Tiller squinted at the speaker. “Is that a…”

  Cutter finished for him, “A talking book with little arms and legs? Yup. Right outta .”

  Tiller said, “Why’s he… swearing so much?”

  Cutter said, “Why’s he smoking, more like. He’s made of paper.”

  Tiller nodded slowly, “Good point. Good point. Do you… know… him?”

  Cutter said, “He’s Reader, the other human, his sidekick or some shit.”

  Grim snarled, “Hey, cock-for-brains, I ain’t no fucking sidekick.”

  Lita, quietly, almost to himself, “What’s wrong with being a sidekick…”

  Grim didn’t seem to hear. “You shitwads are asking all the wrong questions! The real fucking questions are, one, what the fuck is Reader’s partner doing here without fucking READER! Two, what are the implications of Reader’s fucking absence. Three, what could possess such a diminutive, if fucking sterling specimen such as my-fucking-self, to cross all those fucking white miles on my own?”

  Cutter leaned forward, “Hey, something wrong with Reader? Did Reader fall down the well? Go get him, bookiee… Seriously, where is he?”

  Grim slapped his forehead, groaning. “He got fucking taken, you piece of shit! Fucking scooped up by what looked to me like a fucking soldier of the Finality.”

  Cutter stood up. “A soldier? Like, a cultist?”

  “Nah, nah, nah. Not one of those fucking wannabe pussies! No, a fucking Finality soldier! They had a fucking bust-up a few days back a few miles from here. Xantion Realm took out a bunch of the wily shits that were trying to start a new edge. Looks like one of ’em got the fuck away and made it to Medley.”

  Cutter said, “What the hell would they want with Reader?”

  Grim shrugged, discarding his cigarette and producing a fresh one, already lit. “Fucked if I know. The creepy motherfucker sure as fuck seemed interested in him being a human, like you two freaks. Really fucking interested.”

  Tiller narrowed his eyes. “Why would you come here with this? There are authorities surely? You look… vaguely magical… couldn’t you do something?”

  Grim spat on the ground. “The cops are gonna do sweet fuck-all, sweetcheeks. They don’t care ’cause he’s not a fuckin’ citizen of Medley. Me, I’m magical as shit, but none of that magic is worth a rat’s fart against a Finality soldier. Don’t know fucking anyone in Medley, so I said I’d come here. Birds that flock together and all that shit. You pissbags have to have a vested interest in getting him back.”

  Cutter said, “We sure do! Which way? Where is he?”

  Grim tapped the side of his head. “No big panic just yet. I have a connection with Reader. I can fucking feel where he is, see it like on a fucking map. They poofed outta town, teleportation sigil or some shit, probably how the slippery snot got the fuck away from the Xantion attack. They got about a mile away, then moved real fucking slow. The creep must be hurt or some shit, ’cause they made it to one of these fucking shitty dirt blobs and they’ve stayed put since. Probably waiting for nightfall, or a sigil cooldown or something. Who the fuck knows. What fucking matters is we know where the fuck they are, and we can probably afford to do this fucking right.”

  Cutter patted the haft of his glaive. “Sweet. Let’s get to it. Good sidekick, you did the right thing.”

  “Yeah… the right fucking thing…” Grim muttered, his voice trailing, “Not like it’s got fucking anything to do with the list of rules that governs my pathetic fucking excuses for a fucking existence…”

  Tiller stood as well, palms out. “Whoa. Wait up a second. Cutter, we don’t know this Reader guy. What kind of trouble are we walking ourselves into here? I know he’s another human, but is that really a reason to go taking risks?”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Cutter looked aghast. “Man, we don’t really know each other either and we’re helping each other out. Weren’t you listening like five minutes back when I said how we’re connected, or could be, or at least should be sticking together.”

  Tiller hesitated. Noncommittal, he turned to the talking book. “Hey… what’s the guy look like? What’s his class?”

  Grim said, “Why’d you fucking assume it was a he? That’s gender-bias, that’s what it fucking is! Did I say he? Shit… I might have fucking said he… okay, anyway, he’s a big bag of black fucking robes with an iron band.”

  Cutter froze. “An… Iron?”

  Grim said, “Eh… we’ll figure something out…”

  Maeve, who had been sitting quietly stunned through the exchange, came to her feet. “Oh no. Tiller, Cutter, loves, you can’t do anything to an Iron! Not a thing, loves. You’d be throwing your sweet lives away. An Iron’s worth ten Stones.”

  Tiller nodded, slowly. “Cutter, your heart’s in the right place, but Maeve’s right.”

  Cutter frowned. He furrowed his brows, then lightened. “Yeah, but the book-guy said he’s hurt.”

  Grim muttered, “Gotta fucking name. Grim. Book-guy? Who the fuck is that asshole?”

  Maeve said, “No, love, even wounded you’d be throwing yourself away. The sigils he’ll use, the strength of his body, if he was strong enough to carry your friend off then he’s too strong. Plain and simple.”

  Tiller corrected, “AND he’s not our friend. We’ve just met him.”

  Cutter said, “Tiller, if I hadn’t come here and helped with Bonk, you’d be dead. You want to get back to your family, right? Cut you right up to think that they might never have a chance to see you again if Bonk had turned you into ogre-turd? Right? Well this guy’s got a family too. He wants to get home as well. This is exactly what I’m talking about. It’s our chance to stick together. Heck, it’s like a test from the universe. OH! It’s a test from my subconscious.”

  Tiller shook his head, “I hear you, Cutter, I hear you. And I owe you. You did save me, and you’ve been helping me, but I’m not a fighting class. If the odds weren’t so bad then maybe… but I can’t literally throw myself away just because I owe you… I mean, what odds do you, me and Stone Robot have? Two Stones and a Clay against an Iron? Even wounded those odds are waaaay off.”

  Norris spoke, quietly. “Pip, pip, boys. I’d be willing to lend my skills… on this occasion I believe I could find it in my heart to waive my customary fee…”

  Tiller was taken aback by this. Still, he shook his head, “Okay, that makes three Stones and a Clay, and remember that one of the Stones in question is a Farmer class who’s able to swing a shovel… I’ll help you, Cutter, I really owe you, but I’m sorry, I won’t just die for a whim.”

  Cutter chewed, working his jaw with frustration. Deflating slightly, “Can’t say I’m in love with the attitude… but I get it… fuck, there’s gotta be something…”

  Cutter’s eyes ballooned with a sudden thought. “The money!”

  Tiller peered at him. “The money?”

  Cutter’s face lit up, beaming. “The goddamned money, Tiller! We’ve got, what? Six hundred bucks plus your change from the shopping? That’s gotta be almost 700 coins! Plus the promise of loot? From an Iron-banded soldier of the Finality? The guys at Spinner’s will be jumping at the chance to walk a mile and make some coin.”

  Tiller grew alarmed, “Whoa! Cutter, we need that money or we’re going to be toast! We need to get rid of that body!”

  Grim glanced around, “A body? The fuck you guys been up to?”

  Cutter wagged a meaty finger at him. “First of all, that’s my money. Second of all, you were happy to take cash from a stranger when it was for your good, so best take an examination of your hypocrisy glands ’cause they’re working overtime. Third, if I can hire some muscle from Spinner’s then the odds will be a lot nicer and it won’t be such a suicide run after all! Now, Maeve, I know you’re going to say it doesn’t matter he’s hurt, but what’s a ganked-up Iron rank worth? If it’s ten Stones when he’s healthy, could five take him? Seven? Hell, we might raise a mob of ten or more!”

  Tiller stood, breathing deeply, fingers trembling. “I… don’t know…”

  Cutter grinned, “Ah! You’re thinking about it! I can see you’re thinking about it! Go with that thought. Grab Excalishovel and let’s go! Leets, transform and roll out.”

  Lita stood, stone arms folded.

  Cutter swore, “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Stone Robot, transform and roll out!”

  The blue eyes on the black panel softened, and Lita changed into Lita-cycle form.

  Tiller said, “We’re not all going to fit on that.”

  Cutter said, “Yeah… good point. Tell you what, me and Stone Robot will hit up Spinner’s and wrastle up a posse. We’ll go do recon on the island where they’re hanging out. If they make a break then we’ll fight without you, but if we can we’ll wait for you guys to join us. Especially the goblin assassin type. You guys can be seriously unpleasantly useful.” He rubbed his side, remembering the poisoned knife sliding in. “Seriously.”

  “Jolly good, jolly good. What is there left for one such as me but to meet a noble end.”

  Maeve snapped, “Norris, love, don’t be talking like that.”

  The goblin hung his head. “Well, in any case, it seems a splendidly prudent arrangement given the constraints upon our methods of conveyance.”

  Cutter raised his eyebrows, excited. “So? We gotta plan? We going to do this thing?”

  Tiller nodded slowly. Then a little hand tapped his thigh. “Here. Give me a piece of that little notebook you got there and I’ll draw you a map.”

  Tiller handed him the notebook. Watching Grim scribble on the page he felt compelled to ask, “Isn’t that weird for you? That’s like… your own kind isn’t it?”

  Grim just shot him a vile glare.

  Cutter rubbed his hands together, suppressing the urge to jump up and down. “Sweet! We’re gonna have a posse! A team raid! And we’re gonna fight an Iron! This is gonna be great!”