The Wandering Inn

9.55 (Pt. 2)

[We have a new shirt featuring the Horns of Hammerad on the merch store! Check it out here!]

It was possibly the longest day in the history of ever, this Christmas. It was barely 3 PM, and it felt, to some, like an entire week had passed.

That was because—while the adults had dignity and were too good to admit it—the children were not. To Mrsha, Ekirra, Visma, Kenva, Sammial, Hethon, and all the other children waiting for Erin’s Christmas party to begin, this wait on Christmas was intolerable.

Good parenting was letting your children at the presents under the tree as soon as they woke! Or even opening on Christmas Eve! Ryoka found Mrsha banging her head against the wall of the World’s Eye Theatre after Erin took a break from calling people to figure out a better strategy.

“Mrsha, what are you doing?”

“She’s trying to knock herself out so she can wake up when the party starts. I tried. My head hurts.”

Ekirra had a bump on his forehead, and Ryoka stared at them. For all Mrsha’s ability to write diatribes on paper…this was the most kid-thing she had ever seen.

“Guys, it’s just three hours.”

It feels like three days. I want my presents now! Some of our friends are playing with their toys already! Esciht got a kite that he’s going to use to fly like Felkhr!

Mrsha was slightly dizzy, but she flicked her wand, and a magical quill dashed the words onto a card for Ryoka very quickly. The Wind Runner hesitated.

“Uh. That’s highly concerning. Do his parents know about that? Because that’s not good. Who are they?”

What’s it to you, narc? Gonna tell the man?

“Okay, I know Kevin taught you how to say that. Kevin! Stop teaching Mrsha to be anti-authoritarian!”

“Why not?”

Kevin hollered back, and Ryoka had no response. She turned back to Mrsha, who looked smug.

“Mrsha, you’ve got to chill. Erin’s stressed, and remember how last Christmas went?”

“Thanks.”

Erin stomped by Ryoka, and the Wind Runner flattened herself against a wall. She felt like she was getting the raw end of the stick!

“I’m trying to be thoughtful! Mrsha, you’re a year older, which is like one point four years in Earth-terms. Can’t you wait until dinner? Be a little more mature, huh?”

Mrsha’s look of disdain for Ryoka only grew by the second. She slowly wrote on a card and held it up.

Ryoka, were you a good girl when you were young and had Christmas?

Ryoka had to think about this.

“…I think my parents let me open gifts on Christmas Eve after dinner.”

Mrsha folded her arms, and Ryoka sighed.

“I was a spoiled kid. Do you want to be—stop nodding, Ekirra. Nanette, back me up here! Riverfarm’s kids are waiting until dinner.”

The witch adjusted her hat and sniffed in a very Piscesian fashion.

“Riverfarm’s children listen to His Majesty, Miss Ryoka. And it feels like three days because it’s probably been a day and a half.”

“…Huh? How’s that, then?”

Nanette cast a look at Erin’s back. She coughed into one fist.

“[Immortal Moment]. Miss Erin’s been using it every time she has a conversation to buy time. Or did you think she normally has this much time? I counted how many bubbles she blew out of her pipe. She blew two thousand three hundred and six during her first conversation with Niers. Where they played three games of chess?”

Ryoka’s head slowly turned towards Erin. Mrsha threw up her paws. See? Erin was torturing them all to death!

Ryoka debated between going to help Erin or confront her about her indiscriminate time-stoppage. In the end, she decided both ideas might end up with the [Innkeeper] taking out her spite on Ryoka.

New year, new Ryoka. She thought, then pointed.

“What if we play a board g—”

She stopped, then slapped herself so hard and fast that Visma, coming towards them with a new plate of cookies, squeaked and nearly dropped them. Ryoka reeled, but she had deserved that.

“Ryoka?”

Hethon and Sammial paused as they saw Ryoka give herself a high-grade slap. Ryoka caught herself.

“I’m getting old. Dead gods. Forget the board games. Let’s watch a movie. Die Hard! That’s Christmas.”

She led the charge back into the [World’s Eye Theatre] with the children. Ryoka, over Lyonette’s protests, grabbed three drinks and ordered the children to secure as many snacks as possible and drag some blankets out.

“Is this movie child-friendly, Ryoka?”

“It’s set around Christmas.”

Lyonette gave Ryoka a deeply suspicious look, but the other Earthers, with Imani being the exception, assured her it was entirely friendly towards children. Ryoka stretched out and decided to relax. You could waste a week following Erin around. And the movie did appear overhead, so Erin had clearly watched it.

——

At this point, Erin was truly afraid she wasn’t going to get any presents for anyone. And—seriously, truthfully, it made her upset beyond words.

It was all very well for people to laugh about it and say ‘everyone will get it’. They meant it, but also, Erin could tell they were expecting her to do something unexpected. Something heartfelt and good enough, like a giant stew for all or just…a fun party.

But she hated it.

“I’ve let them down, Shaestrel.”

“Yup.”

“They brought me back. In a week, now…the Solstice begins. I don’t know what will happen, but my instincts are telling me it won’t be normal. This was my moment to say ‘thank you’ as much as the beach, and I can’t figure out how. They deserve more.”

“Absolutely. Check.”

“Damn.”

Erin moved a piece sourly and stared at the board in front of them. She was in her room, sitting cross-legged on her bed as a green faerie moved pieces left and right, more concerned with munching on a larger-than-life muffin filled with almonds. Glazed, nay, Calidus-level body-painted in syrup. Some was dripping onto Erin’s sheets despite the plate.

It was their custom to play chess together in Shaestrel’s ongoing lessons about…something. Fate, Erin suspected.

Destiny.

Erin always lost, but the act of playing chess calmed her. Was this a good use of the last few hours of her day? Heck no, but it was necessary.

“I can’t help but feel like you know what I’m going to do, or say, and you could really help me out here, Shaestrel, pal, buddy, friendo.”

The Spring Faerie cracked one eye open as she took a bite of the muffin so huge she nearly choked to death.

“Hrkgh! Fghre! You wtched Mo Country for Mold Men?”

The Spring Faerie bringing up a movie like that was so weird—but Cara had just been dropping albums and songs, and Erin had been doing a lot of reflection today.

She was still chewing on the pipe clenched between her teeth as she played, and so she engaged with the premise.

“Yes, I did. My dad loves the writer guy who did the show. You watched it in the [World’s Eye Theatre]. What’d you think of it?”

“I fouht—hkk. Kkgh…”

At some point, Erin realized Shaestrel was actually choking and hesitated.

“Is this an act or do you need—?”

“Hllllp!”

So Erin carefully flicked Shaestrel on the stomach, and the faerie expelled the piece of muffin straight into the queen piece, moving it forwards. She coughed, exhaled, and spoke.

“Damn the almonds! I nearly died! Also, checkmate.”

Erin threw up her hands, and the faerie laughed. It wasn’t even that Shaestrel gloated…okay, the faerie did, and it was annoying because Erin knew she cheated. But Shaestrel clearly didn’t think it was a problem.

“I don’t get it, Shaestrel! This isn’t fair! I have two questions.”

“Go on. For saving my life, I offer ye a boon. Wait. Hold on, before you ask…”

The faerie flitted away to get some milk. When she came back, Erin folded her arms.

“Okay. Did you actually nearly just choke to death there?”

“Yes. It would have been a terrible death if I had. Died by almonds in this world of dangers. Then again…I doubt I would have died. This body isn’t one for breath or air. Just choked for another ten minutes. Eugh.”

Shaestrel coughed, and Erin nodded. The fae could eat more than they should and could feel pain and other things, but she knew they were proxy bodies. It had to suck if that happened, but they were generally good about not getting into trouble.

“So hold on. You choked. But you beat me, again. How can these things be true? I haven’t said what I think you’re doing, but I’m almost certain you’re using fate against me, Shaestrel. You don’t see the board. You’re good, but you’re not playing just chess. If you were, I’d win or draw at least once.”

The Spring Faerie’s eyes glinted, an amber glow of mischief—and faint delight. She closed one eye as she continued eating greedy handfuls of food and drink.

“Oh? Let’s say that’s the truth. And it is not complete, nay, but I will humor it. Then what is your real question?”

Erin leaned forwards.

“How can you choke? If you’re teaching me how to read fate, how can you genuinely choke on a muffin bite—unless you were doing it to checkmate me in the dumbest way possible.”

The faerie laughed, her voice deepened, and while Erin did not see Shaestrel as Ryoka claimed she could be, an imposing woman dressed in the auspices of a court of immortals, she did change.

A stalking marten nibbled on the muffin, then looked at Erin with bright eyes that were intelligent and feral both. It spoke with Shaestrel’s voice but a yowling tone as Erin resisted the urge to pet it.

“Let’s say I was reading something of fate. ‘Tis hardly that advanced. You think of fate as a thing of gods and destiny. But is it not the fate of stones to fall? Many ‘fates’ are simple.”

“Oh, like gravity. So most people can see stuff like that. It’s just prediction, right? Ryoka told me that.”

“Ryoka is dumb as Merlin.”

“Um…”

The marten scoffed, rolling its eyes expressively.

“All the knowledge of things and he still sleeps with Morgan le Fae! Each time. It is not him accepting destiny. It’s just an old man coming up with reasons to do something stupid. Because she’s hot. You know what we used to call yon crystal orbs? Merlin’s balls! Because after a few centuries of sitting in his tower…”

Erin wanted to cover her ears. She reached out, opened the door to the kitchen, grabbed a cookie off a plate that Calescent had just pulled from the oven, and pushed it into Shaestrel’s face, distracting her with food.

“…Stop ruining the stories of King Arthur for me, please. How is Ryoka wrong about what you’re doing?”

Shaestrel shrugged as she flickered back to her fae-form.

“She can see the nature of me. She can trust the wind and come before greatness in wonder. But she does not like to move it. You are more stubborn than she. You like patterns. So maybe you get it. Answer your question for me.”

Erin sighed, but she gamely went along. If her theory was right and the fae just had a more advanced version of humanity’s ability to see cause-and-effect…she held up a hand, vacantly, and thought about it.

“You can read me like a book. When we play chess, there’s always that ‘inflection point’ where you start playing seriously. I bet that’s the moment when it becomes impossible for you to win with the pieces remaining. I’ve gone over some games, and there’s always a point where you need enough pieces in the right place or you’d lose to me no matter how good you are.”

Glinting eyes, an undisguised smile. Erin warmed to Shaestrel’s silent approval and went on. She never noticed the little lamb hiding under the bed, furiously listening, but Shaestrel did.

“You see a lot, Shaestrel, but I also think you manipulate me in some ways.”

At this, the faerie waved an admonishing finger.

“Ah. Careful how you use that word. To move someone like a puppet is truly the thing of wretched gods. And I would boot ye in the cunt before I was called such.”

“Hmm. Well then…it sounds like you’re manipulating me in the way any chess player can. You move a piece, I make a bad move. But it’s more advanced than that because I can draw against a computer. Not always, and probably not Bluesky a lot, but the top chess players can make perfect moves a computer would. Given our games, I should have drawn a lot even if you play a perfect game. But I can’t. That means…okay, let’s switch it to your hint.”

Erin frowned at the muffin, and Shaestrel hesitated.

“Y-yeah. My hint. ‘Twas definitely that.”

There was a loud sniggering from the window, and Shaestrel shot up.

“Are you listening again? Get out! Get out before I rip your ears off!”

“Big threats from a tiny mouth!”

“Ooh, she’s going to hit us with her noble hands. Flee, sisters! The Lady of the Spring Court descends!”

Erin watched the scattering blue faeries dodging Shaestrel—one even drop-kicked her—and focused on the board. Then on the faeries. Then on the muffin. Then on her bed.

“Nerry, are you spying on me again?”

She hadn’t noticed, but it was obvious now that she un-focused on the board. Nerry scampered for the door, but Erin called her back.

“No, it’s okay. I mean, I guess. Shaestrel would have definitely hinted for us to eat you or something nasty if you were a threat that shouldn’t be around. Actually…hm.”

The lamb hopped onto Erin’s bed using a chair and began eating Shaestrel’s muffin as Erin stared at her. Erin had missed Nerry’s presence despite having her inn-sense.

——

There was actually a cunning psychology behind it. You see, most people like [Emperors], [Kings], or anyone with a land-owning class had a kind of ‘eyes in the back of their head’ instinct for danger if they were sufficiently high-level. So to trick their detection abilities, it was wise never to get near them until you were ready for a killing blow.

So many of Erin’s foes had used her door or tried to use it, which invariably got them in trouble. But a truly dangerous foe who thought about how to murder someone—in style—didn’t need to do that. All they had to do was jog from Celum to the inn. They’d thought about the portal door, but one look had revealed a guard and a door-class user, and a hundred miles wasn’t that hard to run.

Even if Erin had focused, she couldn’t detect someone measuring distance, say, two miles out on a hilltop. In the same way Erin’s blind-spot was everything not in her inn or if she was lacking focus…a muffin had nearly killed Shaestrel, an immortal fae.

She stared at the muffin and then her hand.

“Oh. Of course! She didn’t spot the muffin because she’s got no mirror!”

Nerry’s head rose, and her little eyes blinked at Erin, then she got it. Erin leapt up excitedly and got milk everywhere. She backed up, cursing, and a spectral bolt of magic, invisible, passed through her window, shot through the inn, and straight out the other side.

“Aw, darn it!”

Erin cursed as the milk got everywhere. The fighting faeries paused a second, and Shaestrel muttered.

“One. Hey, Erin.”

The [Innkeeper] turned her head, stubbed her toe, and flinched. The second bolt passed over her ear, and someone lost their temper. One of the Winter Fae winced; it was close.

“What, Shaestrel?”

“…Ye got shite on your toes.”

Erin frowned, bent over, and the faeries wiped at their brows. Two miles away, someone stared at the window and decided there was no style to long-ranged kills. But that was ridiculous. Either she was a Level 70 [Fool] or…

Tolveilouka grew increasingly more cautious. Even that damn Unicorn and Dragon couldn’t do that. Could they? Was it that annoying [Necromancer]? He decided to sweep the area for traps again. Maybe she was just lucky.

——

“Thanks, Shaestrel.”

Grumbling, Erin cleaned up the milk spill.

But like a glass of milk flying over her sheets, she had not understood the consequences of her actions. Similarly, if Shaestrel could read Erin like someone calculating how an apple fell from a tree with instinct—how was she to do it to herself?

Viewpoint. It all came down to that. Erin had to toss the sheets in the laundry before the milk got her bed wet, and she came back, sat down, and stared at her chessboard where Nerry was pushing pieces around with her hooves.

“Okay, if she’s doing that and reading my fate or…the near future, why can the other fae avoid her? She’s not letting them sucker punch her on purpose. Under my theory, they should be, like, doing an eternal game of figuring out the best move, or they just don’t have the ability to do what’s optimal.”

She stared at the faerie-brawl, which had resumed in earnest, and one of them heard her.

“Hear that? She’s right! I am the Fist of the North Star! Haaaaaah—”

She did a dive-bomb attack and actually got one of the others in a haymaker punch. Erin regretted showing the faeries the limited anime she’d seen. She felt like Mrsha, and the fae, were getting too much from them.

Then someone put Shaestrel in a choke-hold, and the two slammed into the roof, rolled off—swearing, Shaestrel retreated, hurling insults.

“They got you good.”

“Shut up. Where’s—my muffin! You damn piece of mutton! Damn you!”

Shaestrel began attacking Nerry, who gamely fought back, but the faerie effortlessly dodged her hooves and began trying to choke Nerry out. Erin watched, frowning.

“You can read everyone’s fates but the other fae and your own. They’re not reading you and countering; you’d look cooler like that or like someone feinting a thousand times, which sounds cool but looks lame. They’re…hiding their moves from you. That’s it.”

Her eyes lit up. Shaestrel stopped wrestling Nerry and gave Erin a long, level look as a bunch of Frost Faeries poked their heads up over the windowsill. Erin looked around, beaming, and Shaestrel exhaled.

“I mean, it sort of works. It took you almost all month…6/10.”

Erin’s face fell. Another voice chimed in.

“She had to watch us fight and get help! 2/10!”

“Even Ryoka would have gotten it faster if Shaestrel was teaching her! But I think for a mortal she’s smart. 5/10!”

“She can’t make good muffins or cook! 0/10!”

Erin turned redder as they laughed at her, but Shaestrel’s eyes were glinting.

“Shaestrel? What am I getting wrong here?”

The faerie leaned forwards.

“Since you need more hints, consider it in a different way, Erin Solstice. Say rather…say rather it were you not hiding your fate—for how would that help us? A bit, perhaps, but not much. Say rather—it were more clever.”

Erin’s heart leapt as her mind flashed to the conclusion.

“Instead of hiding fate—you’re twisting it. That’s why everything can go your way. You’re taking what’s going to happen and nudging it a bit! That’s why I lose! It’s impossible for me to lose! I’m too good at chess for you to beat me without drawing all the time.”

“Well, I dunno about that—”

“Shushshush! Be shush! You’re not only seeing the ‘right’ way to win, like Chaldion’s [Path to Victory], but you’re maneuvering me into losing! Is that what I’m learning? Fate itself!”

Erin threw out a hand, and the faeries made ooohing sounds and applauded. They sounded genuinely impressed, and even Nerry sat up. But Shaestrel just sighed.

“You’ll be about as smart as Merlin. And again, look how he turned out. You will be surprising at best. Someone who can make a move no one expects.”

Erin stopped and saw the faerie hunched over, sitting cross-legged again, and now Shaestrel’s eyes looked like a foreign sun. She spoke, and Erin’s skin tingled like Ryoka probably did whenever she met a new immortal. For Shaestrel was looking at her.

“There is a board in the kingdom you call the lands of the fae. Some come to play on it. The Faerie King’s court plays it for fun; he is the master bar only the Queen who was. Betimes, visitors come, and occasionally one plays with a genius unheard. It is the final game, the game of gods, and even we do not play it to the level some fiends and glorious few can aspire to. After all, ours is but a board, as chess is like to war.”

Erin’s fingers tingled, and she thought she could almost see that board, sitting in the court Ryoka had described as being at the center of things. Yet Erin longed to know what the pieces looked like, read the rules…touch it.

Shaestrel saw Erin’s expression and snorted lightly.

“I knew it was the right game to play with ye. If you could visit us like days of old…a hundred years. No, for you, a decade of watching and playing and you might play a decent game. We have not even a year. I had not even a month. Come again, let’s play.”

She spread her hands, and Erin saw the chessboard was restored. The [Innkeeper] knew time was passing, but she saw Shaestrel waiting for her, and never had Erin run from a great game. She sat, and the fae looked at her.

“You might sense it, now. Try.”

——

They began to play. It was…what, 3 PM? 4? Erin felt time pass as she moved pieces slowly, trying to feel Shaestrel moving her, moving the board. She would play, lose, play, and then ask for the board to be reset, experimenting. Sensing, even playing blind.

Shaestrel humored her, and Erin did think she felt it.

An odd sensation, like she got when, sometimes, in the heat of a game, she had a perfect understanding of how to win. Yes, exactly that! The moment of inspiration that all Humanity had felt one moment or another, where their mind connected the dots—that was what Erin wanted.

Yet it almost felt like Shaestrel’s presence on the board was the inverse of that. If Erin felt certainty in how to win—she then sensed Shaestrel undoing everything.

Oh. This is witchcraft on the level of Belavierr. She would call this the threads of fate.

Erin’s skin chilled, but her heart blazed. And Shaestrel nodded.

“I am playing poorly, with all the intent of the world made obvious and none of the finesse or strength. You cannot beat me, but you can hold onto your own fate.”

That was what Erin was doing. She felt like she was guarding herself against Shaestrel, preserving her moves in the game of chess from being manipulated. And if that was the case…

“Check.”

Nerry watched as the game turned slowly against Shaestrel. Not because the Spring Fae couldn’t see countless points to victory—but because Erin’s mastery of chess itself left fewer and fewer.

This time, Shaestrel had to play perfectly from the start. The next game, she drew with Erin; neither one had an appropriate move for victory.

“Ach. You drew that only because you play like the greatest of losers, mastering this stupid game. Less of that!”

Shaestrel kicked her king-piece over, and Erin protested.

“Aw, come on! I can’t move you, Shaestrel. It feels like it’d be changing the course of an ocean.”

“Well, of course not. I’m so good a player even the gods themselves can’t use me as a piece easily.”

The faerie puffed out her chest, and one of her sisters jeered.

“Yeah, and the god of muffins nearly killed ye!”

Shaestrel leapt up into another fight. Nerry finished eating the would-be god of muffin-kind as Erin frowned at the board. The final piece to the fae’s lesson was not moving fate around for other people; Erin imagined even reading the perfect move was beyond her in everything but chess. No. The feeling she had was—

“If it’s my fate? I thought I couldn’t see my own—ah, of course.”

Erin sighed. She picked up the queen piece and stared at it. Just as she had once with Skinner attacking and everything ending. As she had felt it many times before, when death should have come and a group of Redfangs and Goblins followed her onto the Floodplains.

Even when her luck ran out—that sensation of unreality, of being outside her body, of a moment that was so far from ordinary and normal that it became that element she coveted and used in her magic.

Wonder. That magical moment. Erin lifted the piece up, and her hazel eyes shone a second.

“A wondrous move. Something that surprises even me. If I see what I do, and what I’d think of, and what my opponents think I’ll do—what might Erin Solstice do that will surprise us both?”

Shaestrel and the fae looked over and fell silent. Nerry’s own eyes gleamed, and she watched as Erin Solstice picked up one of the beautiful chess pieces that Altestiel or Chaldion or one of her chess-head admirers had sent her. The dark marble of the queen piece was polished so finely, why—it reflected Erin’s face vaguely. Like a mirror.

And what she saw in those depths made her smile.

——

“Feeling better, now? I was thinking, Erin. If…you opened up the Drathian garden, we could have a very lovely time there. It’s not as festive, but it is lovely and bright. Or—another garden. Not the Snow Golem one. If you wanted to put on some event for everyone, I think that would be a wonderful gift.”

Lyonette was trying to help at this point, the only way she knew how, but when Erin came downstairs, she looked calmer.

Erin stressed. Ryoka stressed. Everyone had their breaking point, and Lyonette had seen Erin’s last Christmas. She didn’t want that now.

“I need to do something meaningful, Lyonette. You’re right, I think the gardens are the best bet. But changing one is tough. The beach garden, well, that’s the former mage’s garden to begin with. Because there wasn’t much of anything there…huh. There wasn’t much of anything there. It was just this blank room when I found it.”

Erin rubbed at her chin and looked—different. She seemed normal, but she was thoughtful, like someone constantly second-guessing herself. As if she were appraising the world twice.

To Lyonette, Erin seemed more deliberate than usual, like when she tended to focus on things rather than being silly. But Ryoka gave Shaestrel a sharp look, and the fae looked smug. Erin…

Erin didn’t feel more intelligent, but she had a clear mind, like those days when you woke up and you felt at your sharpest and most incisive. Like all those moments of inspiration were at her fingertips to call upon.

It felt amazing. But it was also scary because she was pushing herself to…not be Erin. Or to do something she might not think to do regularly. No, that wasn’t right. These were all Erin-moves, but she was looking for rare Erin moves. The kind that would help, here.

“Hum. That garden. You know, I think I didn’t do the owner any credit. I turned their garden into my personal beach. Terraformed it. True, their garden was always sorta…empty. But maybe—I’m gonna use the beach a moment, okay?”

Erin strode into the beach and found it had a good number of people, even now. After all—there was a lot of the world who experienced a warmer Christmas than she remembered.

“I bet this is what it’s like for that guy, Daly, or people living in Australia.”

“What is?”

Ryoka followed Erin into the beach, and the young woman waved her arm around.

“Christmas! It’s hot in Australia in winter, isn’t it?”

“Reversed seasons. Yep. Wait, I think that’s how it works. Now I’m not certain…”

Erin was walking along the beach, clearing the water and sand away. She made the sand stretch to the ceiling, cordoning off this area and revealing that blank room that this place really was.

A training ground for a [Mage].

Or so she assumed. The power to move the elements and even call magical examples of fire and so forth from the sky at a command seemed the most [Mage]-like thing imaginable. She was sure Ceria would love to use this room as a training ground, like Pomle’s holder.

But in hindsight, was that bias?

Now Erin was here, she strode around, poking at the blank walls and floor and ceiling. With her was Ryoka, Nanette, Rags, and, because he wanted to be in on things, Ilvriss.

Everyone else was stuck outside, including Lyonette, who shouted to Erin that she had to work her crazy ideas fast; it was 4 PM and she had two hours!

“What? Come on, what about seven? Eight?”

“Erin, we have to have gift openings, parties, dinner—six is the latest!”

“Great. Two hours to do…what? Think, Erin. Optimal move, optimal move…garden, reveal your secrets to me! By the power of the key! Open your hidden areas! Reveal the true owner’s…stuff!”

Erin began raising her arms, commanding the garden to show her what she thought was there. Ryoka glanced at Rags, who calmly poked at the floor and tried to lever up some of whatever this place was made of.

“I missed this.”

Rags watched, and Ilvriss nodded a few times.

“Me too. It feels like a lifetime ago. To be so carefree as to only have to worry about one calamity.”

“Yep. Think she’ll cry again?”

“I don’t believe I was there for that, last time. Why was she crying?”

Rags shrugged in reply to Ilvriss’ consternation.

“Lyonette told me to watch out for it. Happened last time.”

“Huh.”

Ilvriss turned back to watching Erin. The [Innkeeper] was shouting at the sky, red-faced.

“By the power of Khelt, I command you. F-forsooth! In the name of Empress Sheta, open the hell up!”

Even if they couldn’t see her, she still had an audience, and Erin quite clearly heard Kevin muttering to the others.

“Oh come on, she’s doing the Gandalf thing.”

“The what?”

“Mines of Moria, Imani? Joseph, back me up.”

“Nerd.”

“I remember that. Erin, try ‘friendship’!”

Someone shouted, and Kevin turned with a look of displeasure on his face as he realized who had been tagging along despite not being very welcome.

“Dude. Who let you in, Troydel?”

The [Innkeeper] decided she needed more sand to prevent eavesdroppers from having an opinion. Nanette tapped Erin on the shoulder.

“Miss Erin, are you sure this garden has a secret function?”

“No…but most of them do have something. In fact, I’d bet every garden has a trick. I have that hill—do you think the owners wouldn’t do something unique? Some like the Pomle garden only have that sparring room, but that’s because the owner lacked imagination. This one was a blank room. It just had some stuff in it, but doesn’t that sound—suspicious?”

Erin was thinking of the other gardens. Some were for a purpose, like the room she and Rhaldon had been in. Actually—that one was very much like Shaestrel’s teaching Erin about fate. Only, right now Erin felt like she was losing that lesson.

Nanette tilted her head sideways.

“It is…odd. What items did you find in here?”

“Some broken and decaying wands, a spellbook, I think some magical reagent stuff like gems…”

Erin waved it off, but Ilvriss and Rags focused on her.

“Spellbook?”

“What kind of gems?”

The [Innkeeper] fended them off.

“They were all dusty and broken! The spellbook was mildewed so bad even [Repair] didn’t work, so I threw it out.”

Ilvriss clapped his claws to his head.

“Erin! There are [Librarians] who can restore a book from nothing!”

Erin froze, and her new fate-instincts told her that a smart Erin would probably have thought of that.

“Oops. I, uh—I, uh, might have tossed it in the fire.”

Rags didn’t freak out like Ilvriss and even Nanette and Ryoka were doing. She just walked over and began hitting her head into one of the sand walls.

“I feel like this team isn’t very supportive. Can you guys trade out? I’m looking for…something. But what? Who wants a room to just train in? That’s lame.”

Ryoka was trying to puzzle it out with her knowledge of stories as well.

“There was a room like that in a lot of stories. The Room of Requirement, the…hey, Troydel! What’s that room in the manga with Goku that does something weird?”

“The Room of Space and Time which lets you train for a year in a day’s time!”

“Thanks! Nerd.”

Imani shouted through the sand walls.

“How do you know about it then, Ryoka?”

The Wind Runner blushed.

“I’m part Japanese! It’s my heritage!”

“That is the lamest retort—”

“She doesn’t even speak Japanese. Is that racist? She’s a poser, that’s what…”

Erin laughed as Ryoka grew flustered and ran away from the voices muttering, but it made her think of her own upbringing.

“Even I know Dragonball Z, guys. Hey, if Mrsha wants to watch things in the [World’s Eye Theater]—she can watch that. It’s probably like a few hours of watching a guy scream while his hair changes color.”

“That’s so harsh, Erin. Accurate, but…you watched anime growing up?”

Erin pshed, looking amused as she walked around the blank part of the garden, feeling at the walls, frowning as she tried to sense any hidden features. Rags was listening in, as were Nanette and Ilvriss, and they all knew more or less about Earth.

But Erin—thought of home, and a lump rose in her throat as it did whenever she actually recalled Earth.

“It was on the cartoons channels. I’d sit in my living room and watch them all the time when it was snowy. We used to have this huge, fluffy rug that I’d roll myself up in. Mom used to call me a ‘pillbug’. She let me stay up if it was a snow day.”

Ryoka…blinked. The bickering, jesting Earthers outside the walls of sand stopped a second. Ryoka rubbed at her ears and felt like a locked part of her brain suddenly opened. Her emerald-green eyes opened wide, and the next words came out of her mouth unbounded.

“My parents were never that nice. Except—”

She hesitated and scuffed her foot on the ground.

“—I suppose they did care enough that when I was sick, one of them would always stay home and make sure I was okay. My dad nearly died of chicken pox when he was older, and my mother had these terrible fevers, so they had a thing about getting sick. My happiest memories were when I had a little fever and they’d stay up watching a movie.”

Erin half-turned as Ilvriss and Rags turned. The [Innkeeper]’s voice softened, and she looked at Ryoka with mild astonishment.

“I never knew that. You never say anything nice about your parents.”

“Yeah. Well. I just remembered it.”

Ryoka hunched her shoulders defensively and realized she should have corrected Erin. Even she rarely talked about her parents…Rags snorted softly.

“Erin. What’s a pillbug?”

“Oh, it’s this cute bug, Rags. It curls up into a ball if you poke it. I don’t like bugs, but they were the only ones I ever picked up. Well, that and cicadas. They would molt on the trees, and I’d collect shells. I don’t remember when I thought they were ‘gross’. One time I made a chess board with cicada shells, and they broke up and got everywhere.”

Erin chattered absently as her poking around the garden became less focused, and she stood there, staring at an imaginary sight.

“Yeah. There are trees all down my street, and they would have them every fall. Ryoka, did you have cicadas growing up? Kevin? Joseph? Imani?”

“Nope!”

Kevin shouted happily, and Imani called back.

“We had locust swarms, Erin. Not so cute. Don’t cicadas only come every thirteen years?”

Erin pshed with the air of one who knew it all, which indicated to Nanette that Erin probably only knew a bit more than most people.

“Of course not! They come every summer and fall, but they have, like, this super-year every thirteen years when more come out of the ground. That’s when they get gross. Ryoka?”

The Wind Runner folded her arms.

“Hell no. I had no idea you were cool with bugs. I never messed around with them. That’s gross. I had to have an ant farm in my home for a school project, and I hated it.”

Erin rolled her eyes until Ryoka realized there was a silence coming from the people who had been playing outside the sand walls to their left. She realized some of the people playing at the beach were Antinium when one of them spoke loudly.

“Priest Pawn. My feelings have been greatly hurt. What do I do?”

“Pray for her. She is a hurtful Human. You will find more.”

“Guys! I meant ant ants.”

Pawn spoke over Ryoka’s attempts to clarify the situation.

“Ignore her. She is not a bad person. But she clearly has no taste. Ants are delicious.”

“…Is that cannibalism? You’re sorta related, Pawn.”

“People eat monkeys. Is that cannibalism?”

Troydel wondered out loud. Imani made a sound.

“They eat what?”

“I’d think you’d know more about that, Imani. Don’t they eat them in Nigeria?”

Joseph kicked Troydel.

“Now that is racist. Hey, Erek! He said it!”

“Ohshitohshitohshit. Don’t hit me!”

Troydel ran off. Erin, meanwhile, was shaking her head.

“I dunno about eating animals, but we had this great zoo we’d visit all the time. The animals looked happy there. We went there every winter. A sort of tradition. Wow. I’m not gonna cry…but I haven’t thought of that in a long time. I miss all that. Then again, it’d be so snowy that maybe Dad would be making me shovel. For a quarter! He paid me a quarter when I was a kid until I realized that doesn’t buy nothing.”

She shook a fist at the air, and Ryoka had to lean on one of the sand walls to stay upright. She was shaking harder than she had when Cara brought up the date. Because it was one thing to talk about Earth; Earthers always talked about their home. But this? Rags was the one who made the quiet observation.

The Goblin Chieftain stomped over to Erin and glanced up at her. The difference between their heights wasn’t so much anymore, and these days, Rags wasn’t the timid yet vivaciously intelligent Goblin. She tapped Erin on the shoulder and murmured as Erin turned to her with a smile.

“Erin. You’re talking about Earth? Your home?”

“Yeah. Why? Do you want to know what a zoo’s like, Rags?”

The Goblin shook her head. She gave Erin a crimson-eyed stare of puzzlement, then looked at Ryoka.

“You never talk about your home. None of you do. Your world—but not your family.”

Yes! Ryoka stared at Erin, and Ilvriss blinked as he realized the truth of that statement. Erin laughed, confused.

“Why not? I guess it’s because it makes us sad. But I—”

Then she put her hand to her head, and her eyes widened as she realized—she had. She had brought up her parents unbidden—well, not entirely—but she had spoken of them.

Where once that would have prompted nothing but a recollection—Erin Solstice flashed to her fake Earth that Kasigna had made. Yet this was different.

“Who were they? You knew my…parents. Are yours alive?”

——

Rags stared at Erin, curious. Erin’s heart hurt, and she hesitated. One long second as the beach-goers played and people celebrated in her inn, and somewhere, a kindly half-Elf helped carry a delivery to the front door of the inn, but he didn’t enter and prowled around the side. Lyonette hurried out and gasped as she saw a delivery, a massive one, being pushed in by a panting Garia, Fals, and Charlay.

It was…a statue. It was gigantic, made of bronze but polished until it shone, and it was so iconic that Mrsha raced over and began giggling and went to show it to everyone. It might have been silver, but the collapse of silver mines had made the caster think bronze was better. Silver was too gaudy, and there was an honesty to the bronze. It shone less brightly, but better.

The statue was…of a beaming, short man, too tall to be a Fraerling by far, but shorter than a Dwarf.

He had a magnificent beard, a cap with flight goggles on his head, and as Troydel observed before Erek grabbed him and began slapping the back of his head, he looked like he had some kind of fantastical astronaut’s outfit on.

The Gnome was standing on a rock, so he could better hold a bearded, bald man with a terrified look on his face by the throat. Zineryr was, with his other hand, knocking a trio of women off their feet and stomping on the back of a pitiful [Mage] while a shadow-thing fled in the other direction.

It was beautiful, and even as a statue—the person who had carved and then cast it had worked from life. Zineryr’s eyes shone with mirth, and a laugh was upon his lips.

——

A Gnome laughed and entered the inn as Erin Solstice looked down at Rags.

“Shauna Solstice. And Gregori Solstice. My mom looks sorta like me, and my dad’s taller. He’s got some Scottish in him, but he didn’t give me any height. He’s a super-nerd.”

“…Unlike you?”

Rags bared her teeth, and Erin nudged her.

“Hey. I like chess. He’s the computer dude, and he plays video games and stuff. And Dungeons and Dragons.”

Ryoka felt her chest squeezing as Erin spoke of her family. Spoke, as if she remembered them and they weren’t lost in her mind. What was going on?

“What’s his job?”

Ilvriss was asking next, and Erin shrugged.

“Lawyer. Worker’s compensation and stuff. My mom’s sort of a housewife, but she doesn’t want to call herself that, and she’s got this huge store on Etsy—that’s this way to sell goods online. Uh, online is…she likes handicrafts. And before you ask, neither of them are good at chess! My dad likes it, but he’s like 1400 ELO at best. But they’re encouraging.”

She paused.

“…They kept wanting me to get a job. Parents. But they were really nice and…”

She wasn’t crying. Her eyes might be overly sensitive, but she was speaking of them, and on this day? It felt right. It was right. And surely they all would have done that.

But no one did. Home, the most precious of core memories, was never invoked by an Earther. Even Ryoka, who had no levels. Yet Erin said her parents’ names where she had said them before only once, and Rags looked up and gave her a smile.

“Someday I’ll meet them.”

“Maybe. But don’t eat any chocolate they give you. They love, like, 90% stuff. Which no one likes.”

Erin winked, and Ryoka felt the wind blowing around her, a gale on the beach. Kevin was lost for words, but Imani was touching her heart, and Palt was galloping towards her, drawn by the look on her face. Joseph was closing his eyes tight, as if fighting to not lose something, and Erin?

Erin stood there and felt it. Not a weight on her shoulders or a shackle upon her tongue, but a lack of it. She stood there, unbounded by that hidden law, and realized what it was.

Fate.

Somewhere, a faerie was laughing at the plans of gods. Just like that statue of the Gnome.

——

Oh, yes. The statue. Erin had no notion he had even come in at first. She was too busy remembering, and the word reached her slower than you might have expected.

After all, he came in humbly. There was no flash nor herald of his presence. The Gnome strolled into the inn, hands behind his back, looking right and left, a smile on his lips. At first, he took a seat at a table, and only one of the Antinium Workers noticed him and came up to take his order.

That winking, short man would sit there, and gently, the room would notice him. A little Gnoll would scamper up, ready to steal some snacks, and he would end up with her sitting across from him, him stealing fries from her plate as she howled in outrage. Until her mother ran over and he began chuckling.

Playing pranks until the [Innkeeper] noticed him. A laughing little man with the ability to humble Dragons, pausing as he saw the prankster, Saliss, seeing a rival. But terribly kind. He would stand, without Erin’s ability to bring tears to those she loved.

All he wanted was their laughter, and he would step on the dignity of the mighty like Laken and tear his own to shreds because there was a world of pride that could never be ruined, a grace that was better than any fragile grandeur. The Gnome who had walked the lands of the fae as a great guest.

—For a second, it almost felt like spirit was there, and if only he could have come there, like that, Zineryr might never have left.

Somehow, when Numbtongue saw the bronze statue being gently carried into the inn, he felt all of that pass him by. Contained in a single smile.

“Numbtongue? Are you okay?”

“Uh? I’m fine. Why?”

Then he realized he was sitting down. His legs had gone out from under him. He was holding his guitar, but when he looked at that statue…he couldn’t rise.

Something old was calling to him, and he would have wept. Those crimson eyes shedding tears. But the other part of him was saying ‘don’t cry’.

They wouldn’t like that.

Rags had come to a halt in the inn, and Garia’s face was red.

“Can we—put this down? It just came from the [Silversmith], Orreh.”

Lyonette was gratified by the statue, but she was a bit concerned. She didn’t want to cause a fuss, but she had to point this out as she turned to Fals.

“It’s the statue Erin wanted. Just on time. But bronze?”

The City Runner shrugged.

“He said silver was too expensive, and—and that it just fit like this. It’s a lot bigger than Master Orreh thought. He says don’t mind the cost. He wanted to make it like this.”

The huge statue was dominating the room, and guests came over, peering at it and chuckling. Some, like Menolit, didn’t get what was so special, but he laughed at the image.

“Look at this fellow! What is this, some kind of fight I missed? Who’s this bearded fellow? He’s bald. Humans and their hair.”

He flicked at Tamaroth’s image, and Ryoka shouted. She had just appeared.

“Don’t—don’t touch that!”

Surprised by her tone, Menolit twisted. Ryoka looked afraid as she saw the images, however caricatured, of the six. At least, some of them.

Cauwine and Laedonius weren’t included, but was this right? She had never met Zineryr, and so it was the others who provoked fear in her. Yet a peal of laughter made Ryoka’s stomach untense.

Visma had come running with Mrsha and Kenva and Ekirra, and at the sight of the statue, she began giggling. The laughter was innocent and genuine, and it made Ryoka’s stomach unclench.

“Is that…?”

Joseph nodded covertly, and Ryoka nodded without a word. She recognized the three-in-one and the shadow.

They had been around the fire. Her face was filled with fear, but then she saw Numbtongue looking at her. He felt something too, perhaps because he was a [Soulbard]. Slowly, he walked over to the statue.

“What’s his name? Oh. It says.”

He bent down and read the title.

“Zineryr. The Triumph of Gnomes.”

He grinned at the simple title. Then he looked up. Numbtongue might have said something more, or touched the bronze statue, but he heard, then, a loud meow.

Before he knew it, an orange furball, annoyed at being ignored by his caretaker, launched himself off a rafter. Reagen, the orange tabby, hopped down onto the only logical place.

“Reagen!”

Octavia shouted in horror as the cat landed on the tallest landing point and the flattest surface he could see. The orange cat curled up and gave everyone an innocent look.

What? What?

He was squatting right on top of Tamaroth’s bald pate. Numbtongue began to grab him, and Reagen swatted at his hand, thinking it was playtime.

“He’s going to scratch up the statue! Numbtongue, your stupid cat—”

Garia was worried as she was responsible for delivering this. Numbtongue glowered at her.

“Don’t call him stupid, Garia. Psst, psst. Reagen—”

And that, of course, was how Erin Solstice found Zineryr. She stopped, in her inn, as a Hobgoblin tried to pry a cat digging its claws into the metal Tamaroth’s scalp. Erin Solstice halted, and her eyes went wide, but before she could cry out or solemnly burst into tears—

A laugh escaped her. A guffaw, and everyone looked up, and Garia sagged in relief.

That Gnome laughed. Just as he had intended, and Erin began giggling, then laughing. Then the faeries were swooping around, shouting.

“There he is!”

“The mighty! Undefeated! Godslayer!”

“Hail to the Gnomes!”

They cheered, and Erin would have fallen over, but someone was there, and she bumped into another Goblin with a strange look on her face.

“Erin. Is that…a Gnome?”

The [Innkeeper] stopped giggling and saw Ulvama had come out of the Drathian garden she liked so much. Like Rags, the [Shaman] looked shaken beyond words.

Erin’s laughter faded. She walked forwards. Then turned around.

“Yes. Everyone, this is Zineryr, and this statue is absolutely true to what happened in the lands of the dead. He saved my life. He…I wanted to remember him. Properly.”

She looked at that statue and wondered if, in time, it could help replace her memory of what had actually happened. Perhaps it would always serve to show her how it should have been.

That smile was perfect. Erin tried to copy it, then gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“Orreh did an amazing job. Garia. Can you invite him here for the party? This…I don’t know if we should put it in the garden. The common room, maybe, but I don’t want him to get dirty.”

“I can polish the statue. Silvermop can, too.”

Peggy offered. Erin nodded.

“The others are fine. Reagen using that dude’s head as a cat rest is just…perfect. Yes. This is how it was. How it should have been. He wouldn’t have lost to anyone in a fair battle. Bongcloud Attack.”

Then she looked so sad that Mrsha took Erin’s hand. She held up a card.

He looks fun. A really brave guy.

Erin read the note. She wiped at her eyes.

“Yeah. He was as brave as all the ghosts. They all deserve monuments like that. But he gave me hope.”

That was all there was to say. So the guests looked upon the one person that had given Erin a spark in those darkest hours. Thoughtfully, with wonder. With amusement or, yes, fear and apprehension.

But the statue had the greatest effect on one person, and Erin had to go after her. She found Ulvama squatting in the Drathian garden.

“Ulvama? Sorry. Is something wrong?”

“Who—who was that? A Gnome? It’s too old. I don’t remember him.”

The [Shaman] was clutching at her head. Erin didn’t understand why Ulvama was so worried. Rags, Numbtongue, had all clearly felt something thanks to their advanced connection to the heritage of Goblins; Badarrow hadn’t been as affected and just laughed.

“That’s right. He’s one of the Gnomes. I don’t know how old—why? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t remember him. It’s too far back.”

Ulvama’s hands were shaking. She looked at Erin, snapping, and then her gaze was uncertain.

“The—Solstice. You kept saying bad things were going to happen. Everyone knows. But that? That is older than Goblin Kings. What is going to happen, Erin? I want to run.”

Perhaps, of all Erin’s guests, Ulvama had not realized just what was coming at them. Erin realized the [Shaman] was understanding it now as the memory of Gnomes struck the [Shaman of the Old Ways], something that ran far deeper and greater than all the magic and secrets she’d known.

Erin paused, then took a seat cross legged in the grass of the garden. She exhaled slowly,

“If you want to go, Rags can take you to her tribe. Or Laken has his own area for the Goblins, and they’re not necessarily safe—Elia proved that—but it’ll probably be safer than the Solstice will be, here.”

“Yes. Maybe.”

Ulvama’s eyes were hunted now, the same look of a Goblin pursued by killers. Yet Erin hesitated, then came out with it.

“I…wish you’d stay. I need your help.”

The [Shaman] blinked and looked back at Erin. She rallied enough to scoff.

“You don’t need me. You have the tiny [Strategist], one-eye, Rags…”

“Yeah, but they’re not part of the inn’s family. You are, by now. I could use your help, Ulvama. They’re coming. And I’m afraid. Zineryr is there to give me strength—but I’m afraid. He died.”

Erin’s voice cracked. She looked back, and the statue was in her inn. But his ghost?

“He was the last Gnome, and he did everything he could. He beat them! He put his thumb in their eyes, but he told me we had to carry on after him. I can’t do it alone. I never could. So—so if you could—”

She was shivering, and Ulvama stared at Erin. It was hard to say who was reassuring who now, but the [Shaman] closed her eyes. She wavered for one second, then looked at Erin. Ulvama bit her lip, then told Erin a secret. And Ulvama was better at keeping secrets than even Erin.

“Every [Shaman] does this, Erin. Probably every Chieftain. From Tremborag to Rags. No matter how hard I try. Ever since I was small. I cannot remember the First Goblin King. I can only remember four Goblin Kings back.”

Ulvama’s eyes opened. The [Shaman] stared down at her feet and plucked at the grass.

“Every Goblin wants to fix it. Their rage. I thought I could. Then I gave up and tried to live happy. Then my tribe vanished. Now—I see something from the beginning.”

She wiped at her eyes.

“I was always a bad Goblin, and Rags knew me the moment she saw me. But even I…I want to know why. I looked at him, and I felt hope and safe for a second. I want to remember. If I follow you and risk it all. Can you help me find it?”

The Goblin’s voice trembled, and Erin Solstice looked at her, mouth open. That façade of uncaring tough cynicism broke down a second, and Erin put a hand tentatively on Ulvama’s shoulder. She looked back, and that Gnome was smiling at her now, not just laughing. Erin’s eyes shone with determination.

“I promise.”

Ulvama’s sigh was the longest in the world, and she flopped onto her back. She lay there.

“Great. Then I guess I have to stay. If I die…I need to eat more tonight. Smart Goblins die with a full belly.”

Somehow, they were the bravest words Erin had ever heard Ulvama say. She smiled—then she stood. And when she walked back into the common room, that Gnome’s smile shook her to her core.

But even after the hundredth time she looked, after the thousandth—

He still did seem to embody courage to her.

——

She was breathing too hard. The [Innkeeper] felt like she was under the effect of a Skill again. She knew it was impossible. Her wild flailing around for a Christmas gift, learning the fae’s lessons, remembering home…

It was all heading towards something. Perhaps, in her Erin-way, she’d tricked even herself. After all.

She knew what she was looking for, in the back of her head. As Erin stood in the cleared part of the beach-garden, something was in her hand.

The young woman only noticed it when Rags’ eyes fixed on the object she was holding.

“The key.”

The Key of Reprieve was in Erin’s hand, though she had never called for it. A feather, glittering under a false sun.

Ilvriss was staring at it, and Ryoka was doing that thing where she looked around to make sure this was happening and everyone else saw it.

Always. Did she always have a trick to pull? Maybe…it wouldn’t have worked an hour ago. But this time, Erin felt it.

This was, after all, not her place. It wasn’t her garden, but it was someone’s [Garden of Sanctuary]. And with the exception of the Strongest of Pomle, Collos, each and every other owner had truly needed this place and changed it to become integral to them.

Wasn’t it strange to have a glorified training room? Then again, Erin looked around at the walls of sand, and one parted slightly at the merest thought to reveal Lism and Krshia floating by on a makeshift pair of inner tubes, one feeding the other silkap.

Ilvriss, Rags, and Ryoka stared as the two Councilmembers stared back at them. Erin closed up the wall of sand.

“I didn’t need to see that.”

“Whatever you saw, you were mistaken!”

Lism shouted back. But Erin had mostly wanted to see the water again. With only desire, she could create a current or even a tidal effect. The beach-villas were still there, and the sun felt bright and warm; heck, she had a tan! She thought out loud to herself about all this.

“Home. Strange, how—how easy it was for me to make this beach. Even with all the powers of this garden, it’s not like it’s easy to terraform somewhere. Ilvriss, how hard would it be to create a manual beach like this?”

The Wall Lord scratched his neck-spines as he considered the question.

“Taking aside finding a space for the matter and obtaining all the sand and whatnot—the spells to replicate the atmosphere, the way the water moves, and even, it feels, contain this environment and move all this sand around at a whim? Five Level 30 [Geomancers], some kind of specialist on par with Magus Grimalkin in the area of dimensional bounding, a, uh, [Hydromancer] who can somehow affix this magic—I wouldn’t pay the budget for this.”

Nanette was nodding rapidly as her earnest face screwed up in thought, and she looked delighted to be part of this moment. The people outside, though, were missing out, and Erin requested a drink for her sore throat. Inkpaper handed her a cup of water and someone tried to trot in; Erin slammed the sand walls in front of Charlay’s face.

“Hey! I’m Ryoka’s best friend, Erin! Don’t forget that and let me in! I know tons of [Witches]. I’ll tell on them!”

Charlay kicked the walls, clearly not understanding witch-dynamics. Erin twitched. Ryoka hurriedly patted her on the shoulders.

“Charlay’s a good person, Erin. Just—Charlay.”

“She’s your friend, Ryoka. It fits.”

The Wind Runner’s brows crossed, and she folded her arms.

“I don’t deserve all the teasing I’ve been getting today. Come on, Erin. What did you find out about this garden? Share it.”

Erin relented and looked at the others. Rags, Ilvriss, Nanette, and Ryoka gave her attentive looks. Erin pointed at the unnaturally pale tiles on the ground.

“It really does look like some kind of room meant to simulate stuff. Like fighting another [Mage] or training. But I turned it into a beach, and it’s doing a great job. Why would someone make a [Garden of Sanctuary]—a place that has things you want, or makes you feel comfortable, yes—only into a place to train magic?”

Rags rubbed her nose.

“[Mages] are weird. Quite smart. Not very intelligent.”

“True…”

Everyone agreed to that as several [Mages] outside huffed angrily. Valeterisa, who was trying to bore a hole through Erin’s sand walls to peek through with a beam of fire magic, glanced up at Relc.

“I would make a garden like this. Except mine would automatically feed me and have…mm…more books. Actually, my garden would probably be a gigantic library. One immune to silverfish. What would yours be?”

Relc scratched his head, looking perplexed.

“Dunno. Maybe somewhere relaxing? What about…a room that’s a gigantic puzzle? So you have to solve the room itself, and it keeps changing every time you go in.”

“Oh. That is a splendid idea.”

See? Even they had better ideas for a [Garden of Sanctuary] than what this room apparently was. However, the real kicker came when Nanette frowned and remembered something.

“Wistram has a room just like it, or so I’ve heard. One that makes anything you want. Like a beach. I thought you got the idea from them.”

Nanette looked at Erin, and the [Innkeeper] scratched her head.

“No. I just thought it’d be fun. But you’re right, it was easy. Easier than…huh. Easier than I would have thought, right? I couldn’t do this in another garden, even if I was okay with changing it. Hey! Does anyone remember some kind of beach-room in Wistram?”

She had to open the sand walls further, and Palt, Imani, Montressa, Bezale, Valeterisa, and Relc all hurried in, looking pleased as punch. And all but Relc and Imani knew what Erin was talking about.

Palt lit a cigar up. When Erin glared, he switched to a pipe, and when she didn’t immediately slap it out of his hands, he blew an ostentatiously orange smoke ring.

“You’re talking about the Room of Vacations? Every student knows about it. It’s locked to [High Mages] because everyone loves it—when they remember. I heard a bunch of Earthers started using it. Frankly, a lot of [Mages] won’t go to a beach even if they know it’s an option. You’re right, Erin; it does exactly what this one does. Although I will admit, all the things in there are fake, so it’s less pleasant. You can tell the sand in here is real. True, you had to import it, but the room in Wistram does not work that way. It just ejects foreign matter before creating the illusion.”

Montressa chimed in excitedly.

“I remember that room. It does more than just beaches! But it’s not adaptive. It can only do pre-set locations. I remember Archmage Naili…”

She hesitated.

“Nailihuaile showed me how to use it and gave me access. She thought an [Archmage] had made it a long time ago. But she said the room’s actually rather useless. More illusion than substance. It’s still really nice.”

“You have a free beach-room yourselves, and you don’t use it? Palt?”

Imani was scandalized, and the [Illusionist] shifted on his hooves.

“Well, we don’t have an Erin, Imani. It’s less fun without the food and company and activities. Come to think of it—that room looks exactly like this one.”

He kicked at the white floor tiles suspiciously.

“Look at that. See how they’re mostly square until they get up to the edge of the dome? Then they’re cut off. But there’s hexagonal tiles in the center…I recognize that pattern.”

Even Bezale, who had quite a fine memory as a [Spellscribe], gave Palt a blank look, but the member of the Ullsinoi faction had an eye for shapes. Now, Erin felt her mind lighting up.

She was coming close to the truth. She stared at the Key of Reprieve and wondered why it had suddenly appeared. These things didn’t just happen without reason. Erin murmured to herself.

“Once. A long time ago, perhaps. Either someone was making this place and that room was an experiment, a prototype. Or someone came here and tried to copy it.”

Rags was grinning as the other [Mages] looked at Erin. The Chieftain nodded.

“A powerful [Mage] owned this room. But there was nothing valuable in it?”

“If they lived at Wistram—they’d have rooms higher up. With respect, Erin. Unless you have a laboratory, even a garden like this needs countless magical circles and setup for advanced spellcasting. I can understand someone not wanting to make their personal garden into another workspace. Archmage, am I thinking about this right? Master?”

Montressa prompted Valeterisa, who was busily writing down everything Erin said. Valeterisa looked up blankly and tapped the side of her head.

“What? I was just asking Feor who made that room. He says he doesn’t know. But we would have dedicated rooms, um…higher. Looped into Wistram’s magic. That’s correct.”

So that explained why Erin hadn’t found a plethora of magical items here. She wasn’t disappointed by that. Rather, she was now sussing out the true motivation for this room.

“If you had a [Garden of Sanctuary], you’d use it for, well, sanctuary. The Dullahan [General] made his a place to contemplate things. To carve those heads. What would a [Mage] want?”

Everyone tried to think and muttered about the uses of this room for training, casting some kinds of magic, and so on. However, Erin was going to a more simple conclusion:

Maybe the room was meant for exactly what I used it for. She had felt guilty at the idea of turning this place into a gigantic beach holiday, but in hindsight…it had been wildly easy. All the functions were set up, so she could manipulate any geography in here at will.

What had she been doing when the key appeared? Erin closed her eyes, then had it. She spoke slowly, and every head turned back towards her. Nanette began hopping on her toes excitedly as Erin’s hazel eyes focused on the key in her hand.

“Home. I lived in an ordinary house. At least—I thought so. When I was watching movies, I’d sit right up close to our TV, and Mom would tell me I’d get bad eyes. There was this huge beige carpet that was fluffy, a throw rug, right here, and we had hardwood floors, but they were scratched up because my parents owned a dog before they had me. And the kitchen was right back there, and the stairs—”

She was laying out the house and closing her eyes now, picturing what only she could see. Ryoka felt a pang once more and murmured.

“Erin—where did you say you lived again? I forgot.”

“Michigan. Well, if you want a city, Grand Rapids.”

“Right. Never been. What’s it like?”

“It’s here.”

Erin held up a hand, a trick any person from Michigan was familiar with, and pointed to the left of it, just below the midway point on her palm. No one else got it; your hand looked like a picture of the state, roughly.

Her eyes were still closed, though, and she felt the key warming between her fingers. Erin took a breath.

“It’s a great city. My house is in some suburbs, and this time of year, there’d be snow everywhere, probably. Some years, there’s none, but I—I just bet I’d be out shovelling my driveway, and right when you come in, there’s a foyer with all the plants indoors ‘cause my mom likes them. There used to be this stupid cactus that my dad kept stepping on. Barefoot. And then the living room and—”

There was no perceptible change around her that she could sense, but she still felt it in her mind. And the gasps from those around her and the cries of astonishment were enough.

Erin kept her eyes closed as Relc shouted.

“Look at that!”

“Don’t go in! Get back!”

That was Ilvriss. Outside, the people clustered around the walls of privacy sand began hammering on it.

“I want to see! I want to see! Let me in!”

Ekirra howled as he raced around, and even Chaldion ordered Shirka to break the walls. Somehow, though…Erin was calm.

When she opened her eyes, she knew what she would see. She lifted the Key of Reprieve and slowly in