“You two Otyughs didn’t even come to my defense! Grubby little boy… How rude!”

  The gnome was setting a blistering pace through the wooded foothills just north of the Stonebreach as the trio put some distance between themselves and any potential pursuers from Chagrothlond. Comfortable with the terrain and fueled by her indignation, the druid effortlessly picked her way through the heavy brush skirting the eastern edge of Shardhelm – the southernmost peak of the Glimmerstones. Grym was doing his best to keep up as he pleaded their case.

  “Come on, Lulu. What did you expect us to do…give away our position outnumbered eleven to two so we could correct them on your true anatomy? We would all have ended up in irons or worse.” Grym shook his head.

  “You’re missing the point entirely!” The way her intonation rose on the last syllable made it clear he would not win this argument.

  Glynfir, lagging his more vocal companions, had known the druid a long time and knew better than to pursue the discussion, given her current state. Besides, he had several unresolved gripes of his own. The sorcerer was not fond of “outside”. Every tree branch deliberately slapped his face as they picked their way north. One of his fine leather shoes was already soaked through, and he had mud on his robes from three tumbles in the last hour alone, not to mention the bugs! How could anyone prefer the wilderness to the civility of a nice cobblestone street or a warm hearth?

  The group pressed on through the fading daylight of the late summer evening for another two hours before Lunish spied a small cave cut into the hillside that would suit their purposes for the night. Glynfir was less than impressed but did his part to make it more habitable, tapping most of his remaining reservoir of magic to clear the stone interior of the debris, scat, and small animal bones left by its previous occupants. He also raised an earthen barrier across the cave mouth to hide the visibility of their campfire. I will not be cold AND uncomfortable tonight!

  Lunish put Grym to work gathering firewood and armloads of high grasses from a nearby field while she strode off into the falling darkness in search of a meal, still muttering under her breath.

  Their group was flexible with leadership, allowing whoever was best acquainted with the circumstances to call the shots. In the cities and among larger groups of people, the sorcerer took the lead, and in all underground situations, they deferred to Grym’s dwarven heritage. But out here, in the wilds, no question who was boss. Lunish had given each of them instructions before departing and scrutinized their performance upon her return with a young turkey hen and replenished waterskins filled from a nearby spring.

  “Well, I’ve seen worse,” she stated matter-of-factly after surveying their temporary accommodations. Considering this to be reasonably high praise, the dwarf and half-elf exchanged beaming smiles like two small children who had successfully pleased a parent despite lingering disappointment in their prior behavior. With a couple of minor adjustments to their original work, Lunish called upon her magic to ignite the fire, producing a small flame in the palm of her hand before flicking it into the constructed tinder pile. Soon, the smell of roasting turkey filled the cave. The snapping fire and occasional hiss of drippings on the hot coals intermittently disrupted the soothing drone of the surrounding forest evening.

  Glynfir broke the silence.

  “We should check in before we eat. Tell them what we found.” Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out a smooth stone that had the profile of an open-mouthed face carved intricately into its surface. This was a sending stone and their only means of communication with the Radiant Guardians. The magical artifacts, enchanted in pairs, enabled the exchange of mental messages between the two parties that possessed them. Regardless of distance or planes of existence, the stones were effective with a single limitation. Each stone could deliver one message per day, limited to twenty-five words or fewer, making linguistic efficiency critical.

  “Do you know what you’re gonna say, laddie? I don’t even know what we found!” Grym replied. They hadn’t discussed the mission’s outcome since escaping Chagrothlond. The conversation during the walk had been dominated by the slight on Lunish’s femininity and various forms of apologetic groveling.

  “Well, we were asked to locate Duvall’s current will and confirm if the beneficiary had been changed to someone other than his son. If it had, they wanted to know the new beneficiary, the solicitor that drafted it, and any strange symbols notated on the document…”

  “I’m aware of the mission,” Grym interrupted. “So?”

  “It named his new wife – Denora – to inherit all his land, wealth, and chattels”

  “That’s unusual among humans, though not unheard of in recent times,” Lunish noted in a curious tone.

  “What about the rest?” prompted Grym.

  “It was drafted by someone named Garret Ferrier.”

  “Also curious, given we checked beforehand, and there are only two solicitors in Chagrothlond, and he wasn’t one of them,” Lunish added.

  Glynfir pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows, and nodded in silent confirmation.

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  “But there’s more…” he continued. Picking up a nearby stick, he drew a line on the ground and placed a small circle underneath it. “Both of their names had this underneath the first letter.”

  Grym rose, circling behind the others to peer over their shoulders at what Glynfir had scrawled into the dirt floor. He furrowed his brow.

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “I have no idea,” Glynfir shook his head. Lunish reached down, running her fingers over the symbol, hoping a physical connection might spark her memory.

  “I’ve never seen that before either. Was there a date on the document?”

  “The twenty-second of last month,” Glynfir nodded.

  “…Only eleven days ago…and somehow they already suspected enough to send us…”

  Her face puckered, eyes narrow as she tried to understand what they had learned.

  The wizard began constructing the message he would deliver, playing with the words in his mind to ensure clarity and conformity to the Sending Stone’s limitation.

  “I hate that we never get the whole picture for the work we do,” Lunish idly remarked.

  “Aye. That’s the job, though, isn’t it?” Grym said dismissively. “We are the blunt instrument that gathers and relays, kept in the dark and then pointed at the next need… But you must admit the pay is damn good – one gold each per task. It makes me wonder how much The Hub charges for it on the other side.”

  “I would bet a lot, and they probably sell it multiple times. These days, information is power!” Lunish speculated, releasing the pile of long red hair from under her hat, straightening and gathering it into two large bunches. “Do you think I should wear my hair in a couple of braids?” The guard’s earlier mistaken gender identification still tormenting her.

  The wizard, lost in his thoughts, rejoined the conversation.

  “Okay, I think I have the message. What do you think of this: “Document confirmed. New wife now sole heir. Beneficiary and Garrett Ferrier’s signatures both had a line with a circle below the first letter”

  Grym repeated the message to himself, counting out word totals on his fingers.

  “Twenty-three,” he concluded.

  “Don’t forget to add the code word…” Lunish reminded, “…but otherwise I think it’s fine.”

  The Radiant Guardians was an anonymous enterprise. None of the three had met or directly spoken to anyone at The Hub. Originally recruited by another harvester like themselves, their names were enough to collect their wages from a specified business or individual within whatever town or city they found themselves. Because the stones delivered messages back and forth as direct thoughts, they lacked recognizable vocal cues. As a result, the group had no idea who was on the other end of their reports, and their counterparty had no idea who was delivering the message.

  Such a system needed some security protocol. To this end, the Radiant Guardians insisted on an assigned code word at the beginning of each message. Though crude in form, it conveyed the necessary trust and reliability. Their code word was “snuggles”. Likewise, every message from The Hub would begin with “sweetheart”. During their brief training, it was repeatedly emphasized that to omit the code word, even once, would mean an immediate end to all communications from The Hub and direct termination of their employment. Similarly, any incoming message that didn’t begin as expected was a signal to jettison their stone and abandon the arrangement.

  “Aye, don’t forget snuggles!” Grym giggled

  Glynfir sighed and shook his head. “Yes, that was assumed, making it twenty-four total. I wish we could change our code word to something a little less cringy, though it does feel good to have someone calling me sweetheart.”

  “I’m not sure I ever want to know who is on the other stone. Probably a huge letdown compared to the image I've created for Snuggles in my mind!” Grym chortled, and the others joined in.

  “I do that too! Go on then - who’s yours?” Lunish giggled. Not waiting for the dwarf to reply, she added, “For me, she’s tall, elvish…and definitely fit. She’s smart and confident and has a great sense of humor. She thinks all my quirks and issues are sexy, and her eyes…her eyes just swallow me up!” The gnome feigned a swoon, drawing laughs from the others.

  “Okay, okay…For me, she’s a stout dwarven lass - stubborn but practical. She’s a great cook and takes no shit. In our relationship, she’s clearly the boss. Oh - and she has a cute, wispy little beard.” They all laughed again. “What about you, wizard?”

  “You two have obviously put far more thought into this than I have,” Glynfir said sheepishly.

  “Come on! You started it…and we told you ours! Who is snuggles for you?” Lunish chided

  “Fine. For me, she’s always reclining on a bed, bare legs crossed, wearing something sheer and silk. And big boobs.” He made a cupping gesture with his hands in front of his chest.

  “What about her face or her hair?” Grym pressed his friend.

  The wizard shrugged.

  “Dunno. I never get that far.”

  Lunish scrunched her face into a clear look of distaste.

  “Ewww!” She drew the word out exaggeratedly. “Typical man! You’re such a shallow dog! Sometimes I wonder how we’re friends!”

  The wizard’s mustache shook as he chuckled.

  “Admit it. You love the excitement. Without me, your life would be so boring!”

  She punched his shoulder playfully as all three shared another chuckle.

  “Well, that’s true. You do keep me entertained!”

  “Okay, I’m sending it.” Glynfir squeezed the sending stone between his thumb and forefinger. Closing his eyes, the others went silent, momentarily allowing him to focus.

  “Done.” He held the stone out to Lunish. “I expect the reply will be directions on where to go next, and given where we are, it’s probably best for you to receive it.” She took it from him and slid it into her pocket.

  “So, you’re admitting you can’t find east on a sunny morning?” she smiled back at him.

  “Perhaps not as bad as that, but you are the druid.” He said flatly.

  There was no way to know how long it would take for a response, though most arrived within two to three hours. The trio had learned that sending their updates before retiring was the most efficient approach. They almost always had a reply before beginning the next day’s activities. With the official business concluded, the three friends settled in around the flickering glow of firelight dancing off the cave walls. They enjoyed a meal of wild turkey, idly speculating about the next destination. By the time evening had run its course, Grym had doffed his chainmail shirt, and Lunish had finished putting her hair into two slim braids that began on the top of her head and fell almost to her waist. Even Glynfir’s previously sodden boot was now only damp, thanks to the warmth of the dwindling fire.

  As he stretched out on a deep layer of the high grass they had gathered, the wizard twirled his mustache and admitted that perhaps this outside life wasn’t as bad as he had feared. Maybe it was the fresh meadow scent of their bedding mixed with wood smoke, the white noise of summer insects and hissing coals in the background, or simply the day’s busy activities. Regardless, he was comfortably asleep in minutes.