When Sara left Hagos, it was at the advent of a storm. Rain fell in torrents from the bck sky, threatening to choke anyone who took too deep a breath. They'd been pnning to meet Hurlish outside her shop, but the massive woman had instead appeared outside Lady Vesta's mansion, the pounding of her fists on the main doors mistaken by the staff for thunder until they saw the hinges bouncing. Sara and Evie had come down to greet her after downing a few stamina potions, giving the sopping orc a hug in the middle of the foyer.

  When Hurlish had learned that Sara and Evie would be leaving for the south, the orc had thought about things for a few minutes, then shouted into the back room that she'd be selling her shop off. Sara had too much to teach her, she'd said, and Sara had too much to learn, too. Sara had been eted, of course.

  "What are you doing here?" Sara asked. "We weren't supposed to meet until sunrise."

  "Lightning blew a hole in the shop," Hurlish grunted, giving them both an affectionate pat on their heads. "Looks like I picked the right time to sell it off. Hell of a mess in there when I left, I tell ya."

  "Didn't Lady Vesta buy it from you?"

  "Heh. Yeah."

  Sara released the woman, flicking water off her sleeves. "Good thing she can afford the repairs. We just finished packing." Sara patted her new and far more expensive bag of holding, the fist-sized pouch packed with everything required to spend weeks on the road.

  "I'm ready whenever you two are," Hurlish replied, gesturing to her outfit.

  Hurlish was standing in the middle of the marble-tiled foyer, sopping wet, wearing so much gear that it was necessary to shout over her cnking footsteps. An open-faced cloak was parted to show off a sb of gleaming metal, cold steel protecting Hurlish from chest to waist. Her arms were wrapped in interlocking ptes, simple protections that cked any embellishment, with an equally pin set of lightweight melr for her legs. It was armor that was meant to travel, not to wade into the thick of battle.

  The hammer on her back, however, was anything but practical. It was so massive that Sara could easily see its shape through Hurlish's waterproof cloak. A handle three feet long ended in a square chunk of metal, narrowing to a point that was almost comically superfluous. Anything struck by a steel brick the size of Sara's torso was dead, puncture wound or not.

  "You two really going in that?" Hurlish snorted, looking down at them. "Evie's got some padding at least, tiny little leather thing that it is, but you're basically in your skivvies, girl. What're you gonna do if we get jumped?"

  "I'll put my armor on," Sara answered vaguely, smiling innocently up at Hurlish. Evie wore comfortable leather armor, while Sara had dressed in bog-standard women's peasant clothing.

  The orc crossed her arms, waiting. When Sara didn't have anything to say, she snorted.

  "Figures. Drama before sense. Dunno why I expected anything else."

  "Can you bme a girl for liking surprises?" Sara said. Hurlish rolled her eyes, looking around the mansion.

  "Y'sure there ain't anything else you want to take from here? Got a pretty sweet deal, living under Vesta's roof. Wouldn't want to leave too empty handed."

  "If you saw how much she spent on my travel gear, you'd be blushing," Sara replied. "Between the swords, magical sigils, armor, and supplies, I think we may have actually put Vesta's budget on the back foot for once in her life. Not that she can't afford it."

  "'Course she spent a fortune on you. Y'got to come back and show her a good time eventually."

  "Obviously, but she won't be lonely in the meanwhile," Sara said. She was thinking of Oddry, the finely-adorned maid who Vesta's eyes had been crawling over for the st few days. Sara was honestly surprised she'd noticed Vesta's attention on the girl, because usually Sara had been just as distracted. Hell of a woman, that maid. Hopefully she wasn't the jealous type, so they could all have some fun when Sara made a trip back.

  "My Ladies, the sun has risen," Toman informed the group, appearing beside them as if from thin air.

  "Gah!" Sara jumped back. "How the hell do you do that, man?"

  "My demeanor is so extraordinarily disinteresting that the eye slips right past me, Lady Sara. And if you wish to be well clear of Hagos before nightfall, now is the time to begin traveling. The rain may be a boon for hiding your exit from the city, unpleasant traveling weather though it may be. Few will recognize you as you leave."

  "Thanks. You heard the man, girls," Sara said, cinching up her cloak. "Time to get wet."

  Hurlish snorted, Evie sighed, and Toman remained unreadable.

  They set out into the pitch-bck streets of Hagos, cloaks held tight to their bodies. The rain, heavy though it was, fell without wind. It felt like an extra weight pressing down on Sara, the constant smack against her head and shoulders a drumroll that had no conclusion. She knew Hagos and the south in general were famed for their frequent storms, but this still felt ridiculous.

  They trekked their way through the streets of Hagos, high-stepping any time the street had a divot that let the rainwater pool. It was so difficult to see that Sara and Evie had to rely on Hurlish's knowledge of the city to navigate the streets. She eventually brought them to the city walls, where the usually well-staffed gate was currently poputed by a single, utterly miserable man. He had to step out of the small overhang that he was sheltering in to speak to them.

  "Yer business?"

  "Leaving!"

  "Awright," he said, stepping back. Sara and the others walked through the gate without further ado.

  Normally Sara would have filled their trek with idle chatter and bad jokes, but the weather didn't allow it. Clouds kept the sky midnight dark, so they had to walk in a tight huddle, eyes downcast to follow the mud-strewn road. More than once they veered off to one side or the other, their error revealed as a white-water ditch cut off their path. Sara felt so turned around after an hour of the slog that she wouldn't have been surprised to find the walls of Hagos before her, their group having reversed direction at some point.

  Thankfully that didn't happen. As the hours passed the deluge began to lessen, the first pinpricks of grey light dotting the clouds above. Though she could only judge time by her growing hunger, Sara reckoned that it was close to noon when the downpour had lessened enough to allow conversation.

  "Hell of a storm, wasn't it?" Sara said. "Hopefully we'll find a decent tree to post up under to eat lunch."

  "If you wanna sit under a tree in a storm that's fine by me," Hurlish replied, "But I'll be standing fifty yards back. Ain't interested in getting charcoaled."

  "Oh. Good point." Sara squinted up into the sky. "When do you think it'll let up?'

  "Never know with these things. Getting near the rainy season down south. Pretty soon this'll be happenin' more days than not. Lasts a good bit of most mornings for a few months, but it tapers off around lunchtime. Hard to get work done."

  Sara's expression twisted. "Sounds like we picked the perfect time to travel, huh?"

  "Home sweet home."

  They kept walking for a while, the steady pitter-patter of raindrops across Sara's hood keeping her thoughts company.

  "Where'd you live before Hagos, Hurlish?" Sara asked, curious. The orc had said she moved to the city a decade ago, but nothing more.

  "Southern area of Tulian," she answered. "Little vilge on the jungle's edge, didn't really have a name. Learned to make swords and spears as well as I did 'cause nothing else could fend off the worst of the jungle. When things went to shit I headed off north, stopped at the first city I found that wasn't being evacuated."

  "You're actually from Tulian? That'll be helpful."

  The orc shrugged, creating a pair of temporary waterfalls as water was dispced from divots in her shoulders.

  "Can't really say I'm from Tulian proper. We lived on our own, fended for ourselves. Still had the tax collectors come around twice a year, maybe a caravan every once in a blue moon, but that was it. Hagos is still the only proper city I've ever been to."

  "The only?" Evie asked. "I knew you were a provincial woman, but that's positively backwater."

  "Well, it was a marsh," Hurlish joked. "And I know what you're doing, woman. Trying to get me worked up, so I take it out on you ter."

  Evie's tail thudded against the inside of her raincoat. "Is it working?"

  "Y'don't need anything to get me pying rough, I promise."

  Sara smiled, shaking her head. No matter how dreary the weather was, she was enjoying herself. As they marched on and conversation became steadier, Sara found herself ughing and trading jabs with Hurlish as easily as she and Evie bandied snide remarks to one another.

  They all had their own distinct personalities, but they proved united by their desire to not let cynicism fall into pessimism. Through hours of chatting Sara slowly teased out the particur angle of cynicism that lurked in their new companion. Sara knew that she saw most anyone with coin in their pocket as a potential threat, far from the healthiest outlook for her mental health, while Evie painted the world outside Sara in dulcet grays (which was a whole other kind of fucked in the head), but Hurlish was something of a mystery. Sara kept chatting, steering the conversation with subtle remarks to suss out her test partner.

  For starters, Hurlish had the kind of passive disdain for anyone outside the trades that Sara recognized from her time spent apprenticing under older welders. Hurlish had the habit of viewing folk that avoided "good, hands-on work" as either helpless kids or naive fools, too stupid to strive for a career that let them depend on no one else. Deeper than that, though, Sara discovered that the orc had viewed her peddling of weapons in Hagos as a business that cut her conscious as often as it did her customer's enemies. When she'd been young and new to the big city, she'd told Sara and Evie in an embarrassed voice, she'd actually asked the artificer guild if there was a way for her weapons to be enchanted to not harm 'innocents.' She'd been ughed out of the building, face burning, but the sentiment that had spurred the question hadn't ever left her.

  Their conversations let the hours tick by, and when the sun began to set, they found themselves nowhere near a convenient vilge. Hurlish had them camp on a small mound between two rger hills, positioned in such a way that they were hidden from afar, but wouldn't be swamped if it rained overnight.

  "We're gonna want a fire," Hurlish said as Sara began ying out their tent's canvas. "Got rations for now, so no need to cook, but there's too much water in the air for our clothes to dry. Nothing sucks worse than marching in itchy cloth."

  "Oh, you don't have silk?" Evie teased, even as she began gathering tinder. "I forget how the lower csses suffer, sometimes."

  "Can it, Kitty. I ain't gonna start throwing you around out here. Mud up in your gooch ain't sexy, and I'm speaking from experience."

  Evie exchanged her haughty facade for a pout. "You're no fun, Hurlish."

  "Hey now," the orc protested, "I didn't say we can't fool around. I'm just saying we don't have the real estate for me to do what you want me to do to ya."

  "I second that opinion, Evie," Sara said, stabbing a row of sticks into the ground for drying racks. "Getting sloppy in the mud just really doesn't work out for anyone."

  "And where would you have garnered that experience, Master?" Evie asked. "You speak of your old world like it was pted in iron and stone. Did you import a pile of sand for a dirty evening?"

  Sara snorted. "Hardly. But when you're tipsy at a forest concert and find a pretty guy to get busy with, lessons are learned that you never wanted to get educated on."

  Hurlish and Evie paused, giving each other a look.

  "A man?" Evie asked.

  "Yeah, c'mon, girl," Hurlish echoed. "I thought you had standards."

  Sara rolled her eyes. "Some of us aren't as picky as you two. Where do you think I learned how to use my new equipment? Bookwork?"

  "I'm not opposed to enjoying a fine gentleman myself, Master, but I thought for certain you were exclusively interested in women."

  "Woah, what?" Hurlish said, spinning to Evie. "Am I the only one with decent taste here?"

  "Apparently," Sara shrugged. "But be honest. Did you really expect a Champion of Amarat to be choosy about who she takes to bed?"

  Hurlish scratched the back of her buzz-cut hair. "I guess I hadn't thought about it. Well, for the record, count me out on any group activities with dudes involved."

  "No problem, but I doubt it'll come up. I've never dated a dude, just banged 'em."

  "I've never dated anyone at all," Evie admitted. Now it was Sara's turn to stare incredulously alongside Hurlish. "What?" The catgirl said, folding her arms. "A Lady must keep her prospects open, and there were few candidates worth courting in my Mother's eyes."

  "But surely you got around," Hurlish insisted. "You're too good with your tongue to not have a few gals notched on your belt."

  "A few, but they never got far. Bodyguards and whatnot made it difficult."

  "So I was...?" Sara asked hesitantly.

  "My first? Yes, Master, in many ways. First in my mouth, between my legs, to take me from behind, and just about everything else. You weren't my first kiss, though, nor the first hand down my pants, I'm sorry to say."

  "Huh. I'm kind of feeling a little bit bad about starting off so rough, now that I know that."

  "Like I wanted anything less?" Evie asked rhetorically. "You would have had me cwing at your back to hurry up before five minutes of 'gentle' had passed, Master. Your cock feels too good to allow patience."

  Sara ughed alongside Hurlish, working to get the wet firewood started. They all undressed confidently, comfortable in their nudity around one another. The traveling tent that Sara had purchased was impractically massive, but it fit all of them, and it had a roll-out feather pad six inches thick. She'd barely managed to fit it in the bag of holding with everything else, sacrificing several more practical additions, but she considered it an investment.

  After all, if she was going to be on the road with two beautiful women, she had to have somewhere to pass the time.

  ---------------------------

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  It was on the second night of travel that the rain finally let up enough for them to spend a comfortable evening sitting around a fire, drying their clothes by hanging them across long sticks. The sodden clothes steamed from the fire’s heat, adding to the gentle pops and crackles of the soaked wood Sara had spent so long getting to burn.

  With their traveling clothes occupying half the space surrounding the fire, Sara, Evie, and Hurlish were left on the opposite side, quietly eating the travel rations they’d just finished heating over the fmes. No one was speaking, but it was the quiet of content, companionable silence. They had spent every waking moment of the previous two days walking beside one another. After a certain point, conversation topics ran out. Sara thought it was a good sign that none of them felt the need to press through the pcid moment.

  But she didn’t think it would st long. Sara and Hurlish were both wearing their street clothes, casual sets that they’d donned while their traveling outfits dried. Sara’s were simple, cheap commoner’s clothing, much like Hurlish’s, save for the fact that the orc had removed her shirt’s sleeves to better suit the heat of her forge. Evie, on the other hand, cimed she didn’t want to dirty her nicer clothing, and so had discarded her shirt entirely, sitting quite comfortably in only her chest wrappings.

  It wasn’t an exhibitionist getup; she wrapped her chest as much to serve as an undershirt as a binding for her modest breasts. White cloth covered well above the swell of her breasts, all the way down to the start of her visible rib cage. Sara had seen plenty of tube tops that covered less. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought nothing of it.

  But Sara did know better, and with that knowledge came an unshakeable certainty:

  Evie was trying to get her back blown out.

  Oh, the catgirl wouldn’t have phrased it that way herself. She would have described it as seduction, or pyful teasing, or maybe she would go so far as to call it coquettish flirtation, if she were feeling particurly direct. She would insist that she wasn’t so base as to be lusting after a woman simply because of her appearance. She was better than that, she’d insist. Even when she debased herself for Sara, it was for some nebulous greater reason, not just pure animal instinct.

  Which was fairly believable, up until Sara caught the little hitch in the catgirl’s words as she watched Hurlish rip a log in half with her bare hands. Hurlish tossed a fistful of splinters into the fire, which promptly threw a roar of fme and sparks a mere few feet away from them all.

  Evie’s eyes never left the burly smith’s biceps. Her tail was tracing a slow, nguid circle in the dirt behind her.

  Oh, this is gonna be fun, Sara thought, leaning back to watch.

  “So,” Hurlish said, gncing at Evie. “Got something you want to say?”

  “Hm?” Evie hummed, flicking her eyes up from Hurlish’s arms to meet the woman’s gaze. “Whatever could you mean?”

  “Pretty sure I’ve had tongues that fucked me less than your eyes are right now.”

  Sara ughed as Evie bnched, her ears fluttering.

  “I don’t think she’s used to people being that direct, Hurlish,” Sara said.

  “She should get used to it. I don’t beat around the bush.”

  “Come now, Hurlish,” Evie said, recovering herself. “Don’t you enjoy the dance? Surely not all your partners were ones you approached so directly.”

  “None of my partners started the night off by drooling over my abs.”

  “I was not drooling,” Evie insisted haughtily. “I was admiring. And it was your arms, as a matter of fact.”

  “Yeah? You like ‘em?” Hurlish grabbed another log, this one a foot thick, and tore it apart with the slightest grunt of effort. Wooden splinters wetly spattered across the front of Evie’s body. The catgirl didn’t so much as blink. She was too focused on the sight of Hurlish’s rippling muscles, still damp from sweat and rain. Her green skin steamed slightly next to the fire.

  When half a minute passed without Evie saying another word, Sara volunteered a guess.

  “Yeah, I think she likes them.”

  “Hush, Master,” Evie admonished, blinking back to coherency. “There should at least be some elegance to this, even if I’m the only one capable of bringing it.”

  “Yeah, see,” Hurlish said, looking up and away as if she were thinking hard, “I don’t think that’s quite right. I don’t think you want ‘elegant’ from me, do you?”

  “We shall see if you’ve earned the privilege of pursuing your own interests ter, Hurlish,” Evie countered, fshing a smarmy smile. “If that’s what you want? Impress me.”

  “Hm.” Hurlish rolled a shoulder, joint creaking. “No.”

  In a fsh, Hurlish’s hand shot out, seizing Evie by the front of her pants. Before the catgirl could so much as gasp, she’d been yanked across the gap to be dropped in Hurlish’s p. The first sylble of her protest died as Hurlish’s lips crashed into hers, the orc’s massive hand sliding around to cup the back of Evie’s skull, forcing her into the kiss.

  Sara felt her own body flush as Evie’s initial reaction, that of shock and a reflexive pull away, melted into nothingness. The catgirl’s body molded itself to the massive orc in a manner of seconds, her head tilting to one side as she accepted the impassioned kiss.

  Not even ten seconds had passed before Evie’s mouth opened, tongue trying to find its way into Hurlish’s mouth. Instead, the orc bit at her lip and tugged, forcing an audible gasp from the far smaller woman.

  Then Evie was pulled back entirely, left sitting on Hurlish’s p out in the open, arousal warring with shame on her face.

  “That impressive enough for you?” Hurlish asked, grinning. A bit of Evie’s saliva had made it down to the orc’s chin, something neither woman did anything about.

  “Impressive? H-hardly,” Evie said, wiping her own mouth. It was far from her most convincing lie. “That was just handling me like drunks in a bar wish they could get away with.”

  “Yeah. But you know what the difference between them and me is?”

  Evie’s face remained impassive beyond a single raised eyebrow, but behind her back, her tail began to sh wildly.

  Hurlish grinned toothily, leaning closer. “I really can get away with it.”

  Without warning, Evie was shoved backward, nding hard. A few moments ago, she would have been tossed into a puddle of muddy dirt. Thankfully for her, Sara had spent the time the catgirl had been distracted ying out a few yers of bnkets, covering the ground next to the campfire.

  Evie tried to sit up, looking at the bnket in confusion, but was promptly distracted by seven feet of orc thumping down on top of her, straddling her hips. Hurlish’s palms immediately began running up and down the sides of Evie’s body, rough callouses providing a pleasant rasp that Sara could hear from a few feet away. Hurlish could grip Evie’s ribcage like Sara could a cup, the tips of her fingers almost touching behind Evie’s back as she held the catgirl. Evie shivered, but managed to maintain enough of her composure to speak again.

  “Is that your pn, then? To try and take me like some lonely harlot, more eager for my body than my coin?”

  “So what if I do?” Hurlish asked, her roaming hands stopping at the edges of Evie’s bindings. “What are you going to do about it? Not like you could stop me.”

  At this Evie’s eyes fshed, a hint of genuine defiance making itself known. Being shoved around in bed was one thing for the catgirl, Sara knew, but implying she couldn’t fight her way out of a position? That was another.

  Evie immediately twisted, rolling her hips as she went to grab at the bnket so she could scramble out from under Hurlish.

  In their sparring matches, Sara had learned that Evie’s swordsmanship training hadn’t neglected wrestling in the slightest. If anything, the catgirl excelled at it. Ending up unarmed on the battlefield was every soldier’s nightmare, and she’d trained well for it, and by extension, she’d begun training Sara. She’d never been able to pin the wily catgirl for long.

  Sometimes, though, simple tricks were the best. And Hurlish had one advantage Sara didn’t: three hundred pounds of muscle.

  Rather than darting to her feet as she’d clearly expected, Evie let out a startled oof as her hips were driven into the bnket by Hurlish’s weight. She immediately tried to reach for leverage, trying to throw Hurlish off her, but that was stopped by simple virtue of Hurlish sliding her hands up, pinching the catgirl’s biceps between two fingers.

  Sara had to stifle her ughter, watching events unfold. With her hands forced above her head and her legs kicking uselessly, Evie looked like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

  “You know, Master, it wouldn’t be so funny if it was happening to you,” Evie said, staring frustrated daggers at Sara.

  “It did happen to me, actually,” Sara said, still ughing slightly. “Pretty sure you didn’t do much to help me, either. But don’t worry. The next part is fun.”

  “We will see about-”

  Evie’s retort was cut off by the sound of ripping cloth and a sudden, sharp gasp.

  Hurlish’s thick fingers ripped her binder off in an instant, shredding the thin, rain-soaked cloth. There was so much force behind it that Evie was lifted up off the bnket just to thump back down, mouth open in a wide O as her breasts were id bare. Hurlish dropped the shreds of her garments a moment ter, and Sara watched the way Evie tracked the falling tatters, eyes peeling wide. Another shiver rolled up her body, a slight whimper of desire pressing itself through her lips.

  Oh, I’m remembering that for ter, Sara thought, watching the reaction. Someone had a kink for getting clothes torn off her.

  If Hurlish noticed, it wasn’t obvious. She was too enamored by the sight of Evie’s breasts, flickers of firelight dancing across the pale skin. Hurlish ran a thumb up the swell of her chest, slowly, tauntingly, only to stop just before the nipple. Evie let out an involuntary groan, trying to shove herself into Hurlish’s hand.

  “What was that about elegance you said earlier, little Kitty?”

  Evie’s breath was growing more bored by the second, and it visibly picked up a notch when Hurlish called her Kitty. Sara shuffled around on the log she was using for a stool, angling for a better view. A part of her deeply, deeply wanted to get involved, but that part was pying second fiddle to a more voyeuristic self.

  And I even get some payback to go along with the show, Sara reminded herself, thinking of her first encounter with Hurlish. It would be a real treat to see the same exchange from the outside.

  Hurlish ignored Evie’s ineffectual squirming as she bent forward, burying her head in the crook of Evie’s neck. For all her earlier protests, Evie instantly craned her head up and to the side, giving Hurlish as much room as she needed.

  Hurlish rewarded her with a slow, teasing p of her tongue, pressing her lips to Evie’s pulse point. She couldn’t suck a hickey into the skin in the traditional fashion, on account of her tusks breaking her lip’s seal, but she did the next best thing. Evie was wracked by shudders at every nip and nibble of Hurlish’s teeth, her eyelids falling shut amongst her contented sighs.

  Without warning, Hurlish jerked Evie’s head to the side, forcing the catgirl to expose the other side of her neck. It was a brutal, sudden motion, and it was done with a hard yank of Evie’s braided hair.

  “Ow!” Evie hissed. “Have some decorum, woman.”

  “Only if you want me to,” Hurlish murmured.

  “Did you not hear what I just sai-i-i-d-”

  Evie’s response stuttered off into oblivion as Hurlish began attending the other side of her neck, kissing her way down to the catgirl’s colrbone. Evie hissed again, for a different reason, as her hands dropped to rest on the back of Hurlish’s head.

  With Hurlish’s mouth otherwise occupied, Sara made the valiant decision to take up the banner of teasing Evie.

  “What were you saying there, Evie?”

  “That s-she needs to, ah, l-listen to me, n-not her delusions,” Evie said, just barely gasping the words out.

  “Pretty sure she’s listening to your body, actually,” Sara said, grinning mischievously. “And it’s looking like a lot more reliable of a source right now.”

  “Th-that’s j-just because y-you like to look at i-it so much.”

  “You’re not lying. I do love to look at it. But tasting it is even better.”

  Whatever Evie had to say next would never be known, because Hurlish picked up on the cue with ease. Her head darted down in a fsh, tongue rolling across Evie’s breast to nd on her nipple.

  “Ah!” Evie cried, abs clenching as her hips tried to grind upward. Hurlish’s pin was inescapable, however. Evie was left shivering in pce, words abandoned for half-suppressed moans.

  Sara shifted her log once more, so she was sitting behind Evie’s head, staring down the length of the two women. Hurlish was still dressed in the sleeveless shirt she slept in, which Sara thought was a damn shame.

  She reached forward to tug at Hurlish’s colr. The orc lifted her arms without a word, removing her lips from Evie’s chest just long enough for the shirt to be slipped off, then dove back in before Evie could form a coherent thought.

  Instead, the catgirl’s hands removed themselves from Hurlish’s neck, tching onto the woman’s chest instead. She began to knead and paw at Hurlish’s breasts with gleeful eagerness, trying her best to provoke a reaction from the woman atop her.

  It didn’t work. Hurlish let out a pleased little groan, but that was it. If anything, the feeling of Hurlish’s breasts under her palms served to drive Evie’s arousal higher. Her groping went from teasing to indulgent in a brief few seconds, as if she were trying to commit every square inch of green skin to memory.

  For Sara, the sight was intoxicating. Hurlish had a nice rack; Sara knew that from the moment she’d first met the smith, when it had taken her ten minutes of conversation to learn what color her eyes were. They were rge on her body, rge by any definition, but when they were put up next to Evie, who was two feet shorter? That put it in perspective.

  And Evie was very aware of it. She tried to drag Hurlish back up to her face, to capture her in a kiss, and Sara knew it was only so the catgirl could get a better view of the body that had shoved her to the ground.

  Instead, Hurlish peeled herself off Evie’s chest, returning to her prior straddling of the smaller woman’s hips. Evie’s eyes fluttered at the loss of sensation, then snapped open, drinking in the sight of Hurlish over her.

  Sara couldn’t bme her. It was one hell of a sight. Hurlish’s breasts were as flushed as her face, tinged a darker green around her hardening nipples, and the wide expanse of her abs rose and fell with her breath. She’d worked up the slightest sweat, a single drop rolling down her brow, accompanied by a hungry look in her eyes.

  “Still think you’re hot shit?” Hurlish asked.

  “You haven’t done a thing but pleasure me,” Evie said, puffing the words out between gasps. “I fail to see the point you’re proving.”

  “Ain’t any point,” Hurlish said, shuffling backward, until she was perched over Evie’s thighs. “I’m just doing what I want.”

  Swallowing hard at the implication left by her suddenly exposed pelvis, Evie mustered up one st smarmy retort. Sara suspected it would be her st of the evening.

  “Well, then. Get to it, won’t you?”

  Without fanfare, Hurlish’s hand dropped between Evie’s legs and shoved upward, palm grinding against the clothes covering her core.

  Hurlish ughed openly as Evie’s voice turned into a high-pitched whine, her entire body rolling as she threw herself into the pressure.

  “There we go, little Kitty. You’re getting it now.”

  “Gods,” Evie breathed, seemingly without noticing it. Hurlish pushed harder yet again, moving her hand down, and Evie instinctively chased the motion, unwilling to let go of the friction.

  Unnoticed by either party, Sara finally lost her battle of wills. Her hand slid down the front of her pants, finding her own wetness. She let out a little gasp at the first contact of her own hand, then began to rub small circles. She was thankful beyond belief that her body had decided to let her have a pussy for the evening; jerking off was so much less subtle.

  Not that it seemed likely either woman would notice anything. Hurlish was all but growling her desire as she watched Evie desperately shove against her hand, letting the catgirl chase her every touch. She’d shifted so her knee was between the woman’s legs, freeing her to writhe with wild abandon.

  A privilege that Evie was freely abusing, having apparently entirely forgotten that she was supposed to be resisting Hurlish’s advances. Her breathless huffs had turned into outright moans, audible even through the knuckle she was biting to silence herself. Every time Hurlish shifted in the slightest direction, Evie’s skin twitched in a wave, her eyes closing in a tight squeeze.

  Hurlish kept grinding, teasing, one hand moving up to Evie’s breasts on occasion to pinch and tug at a nipple. Evie’s eyes fluttered open every time, only to squeeze shut with a groan the moment she caught sight of Hurlish standing over her. Eventually she threw one arm over her face, as if it would somehow hide the arousal that had begun to drip through her clothes.

  But it couldn’t st forever. When Evie’s body began to properly shudder, wave after wave wracking her limbs with increasing frequency, Hurlish abruptly pulled away.

  Evie cried out in dismay, her free arm filing blindly in search of Hurlish’s hand, trying to drag it back.

  “You learned anything yet, Kitty?” Hurlish asked.

  “Wha…. what?” Evie asked with a groan, still refusing to uncover her eyes.

  “I said,” Hurlish growled, leaning forward slightly, “have you learned anything yet?”

  Sara watched Evie’s higher brain functions try to drag themselves out of the slogging mud of her burning heat, ears flicking back and forth as if they could pick out the correct response.

  “What… what should I say?”

  Hurlish ughed, a loud, boisterous tone that echoed over the night pins. “The fuck’s that mean, Kitty?”

  “I want… to know…” Evie finally tossed her arm off her eyes, looking at Hurlish, “what you want me to say.”

  “Oh? What happened to the big, fancy noblewoman?”

  “She spent an hour at the cusp of finishing, only to be denied,” Evie said, some of her old snappishness entering her tone.

  Sara thought about telling Evie that it had really only been about five minutes, but decided against it. It definitely looked as though had felt like an hour.

  “So what do you want from me, then?” Hurlish asked.

  “Please,” Evie groaned.

  “Please what?”

  “You already know.”

  “Not sure I do. You’ll have to be more specific. Tell me what I want to hear.”

  “I… I want you to…” Evie trailed off, a blush continuing to rise through her cheeks. “Gods, please, just get on with it.”

  Silently, Sara slipped off her seat, dropping her pants off to one side. Evie startled as she felt warm thighs press against the sides of her head, but calmed the moment she saw Sara above her, pulling her head onto her soft p.

  “I’ve got some suggestions for you,” Sara murmured, tracing small circles around the base of Evie’s feline ears. “It’s not hard to beg, you know.”

  “That’s… you…”

  Sara silenced Evie with a gentle press to the spot where Evie’s ears met her scalp. Barely a grazing whisper, it nonetheless shut Evie up.

  “I’m not going to tell you what to say,” Sara whispered. “That would be cheating. But here’s some ideas. Why don’t you try and tell her what you want her to do to you?”

  “She… she should just-” Evie’s words were briefly overtaken with a mewl as Hurlish pressed down yet again, just to keep things interesting. After gaining control of herself, she continued her breathless whisper. “She said she was going to do what she wanted to me.”

  “Yeah. And now she’s forcing you to say what she wants to hear. That’s all you have to do.”

  Evie’s eyes wrenched shut, another trembling rush rolling along her body. She spent a few moments taking quick, tiny little breaths, her breasts bouncing with each inhale and exhale.

  Sara had expected Evie to beg. To plead in needy little whines, her depraved desires finally slipping from unconscious to conscious.

  Evie opened her eyes, staring up at Hurlish.

  “Y-you win.”

  Hurlish’s grin was wide, satisfaction radiating from every pore.

  “Very, very good Kitty,” Hurlish purred. “Now hold her down, Sara.”

  Sara barely had enough time to grab Evie’s shoulders before Hurlish tore her pants off, Evie’s sopping underwear going with it. If Sara hadn’t taken hold in time, it seemed likely Evie would have been flung halfway across the fields. Hurlish didn’t care. She pressed a single finger to Evie’s dripping pussy, prodding at the entrance, as if she needed any confirmation that Evie was ready to take her.

  Sara watched with bated breath, her own heart thudding in her chest. She wanted to see it. She wanted to watch Evie get taken apart.

  But Hurlish paused, lifting her hand up and away. Evie whined in protest, until Hurlish dropped her palm down on her pelvis, resting it on her skin.

  Sara licked her lips at the sight. Spread out like that, Hurlish’s single hand almost covered the catgirl’s entire stomach. Most of Sara’s toys back on earth had been shorter than the smith’s index finger. Hell, it was bigger than most dicks she’d taken, and thicker, too.

  Evie saw the implication clearly. It was obvious in the way her breath hitched, chest frozen.

  Then Hurlish dropped her hand back down and, without the slightest bit of ceremony, pushed inside Evie.

  The catgirl threw her head back with a keening moan, back arching off the ground. Her fingers and toes curled as her tail fell suddenly limp, like the nerves had been severed. She fell back down a moment ter, panting, only to be thrown up again as Hurlish crooked her finger, grinding at the top of Evie’s walls.

  “Gods, gods, gods,” Evie whined, repeating the word as a mindless prayer. “Please. Please, please faster.”

  Sara spared a brief gnce at Hurlish. She was unsurprised to find the cockiest grin she’d ever seen a woman wear pstered across the orc’s face.

  Hurlish drew back with a wet noise. Evie shuddered, throwing her legs around Hurlish’s waist, trying to draw her back in.

  Hurlish obliged, and Sara learned why she’d been told to hold Evie down.

  She thrust into Evie with the force of a jackhammer, burying herself into the knuckle in an instant. Evie’s entire body was thrown up into Sara’s p with a gasp, eyes widening in shock.

  She wasn’t even given a moment to recover. Hurlish’s finger slipped out, then thrust in again, setting a brutal, merciless pace. Evie was forced further up into Sara’s p, her breath stolen from her as her entire body shook with the force of Hurlish’s thrusts.

  Without breaking pace, the orc leaned forward, taking Evie’s breast between her teeth once more. This time, though, she bit down, tugging hard.

  Evie’s only reaction was a wet clicking noise from her throat as her body tried to react, but there wasn’t anything she could do. She froze like she’d been shocked, then began to shake and shiver, ever-more humiliating sounds pulled from her throat. The pace Hurlish set should have been brutal, painful, and it likely was, yet Evie’s entire body was writhing in abject delight.

  Evie threw her head to the side, burying her face between Sara’s thighs as whatever was left of her instincts tried to hide her shameful pleasure. Sara watched her unoccupied breast bounce with every impact, while Hurlish’s own generous chest pressed against the catgirl’s body, enveloping her in softness.

  “Good girl, such a good girl,” Sara cooed. She began to stroke Evie’s hair, steadily guiding her face back up, facing the open sky. Evie whined and whined, trying to fight it, to keep her face hidden, but Sara knew just what to do. With a single knuckle, she pressed down into the catgirl’s ear, grinding at the twitching muscles.

  Evie’s mouth fell open with a pitiful cry, her entire body contorting to shove harder into the touch. Her shaking began to reach a crescendo that, when Hurlish’s thumb reached up to rub at her clit, become a sudden, convulsing climax.

  She twisted her head back and forth, grinding into Sara’s hand with the same mindless need that had consumed her lower half, which was throwing itself into Hurlish’s touch. The mere sight of her climax had Sara’s own body clenching down on nothing, feeling light-headed as she watched the most beautiful woman she’d ever met come apart at the seams. Sara kept stroking Evie’s hair as she shook, crying out in delirious pleasure. Her choking whines reached a peak, each one nearly a scream as Hurlish continued to grind against her pussy, then began to slowly peter out as she used the st of her air, her voice turning scratchy and raw. Sara slowly lowered her back to the bnket, guiding her through the come-down of her climax, but never without pulling her hands from the catgirl’s ears.

  With a final, trembling moan, Evie colpsed. Her entire body was limp on the bnket, save for the occasional tremors which ran through her, the aftershocks of her orgasm rippling across her skin. Sara slipped her hands away from her ears slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb her. Evie’s head came to rest in her p once more, quiet breath whistling through her teeth.

  “So…” Hurlish said after some time, drawing Sara’s attention upward. “That was easier than I thought it’d be.”

  Sara barely choked back her ughter, still not wanting to wake Evie. “Yeah,” she said, “Evie’s like that. Pretty nice, isn’t it?”

  “Fuckin’ beautiful is what it was.” Hurlish shifted backward, rolling out her shoulder, flexing the muscles in her hand. Then gnced at Sara, smirking. “Doesn’t look like she has another round in her. How ‘bout you?”

  Sara flung her shirt off to nd somewhere in the darkness, advancing on Hurlish without hesitation.

  ---------------------------

  ------------------------

  ---------------------

  The coast was more than a week of travel away, and with their mornings regurly serenaded by rain, it was slow going. Sara had deliberated over the best way to get to the old capital of Tulian, poring over the maps of the intervening territory. There was a considerable gap of rural no-man's-nd between the major popution centers of the two countries, several hundred miles of small vilges and slightly rger towns serving as focal points. The roads were maintained, but circuitous, and information on the safety of travel in old Tulian itself was sparse.

  So Sara had decided to make for the coast, hopefully using Vesta's reputation to book a ship on the cheap. Ideally, they'd find one passing near the old Tulian capital, so all that would be required was a drop of the anchor and dinghy to the shore. If they managed that, it wouldn't be expensive at all.

  She became certain she'd made the right choice on the third day of huffing her way up hills before stumbling back down them, cursing quietly all the while. The way between Hagos and the coast was characterized by constant and jagged elevation changes, the topography resembling the leftovers of a wnmower chewing up a field of tennis balls. There were never any mountains, but the hills had inexplicable sheer cliffs and random forests sprouting in the valleys. Sara's shaky geography knowledge was more than enough for her to confidently say that absolutely none of it made sense. Which she did, constantly.

  Hurlish had ughed at her, calling her a city girl, which wasn't wrong. Her venture with Evie to the city of Hagos, which had been far easier hiking, had been the first time she'd been somewhere without paved sidewalks since her st substance-addled concert back on Earth.

  Further, Sara found it incredibly frustrating that Evie wasn't struggling like her, despite being even more of a city kid than her. The catgirl's nimble stride invariably picked the best way over the terrain, avoiding hidden rocks and pitfalls like she'd memorized the path to a tee. Hurlish, on the other hand, usually just stomped right through, burly boots snapping logs like twigs and digging new ditches when the mud dared to suck her feet in.

  By the end of the first week, Sara had found her own way of navigating the terrain. It was awkward as all hell, and relied on her being the st in line behind the others to let them either point out or smash obstacles aside, but it worked. She hopped over fallen logs and stepped around pitfalls Evie's feet avoided, occasionally using Hurlish as a barn wall to catch herself against.

  "I'm telling you, this is bullshit!" She insisted yet again. It was the eighth day of travel, and the morning rains were nearly done. "These hills shouldn't exist!"

  "How d'you figure that?" Hurlish asked, booting a tree trunk ten feet long out of Sara's way.

  "Thank you. And it's because the geography is impossible. What kind of weathering or tectonic activity or whatever could have left a hundred-foot cliff in the middle of miles of a ft field?"

  "I dunno what that is."

  "Right," Sara grunted, "I forget sometimes. Feels like I've known you girls forever. Okay, so, you know the pnet's a sphere, right?"

  "I'm not a dumbass."

  "Hey, I'm just covering my bases. So what do you think is at the center of the pnet?"

  "...rocks?" Hurlish guessed.

  Evie piped up from the front. "I've read that some used to suspect the Pne of Earth is based there, but those theories were discarded centuries ago."

  "Good, because they were wrong. With the entire pnet's weight pressing down on the center, the earth heats up, melting into liquid. That liquid goes up really far, only solidifying like twenty miles or so beneath the surface."

  "Master, weren't you supposed to avoid telling others of your Champion's knowledge?"

  "That doesn't count when I'm whining," Sara replied, "And if you can figure out a way to weaponize pte tectonics, feel free." She hopped over a small gully, the rainwater rushing through it. "All of the solid stuff we call 'nd' floats around on that liquid, shifting and moving over millions of years."

  "Millions?" Hurlish interrupted. "That's ridiculous."

  "Not really. My pnet was four and a half billion years old, and the universe was only fifteen billion years old."

  Hurlish stopped suddenly. Sara bumped into her back, smushing her nose against cloth-covered armor. "Did you just say how old the universe is?"

  "I gueth?" Sara responded, rubbing her sore face. "I told you, there's tons of stuff I know just 'cause I fell asleep watching a documentary or something."

  Hurlish turned around, staring down at Sara. "How in the fuck do you know how old the universe is?"

  Sara smugly smiled up at the woman. "I mean, maybe the universe is different here. But back on Earth, I know when humans first appeared, when ice covered the entire pnet, and I know when the sun was born and when it'll die."

  "Well now, isn't that just fascinating!" A woman's voice cried, echoing off the cliff wall they'd been walking alongside.

  Hurlish immediately threw Sara behind her, cloak flying as she drew her hammer in a fsh. Evie's rapier dropped into her hand, the silvery white bde the only color protruding from her ashen cloak.

  "Who goes there?!" Hurlish bellowed, spinning about. They were walking beside the bottom of cliffside, following a trail punched through a thicket of young trees that surrounded the hill's base.

  "I do!" The voice shouted back, impossible to pin down with the echo, though Sara could only assume it came from the treeline. "And I've been following you three for quite a while. If I'd wanted to ambush you, I'd have done so."

  "Unless you were waitin' till we had our backs to the wall," Hurlish snarled back, flourishing her hammer in agitation. It was quite an intimidating sight, to see something so massive handled like a feather-light dagger.

  "Show yourself!" Sara hollered, stepping forward.

  Hurlish put a hand out to keep her back, but Sara pushed through. The orc probably wanted anyone unarmored behind her.

  She stepped forward in answer to the call, though slowly, to give Evie and Hurlish a good luck at the armor they still hadn't seen yet.

  A steel breastpte covered her chest, finely etched with artistically pced magical runes. Some armors had a central ridge running from neck to waist, whether an artifact of the manufactory process or for reinforcement, but Sara's armor had two, and they were purely cosmetic. They followed the curve of her breasts, sweeping down and to the side, like a feminine answer to those old greek armors that had pecs and abs engraved. The runes followed along the ridges, inked in royal purple and pink that matched Sara's skin. The bulge of metal over her breasts was rger than strictly necessary, but she'd insisted on it, to let anyone who saw her armor know exactly what awaited beneath.

  Her helmet she'd had made in the style of viking valsgarde helmets, face protected by a curving pte that followed the lines of her cheekbones to meet over her mouth. Large eyeholes gave her good vision, and she could breathe easy, while still having the option of attaching chainmail to cover her neck if she felt it necessary.

  A skirt of woven metal pieces protected her from the waist to the thighs, ptes of steel two inches tall and six inches wide tied together into a shimmering veil. Some magical WD-40 must have stopped them from cnking or grinding as she moved, the uncanny ease with which they interlocked revealing their magical nature.

  "The fuck is that?" Hurlish grunted.

  Sara loved her armor.

  "If you don't have hostile intentions, why hide and yell at us from a distance?" Sara shouted, flipping her greatsword out. "Show yourself, and we might be more willing to talk."

  "I stay hidden for the reason you stay armed," the voice called back. Sara still couldn't find the source, but Evie's ears were twitching like radar towers, narrowing towards a certain angle. "You could have bows or spells and cut me down on the spot rather than agree to parley."

  "If that's really what you wanted, you could've just run ahead of us and waited on the road," Sara replied.

  "True, but you caught my interest now, not ter," the voice called. Evie's ears had stopped twitching, locked on a certain spot. "I'm not a very patient captain. Now, if you were to put those weapons away, I'm sure I could come out to talk."

  "No chance," Hurlish grunted. "Not until we know you're not going to fill us with arrows the second we stand down."

  "If that were my pn, I would have shot without warning. But since your feline seems to have found me already," two unarmed hands popped out of a bush a few dozen yards to the front-right, followed shortly by a standing woman. "As you can see, I not only mean you no harm, but haven't the means to enact it."

  Sara knew in an instant that this woman's intersection with her had been orchestrated by Amarat, because she was unbelievably hot. The half-elf stranger wore a sharp bck military uniform, almost Napoleonic in its tight fit, with fine gloves covering her to the forearm. Her shoulders were decorated by an officer's golden threads, and her coat folded out below the chin to show off simir golden threads stitched in entrancing swirl patterns. A red sash was tied around her waist, marking the transition to cream-colored pants covered from the knee down by fred boots. Though she looked a few years younger than Sara, she walked with a makeshift cane, a thin tree branch that supported her right-sided limp. Dark eyes evaluated Sara as she walked up, her messy bck-haired bob bouncing.

  "You said you know when the sun will die?" The woman prompted, stopping on the grass just outside of lunging range.

  "I did," Sara confirmed, seeing no point in lying. "What does it matter to you?"

  "I like learning things," she said with a precise shrug. "I take interest in everything, but certain topics most of all. If you know the fate of the sun, maybe you'll know other things that fit my interests."

  Sara licked her lips, trying to maintain eye contact as she listened to the vaguely-british accent. The woman had to be sent by Amarat, because her outfit was tailored to push Sara's every button. A trim body and modest breasts halfway between Sara and Evie's bust size were just the cherry on top; Sara was convinced she'd be drooling over a grandma if they wore a suit like that.

  "I might have some information you'd want," Sara said after a hopefully imperceptible pause, "But it's long odds that I'd share it with you. It'd take one hell of a convincing argument."

  "I can be very persuasive," she replied. "How about we start with introductions? I'd struggle to imagine a parley held without the involved parties knowing one another's names."

  She keeps using that word, Sara noted. 'Parley', like this is some kind of formal meeting.

  "I'm Sara," she said.

  "Hurlish."

  "Evie."

  "Captain Nora," she replied, single finger tapping a bnk spot above her right breast. "It's nice to meet you, Sara. What fae did you bargain with for your knowledge?"

  "You mean goddess?" Sara asked, assuming a dialect difference for the confusion.

  "Ah, so you are the Champion I've heard of," Nora smiled. "The Champion of Amarat, yes?"

  Welp. That slip was definitely on Sara.

  "What does it matter to you?" She retorted, seeing no sense in confirming the accusation. "And what do you want from us?"

  "It matters only in regards to the value of your knowledge," Nora replied. She reached into a pouch hidden by her sash, pulling out a thick and weathered tome that she began quickly flipping through. "Champions have even more esoteric knowledge than the fae, and can be paid in much simpler fashion. Are you experienced with seafaring, Sara?"

  Sara looked helplessly to Evie and Hurlish, who only shrugged back. This Nora had them all stumped. At least with her nose buried in a book it became clear the woman was no threat. Sara flipped her sword closed and sheathed it.

  "I'm not, but I assume you are. You introduced yourself as a Captain, right?"

  "Captain Nora, yes."

  "Then I assume you're traveling to the coast?"

  "I am," she said, her page turning slowing to let her scan each heading.

  "Well we happen to be looking for a ship. Would you accept my answers to your questions as payment for passage to Tulian's old capital?"

  Nora's eyes snapped up, a predator's gaze locked onto Sara. Time froze as a floating box of text appeared above the woman's head.

  Ability Activated: Amarat's Intuition

  (Compatible targets may have helpful information revealed to the user.)

  Captain Nora is a woman who holds the sea in higher regard than all the shores bordering it. Her first memory is staring at sails sinking over the horizon, and she's prepared for her captaincy ever since. Her manic quest for knowledge has taken her to disgraced admirals in seedy bars and hidden archfae alike, trading all she had for what they knew of the waves. Through underhanded favors and twisted bargains, she has become the most skilled captain to have never set foot on a ship.

  Sara took the information in at a blink, the exact wording pressed into her memory. Nora didn't notice, the eager glint in her eye blinding her.

  "Passage to Tulian is a too easy a journey, Champion. Will you really give me the kind of information I want?"

  "It seems fair to me. You strike me as someone who'll know most of the facts I can dig up, anyway."

  "You're not wrong, Champion." She looked down at the page she'd stopped on, reading it aloud. "It is said that even the dullest of Champions had knowledge beyond the greatest schors, and it was only through one's guidance that Admiral Astat was able to outmaneuver the Carrion Fleet in their home archipego." She spped the book closed, dropping it into her hidden pouch. "What will you give me, Sara? Something able to dash a fleet against rocks they've sailed past a thousand times before?"

  "We'll have to see, won't we?" Sara answered. "I don't see a ship, and I certainly don't see Tulian on the horizon."

  "Then payment will be delivered when the sails are struck?"

  "Of course," Sara said confidently, despite having no idea what it meant for sails to be 'struck.' "I'm nice, but not that nice."

  "Then let's trek to Port Agrith as one group. Safety in numbers."

  Hurlish snorted, speaking up for the first time. "Safety for you, you mean. What were you gonna do if you get mugged? Poke them to death with your cane?"

  "There are bandits along these paths?" Nora asked with genuine surprise.

  "Uh... yeah," Hurlish said. "There's bandits just 'bout everywhere there's people, Captain. Same as pirates, from the way I hear it."

  "A disappointment. I should have prepared a weapon."

  Sara frowned. "Exactly how well were you prepared for this trip?"

  "I have food, my uniform, and money to buy more food. What else should I have brought?"

  "Master?" Evie put a hand on Sara's armored shoulder, pulling her aside to whisper. "How trustworthy is this supposed captain, exactly?"

  "Extremely," Sara answered confidently.

  "How're you figuring that?" Hurlish asked. Nora was already ignoring them in favor of burying her nose in another book.

  "Champion stuff. I'm almost positive Amarat set this up, like she did my meetings with you two."

  "Not to second-guess a god," Hurlish said hesitantly, watching Nora wobble to the right as she lifted her cane hand to turn a page, "but I'm second-guessing a god."

  "Amarat literally told me she's 'the most skilled captain to have never set foot on a ship'. I don't know about you, but 'most skilled' is a pretty strong endorsement to me."

  "Never set foot on a ship?" Evie repeated incredulously.

  "Yeah. Apparently she's spent her whole life training to be a captain, and I guess she finally decided she's ready. I know first-hand that knowing how to do something and having experience doing it are two different things, but I trust her." Sara lowered her voice. "And are you two fuckin' blind? Look at her."

  All three women turned appraising eyes to Nora. She'd bent over to pick up her cane, bancing on her good leg in a way that pulled her pants tight against her ass.

  "That is a compelling point in her favor," Evie admitted.

  "She's hot as shit," Hurlish huffed. She gnced up, addressing the sky. "My bad, Amarat."

  "Are you three done ogling?" Nora called, straightening back up. "I'm rather eager to get going."

  Hurlish chuckled. "Good hearing, too."

  With that they set off, as soon as Sara managed to slip out of her bulky armor. It took far longer to take it off than it did to put it on, something that she adamantly refused to expin to Hurlish or Evie.

  Thankfully for Nora's sake, they were near enough the coast by then that they found a vilge to stay the night in. Nora actually led them to it, though it was slightly out of the way and not on Sara's maps. She cimed to have business in town, though what it was Sara couldn't imagine.

  The faux captain was put up in the room next to them when they arrived at an inn, and Sara didn't think the walls were all that thick. That didn't stop them from enjoying themselves as soon as they arrived, but it was a bit awkward to imagine when her libido had settled down. Nora met them down for a te dinner without comment, though, so maybe she was just a heavy napper.

  "So, Nora," Sara said between spoonfuls of stew, "Just how much do you really know about sailing?"

  "Oh, most of it," she said, blowing on her own bowl. "I've memorized fourteen hundred and seventeen textbooks on the subject, personally interviewed several dozen military captains, hundreds of cargo captains, and three admirals."

  "You're ciming to have memorized over a thousand textbooks?" Evie asked doubtfully.

  "Not ciming. I have. It cost my right leg below the knee, but was certainly worth it."

  "What?" Hurlish leaned forward. "Expin that."

  Nora twisted on her stool, thumping her right leg up on the table. She tried to pull off the long boot, but couldn't quite reach, so Hurlish reached over and yanked it off.

  Half of Nora's leg went with the shoe. Hurlish jumped back with a curse as she dropped a wooden appendage to the tabletop, still in the boot. Nora rolled her pants leg back, showing that the limb ended just below the knee, the same pce her boots cut off at. The end of her leg was wrapped in bandages for padding, but blood spots soaked through, red irritated skin running up the limb.

  "I traded it to a fae in exchange for the ability to perfectly recall anything I've read reted to ocean travel. I presented myself as a naive young teen, rather than an aspiring captain, so they happily agreed."

  Hurlish yanked the wooden prosthetic leg from its boot, turning it over in her hands. "This is shit quality," she sniffed, rapping a knuckle against a rusty heel hinge. "No wonder you walk so wobbly."

  "Actually, I walked like that before I lost the leg, if I recall correctly. Some other deal with a water nymph? I forget."

  Hurlish turned the leg around, scraping a nail at the ft wood that pressed against Nora's knee. "This is still shit. I could whittle you a better one with a butter knife."

  "Feel free, though I don't mind. I've gotten used to it."

  Hurlish slid the leg back across the table to Nora, who began strapping it back in pce.

  "Do you really expect to be able to command a ship?" Evie asked. "If what you say is true, you certainly have the knowledge required, but most admirals I have met were rather unlike you. They had forceful personalities, scowling faces, and held themselves like gods amongst men."

  "Oh, yeah, I think I'll probably be fine," Nora said cheerfully, finally getting to her soup now that it had cooled to room temperature. "Deals, deals, deals, I made so many deals. The st one was an archfae, and he actually knew of me before I'd arrived because I'd traded so much to his friends. He took partial ownership of my mind. Snipped little bits of me out, turned my brain to cheese. I get it back when I'm on the ocean, though, that was the deal. I think he thought he took enough to make sure I never got to the sea. But now that I've found you three, how could I not?"

  Sara blew out a long breath, eyes wide. She'd thought Evie had been fanatically devoted, willing to make absurd sacrifices for what she wanted, but Nora? The woman had sold parts of herself off, piecemeal, just to cw closer to a dream she may never achieve. It was almost awe-inspiring, if it hadn't been so boneheaded.

  "Does what I've done bother you, Sara?" Nora asked. "It doesn't bother me."

  "A part of me respects it, a part of me hates it. Do you even remember what you were like before that st deal?"

  "Of course." She set her spoon in the bowl, looking Sara dead in the eye. "I was the kind of person who could stroll across a continent, finding ancient beings to trade my body and soul to, getting the better of them while I was at it. A woman who rubbed elbows with pirate lords, shared their beer and spit it out when I tasted poison. I was the first to track down Admiral Sinti since his exile, and I spent six months as his first and only apprentice. His mind was taken from him by a stroke one night, which means I'm the only person left alive who knows how he shot the Zavian Strait, and I'm the only one who could do it again." Nora took another bite of her stew, innocent expression unchanged. "You may be Amarat's Champion, Sara, but I will be the Champion of the Sea. My fate will be set in stone the moment I take the wheel."

  The tavern, which had been filled with the gentle lull of tired conversation, was now silent. All eyes were turned to Nora, who seemed oblivious to the attention.

  "Well?" She asked Sara. "Do you still doubt I can ferry you a couple hundred miles down the coast?"

  Before Sara could answer, a white-bearded old man shot up from his seat.

  "Talkin' a lotta shit, girl!" The man cried. "Admiral Sinti didn't teach you squat, you brat! I was there! The fleet lived 'cause ah him! Take it back, or I'll bash yer skull in if it's the st thing I ever do."

  With a bright and cheery smile Nora turned around in her chair to address the man.

  "Shut up or I'll kill you."

  Sara sighed as she began to stand, ready to defend their new kind-of friend, but the drunk stumbled back.

  "Wha? Whadid you say to me?"

  "I said shut up or I'll kill you, you drunk bastard of a harlot whore," Nora said, cheery as ever. "Maybe if you'd kept the left fnk in shape like you were supposed to, Sinti wouldn't have had to order the carracks to cross the magecraft's T."

  "Sinti?" The old man leaned close, not believing his eyes. "That you? No. No, the Admiral told me to never... to not bme myself... You can't be him."

  "If he told you to never bme yourself, why are you still doing it? I am Captain Nora, and you are Captain Aliston B'Leary. The task that Admiral Sinti asked of me in payment for my apprenticeship was to deliver the following message: Get your head out of that ale, you drunk bastard of a harlot whore, or I'll kill you myself. If it were your fault I would have told you so." Nora paused, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything, then nodded firmly. "Sorry for delivering the message out of order. My mind isn't the best these days. And for what it's worth, coming from me personally, I don't see how you had any other option. I could expin better if we weren't on nd, but we are."

  The old man's wobbling stance firmed. He looked down at his frothing beer, spilling over the edges and down his hand, then dropped it. The wooden mug clunked to the floor. He turned around and headed for the door, ignoring the cries for expnation from his friends at the table.

  "So," Sara said, grinning at Hurlish and Evie. "Still think she can't be trusted as a captain?"