Hadrian and Royce stepped out of the South Tower into a throng of deliriously happy people—each of whom had expected to already be dead. Every one had gathered together at the water’s edge to die as a group. Instead, they witnessed the fiery venting of twin towers that made tear soaked cheeks glisten. By dawn, those who had fled on foot would likely see the venting from the highland plains and turn back. The Crown Jewel would also spot the spray and return by sunrise. But that first night was special. Everyone who stood on that boardwalk at moonrise had faced and accepted death together. The truth of their differences had been revealed by the darkness of that penultimate pause as absurd foolishness, and this clarity of understanding formed everlasting bonds. Dwarfs, elves, Calians, subjects and the nobility of the seven kingdoms of Avryn, and even Ba Ran Ghazel were forever wielded together by the great forge of Drumindor into a family—not of shared blood but collective spirit. The returning residents would celebrate the survival of the city, but those who never left experienced a transformative rebirth. Their lives, hearts, and minds forever changed. And every member of that unlikely family had witnessed Royce and Hadrian exit Drumindor.

Gwen and Rehn were waiting just outside the door to the South Tower as if they knew in advance where he and Royce would be. This mystery was crushed by the reality that Gwen was there at all, which—as far as Hadrian was concerned—was obliterated by seeing Rehn alive.

Joy, relief, exhaustion, bewilderment, it all blended together the way it sometimes did when he drank too much. He remembered hugging Rehn and squeezing too hard, making the young man wince. He recalled asking questions and not caring about the answers. And he remembered the full moon shining on them as somewhere a wolf howled.

Then the crowd came in. They formed a circle and began expressing gratitude with words and handshakes, then with hugs, kisses, and tears. Sloan pulled him down and kissed Hadrian on the mouth. Mr. Parrot, who was openly sobbing, took Hadrian’s hand as if to shake it, but just held on and never said a word. Everyone felt a need to approach, to thank, to touch them as if to prove their saviors were real, or perhaps that they were only men.

Auberon came last. “Cut it a bit close, didn’t you?”

“We had a little trouble working out the Dromeian calendar,” Hadrian replied.

Auberon appeared confused for a moment than shrugged it off. “And Gravis?” he asked. “Did the two of you have a talk with him?”

“We did speak with Gravis, but all we did was talk.” Hadrian gestured at the skyward streams of lava that continued to spray but whose arcs were shortening. “He did that. He died saving everyone. Him…and his wife.”

Auberon looked curious.

“Just like in the mural, she was there helping him at the end. Apparently she’d been waiting for Gravis to join her.” Hadrian took Auberon’s hand and rolled it over to show the tattoo on the old dwarf’s arm. “Maybe everyone is.”

Seven days later, Hadrian watched from a stool at the Drunken Sailor where he sat backwards, elbows on the bar, as Hanson and Son’s stagecoach arrived on the boardwalk and came to a stop at the statue of Andvari Berling. The sun of another beautiful day made the coach’s filigree shine. Customers dressed in wool and clutching cloaks and blankets, stepped out grinning at the warmth and wandering the docks in awe, staring at the ocean as if they’d never seen water. Hadrian continued to sip his coffee that was both richer and fruiter than anything he’d known in Avryn or Calis—it was also free.

Everything was now.

Royce had destroyed the Falkirk Diary ruining his chance of ever obtaining a permanent key to the city, and yet it was no longer necessary. No matter where they went or what they asked for, every merchant, craftsman, donkey-cart driver, street vendor, or danthum owner refused payment as those who were there that first night couldn’t ask any more from them. At first, Hadrian thought it nice, but soon found it awkward, and finally unpleasant when he discovered the generosity wasn’t always voluntary. Those who hadn’t lived through the night of the full moon were made to understand that anyone failing to treat the city’s saviors with the proper reverence and respect would become pariahs. Hadrian began leaving tips only to have them promptly handed back. One fellow went to the effort of chasing him down to return four copper coins accusing Hadrian of trying to ruin him. Holding one more free cup of coffee he wasn’t allowed to pay for, served to him by a man who couldn’t afford not to, Hadrian was thrilled to see the stagecoach. The golden sunshine of paradise had grown too bright to suffer. It was time to return to the comforting indifference of the cold gray world that waited at the horizon.

By midday, Shelby and Heath had unloaded the last of the luggage, and the four travelers—a young couple and an older one, which Hadrian guessed to be the wealthy parents of newlyweds—had hired a donkey cart and were off climbing Berling Way. Shelby folded back all four doors and went right to cleaning the interior of the coach, and Heath put feed bags on Jack and Rabbit.

“Good day, sir!” Shelby called out finally spotting Hadrian.

“Hello, Mr. Hanson, Heath.” Hadrian waved, then drank the last of his coffee and dropped a stack of coppers on the bar before walking across to the coachmen.

“Ready to go home?” Shelby asked.

Hadrian nodded. “Got room?”

“There’s five of you, correct?”

“It’s only going to be Gwen, Royce, and myself.”

“What happened to the other two fella’s?” Heath asked.

“They went back on the Ellis Far nearly a week ago,” Hadrian replied.

Shelby’s eyes showed a troubled squint.

“Had nothing to do with the Flying Lady, they were just in a hurry to leave.”

Shelby nodded. “We heard there had been some trouble down here.” Shelby looked about at the boardwalk that was littered with homemade noisemakers, random bits of clothing, including a pair of shoes that hung from a pole, and discarded mugs of metal and wood. Hadrian suspected the cups were less abandoned and more lost. All rules, formalities, customs, convention, and even quite a few laws had been ignored as the city celebrated its continued existence. The party that began just after the venting of Drumindor, had continued unabated ever since, but the passion, and mortal endurance was finally fading and the celebration had dwindled to briefer periods of ebbs and flows. “Doesn’t look so much like trouble, as it does a celebration.”

“Narrowly adverted trouble,” Hadrian explained. “So do you have room to take us back?”

“We do indeed.”

“It will take us a few minutes to get our luggage down,” Hadrian said. “Is that alright?”

“We are at your service.”

“You’re certain you won’t come back with us?” Hadrian asked Rehn as they stood beneath the lemon tree in the Turquoise Turtle’s courtyard where Hadrian was dragging Gwen’s trunks as she sealed them.

“The church is still a threat,” the young man said. He looked his old self again, his wound hidden by new clothes. “And according to Arcadius, growing stronger everyday. It isn’t safe. But if you need me I—”

“No,” Hadrian held up a hand. “Stay and be safe. It’s enough to know your…that you’re alive and doing well.”

“That remains to be seen.” Auberon appeared. He was wearing his straw hat with the blue feather and in his hand were pruning sheers. “I have my doubts that an ex-Avryn noble can learn to do real work.”

“I will have your head spinning with my energy and dedication!” Rehn declared.

“We’ll see.” Auberon gave Hadrian a wink. “If you impress me, then when I take my long delayed trip to see my family again, you will be responsible for all my holdings. They will be yours to care for.”

“How many places do you own?” Hadrian asked.

“Including the slip my Lorelei docks in?” He closed one eye as he calculated. “Thirty-five.”

“You own thirty-five rolkins?”

“Only twenty-eight are rolkins. The rest are shops I rent out, and I’m half-owner in a danthum.”

“You must be rich,” Rehn said astounded.

Auberon shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. But it is a fair amount of work.” He eyed Rehn. “So you’d better get well fast. I’ve a lot to teach you in a short time, and I don’t want everything I’ve built falling apart once I’m gone. You do what I say, work hard, and stay out of mischief and one day the name of Rehn Purim will be known far and wide as a successful landowner and Tur Del Fur businessman.”

Apprehension revealed itself on Rehn’s face, and he began to shake his head. “I don’t think that is such a good idea.”

“You don’t want to be successful?”

“I don’t think it is healthy for Rehn Purim to be known far and wide—especially if I am seeking to stay out of mischief. I have enemies.”

The old dwarf nodded, and smiled. “You’re not alone. That’s how I ended up here. You might be surprised to learn Auberon isn’t my real name. When I came here, I left the old one up north along with everything it stood for. I planned to make a new life—one that included living—and that required a new name. Perhaps you might consider doing the same.” He clapped the young man lightly on the shoulder. “Just make sure it’s a good name—something memorable, easy to say, and one you can be proud of.”

Rehn looked up at Hadrian and that long lost smile of Pickles returned.

Royce was late getting back. He didn’t expect the meeting to take so long. And while he wasn’t worried the stagecoach would leave without him, he didn’t like making Gwen worry. He still couldn’t believe she stayed behind. She said it was her idea, but Royce couldn’t help believing Arcadius was the real culprit. The way Royce envisioned it, Arcadius was following the tried and true Rule of Three. If a person will fall for it once, they will likely be deceived a second time. In this case, Arcadius bet no one would believe he would fake Rehn’s death twice. He was right. But this time Gwen was there, and she wasn’t about to let the professor get away with it. Knowing that Hadrian would need proof, and that a living breathing Rehn was the only evidence he would accept, she and Rehn stayed behind.

None of this was at all astounding. That Arcadius had lied, that he had manipulated them once more for his own mysterious motives could have been anticipated, expected, and if he hadn’t been so masterfully distracted, even planned for. No, the crazy part was that Gwen stayed. She knew what was going to happen. She knew the odds. And while it is one thing to say you believe in someone, it’s a whole different world to push in all the chips and roll dice. Gwen had a ticket to safety, but she bet her life on him.

No, he didn’t want Gwen to worry. Not anymore. She deserved better.

By the time Royce retuned the last of the luggage had been hoisted up and secured to the top of the coach.

“Where were you?” Hadrian asked.

“Cosmo wanted to see me.”

“What about?”

“He heard we were leaving and wanted to offer me a job.”

Gwen, who had fashioned an overstuffed snacks-bag from a discarded patch of Auberon’s fishing net, set it on the seat inside the coach. “Doing what?” she asked.

Royce hesitated, then said, “What I used to do.”

“Oh?” Gwen smiled, then her eyes widened. “Oh!”

Royce nodded. “Says he’ll set me up here. Give me a small palace on the first tier, and a staff of servants to manage it for me, as well as a generous salary. I’ll live like a noble, a landed gentry, a vessel to his lordship. I’ll have prestige, power, fine clothes, and my own carriage.”

Both Gwen and Hadrian stared at him. They looked worried. The helpful family that had taken in the wounded wolf saw it looking out the open door, listening to the howls of its peers calling from the dark woods.

“What did you say?” Gwen asked, her voice weak.

“Told him I already have a job watching out for the two you, and how that in itself is a full-time occupation. Also that sunshine and ocean waves don’t agree with me. I like my cloak, and my independence. From now on, if I kill someone it's because I want them dead.”

“Oh-kay.” Hadrian looked at Gwen and nodded approvingly. “I suppose we can chalk that up as a win, right?”

Gwen smiled at Royce.

“Under normal circumstance,” Shelby said, “I’d say there was a good chance you’ll get back before your friends who took the Ellis Far, but maybe not.”

“Why not?” Hadrian asked.

“Two reasons. First the road is a mess. They’re repairing it, and the dwarfs have Berling Way torn up nearly from end to end. They have detours on nearly every tier. It will take hours just to get up to the plateau.”

“The dwarfs are working again?” Hadrian asked.

Royce nodded. “Cornelius says he’s been holding meetings with them all week. Apparently the Holy Trio had been impressed by the dwarf’s dedication and bravery, and had said so just before the Crown Jewel sailed out and abandoned the city. Apparently, promises were made at a time when no one expected a need to keep them. Turns out, in their infinite wisdom, the Holy Three admitted it was a mistake to ignore dwarven contributions to the city and had vowed to add a dwarf to the Triumvirate—if the city survived. That was then.”

“They aren’t going to keep their word?” Hadrian asked.

“The dwarfs are certainly pushing for it, and they have two fine arbitrators working on their behalf—Auberon and that bartender, Sloan. The negotiations are still ongoing, but enough has been agreed upon that Drumindor is now under dwarven management, the mines have reopened, and the baths are flowing once more.”

“And apparently the roads are being repaired,” Gwen said.

“Exactly.” Royce looked over his shoulder down at the DeLur estate. “And right about now, I suspect Cornelius is wishing he was back picking pockets in Colnora.”

“We’re all set,” Shelby announced. “Hop in folks.”

“You’re riding on top again, right Hadrian?” Royce asked.

“What?” He looked baffled. “There’s only three of us. Coach seats four.”

“But you’re riding on top because of how nice a day it is. You want to take advantage of the sunshine and blue skies as much as you can before we hit the cold, cloudy weather of home. Isn’t that right?”

Hadrian glanced at Gwen who said nothing. She merely grinned and rocked forward and back from her heels to her toes like an excited child.

Hadrian sighed. “Fine. But I’m coming in at the first sign of snow. And save some of those snacks for me, and not just the ground-peas. There’s some good stuff in there.”

Royce opened the coach door for Gwen as Hadrian climbed up behind the driver’s seat.

“Nice to have you aboard again,” Heath extended an arm and helped pull Hadrian up.

As he did, Hadrian noticed a ring on Heath’s hand. “That wasn’t there before.”

Heath grinned. “I finally found a girl with most of her fingers.”

“It’s only been a month!”

Heath shrugged. “When you know, you know.”

“She’s a wonderful young lady,” Shelby declared. “An absolute princess.”

“Meaning she’s got four limbs, two eyes, and most of her fingers, right?” Hadrian asked.

“Meaning she said yes,” Shelby corrected.

“She’s much more than all that,” Heath said. “Her name is Winifred Plinth—but don’t ever call her that. She goes by Winnie, and will scratch your eyes out if you call her Winifred. Her father is a dairy farmer along our route. We stop there frequently for milk, cheese and to water the horses. She thinks my life riding up and down the road is exotic and exciting. To her I’m this worldly adventurer, a hero.”

“Well, congratulations. Sounds wonderful.”

“How about you, Hadrian?” Shelby asked, as he released the brake. “Any rings in your future?”

Hadrian frowned. “For a while, I thought there might be, but I was wrong.”

“Didn’t have all her fingers?” Heath asked with a smile.

Hadrian thought about it, and shook his head. “She just wasn’t the one.”

“No one is perfect, son,” Shelby said as he turned the coach around. “Don’t be so picky, and don’t wait too long. Time is a funny thing. One minute it seems you have forever, then the next you think its too late. Only it’s never too late, Hadrian, remember that. The world could be coming to an end, and it still wouldn’t be too late.”

“Oh, it’s too late, I’m afraid.” Hadrian laughed. “The world as we knew it already ended—Royce Melborn finally kissed Gwen DeLancy. I’m surprised there is still a sun in the sky.”

“I heard that,” Royce said.

“I know.”

Shelby drove the team up Berling Way toward the highland, to the north, toward that thin gray line on the horizon where color faded to a dull gray and men faced the consequences of bad decisions. Riyria was going home.