Morrie was more than happy to help Runa navigate Dawdledale’s equivalent of a postal system. Largely because they ran it. The waystation was where all travelers passed through, and all letters and parcels, too, enchanted with a variation on the contract beads Runa still wore around her neck.

  “We have a wizard in to do them in bulk, couple times a year,” they explained as Runa worried over what to write. “Same fella does the townkeeping up your way.”

  “Townkeeping?” Severine asked.

  Runa glared at her paper.

  “Ah, you know. Warding seals, runes for hot and clean water. And that particular charm that stops our mutual friend the innkeeper from wanting to put that cleaver of hers through whatever problem walked through her door most recently. Don’t tell her I said that,” they added hurriedly.

  “Cleaver?” Severine asked.

  Runa glared at her pen.

  The paper wasn’t the problem. The pen wasn’t the problem. She’d probably glare at the ink next, but it wasn’t the problem, either.

  What was she meant to say?

  Dear Guildmaster Avares. I resign. Please send my fee to the waystation at Dawdledale, courtesy Morrie, who’s spent the last decade telling everyone how shit being a Cauldron guide is by the way.

  No.

  Greetings and felicitations to the Guildmaster of the Cauldron Guides Guild. I, Runa the no-longer-a-Guide, formally request…

  No.

  Hey, boss. Thanks for scraping me off the street all those years ago and giving me a job. I’m done now. Give me my money.

  No.

  She groaned, scrawled something that was probably worse than all three of those options, and folded the paper before she could re-read it and embarrass herself. “There,” she announced. “How long will it take to arrive?”

  Morrie sucked their lips. “There and back again, with your fee? I’d give it a month or two, to be safe. But I know you’re good for it. I’’ll tell the storekeepers your credit’s good.”

  “No need,” Severine said brightly. “Now, where do we start?”

  Dawdledale’s market district was a large open square, packed earth surrounded by cheerfully painted shop fronts. Runa saw signs for furniture-makers and sewists, cobblers and even a bookstore. A tavern spilled tables and patrons into the empty space where stalls might set up during a festival market day. The air was rich with the reminder that it was almost time for the midday meal.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Runa sauntered closer. The loaves of bread on the table nearest were considerably more bread-like than the ones that had graced the tables in Junilla’s tavern recently.

  She’d gone over the shopping list with Morrie as they walked, and they’d explained she wouldn’t be able to buy everything she wanted that day.

  “Market day’s usually the first weekend of each month, or when the big caravans come through,” Morrie explained, and Runa thought that Tam and Errant could have mentioned something like that before she hauled herself and Severine all the way down the hill. “Not to worry. You’ve a while yet before Winterwarm and the New Year. And First Moon. And Springtide. And Hasterday. And Godsnight. And I suppose Harvest Night is coming up soon, but you won’t need any fancy goods for that.”

  Runa was so distracted by the bread, Morrie was halfway through their list of festival days before she started listening, and completely lost by the time they mentioned Harvest Night.

  “What’s—” she began, but Morrie was already striding off.

  “This way!” they called over their shoulder. “We can knock a few things off your list, at least. And then we can have lunch.”

  It was late afternoon by the time they started back up the hill. Runa carried her purchases in a sack over one shoulder. Severine’s purse was lighter, but her packroll was just as heavy.

  Runa wondered why she hadn’t tried to do any business herself while they were in town, but came up with a dozen answers herself before she could convince herself to ask. Most of them hinged on the conversation between Severine and Fennewic. She could see why you might not want to sell a load of potentially dodgy magic objects close to where you were living.

  Staying.

  Temporarily.

  Until Runa’s pay came through, and she could square up what she owed Severine, and then…

  A month or two, Morrie had said. Runa resettled her sack on her shoulders, careful not to jostle Nobody in Particular. By then, maybe she would have figured out how not to act like a complete moonbeam when Severine…

  “Those charm-sealed envelopes are clever,” Severine said, interrupting her thoughts before they could get any more uncomfortable. “Better than the catbird idea.”

  “I didn’t see any around, anyway. Maybe Junilla already loaded them up with whatever message she wanted to send.” Though what sort of message was best sent by catbird, she didn’t know.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting this Junilla. Everyone seems to have something to say about her.” Severine licked her lips. “Actually, the thing Morrie said, about her having a cleaver—”

  “Hm?”

  “Never mind. Um. Also, do you know, the catbird idea might not have been all bad.” Severine’s voice was strange. “Because I would be penniless. After I give you all my money. And the other thing.”

  Runa hesitated, and looked down at her. “You’re an orphan?”

  “Don’t worry, it isn’t catching,” Severine said quickly. “And anyway. I’m not saying it for you to feel sorry for me. It’s just a piece of information. Since we were talking about it. Forget I said anything.”

  Runa didn’t. The knowledge lodged in her head, beside all the other things she couldn’t help but notice about the woman who’d crashed so suddenly and unexpectedly into her life. Her magical hair. Her stash of enchanted Cauldron loot. Her determined cheerfulness.

  The frozen, not-quite-bleak look that overtook her cheerfulness when something distracted her from it.

  The deep shadows under her eyes. The way she winced when she stretched. The fact that the parents who had lovingly dipped her in all the nymph grottos they could find were dead, and that all their blessings but one had faded.

  But it wasn’t until almost a week later that she realized something else. That the nugget of information about Severine’s dead parents had been a distraction, meant to hide something Runa really should have asked more questions about.