A town guard and his armorback escorted Hans to one of Leebel’s many unrepaired structures, leaving Devon to argue with the fae. There, they traded his rope bindings for iron manacles. The guard checked three times to be sure they were locked and that the chain tethering them to the wall was secure. The door to the room had been destroyed in the war and never replaced, so the guard and his monster partner stood just outside the doorway, their backs to Hans.

  “Don’t suppose I could convince you to find me a drink?” Hans asked. “I’d even take flat beer at this point. It’s been forever.”

  The guard ignored him.

  “Can you tell me what happened while I was gone, at least? Why are there fae in Gomi?”

  No response.

  “Did anyone but me get hurt with the armorbacks?”

  Silence.

  “Right. Good talk.”

  Hans heard movement in the other room some time later. Luther appeared with a stool and set it in the doorway, well out of Hans’ reach. He sat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

  “The guard was told not to speak to you,” Luther explained. “No matter what you say, they are to assume it's fae trickery. Devon made it clear that any reply whatsoever gave fae magic the chance to work.”

  Sighing, Hans said, “That’s fair. I would have given the same orders.”

  “The loss is still fresh for all of us. We saw your body, you understand, and we watched it burn to ash. When your remains were initially recovered from the dungeon, I was one of the first non-adventurers to see them. I have no doubts that you died.”

  Luther seemed to drift into the memory for a moment. Tears pooled in his eyes.

  “The pyre had just been lit when the fae arrived,” the tusk continued. “They came to investigate the ritual slaying of fae in Gomi. They know about the far-dorocha that grows in the dungeon, and they know we’ve been using its blood to plant bronzewoods. The far-dorocha himself is here, says he feels it every time he is reborn and dies again.”

  “The one from the dungeon? The real thing?”

  The tusk nodded. “The fae are certain a crime against them has been committed here and that Gomi has spit in the face of all fae with our barbaric practices, but they can’t decide what the actual crime is. Charlie has kept them going in circles about that. I don’t think they know how to communicate with someone like him.”

  Hans laughed.

  The hint of a smile cracked through Luther’s grim expression. “It would be funnier if we weren’t trying to prevent a full-on fae invasion, but yeah.” Luther slipped into an impression of Charlie and continued, saying, “‘I don’t understand how it’s murder if the fella is standing right before us accusing us of murder. Isn’t that the point of murderin’ someone? That they can’t knock on your door and complain about bein’ murdered?’”

  “And the fae are rule-followers.”

  “Yep. Charlie just keeps insisting that they can’t make amends until the actual offense has been named. He’s been asking to see fae law books and such to properly define the crime. I don’t know how long the fae will tolerate that, but it’s delayed them so far.”

  “Is Olza okay?” Hans asked.

  Luther frowned. “None of us are okay, but she’s strong. Shandi and Mazo have kept close to her, and that’s helping as much as it can, I think.”

  “Does she know that I’m here now?”

  “Yes.”

  Hans sighed. “I was hoping you’d keep that from her until you decided what to do with me. It’s cruel to make her go through that twice.”

  “I agree,” Luther replied. “Your return was not covert, however. All of Gomi knows that an undead walked down their streets, claiming to be the dead Guild Master.”

  “And Dev’s Sense Truth isn’t enough to prove the fae aren’t lying?”

  The tusk shook his head. “He believes the fae have used trickery to cheat it.”

  “Is there a chance for me to prove it’s me, or has the matter already been decided?”

  “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to make that determination for myself.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  “Tell me the story. Start wherever you like.”

  Hans did as Luther asked, starting his tale just before he heard the child call for help in the armorback jungle. He told Luther about waking in the terathan hive yet being certain that he had died. He recounted his strategy for besting the terathans and shared how happy he was to have made Diamond, even if he had to die to do it. And then Hans admitted his own confusion upon discovering a box goblin and a passage to Gomi’s dungeon core.

  “The fae queen says you are not human, and the dungeon core does not grow humans. Hans himself established that was the case early in the dungeon’s life.”

  That was the fae queen? Gods. “Yet the core grew three copies of our Paladin,” the bound Hans retorted. “A human can become something else with the right influences, it seems.”

  “This is true. Have you been reborn as a war god then?”

  Shrugging, Hans said, “I feel pretty damn good. I can’t lie about that, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have a boon. No special abilities for me.”

  “Except coming back from the dead.”

  “Ha! Fair point. I don’t intend to test if that’s a persistent blessing or a one-time gift, at least, not if that test is up to me.”

  “That test is looking inevitable, I’m afraid,” Luther admitted. “If you’re the real Hans, tell me how you would deal with the fae.”

  “As the real Hans, I can say that’s not something you solve with just a few minutes alone in a prison cell.”

  “I don’t disagree, but I can’t change the circumstances.”

  Hans leaned back and rested his head against the wall. “Do the fae know how we added the far-dorocha to the dungeon?”

  “Yes. With your blood suggestion.”

  “At the request of the Lady of the Forest and with her memory. Have the fae seen the far-dorocha that grows in the dungeon?”

  “Devon will not allow them into the dungeon,” Luther answered.

  “Do they know that the far-dorocha murdered samodiva in Gomi’s forest? That was what the Lady witnessed, and that was the memory she gave me. He killed two adult fae and then went after three of their children. I don’t know what happened to the kids. The memory didn’t last that long.”

  “Interesting.”

  “They came here saying they had proof of a crime, and that’s true, but it’s not a crime we committed,” Hans continued, feeling as if he should talk as quickly as he could to make use of whatever time he might have left. “I don’t know much about fae history or law, but I suspect a fae killing another fae is frowned upon.”

  “Do the fae not wage war?” Luther asked.

  “What I saw wasn’t war,” Hans said.

  Luther thought. “How do I know this isn’t part of a trick?”

  “I am very motivated to prove that I am me, but you can see how that’s hard to do. We’re all trying to navigate fae fog here. As soon as I come up with something that keeps me from dying again, I’ll let you know.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  Standing to leave, Luther said, “It would be nice if this was the real you. Hans was a brother to me.”

  “Is.”

  “What?”

  “Hans is a brother. Not was.”

  Luther chuckled sadly and departed.

  Hans eventually drifted to sleep. He woke to someone kicking his foot.

  When he opened his eyes, Mazo looked down on him, her nose nearly touching his.

  “We checked the dungeon core,” Mazo said without moving. “There was no secret passage to a terathan nest.”

  “It’s right above the core. In the ceiling.”

  “Nope. It’s not. Can you explain that?”

  “I can’t.”

  Mazo narrowed her eyes. “But I know terathan guts. You’re covered in them.”

  “I would prefer not to be.”

  “What did it feel like to finish your quest?”

  “Vindicating, I guess,” Hans replied. “There are a lot of things I wish I could have buttoned up before I died, but I liked the idea of going into the afterlife knowing I was capable of succeeding. It was comforting.”

  Mazo stood, pulling her face away from Hans.

  Olza lingered in the doorway. She looked pale and gaunt, her eyes still puffy from days and days of painful tears.

  “Olza.”

  “I prepared your body for the pyre,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I saw how you died. I held what was left in my hands.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Is it you?”

  “My mind is my own. This body isn’t the one you burned, though. That’s obvious, I suppose, but when I came back I was whole. All of my scars are still there, but none of the injuries. Even got my eye back.”

  Olza struggled to restrain tears but managed to do so with only a few quivers in her voice. “How do I know this isn’t a cruel trick?”

  “I hoped Devon’s Sense Truth would have made this easy. Sounds like he’s convinced the fae getting around that is just more of their mind fuck.”

  Mazo nodded while Olza stared.

  “The dungeon core regrew you?” Olza asked.

  Hans shrugged. “That’s my theory. And it gave me a memory to relive.”

  “Except the real Hans never made it to the matron,” Mazo interjected. “How could it recreate a memory that doesn’t exist?”

  “Devon saw the matron, and we know the dungeon core has drawn inspiration from his blood before.”

  “This is true.”

  Olza addressed Mazo. “Is he real? Is it him?”

  Mazo pursed her lips and studied Hans from head to toe. She kicked his foot again. “I don’t know.”

  Shifting positions with manacles was awkward, but Hans managed to sit up straight. “Mazo. Tell me how I prove it’s me. I’ll do anything.”

  “If the dungeon regrew you, we could kill you and see if you came back.”

  Hans rolled his eyes. “I’d prefer a method where I didn’t have to die again.”

  “Afraid you wouldn’t regrow?”

  “Of course I am! That’s my theory for how I am here, but I don’t know if that’s what happened, and I don’t know how it works.”

  Mazo turned to Olza. “If he’s an imposter, it’s a convincing effort.”

  “Ask me something only Hans would know.”

  “The fae are lovers of knowledge,” Mazo replied, returning her attention to the prisoner. “They often know the unknowable and use that to their advantage.”

  “Did you try tracking down Bridun?”

  The halfling shook her head. “He departed immediately after the funeral. Was talking about quitting adventuring after what happened.”

  “He lied.”

  “With the fae threatening to raze the town, we didn’t pay Bridun much mind,” Olza said. “We’re sending a rider, but that’s a long shot. He’s had a lot of time to travel.”

  Mazo looked at Olza disapprovingly.

  “I don’t care what the fae hear or don’t hear,” Olza insisted. “If this is the real Hans, he deserves to know we are trying to verify his story.”

  Hans relaxed slightly. “Thank you.”

  “We should be going,” Mazo said.

  The manacles clanked as Hans seized what could be his last opportunity to speak with Olza. “Olza! I’m sorry for everything I put you through. No matter how this goes, I love you. I’m glad I got to see you one more time, but I hate that it hurt you all over again.”

  Olza swallowed and nodded.

  Then Hans was alone.

  Two guards Hans didn’t recognize collected him some time later. They wouldn’t reply to any of his questions about how long he had been in his cell, nor would they tell him where they were taking him. So Hans followed their orders as well as their lead.

  They soon returned to the Leebel fairgrounds. The open space just in front of the fae manor now had two grand oak tables facing one another with a large space in between. A chair sat in the middle, facing the manor, and seating for an audience was at the chair’s back. Rows and rows of chairs were filled with Gomi residents as well as a contingent of finely dressed men and women with gray hair. Their fashion reminded Hans of what people wore in Hoseki. Hans spotted Terry and Pogo, and then the smith and Young Charlie. He was relieved to see that Kane, Gunther, and Quentin were absent. They didn’t need this to be their last memory of him.

  As the guards ushered Hans toward his seat at the center of the open-air courtroom, he saw Honronk, Chisel, Yotuli, and Buru seated in the front row. Hans had only an instant to look upon their faces, and he couldn’t decide if they believed who he was.

  Hans sat. A few moments later, Charlie, Galad, and Devon appeared and took their seats at one table while the fae queen, the samodiva who negotiated the trade of Hans’ eye, and the far-dorocha from the dungeon sat at the other. Hans didn’t recognize the far-dorocha at first. His face seemed quite different without purple eyes, but he was certain they were one and the same. He was also certain that the fae Druid utterly despised him.

  Once they settled, Charlie stood.

  “The reappearance of our dear Guild Master has strained these talks even more. Each side is sayin’ that the other used magic or some other such trick. I don’t see what we’d have to gain by drudgin’ up a bunch of pain for our own people, but I also agree it’s weirder than hells to have Hans sitting in that chair right now.”

  The fae queen nodded slightly to indicate that she agreed.

  “We think we got a way to clear this up,” Charlie continued. “Might I offer our guests a proposal?”

  “You may,” the queen replied.

  Charlie looked out over the crowd. “Becks? You here?”

  Becky the dwarf Druid stood from her seat in the middle of the audience.

  “Did the Lady agree?” Charlie asked.

  Becky nodded.

  Addressing the queen again, Charlie said, “Our Lady of the Forest can put this to bed. If it pleases you, I propose we ask her to tell us what’s what.”

  The far-dorocha scoffed. “The word of a dryad cannot be trusted, not when it comes to a creature who resides in her domain.”

  Charlie grinned. “You’re quite right, but she has no love for Hans, you see.”

  The samodiva spoke. “His words are true. The Lady of the Forest desired his death. She didn’t get it because the Merchant was willing to trade.”

  “Forests have long been our friends,” the queen said, “on our plane and every other. I would hear the dryad if she wishes to speak.”

  Charlie motioned for Becky to come forward. The dwarf did as she was asked and stood next to Hans. She didn’t look at him. That bothered Hans at first, but then he saw the grief on her face. Her beard wasn’t big enough to hide her suffering.

  She knelt, set a golden seed in the earth, and closed her eyes as she pressed it down with her palm.

  Wild flowers pulled themselves free of the earth and wove together to form a feminine figure.

  “Thank you for joining us,” the queen said, dipping her head sincerely.

  “I must object to this, your majesty,” the far-dorocha said, his anger driving him to stand. “She has every reason to lie.”

  “You speak the truth,” the queen admitted. “She could indeed weave a narrative to her benefit.” The queen addressed the dryad. “Lady of the Forest, I have no cause to question your honesty. I have watched you work for some time and know that your love for the forest is pure. As a friend of the forest myself, I request that you show us the truth instead of speaking it so that no doubt may remain.”

  The dryad nodded. Three vines extended from her body. One crawled across the ground to wrap around Hans’ ankle. One did the same to Charlie. The third stopped in front of the queen and climbed upward until it was eye level with the fae. The queen reached out and gently grasped the vine instead of letting it come to her.

  Hans had the sensation of his thoughts shifting without his input, an awareness that something probed his mind. A brief pause later, the vines retracted.

  “Thank you for your service, my Lady,” the queen said to the dryad. The Lady of the Forest bowed. Her face of leaves looked at Hans, with a glare, he thought, and her form collapsed back into loose wildflowers.

  Charlie sat stiffly in his chair, covering his mouth with both hands as he stared blankly ahead.

  The fae queen stood. “People of Gomi, I offer my sincerest apologies, and I hope that you do not begrudge my people for a mistake of my making. The Lady of the Forest showed me Hans’ memories as well as her own. I have seen that it is I who was deceived.”

  Roots shot out of the ground and entangled the far-dorocha. He yanked and fought, but each root he broke was replaced by several more.

  The fae queen kept her gaze on the people of Gomi. She never looked at the far-dorocha.

  “The only treachery here was wrought by one of our own. I must thank you for bringing me this truth, and I am ashamed to have believed the words of a murderer.” The queen turned to the table of Gomi representatives and bowed. “Master Charlie, I beg your forgiveness.”

  In the span of a glimmer, the fae and their manor turned to flower petals. Their forms collapsed, and a strange breeze swirled the thousands of petals as though they were snowflakes in a blizzard. One by one, the petals disappeared until there were none left.

  Gomi’s people were all that remained in the clearing.

  “Get those manacles off of him,” Charlie said.