As they approached Dawdledale, there was no missing the path that Pothollow had scoured all those decades ago. The vagrant curseland must have punctured the town wall, picking up the buildings that now made up Pothollow and dragging them along in its wake—or in front of it—before they fell free further up the mountain.

  The scar in Dawdledale had been long since mended over, new buildings built to fill the gap and new stones added to the town wall. Runa craned her neck to look back up the side of the Cauldron. What must it have been like, to see your home, your neighbours torn away like that?

  What was it like now, to see those neighbours cheerfully staying put, balanced on the Cauldron’s rim?

  Errant gave a polite cough that pulled Runa from her thoughts.

  “This is me. That’s the Dawdledale bakery just ahead.”

  He nodded to a stone building at the end of the street. Light glowed from behind its shuttered windows, and Runa breathed deep, inhaling the scent of fresh bread that was probably neither rock-like nor flat.

  “I appreciate your company on the way down,” he continued. “If you’d like to come in with me—”

  “No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “I, uh. Better get going.”

  Errant didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with her too-quick answer. “In that case, you’ll want to try the waystation at the other end of town—that’s where anyone traveling out will be heading from.”

  Runa nodded, and escaped before Errant could say something sensible like Let me finish my work here and I’ll show you the way or Don’t you want to buy some provisions for the road?

  Because she did want to go into the bakery. She wanted it so much it felt like guilt. She wanted to see how another baker would do things, to make bread that ended up like, well, bread.

  No. Not another baker. A baker. Because saying another baker suggested Runa was a baker, too, and hadn’t just been slinging dough to pay her way before she went back to the Cauldron to rescue her clients. Which she had been.

  She rounded her shoulders and stalked down the street in the direction Errant had pointed. A waystation was good news. That meant Dawdledale must see enough travellers that someone thought it was worth putting them all in one place to make money out of them. There would be someone who could sell her a mount, except she didn’t have any money to pay for one and probably couldn’t pay for it with terrible bread, the way she’d paid her way in Pothollow. A caravan would be slower, but less likely to cost her money she didn’t have. They might even pay her to guard the carts.

  Runa made her way through the streets. Dawdledale was a walled town, and the waystation was the last building before the gatehouse leading out to the King’s Road. It was big and ramshackle, stone on the bottom and half-timbered on the upper levels, of which there were… a strange number. It was as though the builders had each started at a different corner and ended up making rooms of different heights, then added the next level on top of that without evening anything off or talking to each other.

  “Must be like a maze inside,” she muttered.

  “Only the most comfortable and sanitary maze this side of the Cauldron!” someone announced from the vicinity of her right elbow. “Are you after a room? We’ve troll-sized quarters on the top floor. Roof access.”

  Runa looked down. The speaker was a grinning dwarf, maybe sixty or thereabouts, with scars running the width of their face. From her perspective, they were all shoulders.

  “I don’t need a room,” she said. Something about the dwarf was familiar. “I was told there might be a caravan traveling to Sollus Gate from here I could join up with.”

  “Roads are busy this time of year, that’s true.” The dwarf looked her up and up. “What is it in Sollus Gate you’re—here, I know you! Guiders Guild, right? What was your name. The half-troll girl, everybody knows you. You’re…”

  They snapped their fingers as though they could magic the answer out of the air.

  “Runa,” Runa said.

  “Runa! That’s the one. You won’t remember me,” they added, in a way that meant they hoped she would. Runa’s jaw almost cracked with strain as she searched her memory. “Morrie Half-Pike. We only crossed over at the guild a few months, I think. I was on my way out, you were on your way in. Heard all about you, though. And now you’re out of the game, too? Traveling? Headed home? Must be a relief to be out of the Cauldron for good, eh?”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The avalanche had been less of a beating. Runa had opened her mouth to answer Morrie’s first question, and it was still hanging open, waiting for a chance for her to speak.

  “Uh,” she eventually managed to intercept a gap in the interrogation. “Back to Sollus Gate, actually. I figure if anyone’s managing to make a dent in that ice wall, that’s where they’ll be doing it.”

  “You’re going back in?” Morrie’s face went slack with astonishment.

  “Going out wasn’t my idea. The same shift that sent the mountains out to the Rim caught me, too. I’ve got two clients left stuck inside.”

  Their face cleared. “Ah. Sorry to hear that. Well, never fear. Can’t be long now until you can get out of the game for good! You must have a tidy sum packed away.

  But I don’t want to get out of the game. Runa bit her tongue and nodded.

  “Now, about a caravan…” Morrie gestured to her to follow, and led her inside.

  The waystation was part inn, part shop, part something like the business end of the guildhall back in Sollus Gate. A blast of warm air hit Runa the moment she stepped through the doors, but it was nothing compared to the solid wall of noise.

  Breakfast was being served down one end. Business was being dealt with down the other, patient-faced dwarves and humans and even a few trolls sitting with their heads low over books and piles of money. A door led to stables out the back, and staircases leading further into the building had been placed as randomly as the upper levels.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Morrie put their fists on their hips and surveyed the chaos. “Built it all up myself. When I first moved here, the waystation was just the stables with a room out back for travelers to bunk in, but look at it now!”

  Runa looked. “You’ve done a lot with the place.” Privately, she wondered how someone who seemed happy to be done with the Cauldron ended up owning a building that looked like something straight out of it—but she didn’t say it out loud.

  Because Morrie was right. She should be looking forward to stacking away enough of a nest egg to leave the Cauldron for good. Nobody was meant to like the Cauldron. Even the most excited treasure-hunters never lasted more than a few seasons. The Cauldron was a reminder of every cruel and evil magic that had ever touched the world. It was useful—you could appreciate it for any treasure you managed to drag out of it, or insights into history or old magics—but it was, by definition, not a good place.

  And yet when Morrie asked Runa if she was headed home, it was the Cauldron she thought of first.

  She sighed. Wouldn’t it be better to feel like she belonged nowhere, than in a giant stew-pot of the worst curses the world had ever seen?

  This was why staying in one place was a bad idea. Gave you too long to worry about things.

  “Now—Sollus Gate, Sollus Gate, easiest to take the road west this year and head south before the coast, swing back around and—aha!” Morrie strode forwards, towards a table where a handful of humans were talking in low voices. “You still need a guard for the rest of your trip? They’re heading to Billswater,” he told Runa without breaking his rhythm. “And their last guard, er…”

  “We had a difference of opinion.”

  Oh, great, Runa thought.

  The man who’d delivered that ominous pronouncement was tall and rangy, with dark green hair and quick eyes that he was pretending weren’t. He pointed a pointedly lazy smile at Runa. “We thought we were all going to share in the proceeds, once we took our cart to the great market at Billswater. He thought he deserved the lich’s share of the goods, most of our horses, and our coin chest, as well.”

  His sardonic smile slipped a bit at the end.

  “That does sound like a problem.” Runa folded her arms. “You’re headed to Billswater? That isn’t on my way.”

  “It is, because we’re stopping at Sollus Gate first. Nowhere better to—” He reached down and swatted away his companion’s elbow before they could drive it into his ribs. “Nowhere better to restock. We’ll pay a high price, right out the Gate, but we can offload it even higher on the coast. Billswater’s crazy for anything from the Cauldron. If the wizards don’t want it, the nobles will.” He tipped his head back, watching Runa carefully. “And we can restock on a new guard or two, as well, if that’s where you leave us.”

  “You say that like you’ve already agreed to take me on.”

  He shrugged. “Morrie recommends you. Who would I be to disagree with them? We need a guard, and we’d like to leave today rather than spend more of what’s left of our money here, complaining about deceit and treachery.”

  “I can’t pay.”

  “What a coincidence. We can’t pay you, either. Except in food and company and someone to share the watch while we’re on the road.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why a caravan? If you’re in a hurry to return to Sollus Gate, why not buy a mount?”

  She shrugged. “Can’t afford one.”

  “Steal one?”

  No point dignifying that one with a reply. She frowned at him until he nodded. “All right. Welcome aboard. I’m Rovnen.”

  He introduced her to the others. They seemed happy enough to have someone as big as her joining them, though not happy enough for it to break through the general air of wariness. She couldn’t blame them for that. Not a lot of joy to be found in losing most of your trade the moment you were too far from home to send any of your mates after the thief.

  “It’s not all bad. Those carts were slowing us down. We’ll make better time like this,” the woman with the agile elbow said.

  “What, with no stock to hold us up? We’ll be first in line to sell bugger-all,” another grumbled.

  “Don’t be so glum!” Rovnen admonished them. “It’s not that bad. Besides, we’ve still got—” His eyes slid sideways. “Enough to make it worth the trip.”

  Runa narrowed her eyes.

  Great. That didn’t sound like trouble at all.