She hadn’t changed much. Her hair was in four purple-and-black braids, not two, and she wore a simple black haltertop and pants with wide pockets. The boots were about the same, thick enough to walk across beds of nails without her noticing or caring, but the goggles were new. Propped up on her forehead, they were smeared with ash and grime, as was most of her face below it, save for the white patches around her eyes where her goggles had covered.

  “Hazard?” Cecelia asked.

  “Being turned into a toy. Though daaaaaamn, you’re a quality one. Someone put a lot of work into your face.”

  “That would be him.” Cecelia jerked a thumb back at Threadbare, who doffed his hat and bowed.

  “Holy shit! The little fucker himself! Man, it’s all reunion up in here.” She slid her hand out from behind her back, and put an ugly twist of metal and wood up on a nearby shelf.

  “Is that a pistol?” Asked Cecelia, craning her neck to look at it. “I’ve never seen one before.”

  “Yeah. Don’t have to be a gunslinger to use one.”

  “But if ya are then they’re pretty badass,” Jarrik threw in, then turned back to whispering with Zuula and Garon.

  “Shaddap, braggy,” Beryl scooped up a wrench out of a nearby junkpile, hucked it at his head. Without looking at her he caught it, put it down, then kept on talking with his family.

  “That’s some serious dextahrity,” Madeline remarked.

  “And it ain’t limited to his hands,” Beryl leered, as she waggled her tongue between two spread fingers.

  “Is that supposed to mean something?” Threadbare asked.

  “Holy shit you talk now?”

  Your Adorable skill is now level 33!

  “I made my own voice after I got frustrated with being silent.”

  “After that one time in Catamountain I can’t say I’m surprised.” Beryl’s face darkened. “Man, that was a good run. Even if things did turn to shit just after.”

  “So… what happened, exactly?” Cecelia said, hopping up on a nearby overturned crate. “After we dropped you off in Taylor’s Delve, I mean?”

  “I wanna hear this too,” Garon announced. Jarrik strolled over, balancing his mother and his brother in his arms, kicked a pile of gears out of a chair, and sat down.

  “Not much to tell,” Beryl shrugged. Then she grimaced. “Not much good anyway. I got back told Da, and he gathered the family. We stopped long enough to let our neighbors know what was going down, then it was down the escape tunnel we’d dug years ago, with the ones who believed us.”

  “People didn’t believe you?” Threadbare asked.

  “Taylor’s Delve was full o’ folks who went there to get away from civilized places, an’ resistance fighters,” Jarrik said. “The first kind of folks didn’t believe ‘er, and forted up. The second wanted ta fight.” Once a little high-pitched and reedy, his voice had deepened as he’d matured. There were muscles under that coat too, his former gawky slimness growing into the full weight of his mixed heritage. “Can’t blame Beryl for th’ ones what stayed. The ones what died.”

  “Like me,” Zuula said, and Jarrik winced.

  “I’m sorry, Ma. By the time me an’ Bakky got there, it was all done, and you were… Well.”

  “Is okay. Work out for best.”

  “He and Bakky got to us just as we were about to collapse the tunnel,” Beryl said. “We let’em come with.”

  “Bak’shaz!” Zuula and Garon said, simultaneously. “He alive too?” Zuula grabbed Jarrik’s collar and shook it, while Garon tried to pry her fingers loose from his brother’s clothes.

  “Yeah. He was. Probably still is,” Beryl said. “He left a few years back, got tired of living in cramped tunnels. Went looking for the Rangers.”

  “A few years… we-the Crown had the observation posts set up early in the conflict. How did he get past those?” Cecelia frowned.

  Jarrik shrugged. “I’d montaged him through Scout by then, done my best to train ‘im like Da would, and shadowed ‘im through. By that time Porkins was dead so it was just ‘im ta worry about, and ‘e got through easy.”

  “I think losing Porkins was what got him to move on, honestly,” Beryl sighed. “The little guy was never the same after that.”

  “Wait,” Cecelia said. “How did you get to Taylor’s Delve in the first place? The last time I saw you the woods were on fire, there were enemy soldiers and scouts all around, and you were going to save your Father.”

  Jarrik fell silent. Beryl sighed, moved over, and reached up to rub his shoulders. He slipped a hand back over hers, covering it completely, and squeezing in thanks. “Long story short, we failed. Saw’im get taken down by one a’ his best students. Feller named Jericho.”

  Madeline inhaled, sharply. “Wait…”

  “Yeah. That Jericho. At tha time he was still loyal. He tracked us to Oblivion Point, told us he was sorry, and that he’d try to make sure that da survived. Told us to escape, keep our heads down, and tell no one of what happened that night. He also said that the wilds were crawling with scouts and soldiers clearing the place, and we’d never make it frew if we went reg’lar ways.”

  “Yeah, that’s about right,” Madeline said. “Why do you think I was on the outskirts of the Delve ta begin with, Gar? Buncha gahds stahted hunting around my graveyahd.”

  “Then how did you escape?” Threadbare asked Jarrik.

  “We walked th’ Oblivion.”

  The toys stared, stunned.

  “You can do that?” Cecelia asked. “I thought nothing could cross it.”

  “Oh y’can’t cross it,” Jarrik said, tugging at one of his gloves. “But if ya go a little ways in, and walk ALONG wiff it, and don’t go too far towards or away from it, ya can run ‘long it like a bearing in a track. An’ if ya walk in tha right place, it cuts right frew solid fings… mountains, trees, whatnot, an’ crosses right over gorges an’ drops and suchlike.”

  “I had no idea,” Cecelia whispered. “That’s… incredible.”

  “It’s fucking unsafe, is what it is,” Beryl snorted. “Show’em, Jarry.”

  “I am, I am, hold yer knickers…” He tugged the glove up, and held off his hand. His pinky finger was a stump, gone to the first knuckle. “It’s dangerous ‘cause you got ter stay in exactly tha right middle part. Get too far out, an’ you don’t come back. But walk too close to tha inside edge, an’ ya walk over air an’ fall, or worse, walk out inta something solid.” He flexed his finger. “Like I almost did. Most of me pinky’s part of a mountain or summat now.”

  “You no do somet’ing dat stupid again,” Zuula said. “Howling darkness out dere. Green numbers eat you alive.”

  “We might ‘ave to,” Jarrik said, sighing. “If the war goes bad, it’s a last-ditch plan for th’ hold. Our backs are lit’rally up against it. Me an’ tha other scouts been training, as careful as we can. Still lost a few. And if yer add tha rest o’ the hold’s folks inta it? No way we won’t be countin’ our dead if we do it, which is why it’s a bad idear.”

  “Which is why winning the war seems to be the best outcome,” Threadbare said, staring up at a friend he’d never expected to see here. “We want to help you do that.”

  “Yeah, why are you here? What’s all this about ghost golems? We filled you in, let’s hear your story.” Beryl said, scooting around to a chair, flipping it around, and straddling it while she leaned her head on her hands.

  Threadbare told her about the mess at the house, and how he’d come to start his epic quest to save Cecelia, with Zuula and Garon joining in on their part of things. Cecelia took it after that, explaining how she’d been fighting for the wrong side, and how she’d died.

  “Ouch. Shit. Ah…” Beryl ran a hand through her hair, tugging on her braids. “No offense, but you uh, solved a problem for us when you did that. Remember how we’d named you friend to our clan?”

  “Yes. But that debt’s gone now, with my old life.” Cecelia sighed.

  “Hey. Look. It means we can start over, yeah? And this time you’re not secretly the daughter of our worst enemy.” Beryl smiled and reached down a grubby hand. “Pleased to fucking meet you.”

  Cecelia took it and her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. “Thanks! To be honest I was a little worried.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you’re a cleric of Aeterna. Bazdra said-”

  “Bazdra? Bazdra Coaler?” Beryl snorted. “She’s not the boss o’ me. She guards the shrine and advises the King, but she’s not my clan. Which is good, because she’s been a right asshole the last few months.”

  “The last few months? Really?” Cecelia asked, glancing towards Threadbare.

  “Yeah. Ah… let me show you.” She kicked through the scrap on the floor, forging a path to the nearest door, and opened it up.

  Instantly, glowstones lit up, revealing a long, high-ceilinged hall, with a pair of iron double-doors on the end large enough to admit three ogres abreast.

  Inside the hall were five wire-and-cloth-and-wood contraptions, with wooden blades sticking out in front, and metal boxes on the rear. Each had two seats, set into the curving wooden bodies.

  “Those look a little like that tinker diagram we gave you,” Threadbare said.

  “They are. That flyer was a dangerous, shitty contraption that almost got me killed the first few times I flew it.” Beryl grinned. “These though… these are about done. About ready. They’ll change the war once we get them out there, get us some wins…” Then she sighed. “And fucking bitchqueen supreme Bazdra Coaler is squawking about how they need more testing, first.”

  “I thought Montag Steelknife was the minister in charge of new weaponry,” Threadbare said.

  “He is, but the training for it goes through Bazdra. The… oh, we need a word for people who fly this thing. The flyers, the controllers, they need to be approved by Bazdra’s ministry. They choose who gets allocated to what jobs and she’s arguing that this is a job. Even though it isn’t, you just need the flight skill.”

  “The flight skill, you say?” Garon remarked. “Hm…”

  “Yeah. They’re two seaters, and you need someone flying it. One person to fly, the other to drop bombs over the side.” Beryl puffed her lips, and made a farting noise. “Easy as mud. Still pisses me off… Montag swore he’d back me up on this, ram it up Bazdra’s arse if he had to, and he hasn’t. Normally the dude’s braver, I don’t know what’s gotten into him the last few weeks.”

  “Could be he’s jus’ backed off ‘cause Bazdra had a deaf in tha’ family,” Jarrik said, trying to console her.

  “Did she?” Cecelia squinted.

  “Yeah. ‘er husband died accidental-like two weeks back. Didn’t get ‘is coin, since it weren’t in battle. Word is she’s tore up somefing fierce about it.”

  “Which doesn’t matter because she should fucking do her job so fewer of us die!” Beryl thumped the wall in anger. “Bitch needs to calm her tits right the fuck down.”

  Threadbare listened, the light almost seeming to gleam in his button eyes. “You know, we’ve talked with both of them recently. And a fellow named Hidon Fingers, and a nice lady who’s putting us up in Yorgum’s house, called Gudrun Scarstone.”

  “Hidon? Yer sure?” Jarrik asked, eyebrows rising. “That guy’s been out a sight th’ last few months. He was in charge a’ the Oblivion run training until he disappeared for a while. Word is he was in some deep mission for th’ King.”

  “Black beard, wears a hood, smells of garlic?” Threadbare asked.

  “Yeah, tha’s him.”

  “Well regardless, if you got Gudrun looking after you, you’re good,” Beryl nodded. “Everyone knows Granny Guddy. She’s big on the home crafting part of Yorgum’s religion. And the most senior cleric in the faith who isn’t on the front.”

  The four toys shared a look. “Probably not de Lurker, den.” Said Zuula. “Is good. We probably not come back to house full of dead friends.”

  “Nobahdy knows we left anyway,” said Madeline. “I made sure of that. Stealth, camo, the wahks.”

  “Yes, but it’s the Lurker,” said Cecelia. “We have to play it safe.”

  “Yeah. About that. What the fuck.” Said Beryl. “The Hand?”

  “Yeah. This is the part it gets complicated,” said Cecelia. “We’re pretty sure the Lurker’s infiltrated this hold. We think he’s one of the four ministers. We think the King knows that, and is playing some kind of complicated bluff to try and get him to reveal himself by taking a whack at us, or… well, me, because I’d be problematic to the Hand’s plans in the future.”

  “We’re here because we need some help stopping that,” said Threadbare. “If he just tries to kill her, we can soulstone her again, but there are some sneaky things he could do that would end up with her permanently dead. And that’s… unacceptable,” said the little bear.

  Beryl nodded. “Yeah, all right. How can I help?”

  “Some of us are going to run the dungeon soon.”

  “Whoa. Much as I’d like to go, that’s… no. That isn’t the Catamountain.”

  “We know,” Garon said. “Which is why we don’t want you going in. We want you watching to see who’s waiting to ambush us when we come out.”

  “Tryin’ a lure…” Jarrik nodded. “Da would’ve approved. But It’s a lure what could go wrong,” Jarrik said. “This is one a tha Hand. You give him a shot at Celia, what’s ta stop him grabbing her an’ escaping?”

  Threadbare smiled. “I have an idea, there. Do you happen to have any green reagent?”

  “I can get some. Why?” Beryl squinted at him.

  He told them, and Zuula laughed. “Oh! Is perfect!”

  Jarrik went in the back, and rummaged around. “I’ll go an’ be yer watcher. I’ll foller yer back, then shadow yer when ya ready for tha dungeon run. Jus’ wear somethin’ red on yer hat, Threadbare.”

  “Trust me, he’s way better at it than I am,” Beryl said. Then her eyes narrowed, and she moved up to loom over Cecelia and Threadbare, shaking her finger in their faces. “Just so we’re clear. If you kill him I will fuck you and not in the fun way. I will find a way to screw you so hard your ancestors will be sore in the morning. You’ll go in our book of grudges, and if I don’t settle it my children will. We clear?”

  “Ber…” Jarrik started.

  “Yes dear?” She looked at him and grinned, a manic smile wide on her face as her braids rustled from the sudden movement.

  He sighed. “Ne’er mind.” He turned back to the toys. “You do yer fing, I’ll back yer up when ‘e strikes.”

  “Thanks bro,” Garon said, reaching up one wooden fist. “Just watch yourself, okay?”

  Jarrik grinned, and reached down to bump his fist to Garon’s. “Oh, don’t worry ‘bout me none. Picked up a few tricks since I got here.” His free hand found its way up to his bandolier, and ticked down the curved wooden handles sticking out from it.

  “Pistols?” Cecelia asked.

  “Oh yeah. Let’s just say I don’t use a bow no more.”

  “Mordecai would not approve,” Zuula said.

  “Oh!” Cecelia said. “Speaking of him, there’s something you should know. He’s alive too. And he’s free. I freed him.”

  Garon, Zuula, and Jarrik all turned to stare at her.

  “What?” Garon gasped.

  “It all started when Anise fooled me into thinking there was a test…” She related how the daemon had tried to trick her into killing Mordecai, and she’d freed him from his prison instead. “Father sent the Ninja after him, but he escaped. Father was furious after that, but he kept his word and I went to the front.”

  “This is the first time you’ve mentioned that,” Threadbare said.

  “I know. I’m sorry. We’ve been so busy, and…” she sighed. “He was mad. They tortured him.”

  Zuula’s spear quivered in her hands, as she shook, rage filling her tiny plush body.

  “But he’s free now. I’m… I’m hoping he joined up with the rangers. He probably did. If Jericho was one of his old students, I don’t see-”

  “Celia,” Zuula said, her voice low.

  “Yes?” The porcelain princess whispered.

  “We done with the talky and the planny and the dwarven shit and the plotty bits?”

  “I, er…”

  “Cause Zuula really want to go fucking kill some shit, and de sooner de better.”

  Jarrik laughed, and her son, her son who was a man now, knelt to embrace the tiny doll with both arms. Zuula bit irritatedly at him for a bit, then subsided, sighing. “Welcome back Mom,” Jarrik said. “Missed yer.”

  “Miss you too Jarrik. You treat Beryl good, yah? Zuula want grandchildren.”

  “Uh, yeah, about that, it probably ain’t gonna happen-” Beryl started, but Madeline bumped her leg with her snout.

  “Sh. Trust me on this. Just shush.”

  “Yeah, okay, whatevs.”

  “Yes, I think we’re done,” said Cecelia.

  “Let me go find that reagent for you.” Beryl said, rummaging around.

  Ten minutes later, the toys were back in Madeline’s pack, while the little dragon returned to the temple of Yorgum, emerging in through the same upper-story window she’d left from. Zuula spent most of the trip silent and brooding. Cecelia tried to apologize a few times, but Garon stopped her, quietly pulled her off to the side.

  Threadbare, for his part, spent most of the trip thinking. They had a lot to do, before they went to the dungeon. Hopefully he could get a head start on it early tomorrow, when the supplies arrived.

  As it turned out, though, he didn’t get a start at all.

  *****

  “Ah, there you are!” Gudrun’s voice echoed through the work room. “I was wondering why someone had fired up the kiln.”

  “Oh. I’m just skilling up my sculpting,” Threadbare said, showing her the row of pots he’d just finished firing. It hadn’t been the main reason he’d started working here, but he’d finished THAT part of things an hour ago, right before dawn. “I’m impressed by your facilities.”

  Yorgum’s temple had every sort of crafting tool and workstation known to men, dwarves, or stranger races. Including a few things that were for purposes and crafts that were hard to decipher just by looking at them.