Arlo gasped.

  Air flooded lungs. Blood began flowing. His entire body erupted in pins and needles. Arlo whimpered, curling in on himself.

  “Arlo…”

  Agony engulfed his body. A weight pressed down on him, arms wrapped around him.

  “Get off him…”

  His ears flicked. His nose flooded with smells. One male… two females… aiuvarin… humans…. He gulped down more air, and his eyes opened.

  Light stabbed into him. Arlo cried out, shutting his eyes against the glow. It vanished, plunging the world into darkness.

  “Temporary light sensitivity. It will pass,” a woman said. “I need to get back to my lessons. Thanks for the donation to the temple.”

  Light engulfed the room again, then was gone. A door clicked shut.

  “Arlo, can you hear me?”

  He winced, and more pain shot through his body. Another whimper. Something caressed his head, and warmth filled him, driving away the aches.

  “Why the hat?” Ameiko… that was Ameiko talking.

  “He can’t be seen coming out of the temple.”

  Coradiel….

  Eyes opened. The aiuvarin was leaning over him, fiddling with the Hat of Disguise. Beside him, Ameiko crossed her arms, glowering at Coradiel. Arlo didn’t like that look. Why was she so angry at the paladin?

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “The Pharasmin church killed Arlo because they think he’s undead,” Coradiel said. “If they find out he’s alive, they’ll kill him again. We need to get him out of the city.”

  “Done. I’ll take him back to Sandpoint. You carry the urn as a decoy,” Ameiko said, stooping to pick something up off the floor.

  “Coradiel… Water… please….”

  A moment later, cool liquid brushed over his throat. A hand sat him up, supporting him as the water cascaded down his parched throat.

  Something draped across his waist.

  “What?” Ameiko said defensively. “I’m not looking at a cat dick for a moment longer than I have to. Get him dressed and disguised properly. He can leave before us and head to my house.”

  “I didn’t know you had a house in the city.”

  Fuck… he was out of breath just with that one sentence. Arlo swayed, only to be caught by Coradiel. The paladin helped him into a pair of pants from his bag, and Arlo buttoned a shirt over his torso.

  “Orik,” Coradiel said.

  Nodding slowly, Arlo closed his eyes. The icy drip of a glamour passed over him, and the amurrun shuddered.

  “Good job,” Coradiel said, prompting Arlo to open his eyes.

  Of course, he couldn’t see his own disguise… but if Coradiel said it was good, then it must be good. Standing up, he reached for his bag, only for Ameiko to swat his hand.

  “What do you think you’re doing? That’s Coradiel’s bag now,” she scolded. “If you’re going to look the part, you have to commit. Coradiel, when you get to your house, prepare to leave. I’ll be taking my fancy new carriage back to Sandpoint in the morning, and I’m officially hiring you and Orik as my escorts.”

  “You seem oddly okay with all of this,” Coradiel said suspiciously.

  “If Pharasma didn’t want Arlo alive, she wouldn’t have let him be resurrected.” Ameiko shrugged. “It’s really that simple. The church will just have to get over it.”

  “I think Saloc had a lot to do with that.” Coradiel hoisted the bag over his shoulder and collected the urn. “Arlo, you leave first. Head to-”

  “Kaijitsu Villa.” Ameiko cut Coradiel off. “Just north of the Cathedral of Abadar in the Naos. Tell the doorman Amatatsu sent you.”

  Arlo nodded. He stood up on wobbly legs. An arm wrapped around him in support.

  “We need to stop losing you like this,” Coradiel murmured. He turned Arlo’s head gently, looking into the amurrun’s eyes. “Everything is going to be okay. We’ll get through this together.”

  Pulling away from the aiuvarin, Arlo grabbed his spellbook from his bag. He flipped through it silently and tucked it into a holster on his hip, before setting his bangle back on his wrist. His musket emerged from his bag and went over his shoulder, morphing into a greatsword. Stepping from the room, the amurrun vanished.

  “Well, why didn’t I think of that?” Ameiko smacked her forehead. “Invisibility was obviously the way to go.”

  “Something’s off,” Coradiel said, his eyes glued to where Arlo had vanished.

  “Something’s going to be off. He was dead not five minutes ago,” Ameiko pointed out. “I’ll grab a restoration potion before heading home. It’ll set him right as rain in no time.”

  Arlo tried to ignore the words as he trudged away. Invisibility… He’d need to keep it up until he could find an alley, but it would keep eyes off of him. Because that was important. But why was it important?

  Coradiel clutched the urn. It physically pained him to keep the thing on him. But it was necessary for the deception. Arlo was alive. He just kept the words running through his mind. Arlo was alive. Arlo was alive.

  And Coradiel would never lose him again. He swore to Arshea.

  An icy chill ran down his body as he left the temple. The Deer stood outside the range of the guards, his mask as impassive as ever. His hand lowered, and Coradiel realised the chill had been a spell cast upon him. A fighting offence to any noble

  “It didn’t work, did it?” Coradiel shoved past the Deer, clutching the urn close. “The resurrection. We made certain he wasn’t coming back. You need to move on, Lord Arthien. There are others in the world. Forget about the one who lied to you, who used you as a shield.”

  “Nobles have fought duels over malicious rumours. Do not speak ill of the dead, or I will savour every inch of my blade piercing your heart,” Coradiel snarled.

  That was two times the druid had insulted him. Coradiel would not allow a third. In fact, he was almost itching for the Deer to come at him again. It would be such a blessing to tear that mask off his dead face.

  But the Deer let him go. Let him walk away. No more spells were cast, no more taunts were said. Turning away, the man drew up his cloak and walked away. Coradiel had no choice but to do the same.

  He trudged back to his townhouse, forcing himself to move slowly. Arlo would not be there anytime soon. Coradiel had no doubt his house was under surveillance — Arlo could not go there again. Even the house in Sandpoint was probably being watched. The Pharasmins were not sloppy. Even if he was invisible, Arlo would not be able to visit either building.

  Stepping into his house, Coradiel immediately started a fire. Tossing meat into the flames, the paladin waited for it to burn down before carefully scooping the ashes into the urn. He set the urn on his mantle. It would stay there, unpleasant as it was. Anyone snooping through his house — a crime in and of itself — would find it well cared for.

  A knock at the door made him stiffen. Cleaning the ash from his hands, the paladin opened the door to find a woman in the Lord-Mayor’s livery.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. Thank the gods for ash inhalation — it hurt, but it helped his affected manner.

  “Lord Arthien, your presence is requested at the Lord-Mayor’s mansion immediately,” the woman read from a scroll. “Lord-Mayor Grobaras has a quest for you, and promises to pay handsomely.”

  “I will be there at once,” Coradiel breathed, before closing the door.

  A quest? But he’d just finished saving the city!

  No… he’d saved the city ten days ago. That was more than enough time for the Lord-Mayor to want him out of his hair. Punishment for the diamond, he supposed. So be it.

  It took a few minutes to make himself presentable after the gods knew how long wearing the same clothes. Slipping his bangle on, the aiuvarin murmured, “Orik, meet me at Defiant’s Garden in twenty minutes.”

  He grabbed his pack, made sure the urn was in the right place of honour, and left the house.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The potion went down like slug eggs boiled in toadstools. For all Arlo knew, that was exactly what he was drinking. It did not inspire much confidence in the quality of the tincture… but he did feel a little better after gulping down the vile mixture.

  “Yeah, not the best tasting of magical medicines, but it should set you right as rain,” Ameiko said. “How are you feeling?”

  Arlo shrugged. How was he supposed to feel? He’d just died and been brought back. Again. Yet somehow, this time felt different. There was no lich telling him what to do. No reason for him to be back, no support.

  “Orik, meet me at Defiant’s Garden in twenty minutes.”

  Rubbing his bangle, Arlo glanced at the empty vial on the table in front of him.

  “Where’s Defiant’s Garden?” he muttered.

  “That’s the Lord-Mayor’s personal mansion,” Ameiko said. “What is Coradiel plotting this time?”

  Another shrug. But he was going to find out. Arlo would cling to Coradiel like the lifeline he was.

  Adjusting the clip buried in his hair, he ran a hand down his tunic and breeches. Human hands met his gaze, concealing his true identity. A glance in a nearby mirror confirmed that he looked like an unarmoured Orik Vancaskerkin, a man either dead or imprisoned. No one would think to question him on the whereabouts of a dead catfolk. And no one would know the true Orik. Arlo would have no need to imitate him.

  “You can’t go to the Defiant’s Garden looking like that!” Ameiko erupted. “Where’s your sense of decorum, your style?”

  Arlo ignored her. Making sure his spellbook was well disguised, he slung his musket over his shoulder, turning it into a greatsword laying across his back. Thus girded, the amurrun passed through Kaijitsu Villa and into the street beyond.

  Behind him, Ameiko grumbled under her breath. It didn’t matter. Coradiel hadn’t given Arlo time to prepare a more noble disguise, so he was going to get a simple mercenary. It was who Arlo was. No plot armour, no power fantasy. He was stuck in an anachronistic mediaeval society. Just a simple mercenary trying not to die. Again.

  Ameiko took the lead, guiding Arlo to the Vista, where a mansion sat behind tall stone walls. A massive limestone cleft sat beside the building, from which the Lord-Mayor could look down upon the poorer parts of the city.

  It turned Arlo’s stomach just thinking about it. Here was a man who was supposed to have the city’s best interests at heart, yet he lorded his position over everyone else. How he hadn’t been assassinated was anyone’s guess.

  “Ah, there’s Coradiel. And look, he dressed up for the occasion,” Ameiko groused, nudging Arlo sharply.

  Coradiel had dressed for the occasion. For the first time, Arlo saw the aiuvarin in breeches and a well tailored sapphire coat. Blue really seemed his colour; it suited him perfectly. His long hair was tied up and back, revealing his slightly tapered ears, and his angular face held a touch of powder, bringing out his warm skin tone in contrast.

  Next to him, Arlo was absolutely underdressed. Yet Coradiel looked like all he wanted was to sweep Arlo up.

  “Orik. Thank you for meeting me here,” the noble said instead. “Lady Kaijitsu, I’m afraid the invitation was just for the two of us. If you’ll excuse us.”

  “Of course, Lord Arthien,” Ameiko said, stressing Coradiel’s title. She spun on her heel and marched off.

  Arlo rolled his eyes at her dramatic exit. He turned toward the entrance of the mansion, staring up at the massive building.

  “I’ve never seen you in men’s clothes before,” he murmured as the two approached the entrance. “You look good in them.”

  “I’ve come to realise clothes are what you make them. That said, I still prefer dresses,” Coradiel admitted. “They’re much more freeing.” Pausing before a pair of guards, the aiuvarin added, “Lord Arthien, present on orders from Lord-Mayor Grobaras, with his adventuring group.”

  “Ah, Lord Arthien.” A bookish man appeared before them, a sword-cane in hand. He wore the Lord-Mayor’s livery, as best as Arlo could tell, though he seemed far more at ease with the cane in his hand than Arlo would expect from someone working in government. The amurrun didn’t doubt that the man could and would kill.

  “And you must be Orik. Or do you prefer Arlo?”

  The world stopped. Panic gripped Arlo’s heart, squeezing tight. Beside him, he saw Coradiel start.

  “Orik,” Arlo blurted before Coradiel’s hand could touch his weapon.

  “Of course. My mistake. If you’d please follow me.”

  The man led them into a large entrance hall. Crystal candelabras gleamed with mage-light along the hall, and a blue carpet ran over the stone floor, muffling their steps as they walked. Suits of impeccable armour watched them — Arlo swore he saw actual eyes in one. Maybe he was mistaken. Or maybe the suits were ensorcelled to come to life to protect the mansion. He wouldn’t put either past this place.

  “I must say, I was pleased to learn your revival was a success,” the man added as they ascended a circling flight of stairs. “It does my heart good to know that the ones responsible for stopping the plot on Lord-Mayor Grobaras’ life are willing to continue their service to the city.”

  Plot? What plot? Was that what Xanesha was trying to do? Arlo was so lost.

  “Unfortunately…” They entered a small office, filled with neatly stacked papers and well-kept bookshelves crammed with tomes. “...the Lord-Mayor wishes you gone from the city. He suspects you have something to do with the disappearance of Justice Ironbriar.”

  “Disappearance?” Coradiel frowned at the man. “I know nothing about a disappearance… wait… Arlo, that sawmill you went into-”

  “It was filled with dead faces and cultists,” the amurrun muttered. “There is a book, but it’s in a cipher I don’t know.”

  “Where is this book?”

  “My… your… one of the bags,” Arlo grunted.

  His throat was starting to hurt again. And his stomach was cramping.

  “I would like to see this book.”

  “We will get it to you before the day is out, Lord Krinst,” Coradiel promised.

  “At any rate, the Lord-Mayor has received missives from the Black Arrow Rangers, from Fort Rannick, asking for assistance. Over the past month, the missives have ceased. Whether that means they’ve solved their problem, or something sinister is afoot, the Lord-Mayor has requested you look into their silence.”

  “Fort Rannick… that’s near Turtleback Ferry, correct?” Coradiel asked.

  “Quite so. That is another reason you were asked to go. Your letter from this Xanesha points to more trouble north. It is only proper that you continue your search into who is causing all this chaos. The deaths have ceased, but if Xanesha’s acquaintance is anything like her, I daresay Turtleback Ferry is in much danger.”

  Still lost. Arlo stared at Coradiel, hoping the paladin would shed some kind of light on the matter. They were heading north? Why? What was so important about this ferry?

  “The mayor has allowed a thousand gold a person to pay for the voyage north, either via riverboat or overland,” Krinst added.

  “That much, hm?”

  Krinst and Coradiel both laughed quietly. Once again, Arlo was left out, but by now, he just accepted that he had no idea what was happening. It seemed Coradiel had been up to a lot while he’d been dead. For eleven days.

  His stomach roared again, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in those eleven days.

  “Is there anything else we need to know before we leave?” Coradiel asked, seemingly oblivious to Arlo’s plight.

  “Yes, actually. Tsuto Kaijitsu and Orik — the real Orik Vancaskerkin — are currently languishing in the Hells. Given the likelihood of corruption by Justice Ironbriar upon their arrival in the city, I would like to offer them a plea deal. If they join the Black Arrow Rangers, their crimes will be forgiven.”

  Arlo groaned. Another escort quest.

  “We’ll take them to Rannick with us,” Coradiel agreed. “Tsuto remains unarmed though. Of the two, he was the only one unrepentant about the goblin incident. Orik was just in it for the money; a true mercenary. Not that that absolves him of any guilt, of course.”

  “Indeed it does not.” Krinst stood up, reaching across the table to shake Coradiel’s hand, then Arlo’s. “Some advice. Wear Orik’s guise to the Hells, then take the form of a close relative. You’ll have to clue him in, but it’ll be a good test of how willing he is to cooperate.” Motioning to the door, Krinst added, “And I’ll be waiting for that cipher.”

  Orik didn’t react when he saw himself. The mercenary just turned away in his dingy cell. A tiny pile of straw was the only offering for rest, and a bucket in the corner reeked of refuse. Arlo had to fight the instinct to cover his nose. The amurrun almost turned out the light he’d cast upon entering the room, to avoid having to see the dismal state of the prison, but that would have plunged them all into darkness.

  “Guess it’s my time to go,” Orik muttered. “Why mock me with my own appearance?”

  “Orik Vancaskerkin, you have officially been pardoned by the city of Magnimar,” Coradiel said, setting a longsword against the cell. “Your pardon is contingent on you joining the Order of the Black Arrow in Fort Rannick.”

  The mercenary stood up, eyes wide. “You’ll let me go free? Fuck… I’ll join whoever you want, so long as they pay well,” he said, clinging to the cell bars.

  Arlo snorted quietly. Wandering the rows of cells that made up the Hells, the largest prison in Magnimar, the amurrun picked a rather frail looking man. Committing his appearance to memory was simple, and as he walked away, Arlo’s appearance changed. He made eye contact with a guard, who muttered something into a stone as the two passed. Confirming the man was still in the cell, the guard nodded after Arlo.

  Orik’s cell was opened. Coradiel gave him his sword, which the man promptly slung across his back.

  And they passed on to Tsuto’s cell.

  The aiuvarin was seated cross-legged in the cell, staring at the entrance with a neutral face. Much like Orik, he didn’t react to his visitors.

  “Tsuto Kaijitsu, the city of Magnimar-”

  “Spare me.” Tsuto cut Coradiel off. “My stay of execution is over.”

  “You have a choice in the matter.”

  “I do not. I die, or I die. I cannot hope to fight giants.”

  “So you’ll give up? Sit here and wait to be executed?” Coradiel stepped closer to the bars, still maintaining some distance from them. “And here I thought you were a fighter.”

  “You do not know Tsuto Kaijitsu.” The aiuvarin’s posture shifted slightly. Coradiel took a cautious step back. “I am not so desperate as to trade a cell for enemies who would prolong my death for sport.”

  “If I cannot convince you otherwise-”

  Arlo nudged Coradiel aside. The amurrun waved his hand, murmuring, “[Charm Person].”

  “Your magics will not work on me,” Tsuto scoffed. “I am immune to such trivialities.”

  “No. You are resistant to enchantments. Not immune. Nor are you immune to death. It will hurt,” Arlo said quietly. “You will beg for life before the end.”

  “This is your last chance to change your mind,” Coradiel said. “Death is still death. With the Black Arrows, it will be delayed. You will have time to learn, to grow-”

  “Silence.”

  Tsuto rose fluidly. Bare feet padded quietly across the stone floor. Coradiel took another step back as the auivarin reached through the bars.

  “You fear me, even in this prison,” Tsuto said. “You fear what I could do to you. Yet you offer to escort me to another prison. How will you guard me through six hundred kilometres of wilderness? How will you ensure I reach my destination?” The aiuvarin grinned suddenly. “You cannot. Very well. I will accept your offer. On one condition. If I break my bonds and flee, you will let me go.”

  “Deal,” Arlo said.

  “What? Arlo, we cannot trust him!” Coradiel protested.

  “He knows what my weapon can do. He’ll be dead before he can flee, and we will not have broken our word.”

  Paladin and arcanist stared at each other. Sighing, Coradiel turned to Tsuto.

  “Deal.”