Chapter Summary: Caduceus is rescued by two disabled con artists; naturally, he decides to keep them.

Chapter Nine:
On the Streets (ft. Caduceus)

Well, this was a pickle. Caduceus gazed around the seedy courtyard. The buildings – mostly taverns with the smell of alcohol wafting out of them, shops with dingy storefronts, and rundown looking residences – pushed toward the sky, obscuring it from sight. This was not where he'd left his friends, and it seemed his wandering had only taken him farther from the Pentamarket. And not to pass judgement, he thought as he gazed into gutters clogged with refuse and the body of a dead rat, but this didn't seem like a particularly nice part of the city.

"Oh, dear," Caduceus said.

He noted a tiny hand tugging at his belt and shifted to greet its owner. "Well, hello."

The girl took a step back, craning her neck to get a look at him. The frock she was wearing had a tattered hem and seemed too light for the weather, which was turning cooler as harvest passed behind them. He knew he must look positively enormous to her, so he kindly knelt. "I'm Caduceus. Did you need something?"

The girl narrowed her eyes with suspicion. It was an expression that made her look much older. Her curiosity, though, was all child. She squinted at his hair, which was hanging over his forehead. "Mister, you have pink hair."

He chuckled. "I do."

"You didn't dye it," she asserted. "Your arm hairs and eyelashes are pink."

Caduceus smiled. "What a smart girl you are."

"You have long ears, too, and your nose is soft, but not like you've got a disease or nothing. And you got fur."

"Yes."

"So what are you?"

"I'm a firbolg," Caduceus said then peered around the paved roads and brick buildings and general lack of vegetation of any kind. He sighed. "I guess you don't see many of us here in Zadash."

The girl grew bold enough to touch his hand, petting his fur with two fingers. "You seem nice. You got anything to eat?"

Caduceus fished into his belt pouch. When his friends learned he didn't have much experience with money, Jester had offered to keep most of his wealth for him, tucked away in her inter-dimensional bag. He still had a bit left, though he didn't really get the denominations. Rather than worry about it, he pulled the entire handful out and let the sea of copper and silver coins flood his palms. "I'm kind of new here," he confessed to the girl. "How much does it cost for a good meal?"

The girl's eyes had grown huge at the sight of the coins piled in his hands. Gingerly, she fished out a gold piece and vanished it somewhere into her clothes. Then she curled his fingers over the rest and pushed it back to his chest. "Maybe don't show those around," she suggested.

Puzzled but amenable, Caduceus tipped the coins back into his purse. They rattled together, which made the girl wince.

"I better go," she said, edging away. "Be careful, Mister Cow Man."

Caduceus stood, uncertain whether to take offence. It was hardly the first time his traits were considered bovine, but while cows were handsome animals, he just didn't see it. Ah well. He looked around speculatively. It was early afternoon, but the sun was already dipping, and he would prefer to be back with the others before it got dark. Now if he could only find...

"You look like a man who's gotten himself turned around," said a gruff voice.

It was a bearded man, flanked by another with a wild thatch of hair that looked like it had never seen a comb. They were both smiling. The bearded man had gold teeth. Caduceus smiled back.

"Gentleman. I'm a bit lost. Zadash is a big city."

"Out of towner?"

"Very much so," Caduceus admitted with chagrin. The unfamiliar courtyard, the stink of the discolored runoff in the gutters. It was a lot. "I only arrived a few days ago the Savalierwood near Shadycreek Run, and I've gotten separated from my friends. We were supposed to meet back at the Pentamarket. Do you know where that is?"

"Shadycreek Run! You are from the boonies." The man scratched his beard. "Well, friend, this is your lucky day! I know exactly where the Pentamarket is, and what's more, there's a shortcut that will get you there in a trice. Me and my pal, we'd be happy to guide you part of the way."

"Really?" Caduceus said, pleased by how kind people could be, even in a place like this, which was a little rough around the edges. It just went to show that you couldn't judge people by appearances. "As long as you're not busy, that would be wonderful."

The man started to lead him toward the far side of the courtyard, where an alleyway extended into the gloom. "Through here. Never was a faster way to the Pentamarket."

Relieved to be on the right track, Caduceus went willingly, humming now that he would soon be back with the others. They might be annoyed. Jester would understand his need to investigate the herbalist shop with the planters of fungus in the windows, but Beau probably wouldn't. Jester whispered to him that Beau hadn't always been so paranoid, but the Iron Shepherds had rattled something in her. In all of them. Caduceus hadn't known the group before, so he couldn't say, but he wasn't so blind as to miss the trauma marks on his friends, who'd seemed to be looking for something as long as he'd known them.

'Maybe they'll find whatever it is here in Zadash,' he thought. 'This place is certainly big enough.'

He had almost reached the alley where the men waited, but before he could take a step further, he felt another hand on his belt. He turned to tell the girl not to worry – that he'd found somebody to help him – but the person standing beside him was different. Hooded and clothed in dark fabric, the figure glared at the two men. "Recker, what are you doing here? This is our territory."

The bearded man, who'd seemed so friendly, dropped his cigarette and scrubbed it out under his toe. He was scowling. "Not that it's any of your business, but we're just seizing an opportunity." He eyed Caduceus in a way that set his senses tingling, and suddenly Caduceus didn't feel so good about walking into a dark, enclosed space with these men.

The figure made a sound in her throat, something growly and mean. "Well, you can take your opportunistic asses and walk right out of here, because shop is closed."

The bearded man was angry. "You and that uppity wizard think you're so smart. Well listen here, Nott the Brave, you're not nothing, and we're going to move you along one day."

Nott the Brave snorted. "Try if you want, but in the meantime, get lost. Your pox-marked face is making me sick."

"Why, you –"

The man took an aggressive step forward, and Caduceus' hand shifted on his staff, but a soft click stopped their would-be assailants in their tracks. Caduceus looked down to see the tip of a crossbow bolt sticking out of Nott's sleeve.

"Unless you want to limp away nursing more holes than you started with," she said, "I would leave."

The men did go. Begrudgingly and without much grace, but they went. When they were alone, Caduceus said, "Thank you. I didn't realize it at first, but I think those men meant to harm me."

He could just see her eyes under the hood. They were yellow, and as Caduceus watched, they rolled. "No kidding. Those guys would have left you dead in a gutter."

It was an unsettling thing to think about. "I don't know if they would've taken it that far."

Nott scoffed. "Maybe you don't, but I know those bottom feeders." She turned to leave, and he felt another tug on his belt. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"We're getting you back to civilization. Normally, I wouldn't bother, but I saw you with Missy. You're a decent person, so I'll do you this favor to prevent you from getting your furry butt killed."

"Missy?"

"The little girl."

"Oh, right. She had never seen a firbolg before. Can you believe that?"

The hooded figure paused. "Zadash is a city for people people. That's something you should remember."

He didn't understand. "People people?"

"Humans, mostly. Elves and half-elves. Even halflings mostly keep to the countryside. Most of these folk haven't seen anything more exotic than the occasional gnome or tiefling. We're – you're weird, and weird makes people curious. And edgy."

He hadn't missed way she tripped over her pronouns and wondered what kind of 'non-person' she was. "My name is Caduceus, by the way."

She patted his rear end, or at least he thought she did. Both her arms were in plain sight, and he never saw them move. "It's nice to meet you, Caduceus. I'm Nott. And this is the road that will take you back to the Pentamarket. No detours, okay? I've got stuff to do, so I can't play nanny."

"Okay," Caduceus said and waved. "Thank you for your help, Miss Nott."

She gave him an odd look, one that he found hard to decipher. It might have been amusement or exasperation, but then why did it have that tinge of sadness? She lifted her arm, and the sleeve sagged just a bit. "Take care and don't be stupid," she said, and then a cart wheel squealed, and she was gone.

"Well," Caduceus said. He put his hands on his hips and noticed his belt pouch was hanging loosely. He checked inside, and all his coin was gone. "Well," he said again. He didn't know what else to say.

Caduceus was a little embarrassed to say so, because usually he was quite adept at making his way through the woods and using the plants and the shade to sense direction, but the city was throwing off his instincts. Even the sun, usually a reliable guide, cut strange, hard shadows that turned him around completely.

He'd followed the road like Nott said, but then he'd seen a mossy fountain down a little staircase and over a wall and through a few awnings, and he'd been so delighted by the prospect of any plant life that he'd decided to make a detour. Sitting at the edge of the fountain, he'd happily purified the water and spent some time chatting with a very tenacious patch of weed growing up between a crack in the cobblestone. When he looked up, the afternoon was far advanced. When he stood to leave, however, he realized there were several paths heading away from the fountain, and he had no idea which led back to the road.

"Oh, bother," he said. "I don't suppose you know?"

The weed had nothing helpful to add, so he made his best guess. He chose the direction with the greatest amount of noise, reasoning that noise meant people, and people might mean a road. And he did find people. Loads of them, milling through a kind of market made of carts. It was very busy. Music was played, children were everywhere, and there seemed to be some kind of performance going on. Caduceus drifted closer and saw a thin man with reddish-brown hair drawing a flourishing symbol in the air. As he finished, he murmured something indecipherable, and out of his hand, a burst of flame streaked toward the sky. The crowd made suitable sounds of awe at this display of magic.

A familiar face drew Caduceus' attention. It was Missy. She was flitting through the crowd, and as he watched, he saw her put her hand down a woman's purse. Caduceus blinked. She'd stolen from that woman. He gazed around sharply, and now that he was looking, he saw it was more than just Missy working he crowd. They took advantage of the bigger folk's inattention, of the utter normalcy of children being underfoot, and Caduceus realized what he was seeing. Pickpockets. Many of them, working in conjunction with the fiery performance.

Eventually the crowds began to disperse. Caduceus stepped into a side street and shifted his appearance. As a somewhat shorter, curly-haired human, he followed Missy onto a connected street. To his surprise, she ran up to a man on a stoop. It was the street performer. He was sitting cross-legged on a grungy jacket, his hair falling across a stubbled face. Curled against his thigh was a cat, and he was stroking it when Missy arrived.

Caduceus watched the man made a gesture with his hand, like he was holding a coin, and then Missy slipped him something that flashed. Caduceus wasn't sure what it meant, but he didn't like it. He especially didn't like it when Missy leaned into the man before she ran off.

She stepped out of the shadows. "Missy."

The girl stopped, gazing at him with wariness. "What you want?" Oh, right. He'd forgotten he was wearing a disguise. He dropped the illusion, and her mouth fell open. "Mister Caduceus!"

"Can we talk for a moment?"

"I thought Mama Nott sent you home. Why are you still here?"

Caduceus's eyebrows lifted, momentarily distracted by the reference to 'Mama Nott'. Not wanting to get off track, he pointed at the man with the red hair. "That man there. Was he bothering you?"

Missy looked genuinely confused. "No, of course not. That's Mister Caleb. I work for him."

Work? The idea that the pickpocketing wasn't some kind of isolated event made Caduceus's stomach turn uneasily. "I saw you take money from that woman, Missy. That's not work. That's stealing."

Her face fell. "I didn't take no coin from you."

"You don't need to take anything from me. I would be happy to give you any coin I have. Though I am a bit short at the moment. Does this Mister Caleb person force you to take money from people?"

Missy looked at her ragged frock, her dirty fingernails, and Caduceus could see pride warring with shame. "My mama isn't doing too good. Her back is crooked. She can't do much work, but we need to eat. With the finger-smithing, me and the other kids get to keep mosta what we make. Plus Mister Caleb can buy things we can't, like medicine, and he shares things out fair. That way, even if I have a bad day, mama and I don't go hungry. Plus he and Mama Nott keep us safe from people like Recker."

"Recker?"

"The guy who tried to rob you. He runs the south streets. I know people who work for him, and some of the jobs he makes them do aren't...aren't nice."

Caduceus listened to her story, growing more and more troubled. He himself had grown up without what the people of Zadash would call affluence. His family certainly hadn't owned anything the wider world would consider wealth. But despite this, he'd never thought of himself as poor. This was different. This was street culture, with rules and norms Caduceus couldn't begin to understand. To think of a child pickpocketing in order to eat. It was just –

There was a shout down the street. Caduceus looked up and saw a crownsguard wearing the bronze and vermillion uniform, holding a half-orc boy by the arm. Missy gasped. "Oh, that's Sord. He musta got caught pinching."

The crownsguard was shouting, shaking the boy. Sord looked frightened, his greyish complexion washed of color. Caduceus was trying to make up his mind what to do when he saw the red-haired man slip off the stoop. He reached a booth not far from the confrontation and, and while Caduceus watched, the awning took flame.

The cry of 'fire' went up, and the crownsguard, distracted by this more urgent situation, slung Sord away and moved with others to douse the blaze. When he did, he spotted Caleb. "You!" he said, moving to intercept him. The man tried to run, but the surge in foot traffic around the booth blocked his way. The crownsguard seized him. "You set that fire, didn't you, you piece of trash?"

The red-haired man didn't answer. Instead, he tried to pull himself free until the guard growled and struck him across the face. The crownguard hit him again even as he righted himself. When Caleb still would not answer, he reached for his belt. A truncheon hung there, brutal in its implications. Beside Caduceus, Missy let out a sob.

Before he knew what he was doing, Caduceus moved out of the shadows and strode toward the guard. "Excuse me!"

The guard turned with a ready snarl, but his expression went blank when he saw Caduceus. Eyes wandered over his face, his ears, and finally his armor. His was easily the nicest apparel on the street, which must have convinced the crownsguard to pull back on his antagonism because when he spoke he chose to say, "Sir, while your concern is appreciated, it would be best if you didn't get involved. This riff-raff is an arsonist. He just set fire to a shop, and now he's being belligerent. It's my responsibility to see justice is done."

"How do you even know it was him?" Caduceus said, even though he knew full well it had been.

The guard cast a contemptuous look at Caleb. "This man is a beggar and a street performer, and guess what he uses in his racket? Fire tricks. I've been eyeing him ever since I got assigned to this neighborhood, trying to figure out his angle, and now here we are. Public endangerment, and probably worse."

To the guard, Caduceus said, "The fact that he uses fire in his performance is circumstantial evidence at best. And besides, there's barely a scorch mark on the awning. That's hardly arson."

Anger surged in the guard's pugnacious expression. "Look. You don't seem like you're from around here, so let me explain something to you. Garbage like this –" He jerked Caleb harshly, drawing a grunt from him. "– are nothing but trouble. They clutter up the street and do no good to anybody. He ain't a citizen. He's a parasite. And any time I can put one down, the better off Zadash will be. So you just move along and let me take care of my business so I can put this raggedy piece of trash where he –"

"Hey, now," Caduceus interrupted, setting his hand onto the guard's shoulder and releasing a wave of magic. "This is getting a bit too intense. Why don't we all Calm Down?"

The guard, whose face had been twisted, relaxed into a much more neutral posture. It also affected the nearby ship owner, who spoke up, "You know, he has a point. That awning's barely marked."

The guard seemed unsure, but also indifferent. Finally, he grunted and shoved Caleb away. "Whatever. I have better things to do than taking in a homeless bum anyway. But you hear me," he said, jabbing at them with a finger. "Any more trouble, and I won't be so quick to overlook things."

Caduceus hustled Caleb away. Once they were out of earshot he whispered, "We really ought to get out of sight. That spell only lasts a minute, and if we're still around, he might be a little annoyed with us."

The man didn't resist, but he didn't speak past a grunt of acknowledgement either. Not until they were standing on a much smaller sideroad, swathed in the shadows of the gathering evening.

Caduceus rubbed he back of his head. "Are you alright?" Even in this lightning, he could see the side of the man's face was bruising, and he reached out with two fingers. "I can –"

Caleb jerked away.

Caduceus smiled. Fjord had told him it was rude to force healing on people without asking, but it just seemed silly when he could so easily fix a cut or a bruise. Still, he held up his hands in a conciliatory manner. "Sorry, sorry. I was just trying to take a look at your face. He hit you really hard."

The man's gaze was steady as Caduceus took him in. In some ways, he was like most humans. He had the sweet little round ears and the slender nose, and was, of course, nearly furless. He had nice coloring, though he was so dirty it almost obscured his speckles. The reddish-brown hair extended even to his sparse body hair, and he was blue-eyed. It made Caduceus wonder. Was there such a thing as a merled human? The cat had reappeared and was winding through his ankles.

"Um," said Caduceus when the man still didn't speak.

"Mister Caleb!" It was Missy, tearing around the corner. She held onto the man's coat, scrutinizing him. "You look okay."

In the child's presence, Caleb's face grew more open. He rubbed his forefinger against his forehead, and Missy answered him as though he'd asked a question.

"This is Mister Caduceus. He gave me a whole gold piece! Oh, don't worry. I know it's too dangerous to carry that much. Then Recker was trying to mug him, and Mama Nott put him on the big road, but he's lost again. He's from far away. Like, outside the Outerstead even. He pulled his purse out right in front of everybody."

Caleb rubbed his thumbs and forefingers together in a twisting motion, like undoing a button.

"I haven't seen her since earlier. Do you want me to look?"

Caleb shook his head and raised his arm. On his wrist was a copper wire. He tapped it with his finger in a series of long and short beats. Missy, meanwhile, was examining Caduceus's armor. "It's like a beetle!" she enthused. Caduceus endured her interest with good humor until a face appeared over the top of the building, a familiar, recessed visage looking out from under a hood. Nott hopped down, springing agilely from crate to street level without so much as a misstep.

"Mama Nott!" Missy greeted. Nott patted her before turning to Caleb.

"I came as quick as I could. Is everything alright?" Caleb made a seesawing motion with his hand, gazing at Caduceus. She glanced in his direction, rolled her eyes, and said, "Yeah, I get the picture."

"Mister Caduceus made the crownsguard leave Mister Caleb alone," Missy said. "You know that one with the twitching eye that stands on the corner and scowls at everyone? He caught Sord stealing from one of the stalls, and Mister Caleb distracted him."

Nott was looking at Caleb, and specifically at his face. "He hit you? I'm going to chew off his face," she said. Caleb rolled his eyes.

To Missy, Caduceus whispered, "She sounds very serious."

"Course she does," Missy whispered back. "She's his mom."

"Don't you start sassing me, too," Nott scolded the girl. "Now go back to your mother before she starts getting worried. It's near dark."

"What about Mister Caduceus?"

"We'll take care of him. Now get."

"Okay, okay," Missy said. "Bye, Mister Caduceus!"

Caduceus waved to her. "Goodbye." Which left him alone with the two shady adults who apparently partnered a conglomerate of child pickpockets. It made him uncomfortable, even if Missy had seemed to trust them. He struggled to find the right way to start a conversation. "Well, hello again."

Nott's yellow eyes burned out of her hood. He tried squinting to get a better look at her, but not only did the hood obscure most of her features, but she was also wearing a mask. It hadn't looked like a mask at first because it was shaped with a nose and painted lips, but those features didn't stand up to scrutiny. They were fixed in place – ceramic, he thought, like a doll. Strange.

She spoke. "You were given simple instructions. Stay on the road, go back to the Pentamarket where you belong, and yet here you are again, harassing our kids and getting involved in conflicts with law enforcement. That was really stupid, you know."

Caduceus didn't know if that was fair. "I don't mind the law as long as it's reasonable, but what that guard was planning wasn't justice."

"If it's justice you're looking for, you're in for a disappointment. Best you can do is look after your own," said Nott. She paused. "Still, I suppose we're going to have to do something with you. It's too late to waltz out of the Outerstead without getting harassed by more guards, and you're not exactly subtle."

Caleb laid his hand on her arm, tapping with his thumb.

She waited, then looked at him with an expression Caduceus might have called vulnerable. "Are you sure, Caleb? He's a stranger."

Caleb met Caduceus's eyes, and Caduceus read speculation, curiosity, and gratitude. It seemed Caleb wasn't insensible of Caduceus's intervention on his behalf after all. As for what Caleb read from Caduceus, who knew? Whatever it was, it was enough. He nodded.

When Nott's brow remained wrinkled, he smiled at her, smoothing it with his thumb. She scoffed, shoving at his hand, but it was impossible to miss the tenderness in the exchange. "Alright, come on. Follow us."

Surprised, Caduceus had to make his first strides long to avoid being left behind. "Wait. Where are we going?"

"Home."

Home turned out to be an abandoned building. The entrance had been nailed shut with boards, but around the side a stack of crates allowed access to a gap large enough for a person to shimmy through. Caleb gave Nott a leg up, then climbed after her. In the darkness, Caduceus could barely see, and his own accent was far clumsier and less practiced, but he managed.

Inside, the building appeared as though it might once have been a stable. There were wooden partitions and troughs for feeding, all empty except for cobwebs. The musky smell of animals was covered by molder, but Caduceus didn't mind that. It was actually reassuring after the aroma of the street – of pitch, and waste, and plaster. Wood slowly descending into rot was infinitely more familiar and comforting.

His hosts lead him to a ladder, which deposited them in a loft. Here, straw had been piled, and in the starlight coming through an open window, he saw a bundle of blankets. Nott closed the shutters, and Caleb lit a candle. He seemed to do it with his fingers. A trick of the light or more fire magic? Thus sequestered, an interesting thing happened. Almost at once, the two of them grew smaller. It was as though the elastic tension holding them together released, and now they returned to their real selves.

Caleb settled beside a crate that seemed to serve as a table and began to empty his pockets. A quarter loaf of bread, an apple, part of a rind of cheese. He also handed Nott a purse, which clinked as she took it. She poured its contents onto the floor.

"Not bad," she said after a moment. "Everyone did well today, even with the distractions." She seemed to glare a bit at Caduceus when he said that, but Caleb huffed a kind of laugh, and her expression mellowed. "Seriously, though. It's been a day."

"It certainly didn't go as I expected," Caduceus agreed. But then again, the Wildmother often worked through tiny deviations. A stone shifted in its place could turn the course of a stream, and, with time, change the face of an entire landscape. The beat of a butterfly's wing could move a seed in a different direction, and boom! There was a tree where it otherwise wouldn't have been. He often thought that coincidence was almost as magic as spells.

Nott cocked her head. "Who are you anyway?"

They already knew his name, but he suspected they were more interested in his story, what had brought him to the slums of Zadash. As both Nott, the guard, and Missy had put it, he didn't really belong here. "I'm Caduceus Clay, and my friends and I are here for supplies and, well, work, I suppose? It's a little unclear." He smiled. "I think we're adventurers."

"Adventurers," Nott said. "Like, you fight dragons and find treasure and stuff like that?"

"Sort of?" Caduceus remained uncertain about the exact manifesto of his little group, though he was convinced of their good intentions. "We haven't fought any dragons and there's only been a bit of treasure, but we did rescue people from slavers. I feel really good about that."

Nott's eyes were wide under her cowl. "Slavers, huh? Sounds dangerous."

"It can be," Caduceus admitted, "but I'm a healer, so I do my best to keep everyone alive. I even raised someone from the dead once. Not that I usually do that; it can really upset the natural order of things. But there were special circumstances, and the Wildmother seemed okay with it."

Caleb made a motion with his hand, like he were pulling a string from his heart. Then he clasped two fingers together. Nott asked, "What about those friends of yours? Will they be worried about you?"

Caduceus hadn't given that much thought since earlier in the afternoon, but now that he was, he frowned. He could definitely imagine a stressed Fjord rubbing his hand over his face and Beau cussing at people on the road, asking if they'd seen a big, stupid pink cow wandering around. However, he didn't think they'd be too concerned, at least not until tomorrow.

"They're probably looking for me," he admitted. "But I don't think they'll be that upset as long as I meet them once the sun is up."

Caleb shifted, hissing as he did so. It was the sound of pain, and Nott immediately went to peer in his face. "That guard did a number on you. And so soon after the last time. Do your ribs still hurt?"

Unable to ignore suffering, Caduceus shifted onto his knees. "Please let me take a look. As I told you, I'm a healer."

It was painful to see the stark suspicion on their faces, like they thought he was tricking them. It was the antithesis of his intensions, but this time he knew not to push. He waited them out, keeping his expression earnest, until finally Nott shifted backward to give him room. As she did so, she warned him, "No funny business."

Caleb sat still as Caduceus took his chin and examined the bones around his forehead and cheek, pressing gently to see if anything was out of place. It was always worrying to be struck near the eye, which was a delicate organ at the best of times. Fortunately, despite the painfully nature of the contusion, there didn't seem to be any damage that couldn't be undone.

"Ribs?" he asked.

Shucking off his coat, Caleb pulled up his tunic and the shirt beneath to show off more bruises, these spreading over his chest and side. Caduceus's frown grew deeper as he examined these. There was definitely a little bleeding. Nothing mortal, but enough that it should never have gone without treatment. Fortunately, he could correct that now.

"Just a little tingle," he said. "Maybe some pressure and discomfort as I guide these back where they belong. Hold your breath if you need to."

It took a matter of moments for the worst of the damage to fade, well on its way to healing. Both he and Caleb were out of breath afterward. Caduceus wiped his forehead and asked for something to drink. Nott went to a bucket in the corner, which looked like it was rigged to collect runoff from the roof, and brought him a dipper. Then she went to hover over Caleb, who stretched and coughed, twisting with much more freedom of movement than before. Nott let out a long sigh.

She gave Caduceus a more trusting look. "Thank you," she said, and pushed down her hood.

Caduceus was expecting a halfling or perhaps a gnome like those from Hupperdook. Instead, he discovered the reason for the mask, and it wasn't just to make her more stealthy. The yellow eyes were joined by a complexion the color of fresh pine needles and ears more like his own than any human or elf – elongated and mobile. One of them was pierced, and both were bandaged, as though she'd tried to hide their nature. Beneath the mask, she was frowning. She was waiting for him to pass judgement.

"It was my pleasure," Caduceus said. He held out his hand to shake, now that they'd been properly acquainted, but instead of responding, she took a step back.

"I can't," she said.

His eyebrows lifted. "Can't what?"

The look of vulnerability was back. Nott looked at Caleb, who shrugged his shoulders. Nott sighed again, a sound that merged into a growl. "Well, why not?" she said. "It's not like it's a secret." And she began clumsily pushing back her sleeves.

Caduceus saw the damage even before she held out her wrists for him to see. He'd seen animals missing limbs before, either from birth or injury. Once, his sister had taken off his finger with a spade, and he'd had to carefully knit the flesh back together. Despite his best efforts, it had scared, like a ring of pink flesh. Nott's maiming, though, was on a different level of magnitude. This was not the mangled stumps of a farming accident, or the organic lumps of a birth defect. These were the marks of deliberate, brutal violence. They were cleaner than any tool but a bladed weapon could make, and he could see he heavy scarring of a careless magical healing. No attempt had been made to cushion the joint of her wrist, and he knew the thin covering of skin there must bleed and tear, that the bone so close to the surface must be acutely painful when stimulated. It was horrible.

"Oh, my friend," he said, with deep sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

"Crownsguard did that," she bit out. "Because I'm a thief. They did it the last time I was in prison, nearly a year ago now. The last time we were in prison."

A creeping fear went through Caduceus, a feeling that grew thicker and more intense as he turned to Caleb, whose sustained silence now had an eerie quality. Caduceus had assumed he was shy, or perhaps just didn't speak. Nott's statement was like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

"No," he said.

"Yes," Nott hissed. "They maimed me, and they silenced Caleb. They thought it would stop him from using magic anymore."

Caduceus asked Caleb, "Did they," but his voice failed. Caleb opened his mouth, and Caduceus closed his eyes. He felt he might be sick. Such butchery. How had he not choked immediately on his own blood? "Can you swallow?"

Caleb nodded, and Nott explained, "They didn't cut out all of it. And they didn't let us bleed long. They wanted us to live with what they'd done. I still thought he would starve before he learned to eat again. And as for me." She looked at her wrists. "What creature can live without their hands?"

"But you did live."

She glared, not at Caduceus, but at some unseen specter of the past, some person or force or system that had done her so much wrong and which she still hated. "We escaped. Because they were stupid, and they underestimated us both. They thought he couldn't cast any more spells, but he called Frumpkin and got us a thin piece of wire. I picked the lock with my toes. Caleb had to help me hold them steady. It took ages, and I cried the whole time."

Caleb shifted, drawing her closer. She sunk against his shoulder. "After that, he set the place on fire. Burned it all down. It served them right."

Horror flared in Caduceus. "They burned – "

"They laughed at us, while we were screaming! They did things. I hope they died," Nott said. For the first time, Caleb made a noise that was not a grunt or a hiss of pain. Instead, he hummed. Something soft and simple. Nott sniffed and rubbed her face with her sleeve. "I know it's bad, Caleb. I know I shouldn't hold onto it, but it still hurts."

Of course it still hurt. They had not merely been punished for a crime, they had been ruined by ruiners who had delighted in their ruining. Yet here they were, still surviving. "You came here afterward?"

"We went as far from that stupid town as we could," Nott said, "but we were cripples. If we split up, I think we would have died. Together, we learned, and when we got to Zadash, we found new ways to make a living. Things are okay now."

Things were okay. By which they meant they at least had the benefit of a roof overhead. They had something to eat at the end of each day. They had partners in crime who helped them and who they were able to help in turn. As he mulled it over, an odd question occurred to Caduceus.

"Wait. How did you steal my money?"

Nott smirked, and it was good to see a less melancholy expression on her face. She muttered something, and a ghostly hand appeared. It tugged on his sleeve, then disappeared. Proudly, Nott said, "It's Mage Hand. Caleb taught me. It's not practical for everything, but I've had a lot of practice."

"That's very clever."

"I also rigged my crossbow to my forearm. It's like a bracer, see? And Caleb has figured out a lot of things, too! He can still do magic, even the verbal ones. He just doesn't like talking in front of people because he thinks he sounds funny. But I think he speaks perfectly. He even figured out how to make message work!"

"I saw," said Caduceus, gesturing to his wrist. "You used some kind of code, right?"

"It's a kind of military code. Caleb learned it when he was younger."

"And now you live here and work with those kids." It was the first thing he'd said that bordered on reproachful. He could see they both picked up on it. Caleb's expression tightened while Nott grew agitated.

"Are you judging us, Mister Clay?"

He didn't want to. Yet when he thought of Missy, slipping through that crowd, always in arm's reach of guards like the ones he saw today… "Wouldn't they be better off in a different kind of work?"

"Like what?" Nott demanded. "Factory work? Do you know what they make the little ones do in those death traps? They loose fingers and inhale so much crap they cough until their teeth are bloody, and they get paid in coppers. If they get paid. And in the meanwhile they have to put with grabby adults who don't give a damn about how small or young they are. Or maybe you think they ought to be out in the dark collecting night soil, or digging ditches with convicts, or, hell, they could just join the militia, right?"

"I see the point you're making," he said. "A lot of work is dangerous."

Nott said. "Those kids haven't got a choice. We at least try to make it safe and fair. We don't cheat anybody."

"Except the people from whom you steal."

"It's hard to have a conscious when you're starving," Nott snarled.

Caduceus sat back on his heels. He looked around him, at this quiet niche, hidden away from the streets outside with their squalor and dangerous shadows and dead ends. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be unkind."

Nott's shoulders hung down. "No, you're right. Me and Caleb, we've just been doing the best we can, you know?" Caleb made a gesture, moving his finger in a slow circle. Nott smiled. "Someday," she repeated. "Maybe someday it will be different. Anyway, we should eat. It's late, and I'm hungry."

They shared what they had with him, a hunk of bread with cheese pressed into it and a portion of the apple, carefully divided with a knife. Caduceus wanted to refuse his share, knowing he was guaranteed a hearty heal tomorrow, whereas these two were offering the only thing they would eat for another day. Still, he knew he couldn't. It would be spitting in the face of their generosity.

He watched them eat. Nott tucked herself unselfconsciously into Caleb's lap, and he fed her one piece at a time. It was clearly an accustomed ritual for them, because they chatted freely the entire time, Nott between bites and Caleb with his hands, little signals or drummed patterns with his thumb. But while it was habitual for them, to Caduceus it was new, and it kindled his heart for these two people who depended on one another with such intimacy and selflessness.

After dinner, it was time to sleep. Nighttime coolness and settled deeply, and it was with gratitude that Caduceus climbed into the hay and pulled up one of the blankets. Caleb and Nott were nestled against one another. Nott seemed to settle right away, but Caleb remained awake, his eyes reflecting in the near darkness. Then, to Caduceus's surprise, he reached out and touched Caduceus's hand. At first, his thumb just smoothed over the fur there, an echo of Missy's curiosity, then he tapped out a message.

"I can't understand you," Caduceus whispered.

Caleb licked his lips. Then, very softly, he murmured, "Thank you." The words didn't sound right, certain sounds blurred and indistinct, yet Caduceus understood. For stepping in when he didn't have to. For healing him. For listening without recoiling in horror. Caduceus wondered how few allies they had, how alone they'd been on the long road from the jail to Zadash, how alone they still were now, even as they subsisted.

He gripped Caleb's hand. "You're welcome, Caleb. I'm so very glad we met."

A gust of wind rattled the shutter, and Caduceus felt his hairs standing up. He forced his teeth not to chatter.

"Oh, just shut up and scoot over here," said Nott sleepily. "Might as well put that furry body of yours to use. You have big arms."

Caduceus thought of his siblings, soft memories of childhood's hour when he giggled under the covers with his brother or rolled his face into his sister's side to warm his nose from a winter's chill. It had been a long time since he'd been invited that close. He shuffled in the hay until he felt both of his companions flush against him and looked at his own arms. He didn't often think of himself as large, but he was, proportionally. Large enough to embrace them both. Tentatively, he laid his arm over Caleb's shoulder, letting it press down with natural heaviness. Beneath the padded warmth and weight, Caleb sighed. Nott clucked her approval.

"Much better," she muttered.

The cat – Frumpkin – jumped onto Caduceus's shoulder and settled between his ear and neck. It made a contented 'mrrrp' and began purring. Caduceus laid on his side, listening to the sounds of breathing and the shift in the hay when a mouse slipped past. It was heavy with quiet. Peaceful. He let out his breath, and all the tension of the day went with it. A good portion of another tension – a homesickness he had carried with him since the Savlierwood – was siphoned away too.

He leaned his cheek into Nott's hair, letting himself drift. 'Wildmother, did you bring me these people?' he wondered and felt the answer stirring inside. It came in the form of a sense of rightness, of calm certainty. Which, of course, meant it was settled.

He imagined the look on Fjord's face when he introduced him to their newest party members. "Seriously, Caduceus?" he would probably say. Jester would like Nott, he knew. They would have enormous fun with that Mage Hand. And Caleb had the kind of look that would kick Beau's much-denied protective instincts into overdrive. Molly, as always, would be the wild card. Probably he'd say something outrageous, but he would definitely be welcoming. Yes, that sounded about right. And none of them would care about Nott's green skin (or missing hands) or Caleb's haunted eyes and hidden voice. They would fit right in, like they'd always belonged there.

Caduceus drifted to sleep with a smile on his lips, a feeling like destiny warming his heart.