argue,” Kavil began, looking fully relaxed and pleased with the world, “people would be surprised how well you actually get along.”

  “I do not get along with Priscilla,” Sulaiman said promptly, “I merely tolerate her eccentricities.”

  “Fuck you too,” Priscilla said, rolling her eyes. The words were harsh but Sulaiman’s actions prior to this contradicted them, so Priscilla didn’t take them to heart. “And for the record, I agree with Sulaiman. The only time Sulaiman and I ever agree on anything is when it involves judging other people.”

  “Well,” Sulaiman said, giving Priscilla a judgemental look, “that is if you aren’t acting like an idiot.”

  “Name one time I’ve been an idiot,” Priscilla said without pausing to reconsider the words. Sulaiman had a contemplative look on his face as he began to stick up his fingers one by one.

  Priscilla let out a long groan, giving Kavil a long-suffering look.

  “This is what you call getting along?” Priscilla asked, glaring at Sulaiman when he marked something down in the dirt and began counting again.

  “Undoubtedly,” Kavil said, smiling widely.

  Priscilla huffed and crossed her arms.

  “How’d I end up with such sassy traveling companions?” Priscilla muttered, though her heart wasn’t in the complaint. It was fun to joke around like this, to have interactions that made her feel something almost akin to normal, or at least as normal as one could be in a fantasy world.

  “You asked me to come along,” Kavil chirped, “so you only have yourself to blame!”

  Priscilla was about to shoot back a reply about Kavil’s cheekiness when Sulaiman said, “I count twenty-one separate instances in the last three weeks. Would you like them listed in alphabetical order or in order from least to most stupid?”

  Priscilla threw the rag she used to clean the stone at Sulaiman, which he annoyingly dodged.

  “We’ll start with the most stupid then,” Sulaiman said and Priscilla groaned.

  What a petty bastard.

  Aidais’ Lament!