Our room was lavish compared to the blank hallways we’d trekked for an hour. Decorated with various statues, tapestries, and rugs, each of which was fine enough to be sold for massive amounts of gold. Behind Helga, a common room filled with a set of couches and a dining area that could seat ten people comfortably greeted us. Surrounding the space were eight doors, all made from the same blue and white ceramic.

  “The center doors are for the meditation rooms.” Hela said, her voice soft and almost kind. “While the rest are your bedrooms. Food will be served three times a cycle and water is always available from the runes within the meditation rooms, training pit, and bathroom. Do not leave this room until I retrieve you for your lot.”

  Mechanically, Helga spun on the spot and marched off without another word. Ellen looked more on edge than she’d earlier as she surveyed what was to be our home for the next three days. Part of me wanted to say something to comfort her, but if she wanted to speak to me about it, she would, so I left it to the people she’d grown up with and went to explore.

  I went to one of the bedrooms first, picking one at random and setting down both my stuff and claim. The room was sparse. The only feature beside the four beds carved into the back wall were the twin desks and a small wardrobe. It felt almost like an Under Tunnels version of an inn, which was perhaps fitting. What marked it as different from the other inns I’d stayed at was the attached bathroom, divided from the rest of the space by a tightly beaded curtain and line of enchantments.

  Stepping past the curtain, I noticed the bathroom floor was a beautiful mosaic designed to look like the cavern we were in, but devoid of any life. Most of the tiles were black and white, while a green the same color as the moss ‘outside’ made up the tips of the stalactites in the pattern. Following a hunch, I turned off the two mana lamps in the room.

  Now dark, a faint green glow from the tiles gently lit up the space. They were bright enough that someone could use the facilities by their light, but weren’t bright enough that anyone would miss sleep. Especially after being subjected to the lights in Dustreach for a week.

  I explored the rest of the bathroom, which came with a toilet, bath, and sink, all powered with a water creation rune. Meaning all I had to do to operate any of the features was infuse a small portion of mana and intent into the runes. Luxuries like this weren’t something I thought would be provided, but I would not complain about an easier life.

  I went to the meditation room next, passing Mika and Nora, who huddled around Ellen on the couch, consoling her. I felt like a bad team mate passing them by, but even with our budding friendship, the thought of what I would do if someone I knew for a couple of weeks tried to console me kept my feet moving. It would not do to shame Ellen so.

  The room I entered wasn’t much larger than the one I had at home, its walls made of unmarked stone. Lining the floor, however, was wall to wall pillows in a myriad of colors and fabrics, all of which looked extremely comfortable. I gave into whim and flopped down onto the floor, letting body weight and gravity carry me into the embrace of the pillows. In my hubris, however, I hadn’t checked how deep the pillows went and instead of being caught in a cloud of cushions; unfeeling stone met my back.

  All breath left me in an explosive huff, and I writhed in betrayal. I would have praised Ylena for my lack of an audience, but hubris was my undoing again. Somehow, I’d missed Maggie seated quietly in the corner of the room. Her eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth and she bit down on a knuckle to keep from laughing. I tried to retort with something clever, anything to lessen the embarrassment. All I managed was a feeble wheeze. Maggie’s tightly held control broke, and she cackled madly at my expensive, the room’s echo like a full theater audience.

  I endure Maggie’s laughing for another minute before I sucked in a full breath of air. Leaving the pillows and the room’s cackling occupant, part of me wanted to retreat into the room I’d claimed and rest, but I soldiered on and went to the training room.

  Like the meditation room, unworked stone lined the training pit’s walls. But rather than a shallow sea of pillows, a shallow pit of red sand dominated the training room. There were no training aids or spare equipment of any kind. It was simply a room with a pit full of sand.

  I debated staying and doing some drills quickly, but wanting to avoid Maggie and finish what I’d started doing in Dustreach, I went back to my room and unpacked a tablet and my chisels.

  Helena

  It has only been a little over a month since I left both you and home, and still I am amazed by how much I miss you. Two weeks ago, we passed a small hamlet named Hearthome. There was a young girl there training under her father to be an innkeeper who reminded me so much of you. Your eyes shared the same blaze of curiosity. Part of me is excited beyond belief for you to reach an age where I can share my passions with you; another part dreads the passing seconds and the things I’ll miss while I’m away. The things I’ve already missed.

  Promise me you won’t grow too fast without me little sapling.

  Longing isn’t all I have done these weeks, however. Most are stories I will have to keep for when you are older, but I cannot wait to share them with you someday.

  In the short time I’ve been away, I’ve learned and seen much I never could have in the forest. One day when my bones are old and weary, and my duty to our people has passed to another, I’d very much like to come home and teach you all I know. Who can say, perhaps we’ll form an entirely new Order; perhaps we’ll call it Helena’s Raiders.

  With all my love and hope for the future –

  Dad.

  ~~~***~~~

  Waiting in the wings to be sold at auction was a strange experience. It did, however, give us an opportunity to survey the auction floor before the mana lights blinded us on stage. Rather than the materials I’d seen everywhere since arriving in this city – namely web, bone, stone, and that porous wood they used to build their paths – the auctions house was made entirely from materials only available on the surface.

  I recognized the walls and floorboards as oak and cypress wood and I was ninety percent sure the curtains draped from either said of the stage were sheep’s wool. Part of me hoped that the people who’d built this auction house chose the surface materials out of an appreciation. However, the part of me that spent countless nights growing up studying the books in my mom’s library knew that these ‘exotic’ materials were a cheap attempt to provide some wonder for the elite who partook in this auction.

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  Their ploy must work too, because looking out onto the crowd, there wasn’t an empty seat anywhere on the floor and every balcony or box was occupied. It was hard to assume how important the goblins on the floor were, even if I could assume they weren’t important enough to warrant a higher seat with privacy. Contrasted against that was the aranae, who were only represented by those with multiple tails on the auction floor. While in the boxes, I saw women with multiple heads, another new variant that had several sets of eyes on the same head.

  Looking out, I found it slightly funny how divided the audience was. Goblins and aranae split themselves into group so thoroughly that there was an invisible border between the two groups no one on either side was willing to cross. The auctioneers on stage followed the same pattern as their species members in the audience as they moved about on stage. Neither of the two coming within ten feet of the other.

  The aranae auctioneer was a woman with two heads, only one of which was visible. An embroidered woolen veil I doubted she could see out of covered one of her heads. Her other head animatedly interacted with the crowd, her facial expressions wide and exaggerated to better reach the audience members at the back of the venue. She wore a tight orange vest with no undershirt beneath it. The paleness of her skin a heavy contrast to the warm vest. Draped across the spider portion was a section of silk designed similarly to a horse’s barding.

  Across from her a goblin woman of the species that pierced themselves wore a fine gown that even on her massive frame was far too long for her and trailed across the wooden stage like a wedding gown.

  The pair took turns introducing and embellishing the deeds of the tier two party currently on sale. It was a group of seven people named the ‘Dust Knights’; they’d dressed in their best finery, but even then, it was clear the Dust Knights came from common backgrounds. Their clothing, while well taken care of, showed obvious signs of wear and tear that one would never find on the kinds of people who could afford to replace their wardrobe with every new fashion trend.

  The starting bid for their services was three silver, and over ten minutes we watched as the price slowly rose to three gold. Bidding started with a wide variety of people on the ground floor, but as it progressed and rose in price, the bidding restricted itself to two aranae women on lower balconies.

  That didn’t matter to the Dust Knights, however. As the price grew from seven silver to a gold, to two, then to three, every single member of the Knights’ jaws got progressively lower until they practically drooled. I recognized I wasn’t good enough with money yet to truly understand what that much money could mean to a person. Yet, just looking at their faces told me that if all of them survived the length of their contract, they’d have a much easier life than they would’ve otherwise.

  “For the price of three gold coins, Kari of clan Frostad, has won the services of the Dust Knights for a length of two months surface time!” The aranae auctioneer loudly announced.

  Their price and buyer settled; the goblin auctioneer efficiently herded the Dust Knights off stage. Rather than return to the wing, we waited in with five other parties. They got pushed towards the opposite side of the stage, where they disappeared into the shadows.

  Now that they were offstage, the auctioneers spoke once more in perfect unison, their voices a contradictory harmony, as they introduced the next party up.

  “We would like to thank all of our esteemed guests for their patience. We can assure you, however, that your patience was well worth it as [Appraiser] Arnhild has personally assured us our next lot is one of the finest in months. Please welcome to the stage: Ellen Smallbard, Mika Hillhome, Nora of Woodsedge, and Bran of the Cult of Weeping Grace!”

  As they said our names, one of the smaller aranae, with none of the distinguishing features of the other variants, pushed us out onto stage one at a time. The four of us walking to the spots that we’d had pointed out to us during the rehearsal this morning. Ellen and I book ending Mika and Nora as we alternated from woman to man in the lineup.

  Placing a possessive hand on her shoulder, the goblin woman gestured out expansively to the crowd as she introduced Ellen.

  “Miss Smallbard, esteemed patrons and guests, is not only a member of the surface’s noble caste. Arnhild herself referred to her as a cavern collapse manifest.”

  There was a small murmur throughout the crowd, but I couldn’t tell if it was positive or negative through the distance and language barrier.

  “Next we have Sir Hillhome.” The aranae auctioneer continued, wasting no time. “Sir Hillhome is a master sculptor and has dedicated himself to the creation of golems whose beauty is matched only by their deadliness.”

  I thought of the new golem Mika just made as the goblin woman took a wide semi-circle path around her partner. She approached Nora as soon as the aranae woman was far enough from Mika, so they never got within ten feet of each other.

  “Nora is her party’s only true caster. A mystic of mist and a prodigy in mana control. A talent vouched for both by [Appraiser] Arnhild and her [Stalwart Bulwark] Helga the Immutable!”

  The crowd buzzed and murmured again, but this time it was decidedly positive. That was easy enough to hear just in the tone alone.

  “Lastly, we have Bran. Chosen to one of the surface’s many nature deities, heir and master of his people’s martial style.” The aranae auctioneer finished after she’d done the same dance as her partner to avoid her.

  It took conscious effort for me to unclench my white-knuckled fist as she left. Before the auction began while they talked us through the process, I’d let the organizers know Ylena was to be referred to as the Grace Mother. Or by one of her many minor titles should that be unacceptable in their culture. To hear her called one of many nearly set my blood to boil.

  The bidding began at five gold coins and the auctioneers were quick to step into their roles as salespeople. Even with how high of a price our minimum was, the starting flurry of offers originated from the ground floor. Paddles made from bone flashed up and dirty looks shot across the invisible divide. The auctioneers rattled off numbers, working in increments of two silver each time. Like the tide, as our price rose, the paddles that came up retreated to the back of the room and eventually into the balconies and boxes. By the time we hit ten gold, the people hidden within the uppermost boxes had begun bidding as well.

  Past the floor, I wasn’t able to make out the faces of anyone bidding for us. The glare of the mana lights restricting my vision to only their outlines.

  “Twelve gold and six silver!” a male voice called from a lower box. His head remarkably slimmer than the rest of his gargantuan frame.

  The number of bidders was reduced to eight by this point, this latest one a last desperate attempt to win our services. The man bid on our service from nearly the beginning, but as the price rose and the people within the boxes above him joined in, his voice took on a frustrated and distinctly desperate cast.

  “Twelve gold and seven silver.” An amused voice said from the very top of the room. The goblin who’d just been outbid let out a cry of frustration and stormed out of his box.

  By fifteen gold, only four people remained in the bidding. Each of their voices clear and distinct now that they no longer fought from attention against an entire crowd of buyers. As I listen intently to them, it became impossible not to note the growing sense of frustration in every voice but one.

  As bids for our services slowed, and people had to consider whether they could afford the costs, I could pay attention to who was actually bidding and where they sat. I picked out three of the people left and all of them were within one of the uppermost boxes.

  “Sixteen gold, eight silver!” A woman’s voice rang out. She had the choked off accent of the aranae. So much pride and surety suffused her voice that I almost assumed she’d be the winning bid off principal. When a smaller, but no less prideful voice answered the bid, it caught me off guard.

  “Seventeen gold!”

  Before the bid could even be acknowledged, there was a strangled sound of fury that echoed through the auditorium from the box the aranae woman occupied. She sounded strangled, her noises of fury gargled and rampant.

  “I demand this cretin have his funds verified!” She demanded.

  “Spiress Virtanen. I would like to remind you that should you continue with your challenge, you will be banned from making another within the month. Are you sure you wish to proceed with this?” The goblin auctioneer asked sweetly, her contempt for the spiress barely concealed beneath a smile.

  Across from her, the aranae auctioneer’s visible face snarled, top lip curling to reveal small mandibles that flexed and stretched out in frustration. There was a snarl from spiress Virtanen’s box seats followed by a solemn moment, sounding much more in control over herself.

  “I am sure.”

  “Very well, your demand will be followed post haste.”

  The aranae auctioneer left the stage as soon as the spiress confirmed and my party and I spent an excruciating ten minutes in utter silence as we waited for the result. Nora and Mika both looked as if they might have spoken at several times during the wait, but the crushing silence of hundreds of people not talking or making any noise kept us from doing so. When the aranae woman returned, she had her face set in a frown.

  “We have confirmed the funds of tribal deputy Restok. His bid stands.”

  The sound of stone grinding on stone met the proclamation. Several of the aranae on the auction floor shot fearful and angry looks up at her box.

  “Very well, seventeen gold and five silvers.” The spiress spat.

  “This is much too rich for my blood. Virtanen, the cycle is yours.” Tribal deputy Restok said, his voice filled with hate and assured confidence so strong I wondered briefly if he’d ever doubted a single choice in his life.

  “Congratulations to the Spiress Sylvi of clan Virtanen. Winning this lot at a price of seventeen gold and five silver in exchange for three weeks’ service.” The auctioneers proclaimed in silence.