The morning prayer to Falis was a strict and sacred ritual kept by his priests. The believer greeted the rising sun on both knees, arms stretched out to receive the gift of a new day. It was meant to be performed in absolute stillness. The priest - mind focused on the glory of his god, mouthing but not giving breath to chants of thanks - would drink in the dawn hush and draw strength that would last the entire day. It only took a moment to refill the deep well of patience that every priest found himself drawing from repeatedly. Parn liked to say that Etoh had patience enough to begin with, but he had always felt that he really needed this time before the day. Before he ever started to pester the god with personal requests (like a sick mother), Etoh could, for this one moment before the village woke behind him, enjoy peace.

It was a fair bet that the morning prayers were not meant to be offered while a bound, captive goblin snored behind him. It was definitely the loudest Etoh had ever heard. He'd already learned to deal with Ghim, who made enough of a racket that Deedlit said they didn't really need to keep a night watch, any wandering creature would be too frightened to come near. But Ghim was soft and gentle music compared to the goblin, who rattled heavily on each in-out breath.

This, of course, could be born. The "dawn hush" was never as quiet as it was meant to be, and even in the stone walls of monastery he had heard the crickets winding down their night concert, and birds tuning up for day. Etoh counted his blessings that his other two companions were quiet sleepers. Slayn and Woodchuck had surprisingly similar sleeping habits - both stretching themselves out by the fire and laying so still that it was hard to tell when they actually dropped off. The only difference was that Slayn didn't start awake and grab for a weapon when someone stepped near him, then glare at the offender and roll over, muttering, "Don't do that to me." It was a good thing that Wood could be woken by calling from a distance, because his one morning mood seemed to be twitchy. Etoh supposed, charitably, that if he'd spent enough nights sleeping by the road-side, he'd probably be paranoid, too.

Etoh settled himself, and murmured determinedly. He'd managed his morning prayers, outside, in the snow, during the nasty two-week stretch that he'd been down with the flu. Absolutely nothing was going to stop him from this most important ritual. He didn't exactly get the rush of peace and healing wind that he was hoping for, but that was another part of faith that seemed to come mostly out of books. Other clerics claimed to get a direct hand on the shoulder and bright lights around their heads, but these were the types who were forever rushing into classrooms with loaves of bread that, if one squinted at them, sort resembled a misshapen face of the goddess Marfa. Etoh was not so uncharitable as to call these fellows liars, but he did believe that they might just possibly be mistaken. In his experience, and that of classmates that he loved and trusted, Falis did not care for fancy shows. Falis was a quiet whisper in a storm of trouble, and that was all Etoh needed to believe. And with that, he could face the day.

He whirled around to his companions. Slayn was looking much better than he had the night before, and actually appeared to be sleeping, as opposed to lying unconscious from exhaustion. He seemed healthy and properly recharged. Etoh considered his options, and decided. The sooner they got this plan out of the way, the sooner everyone could walk away happy. May as well start now. They couldn't exactly fault him for being eager - after all, the sun was up. That meant that everyone else should be as well.

"Hey, guys. Maybe we should get going," he shouted towards the group through cupped hands. Slayn stirred and muttered. Wood snapped open both eyes and ran quick glances between the goblin, Slayn, and Etoh before relaxing again. The goblin snored.

"It's not time already, is it?" Woodchuck was making no move to get up, arms still folded comfortably beneath his head.

"It may as well be time. I don't see any need to wait. We've got our plan settled." Etoh moved to give Slayn a gentle shake on the shoulder.

"You could at least wait awhile before getting him up," Wood argued. "I thought we were letting him rest up from last night."

"No, I'm quite refreshed," came Slayn's business-like reply, again never seeming to have the slightest grogginess or confusion upon waking up. It was as though he spent the whole night organizing his thoughts, rather than wasting his time with dreaming, so that he'd be ready for action from the moment his eyes opened. He sat up, and began shaking the dew off his cloak. Woodchuck followed suit, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, Falis forbid heroes should ever start a plan at any time other than the break of day. 'Cause it'd just be too damn immoral to wait until the sun's all the way up, wouldn't it? Sleeping in is for those evil Marmo slackers - " Wood muttered quiet tirades like this every morning, and didn't seem genuinely irritated, but Etoh interrupted him anway.

"Can you get the goblin up? I…well, I don't want to touch it." Etoh wrinkled his nose. It wasn't that it was disgusting (which it was), but Etoh wasn't sure how it would react when woken suddenly. He had a pretty realistic picture of his own naiveté, and figured he was exactly the wrong person to get close to the bound captive.

"Right, right, I'll just go put myself in danger. That always wakes me up in the morning." Wood strolled over to the sleeping goblin. Its wrists and ankles were still bound, but it had pulled it's flashy red cape around it like a blanket. He regarded it carefully for a moment, then kicked it in the side. The goblin snarled and rolled over to glare at him.

"Gee, I had the most horrible dream that there were human thoughts running through my head, and I got captured by two skinny eunuchs and a sleazy guy. But I guess it wasn't a dream, was it?"

"Falis priests aren't –" Etoh began.

"Don't bother," Wood interrupted him. He reached down and hauled the goblin to its feet. It groaned in protest, and stood, unsteadily, blinking in the sunlight. "C'mon, up. We're heading out."

"Do I get to eat?" the goblin asked. Etoh added "pout" to his list of facial expressions that goblins weren't supposed to have. He gave up, and hauled out the dried meat jerky in one of his pouches. They'd had to leave their packs in town, since they'd headed out (been practically run out, if Etoh was honest) in a hurry, and all that was left were two sad-looking pieces. He handed them to his two companions and hoped to ignore his growling stomach. Charity first, priests eat last.

"We left most of our provisions back in the village, since we got sent out here unexpectedly to deal with the goblin problem," Wood said, glaring at the goblin meaningfully.

"Oh, so sorry about that. It's not like I had horrible spells cast on me or anything-"

"No, no, it's quite all right. After all, we did come out here for fun, it's not like our friends were held hostage-"

"This isn't helping," Slayn said, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "It's not going to help. However, I suspect you two are going to carry on all day, aren't you?" He fixed them with a stern glare, the kind that would pin a terrified apprentice against the wall. Slayn had not yet taught apprentices, but Etoh suspected that such techniques were taught at the academy. Every wizard he'd met so far could do it.

Wood and the goblin looked at each other, suddenly comrades in the face of clearly unjustified criticism.

"Kind of serious, isn't he? Really school-teacherish."

"You have no idea. I don't trust that man anywhere near me with a ruler."

"Can I eat, now?"

"Captives don't get to eat."

"I'll collapse with hunger," the goblin threatened, sinking to its knees.

"Oh, fine." Wood ripped a piece off of his own jerky, and jammed it into the goblin's tied hands.

Etoh watched them distractedly, upending the empty jerky pouch onto his palm and wondering if the little shower of crumbs that fell out was really worth it. His stomach growled again, and he decided it was. It was okay, though. He figured Falis would provide, eventually.

"Or you'll actually lose some weight, pudgy Etoh," said the voice in his head. Etoh kept the serene smile frozen on his face, and pictured sucker-punching Jardin, which was not a proper way to handle things, but the day had started well, and he wasn't going to have it ruined. He was surprised to realize that the face he imagined hitting was hazy and dim – the bully had left a vivid enough impression on him to become a mental voice, but he couldn't even get a clear picture of what he'd looked like. That wasn't how it had been before. He'd definitely been able to remember before; he'd had some very detailed nightmares. Maybe accomplishing a few things on his own, away from Parn, really was going to make Jardin fade away. Permanently.

"Ooooo, no, little Etoh, I'm not going anywhere. I have to hang around just in case you ever forget what a complete cock-up you are," sneered the voice, but it somehow sounded a little less sure of itself.

"Say what you want," Etoh whispered back. He would ignore him, and ignore him, as long as it took, and-

"Etoh? I don't mean to disturb you, but…"

Etoh started to find Slayn tapping him on the shoulder. Wood was cutting the bonds on the goblin's ankles and feet. Slayn had picked up his staff.

"We're going," Slayn announced.

There was, unfortunately, nothing left to do that would put off the little journey any longer. They got up. They went.

They weren't walking for long before the goblin started to fall behind. Wood, who was leading the goblin by its tied wrists, called up to them.

"Hey, guys. I never thought I'd be telling you two to slow the pace, but this thing can't walk right, or something."

"It's the sun!" V'gol said as they drew close. "Goblins aren't used to walking around in daylight. We get a lot weaker and it blinds the shit out of us."

"Interesting phenomenon," Slayn murmured. "Sort of a reversal of the Gawain principle of solar-based strength-"

"It's not interesting, it fucking hurts!" V'gol snapped, hold its hands in front of its eyes. "Look, we're not built for day-light. That's way we spent all our time in caves. Unless one of you all wants to carry me, this is as fast as we go."

"Go on and walk at your own pace," Wood said, waving them on. "I'll drag it along."

"Hey, hey…don't leave me behind with him! He's a dangerous psychopath!" the goblin protested as the sorcerer and priest began to walk ahead.

"We're not leaving you alone. We won't even be out of sight," Slayn called back over his shoulder.

"And look who's talking about being a dangerous psychopath…I dare you to name one thing I've done to you that's worse than what you've done to us."

"This rope is too tight. You can't expect me to walk like this. I never tied you this tightly."

"We'll leave them to entertain each other," said Slayn, smiling slightly and increasing his pace. "It may not be evil, but I still could use a break from the sound of that thing's voice."

"Kind of mean to leave Wood to deal with it," Etoh ventured. Behind them, he could still hear the voices, although they were fading slowly into a buzz.

"Okay, maybe not a psychopath….but a jerk, definitely a jerk!"

"Yeah, I can live with that…."

And then they were unintelligible.

"I daresay Wood is enjoying himself. Besides, I wanted to talk out of his ear-shot."

"The goblin can hear."

"The goblin is distracted."

"Why out of his earshot, then?" Etoh was a little uncomfortable with the idea of talking behind (so to speak) a comrade's back.

"Fine-tuning the plan," Slayn explained. "You can perform sleep spells like mages, right? I want you to be ready with one if Wood does take the Fallen Star and run with it."

"Do you really think he'd do that?"

"I think any of us are capable of doing that. The Fallen Star is one of the more troublesome artifacts from Kastuul, and its pull is very strong. It doesn't exactly draw people to it, but people who see it can't help wanting it. People who hold it have trouble putting it down. It's not that I distrust Wood in particular – honestly - it's just that he's the one who's going to handle it, if all goes according to plan. So I want you to watch him. And for that matter, watch yourself if it winds up in your hands. No offense. I'll do the same when I'm carrying it." Slayn had kept his usual blank expression, but turned to Etoh at the last sentence to smile, and show that there was truly no offense meant.

"Wouldn't this be on the more dangerous list of artifacts? I'm surprised the academy hasn't tracked it down yet."

"It's like the goblin said, spells slip right off it. And it's not as flashy as one might think. The stone doesn't really affect much more than the wisher, and the people close to them. You couldn't use it to, say, sink the island below the sea. And even if someone wishes for power, most people are willing to stop at a little. Deep down, everyone thinks they want to rule the world, but when that power is actually within reach, suddenly King of Lodoss sounds like an intimidating job. That's why a man like Devin is still living in a tiny village, and not leading the Marmo forces. All he really wanted was to be the top man in his village and show everyone up. I think most people are content with little things like that."

"So...your thinking is most people are petty at heart?"

"I think most just want to be happy," Slayn amended, "and it doesn't take much to fulfill that. I can't say what I'd do if I had the Fallen Star in my hands. I'd like to believe that I'd wish for the knowledge lost in Kastuul, so I could pass it down to future generations. But even that's somehow frightening. I'd probably wind up with just an interesting book and a cup of tea."

"Yeah…" Etoh agreed. That was close to his ideal picture of people as well. Easily satisfied, and basically good at heart. It was nice to notice that neither of them had mentioned the possibility of the stone being used to, say, wish someone dead. Most people thought about, some even meant it, but it would be low priority if a person could be magically granted their heart's desire.

"If I had it, I'd probably…." Etoh began, than trailed off. Probably what? Probably wish for island-wide peace and harmony? The Fallen Star didn't work that way. Wish for the power to heal all ills? That would be nice…But it would still only do him so much good. If he had all powerful healing ablilities, then he'd probably become famous for them. People would start lining up outside his door, and he'd have to start judging cases based on need, and turning people away. He'd still have to let people die, because he'd only be able to save so many in one day, no matter what. Then people would start to hate him. And wars would be nightmarish – wounded groaning all over the battlefield, one person dying for each that he healed. It was bad enough with his own limited abilities, but with the burden of power on his shoulders – Etoh didn't even want to consider it. He wondered if he'd come close to understanding how kings felt. Still, he wondered if it wasn't selfish to think that way. Someone had to bear the load of responsibility, and all the grief that came with it. If it was ever him (laughable, Jardin muttered), he hoped that he could step up to it.

"Probably what?" Slayn asked, and Etoh shook out of his reverie, remembering that he'd left a sentence unfinished.

"Probably just wish for something small. Something that would help people, but in a small way. I don't know what, exactly."

That seemed to be it for the conversation for a long while. Slayn retreated into his own thoughts, and Etoh simply tried to admire the scenery around him, the way Deedlit always did. They crossed up and down the hills back towards the village, sweating in the growing heat. Etoh winced at the possibility at another long day under a burning sun, although the hike yesterday now seemed like ages ago. They were getting close to the village when Slayn abruptly spoke again.

"I know of one thing that I'd like…but the Fallen Star wouldn't grant it."

"What?" Etoh picked up the conversation as though there had never been a pause. It seemed like Slayn had probably worked to whatever he was going to say next.

"Leylia. Well, not Leylia herself," Slayn corrected quickly, looking a little uncomfortable. "I mean..it's Ghim's quest. He sees it as his responsibility, and his alone. I think he'd even rather save her without my help, rather than putting me in danger. But I've seen what Karla can do, and Ghim facing her alone would be no contest. I worry about it. If I could somehow deliver her safely to him…but that's beyond anything that the Fallen Star could grant."

"Don't worry, we'll help, too. We'll all help, when the time comes," said Etoh.

"That I don't doubt. What I do doubt is whether Ghim will let us help. He might lose patience with the group – we're not all exactly dedicated warriors, and we get side-tracked pretty easily."

"I will admit to that…" Etoh sighed, thinking of how quickly the party had been distracted and seperated in the dwarven tunnels. "But we can manage some great things when we work together." After all, they'd all come together again and managed to kill a dragon between them – not that he'd played a huge role in that. In fact, he hadn't been much help at all, he thought a little glumly.

"It's not just that. Ghim is strong-willed and independent. It's not just that he doesn't want the rest of us hurt, although that's part of it. This is his quest. And when he thinks that the time is right to challenge Karla, I wouldn't put it past him to leave us all behind." Slayn look down at the ground, forehead creased in a frown. "I just hope that I can convince him to let me help him. Even if it's just the two of us."

"We'll all help." Etoh said emphatically. He figured he could probably speak for the whole group. Parn wouldn't hesitate, and Etoh and Deedlit would both follow Parn. Woodchuck he had no idea about, but the thief had stuck with them so far. Why not a little farther?

"I know. It's just been weighing on my mind lately. After all, Karla is what this whole trip is all about. And I must admit, it's not just because Ghim is my friend. I keep thinking about that poor girl, Leylia. Buried inside her own body. I start wondering what kind of person she was before Karla took her, and how she'll manage to pick up her life again afterwards." Slayn sighed again. "I'm sorry, I'm talking too much," he added, as if such a thing was even possible. Too much from Slayn was like normal conversation from other people. No wonder he and Ghim got along well. "It's just that I've been dreaming about her lately – Leylia, not Karla. It's so strange. I've never even met her, but I dream that she's calling to me."

"Well, of course you want to help her. I want to help her, and I'm not as close to Ghim as you are." Etoh tried to be reassuring, although he didn't quite feel it. Time to change the subject.

"This is going to sound silly, but I can't really imagine you dreaming. I always…well, I always pictured you spending all night organizing things in your mind. You know, plans and such."

Slayn chuckled, a rare sound.

"I suppose I seem a little too boring for dreams. No imagination, right?"

"Oh, no, no!" Etoh protested. "It's just that you always seem so….together. You always know where you are, you always know what to do. You've always got a plan. That's all."

"I don't always…." Slayn started to protest, then trailed off, smiling. "I suppose I just think about things like that. I think a lot, Etoh. It's like a hobby. Some people weave or paint, or plant gardens. I think. Sometimes its philosophy and magic theory, and all those things that mages are supposed to wrapped up in. But sometimes I just like to sit and put things in order. And if there are plans that need to be made, or inventories checked, that's what I do. It's actually quite relaxing."

He paused, and put a thoughtful hand to his chin.

"On the other hand, I do have a reoccurring dream in which I arrange boxes on a long room full of shelves."

"Really?"

"No. Not really." Slayn turned his lips up in what Etoh could have sworn was a smirk, but it was gone in a second.

"How did you ever meet Ghim, anyway?" Etoh asked, feeling a little cheerier. There was definitely a greater sense of camaraderie between them now, much better than the awkward silence in which they had walked away from the village the night before. So there was a silver lining in every inconvenient, ridiculous side-quest.

"Oh, that was in Neese's temple, actually, back before I went to school. There was a plague going around; the healers had their hands full, and the rooms were packed. So we wound up sharing one. It wasn't actually the best way to meet someone – I was very ill, and not thinking very clearly, so our conversation took some odd turns – "

It probably would have been an interesting story. Or, better yet, it would have been relaxing. Walking along, listening to Slayn, building friendship, and not having to fight for his life. Unfortunately, right about then, the two of them rounded the top of the last hill, and could see straight down to the village below. And there didn't seem to be much call for chatting after that.

Devin and his two brawny bodyguards were sitting in a heap midway down the hill. Devin appeared to be snoozing between his two lackeys, but they elbowed him from either side, and he leaped to his feet.

"Huh-whuh? I mean – Ha! And again, I say 'Ha!' You thought you could fool me, but I knew that you'd come back this way, you so-called heroes! I used my incredible powers of magic to predict exactly when and where you'd return!"

"But Boss, we sat out here all night," countered the bodyguard on the left, yawning. He was distinguished from his twin on the right only by his scuffy blond hair.

"Yeah. And this is the only road into town. You said they had to come back this way eventually," said the twin, rubbing his eyes and smoothing down his scruffy brown hair.

"And we were all gonna attack them and knock them out so that we could take all the credit for beating the goblins," finished the blond one.

"Shut up, shut up!" Devin shrieked, jumping up and down in his fury. Etoh thought that he'd never heard such an efficient summing up of evil plots in his entire life. If only Karla would just hire a couple of dim, talkative bodyguards, their job would be so much easier.

"It's over, Devin. We've figured it out what you're doing. Hand over the stone, and this can end peacefully." Slayn stood with his shoulders squared, one foot slightly in front of the other, staff aimed down at the faux mage. It was like a pose right out of the old "Six Heroes" paintings, and Etoh had a sudden vision of Slayn as a statue, standing proudly in some academy courtyard long after they were all dead. He wondered why. It's not like any of them were terribly important.

"What…what stone? I don't know what you're talking about!" Devin snapped, but he'd grown a few shades paler.

"Yeah, what stone?" asked the brunette lackey, sounding confused rather than defiant.

"Not now, Franz," Devin muttered out of one side of his mouth.

"And," Slayn continued. "We know that you tried to use the goblins to take it. And now you're using them to further your own reputation."

"Working with those filthy –" Devin stopped and spluttered for words. "I'd never be associated with such disgusting creatures! You! You're the ones! You associate with inferior races like elves and dwarves! You're the ones who are in league with the goblins!"

"Where are our friends, anyway?" Slayn asked.

"Back at the-er, I mean…you'll never know, if you don't cooperate." Devin tried to look sly. "In fact, if you don't turn yourselves in and admit that you've joined up with the goblins, I'll kill them!"

"But boss, isn't killing hostates kind of bad?" asked the blond lackey. He and the brunette did not seem to be bad, exactly, or even under a spell. Just very, very stupid, and easy prey for Devin's twisted "logic."

"It's not bad if the hostages are evil! And they are!" Devin argued back.

"Look, we don't associate with goblins," said Etoh calmly, just as Woodchuck caught up with them, still dragging V'gol behind him.

"Hey, has the fight started yet?" He asked, as Slayn gave another long-suffering sigh.

"Ha! See! You've joined forces with the goblin leader! Just like I knew you would!"

"Oh, nooo…it's our prisoner." Wood pointed out, while V'gol helpfully held up it's tied hands.

"Yeah, it sure does look like they took it prisoner, boss. Just like you asked, boss," pointed out the blond lackey.

"Shut up, Hanz!"

"But-"

"Okay, fine! So you've brought the goblin leader back, just like I knew you would!"

"Wait-"

"What-" The two bodyguards were bright enough to notice the discrepancy in what their leader said, but not quite bright enough to work out what it might mean.

"It doesn't matter, because the town will never know who really saved the day. Hanz, Franz, get them!" Devin ordered.

"But….boss…"

"Hanz. Franz. I'm always right. Now get them." Devin point imperiously at the group, and the two bodyguards shrugged and charged. Driven by some kind of shared instinct, Etoh, Woodchuck and V'gol all immedietly ducked behind Slayn, who didn't waste breath on sighing, but fired off two quick sleep spells at the burly twins. Neither even broke stride.

"I think you'll find my men are made of sterner stuff than your puny little academy magic can handle!" Devin cackled, while Slayn looked blankly at his hand, as though searching for evidence of some kind of misfire. Then, thinking quickly, he shouted a single word and a bright flash of light burst in front of them. Etoh understood the strategy – they would have a few seconds while Devin and his body-guards staggered around half-blind. Unfortunately, he thought as he pressed both palms into his stinging eyes, Slayn hadn't had the time to warn his own side, and they were going to waste those precious seconds staggering around half-blind themselves. Beside him, he heard Slayn shouting out another spell – this one to freeze an enemy in his tracks and hold him immobile.

"Slayn, I don't think that's work-ooof!" Woodchuck began, and was cut off as the blond lackey, Etoh saw as the spots cleared in front of his eyes, barreled into him. They both crashed to the ground. The brunette was staggering towards Slayn, and Etoh knew that he only had seconds to act. Even if magic wasn't working on the bodyguards, Slayn was still their most valuable asset at the moment. He had to protect Slayn!

So he threw himself in front of the hulking brunette, before he had a chance to reconsider. He squeezed his eyes shut in the second before impact, and then felt the forces of a bull – no, a dragon – smash into him and slam him to the ground. He opened his eyes, and saw, through a haze, the bodyguard's meaty face grinning down at him.

"Gotcha!" said Franz, beaming like a child who's won a game of tag. "Now say you lose!" Now what to do? He was spared the question, as below them Devin began to shout.

"Hanz! Franz! Forget them, get back up down here and save me!" Forgotten in the confusion, V'gol had dashed down the hill and tackled the magician. Hands still bound together, it had grabbed Devin by the collar and was shaking him like a dog with a rabbit.

"Give me the stone, you bastard, I know you have it!" V'gol shrieked, barely intelligible in its rage.

"Damn it, I knew I should have tied that thing's feet again!" Wood snapped, jumping to his feet, but looking a little relieved as Hanz abandoned him, and went to his master's aid.

As Hanz and Franz lumbered back down the hill, Devin got a grip on himself, planted a hand on V'gol's chest, and fired off a force spell that sent the goblin flying. It landed on it's back and skidded through the weeds, alive and snarling. The two bodyguards stopped halfway down the hill, and stared at their master, now uncertain what to do.
"Um, boss…do you still want us to –"

"Never mind about me, you idiots! Get them! Get the heroes!"

"But you said – "

"Get them! Now!"

But by this point, it was too late. Etoh had seen his chance, surprised at his own audacity, dashed down the hill towards Hanz' unprotected back. He swung his scepter, and brought it down hard on the back of the burly man's head.

"Please don't turn around and laugh it off, please don't turn around and laugh it off…" Etoh prayed, in the second between impact and reaction. "Please just fall over.." Slowly, Hanz reached up to feel the knot on the back of his head, and Etoh swung again. Hanz turned around, taking in his attacker. He laughed. Etoh weighed his options, then bolted.

He wasn't entirely sure where he was going – he went down hill simply because it was faster. There didn't seem to be much help coming from either companion. Woodchuck had leapt onto Franz's back, hooking one arm around his neck and using the other hand to punch at him. The bodyguard swung around in circles like a dog chasing its tail, unable to get a good enough grip on the thief to toss him away. Woodchuck would probably be able to strangle Franz into unconsciousness, and it would also probably take a good while.

"This would be so much easier if I could just fucking stab him!" Wood muttered as Etoh sprinted past. Slayn was striding down the hill towards the one opponent against whom magic would work, holding his staff out in front of him. The effect was intimidating, even without actual spell-casting. Devin blanched and scrambled backwards, reaching for his own staff.

"Help! Help! The goblins are attacking again! The Marmo spies have joined forces with them! Come defend your town and your leader!" he began to scream, as Etoh ran between him and Slayn (never a good idea – there was a common proverb about the dangers of crossing between dueling wizards) with Hanz lumbering a few paces behind. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw people start trickling out of their houses. That killed the only idea Etoh had had so far – running into the village and losing the body-guard among the houses. Now he ran that way, he'd just get ripped apart by the mob. Well, enough. This was ridiculous, and it wasn't helping anything. And worst, he was acting like a coward when his friends were putting themselves in harm's way. That wasn't how Parn would handle the situation.

"No, Parn would get his fool head torn off," Jardin said helpfully, "Just like you're about to." Well, to hell with it. Etoh turned around to face his opponent, holding his scepter out in front of him. It was mighty last stand time. Hanz skidded to a halt in front of Etoh, a little confused at his prey's change of heart.

Then before he even had a chance to flinch, V'gol ran past, snarling and ugly, making a bee-line for Devin again. Hanz turn in the direction of the goblin, looked back at Etoh, made his slow decision, and ran to snag V'gol. The two began grappling, V'gol frantically trying to get free and jump at Devin, but weakened by the bright sunlight. Etoh stood panting, unable to believe his luck. And his incredible uselessness, he realized. However this ended, it was given that he wouldn't even fell one opponent.

Meanwhile, the trickle of villagers had gotten stronger. Shouting that the "heroes" were Marmo spies after all, and that Devin must be protected, they poured up the hillside towards the group. Etoh looked over at Slayn, and Woodchuck, rolling off of the finally-toppled Franz, was doing the same.

"Slayn! What about that distraction?!"

Slayn seemed startled, looking up from his stand-off with Devin, and noticing the crowd that was getting closer.

"Ah, yes…" He stepped back from Devin, chanted softly, and raised his arms skyward. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen.

And then, the clouds seemed to glitter as, flashing in the sunlight, gold coins poured out of the sky like rain. They were soft like rain, as well, bouncing harmlessly off people rather than leaving the bloody hole that a metal disc falling from such a height would normally leave. The villagers, given a choice between defending their "wiseman," or spreading out blankets to catch this sudden good fortune wisely chose self-interest. The crowd still hovered near Etoh and the others, but were no longer the slightest bit interested in them, no matter how Devin cursed and raged at them. Apparently any kind of influence that the Fallen Star exerted over the villagers was only so strong. Hanz and V'gol, however, continued to punch at each other, looking like festival players in the midst of the distracted crowd. Wood gaped up at the sky for a moment, then turned to give Slayn a thumbs up.

"Slayn, that is the best spell ever."

"It's not real. In fact, it'll all turn to mud within a day," Slayn replied evenly. Wood scowled.

"Slayn, that is the worst spell ever."

Slayn did not get a chance to reply. Devin, finally gathering his wits about him, flung his hand out and chanted quckly. The same stun spell that Devin had used on the goblin blew Slayn backwards off his feet and tossed him into the tall grass.

"Oh, shit!" Wood snapped, looking in the direction that Slayn had been flung. He turned back to Devin, unsheathing the large dagger that he kept belted at his side. "That's it! Fuck this hero nonsense, I'm just gonna kill you." He drew back his arm to toss it, and was hit with the same stun spell, flipping him up and back.

Devin scrabbled to his feet, panting, sweaty, and triumphant. Etoh gulped, looking between the faux mage (with disturbingly effective spells) and his fallen comrades, then down at the scepter in his hands. Hell. Someone had take get the job done. And while Devin was too busy being proud of himself to remember that there had been three of them, Etoh charged. The first swing caught the wizard upside the head and knocked him to the ground. He held his hands up in a pleading gesture as Etoh raised the scepter again.

"I'll kill your friends! My men will –"

"Shut up!" Etoh bellowed, surprised he could even do such a thing, and brought the scepter down squarely atop the magician's head. Devin's eyes rolled back and he slumped over, mouth hanging open.

"Oh, Falis, please don't let me have killed him!" Etoh prayed, feeling for a pulse as his anger drained away. He had never done such a thing before. Everyone else in the party treated it like it was routine – even Deedlit, who clearly found it distasteful, and Slayn, whose spells were usually non-lethal. Etoh had swung his scepter to wound, but never to murder – maintaining what Woodchuck dryly called his "violence-virginity." He was relieved to feel a pulse beating under his fingertips. He'd probably be called upon to kill eventually, but did not want his first to be done needlessly and in anger. He began riffling through Devin's robes, feeling like either a pervert or a thief, and embarrassed either way. There were costume amulets hanging around his neck – the kind of meaningless metal symbols that were sold by shady vendors that assured their dark, mystic powers – but no stone. Etoh reached gingerly into the multiple pockets, pulling out a squishy tomato, half-eaten sandwiches, a small copper flask, and a handful of dirty miniatures. No stone. It had to be somewhere on him. Devin had acknowledged that the stone was what they were all beating each other up for. He patted his hands along the magician's body, wincing in distaste at the contact. Of course, he felt the hard lump of rock in the one place that he prayed he would not.

Etoh looked hastily from side to side, and then, now feeling entirely like a pervert, slid his hand down the front of Devin's pants. He wrapped his hand around the stone and yanked it out, trying not to think about the soft parts he brushed against.

Then, the Fallen Star was in Etoh's hands, and he stopped thinking about anything else.

Sights and sounds around him faded, like a dream. Everything was suddenly moving much more slowly. Etoh realized that things looked dim because he himself was shining bright, like a star in the sky. Or better yet, the sun, king of the stars above, suitable for a priest who served the king of the gods. There was a radiance welling up inside him, not just heat and light, but purity and joy. It was the presence of his god, and he was a holy vessel for the power to flow from. He could convert all of Lodoss this way. He only had to pass by, and people would see the beams of light flashing out of his eyes and ears, his teeth, and they'd change their ways without him ever having to say a word. They'd all been wrong about the stone. It didn't grant wishes, it was the holy power of Falis, waiting for a suitable carrier to share it with the world. It was well-shaped for it's task – a rough-hewn chunk of granite, not the glittering jewel that most people would expect. It was exactly like Etoh himself. Flawed, unfinished, but filled with grace. He'd bring purity back to the island, and lift the curse, and then no one would have to be unhappy ever again.

"Right. And you're the chosen one to bring them grace. Like you'd ever be good enough," came Jardin's cold voice, and it stung a little. Just a little. It was far off and distant, just like everything else. He turned away and began to walk – no, float, because he was too sacred to touch the ground now – through the crowd.

"It's the stone, you idiot!" Now Jardin was actually yelling, actually sounding alarmed, "It's got a hold of you! Don't you remember what Slayn said?!"

No, no, silly Jardin. Etoh suddenly felt no hatred towards the mental voice, or even the bully that had left such an imprint. He wanted to reach back in time and pat the young man on the head. Etoh was incapable of feeling hatred, or anger, or sadness or doubt, because he was' Falis holy vessel.

"You think you're better than the rest of them! You know that you're weak and cowardly and stupid, so you take refuge in being good, and you look down your nose at the rest of the world!" Jardin argued, but he was getting fainter and fainter. The energy had folded around Etoh like a cloud, muffling out everything he didn't want to hear, because the world really was nasty, wasn't it? His right hand tingled where the stone was pouring energy into him.

Slayn was wrong. People didn't have to be content with little things if they could wish for whatever they wanted. That was just a selfish, cowardly way of looking at the world. He could bring salvation back to the island.

He could finally stop being so shy and unsure. He wouldn't have to stand in the corner at dances, and hide in his meditations when the others were making small talk.

He could finally be strong and brave, just like Parn. No, better than Parn. Better than all the rest of them. After all, he'd been chosen, hadn't he? Because he was so good.

Because he didn't want it for him. It was for Falis. He was just a vessel, a messenger. He was Falis' humble servant –

And then Etoh stopped, suddenly unsure, remembering where he had heard words like that before. His third year at seminary, one of the upperclassmen had healed Duchess Elaine, Prince Jester's cousin, of a dangerous ailment. The prince had honored the student at a special ceremony, and boy had talked at length about how he really didn't deserve the award, he had only done it through the grace of Falis, and all glory belonged to Falis alone.

Except that the student hadn't seemed willing to step down and actually let Falis have a little of that glory. He'd talked like a showman, making sweeping gestures, flashing his white teeth, shaking his head so that his blond curls fluffed like a halo around his head. "No matter what amazing things I have done, I ask that you do not look to me," and he had pressed a hand against his chest, ensuring that the audience would look at him, "for all I have done, I have done through the grace of Falis alone, who has chosen me to be his humble servant." And then the student had turned, swirling his pristine white robe out behind him, to kneel before the god's statue in Jester's court and lead the audience in a prayer.

That wasn't humility, and it wasn't worship, Etoh had thought, guilty at being so bold as to criticize a fellow student. The upper-classman hadn't been giving glory to Falis, he'd been giving it to himself. And that was exactly what Etoh was doing – reveling in that special feeling of being chosen, of being good enough, and pure enough for the god to send his power through him.

This power, it wasn't Falis. It was too big, too showy. It was the stone, of course, feeding conveniently on Etoh's desire to do good.

But now that Etoh knew that, he could surely give it up, right? He felt it digging into his palm, and saw his fingers clenched, white-knuckled, around it. No, he was no less susceptible than anyone else. He had to get rid of it, right away. His first instinct was to drop it on the ground, but then someone else would scoop it up. He could give it to Slayn, but that would be passing along the burden to someone else. Slayn couldn't carry the stone with him on their journey, no matter how harmless he said it was. They'd fight over it, and the last thing that the party needed was more friction.

And then, Etoh heard that quiet little voice at the back of his head. Not Jardin. It was the voice that stayed with Etoh all day, every day, whether he was worshipping at temple, or being chased by gargoyles, or standing in a little village with goblin brains splattered across his robes. It was with him even when Etoh couldn't save a patient, no matter how diligently he prayed. It was the voice that told him that everything was going to be all right, however chaotic the world seemed. It was Falis, the voice of his god.

And it was telling him that he should give the stone to the goblin.

And Etoh wondered if he might be mis-hearing that quiet little voice.

This wasn't right, the goblin was nasty and vicious and proud. It had only allied with them because they'd had it tied up most of the time. Surely it would use the stone to take revenge, and that couldn't be allowed, no matter what Devin had done to it.

But the voice was insistent. And Etoh remembered how those jagged grey lines, conflict and confusion, had flickered near constantly around the goblin's aura as it told its story. V'gol was petty and mean, but more than anything, it was confused. And it wouldn't waste a wishing stone on revenge when all it wanted was to sort out the mess that the sorcerer had made of its mind. It was a simple wish, and more harmless than anything Parn's party would do with the stone. Besides, out of all of them, it was the goblin - now stuck in a confused limbo between its own way of life and the human way of life – that might actually need the stone.

Besides, Falis said that it was the right thing to do. Etoh was a priest, and listening to that quiet little voice was what he did. He wasn't going to let some cursed rock overcome his faith, no matter how tightly he might currently be gripping it.

Hanz and the goblin were still locked and combat, V'gol kicking the bodyguard in the back like a child throwing a tantrum. It did not look like a creature that deserved to have its wishes granted, but Etoh had made up his mind. If there were consequences, he'd deal with them. He crossed to it, and tapped it on the shoulder. This was possibly the worst thing to do in a battle. Without looking, V'gol swung one fist back in an arc, and clocked Etoh across the face. And even as the force of the blow knocked Etoh off his feet, he grabbed that swinging fist and shoved the Fallen Star into it. The goblin slid off the body-guard, and hit the ground at the same time that Etoh did.

Etoh couldn't see or hear anything for a moment. All that power had gone rushing out of him, and it had left a hollow so large that Etoh was surprised he didn't collapse inward. There was a horrible, aching grief where the power should have been, and he was suddenly convinced that his god had forsaken him. And then, just as suddenly, the feeling of grief was gone, washed away in a tide of shame. He'd been completely overcome by the power. He'd been so damn sure of himself, he hadn't even realized what the stone was doing to him. Holy vessel of Falis, indeed. He stared at the ground for a moment, then pushed himself glumly onto his knees. Hanz had, with the distraction of V'gol gone, noticed his fallen boss. He ran over, and Etoh could faintly hear him begging the prone sorcerer for orders. Meanwhile, the golden shower was starting to dry up, and villagers were beginning to come to their senses. Time to get this stupid battle wrapped up, and get out of this stupid village that had wasted a full day of their time. Then he looked up.

Where the goblin had stood, there was now a woman who looked to be in her early thirties, judging by the few wrinkles creasing an otherwise pretty face. Her body was stocky and muscular, but her femininity asserted itself through the cloud of wavy brown hair around her face, and the curves of her bust, which polite men would call "generous." She was cupping a breast in either hand, and squeezing them curiously, as though trying to draw even more attention to them.

"I don't understand," she muttered. "I'm not pregnant, am I?"

Etoh opened his mouth to ask where she'd come from, then realized that she was wearing V'gol's clothing. And after all, they never had asked the goblin its gender. They'd just assumed.

"V…V'gol?" he ventured. The woman turned to him, still clutching her chest in a way that made him awfully uncomfortable.

"Say, priest-boy, why do I - ? Oh, that's right. Human woman always have these things, don't they? We goblins only get 'em when we have children," the woman was saying.

"Could you please not do that?" Etoh asked, flustered. Her chest-kneading was hypnotic, even for a man who'd sworn off lustful thoughts.

"What, is it not polite or something? Hey, what am do you call these again? Goblins just call them 'bouncy things', but the only word I'm getting from Devin's memories is 'tits', and I don't think that's exactly respectful."

"They're breasts. Please stop touching them."

"Oh, all right." V'gol finally turned her attention elsewhere, patting curious hands at her now-human face. "God, I feel hideous. What's happened to me? What's this?" She held up the stone in her hand, then gasped, and clapped her other hand possessively over it.

"You're not taking this rock away from me, hero!" she snarled, looking suddenly like her old self again. "After all the grief I've gone through, I think – "

"I don't want it," Etoh interrupted quickly, holding his hands up. "I gave it to you because Falis told me to." Of course, it sounded silly when he said it out loud.

"Oh, you and your funny made-up gods," V'gol rolled her eyes, shoving the stone into her pocket as Etoh bit back a retort. "So, what the hell has this thing done to me? It was supposed to grant my wishes, right? I sure as hell never wanted to be a human." The instant the words left her mouth, her body suddenly twisted and flowed, until there was a goblin standing in front of Etoh again.

"What th-? Wait , I didn't want – " As V'gol protested, she shifted back into human form. She stood holding her head for a moment, as though dizzy. "What the hell? Make this thing stop!"

"Well, it's trying to give you what you want. Do you want to be a human? Or would you rather stay a goblin?"

"I…I don't know! I never wanted to be a human! I liked being a goblin! I had my own little gang and everything, but….but now that I can think like a human, I don't want to go back to being one…Hell, you think I could be both?" And then comprehension dawned on her face.

"Waitamintue! I can be both! Because this thing grants wishes, right? This is great!"

"Well, I'm..uh…glad that you're happy. So, just as long as you keep using the stone to transform, and don't start doing anything…you know, evil, now –" Etoh was interrupted by a voice behind him.

"Holy shit, you're a chick!" Woodchuck clambered back onto his feet, and figured things out very quickly. "We didn't think you were a chick."

"I don't think that's exactly a respectful word, either," V'gol said primly. "I may be kind of ugly now, but there's no need to be vulgar. You prick."

"So, just how much of your charming personality was Devin responsible for again?" Wood sneered.

"You're not ugly," Etoh put in. "For a human woman, you're quite pretty."

"Even with these?" V'gol made a face as she pushed up her chest with one arm. Etoh began staring fixedly at a point just above her head. "See, goblin males and females look pretty much alike, and the only difference is when a female gets pregnant. Then she's saddled with these ugly, annoying things for a couple of years while she nurses the kids."

"No, er…those are…well, human women always have them, but humans consider them to be part of a female's beauty. An..umm.. important part, actually," Etoh said haltingly, silently willing Woodchuck to jump in at any moment with his usual vulgar candor. Anything that would take the burden of explanation off of him. But Wood was more interested in V'gol's sudden transformation.

"So wait, why are you human now? Did I completely miss something?"

"I gave her the Fallen Star, and it granted her wish." Etoh supplied.

"You gave it to it – I mean, her?!" The priest nodded quietly, not wanting to give the "Falis' orders" explanation. Wood would not react any better than the goblin – probably worse, in fact.

"Yep, he gave it to me," said V'gol smugly, patting an inner pocket that she'd slipped the rock into. "His magic god in the sky told him to, or something like that." Wood shot a disgusted look at Etoh, and opened his mouth – but whatever scolding he might have given was cut off.

"Hey, just what the hell is going on here?" It was Hanz, now realizing that his master wasn't going to get up anytime soon, and that his partner was down for the count. "Did…did the bad guys just win, or what…?"

"We're not really the bad guys," Etoh began. "Devin's been trying to trick you all-"

"Devin? Devin couldn't trick his way out of a cloth sack!" That was one of the villagers. Most were still hunched protectively over their "gold," but a few were starting to notice the remains of a battle lying around. Out of the corner of his eye, Etoh saw Slayn sit up and begin to brush himself off. He wondered whether he'd be up to casting the spell again, should they have to grab their friends and exit at a run.

"And yet he's been your town sorcerer for the last, oh, how many weeks?" Wood pointed out. The villager frowned thoughtfully.

"Well, yeah, Devin's the smartest….No, what the hell am I saying? I mean, Devin's the greatest – wait, no he's not. Why the hell am I wanting to say nice things about him?"

"Because you've been under a spell. Devin has been using magic to control you all." Now Slayn came forward, lending an air of dignity and legitimancy to their explanation despite the grass stains on his robe. "He made you love and trust in him, and he used the goblin attacks to make himself look better." Slayn snuck a glance at the newly-human V'gol, and then raised an eyebrow at Etoh.

"Fallen Star," Etoh mouthed at him, hoping he'd understand. The eyebrow rose even higher, then Slayn gave him a curt nod, and turned back to the crowd.

"Hey, what about those attacks? Didn't you guys bring back the leader?" Another village, a woman this time. "We should at least be able to punish him for all the damage that's been done."

"But you see," Slayn protested, "The goblins were being controlled just like you. They had no choice over – "

"Oh, c'mon. Goblins are goblins."

"Right. They're nasty, vicious creatures."

"They'd have probably attacked us, anyway."

"And we know you brought the leader back, we saw him!"

"Well…" Slayn improvised, looking nervous and out of his element. "The creature must have slipped away during the battle, so –"

"Then why is she wearing his clothing?" The woman who'd spoken earlier shook a finger at V'gol, who flinched backward, looking ready to bolt. "What is she, human or goblin? Cause if she's a goblin, we'd haveta -" The woman finished her sentence with the grotesque arm-raised-head-bent pose that meant hanging, complete with an open mouth and tongue lolling out. Woodchuck grabbed V'gol by the arm before she could run, and shoved her forward to face the crowd.

"We can handle this," he muttered to her. "Just act like a victim."

V'gol glared at him, then back at the crowd, wilting at the sight of so many unfriendly faces. Deciding to follow orders, she clasped a hand against her chest, and laid the back of the other hand against her forehead, swaying like a romantic heroine about to faint.

"Alas! Oh woe is me, the misery that I've been through! My sweet, pure maiden's heart is breaking–"

"Okay, that's over the top," Wood said out of the side of his mouth. He stepped up, and put both hands on her shoulders, as though sheltering a frail, delicate maiden from the harsh world.

"Friends," he announced theatrically, "I know what you're thinking. This is, indeed, the same goblin that once terrorized your village. But she was never a goblin at all!"

"Now who's over the top?" muttered V'gol. Wood dug his fingers into her shoulders a little harder, and she shut her mouth, wincing.

"She looked like a goblin to me," one of the villagers near the front of the crowd put in.

"That's because she was transformed. Yes, cursed, by a wicked magician, because she scorned his advances. Cursed by…" Wood let a tense dramatic pause build, interrupted by the same villager:

"Cursed by who, now?"

"Oh, for gods' sake," Wood snapped, dropping the entire showman demeanor. "It was Devin. That guy over there. He turned her into a goblin because she wouldn't love him. Then he tried to have her killed by sending us out. Fortunately, experienced heroes like ourselves-"

"Why'd she attack the town?" The villager, a portly man with a dignified smattering of grey in his hair and beard, was on a roll.

"I'm sorry!" V'gol cried, before Wood could respond. She pulled away from him to stand alone before the crowd, hands clasped sincerely in front of her. "I didn't mean to hurt any of you! I was just trying to get to Devin, so that I could make him change me back! I was just scared and confused. And pure and virginal, that too! Then the other goblins followed along after me, I couldn't stop them. They've gone back to the mountains now, and I promise they'll never bother you again." There was anguish in her voice and tears in her eyes. Goblins were apparently fast learners. "Oh, please forgive me!"

A murmur ran through the crowd, then a few felt the need to air out grievances.

"Yeah well, who's going to pay for all my sheep? Those goblins ripped through most of them-"

"She burned my house down!"

"Broke my arm – "

"Ate my dog – "

"People! C'mon, this isn't so bad. No one actually got killed, did they?" Wood held up his hands to plead with the villagers.

"Well…..no, guess not…." A few scattered voices admitted.

"I'm sure this poor, abused girl here would gladly pay for the damages you've received-" V'gol glared back at Wood for making promises in her name, "But I think she's suffered enough, right? We all know where the blame really lies." And he cast a disapproving look at Devin, who was conveniently not awake to defend himself.

And the villagers turned to look as well, and then, like magic, the grumbling started. Devin had always been up to no good, Devin kept getting kicked out of the one tavern in town. Devin was a lazy jerk. Devin had turned his prize milk cow into a frog, one farmer declared, and a barmaid complained that he had always been grabbing at her. As the villagers filed over to surround Devin, Woodchuck breathed a sigh of relief, and sidled back out of the spotlight towards Etoh and Slayn.

"I love having a scapegoat," he said. "It makes everything so much easier." Etoh wanted to argue about the under-handedness of it all, but had to admit that a certain justice was being done. V'gol still stood where she had been, not quite ready to believe that the crowd wasn't going to rip her to pieces.

"Um….okay, then. Sorry about all the trouble!" She called, waving awkwardly.

"It's okay, miss, we know it wasn't your fault," the portly grey-beard called back. "This fellow, he's always been a bad egg."

"Hey, you're not going to kill him, are you?" Etoh stepped up, worried by the way the mob had closed around Devin.

"No, no, no," answered grey-bread. "Give us credit for being a little civilized. We haven't got a justice here, so we'll take him up to Edlan for trial We'd never just execute someone in that frontier justice style. Except for goblins and dwarves and elves. They're filthy beasts."

V'gol folded her arms, scowling, but kept her peace.

"Speaking of which," Slayn walked over to address the grey-beard, "Where are our friends?"

"Oh, sorry, sir! We didn't mean your two friends when we were talking about filthy beasts. Famous heroes like them makes you believe that there's some good in the inferior races. Why, they're almost human!"

"And they are….where?" Now that the half-assed fabrication part was over, Slayn had become the group's unofficial spokesperson, because Etoh couldn't be as authoritative, and Woodchuck was incapable of not looking sleazy.

"Oh, back at my inn. We put them to bed until that spell wears off. Gave them a private room and everything, and I won't even charge you for it. Since you're such famous heroes, after all."

"Yes…famous heroes…" Etoh felt his ears burn.

"Yes…famous heroes who saved your whole village…" Now Wood was looking dangerously speculative. "And since we're monster-hunters by profession, all that's left now is to discuss the bi-"

He shut his mouth again as, in a moment of uncharacteristic violence, Slayn and Etoh both stomped on his right foot.

"We work for free," Etoh announced, glad to have a moral upper hand. Besides, he knew that traveling with Parn, they would wind up in numerous situations like this, and he wanted to establish a precedent.

"Besides," Slayn added, "Devin is officially the one who hired us, and we don't expect him to be able to pay under these circumstances."

"Fine. Don't blame me when we run out of funds for this fool's errand," Wood muttered, leaning slightly to the left.

"They could have given the money to me, I'd have taken it," V'gol agreed.

"You're lucky to be alive," Etoh reminded her under his breath, as the grey-bearded innkeeper began leading them back into the village.

Parn, Deedlit and Ghim had all been shoved into the same bed – Parn clutching the snoring Ghim in his sleep like an over-grown teddy bear, and the other arm flung across Deedlit, who had snuggled up to her knight.

"Maybe separate beds would be best," Slayn suggested.

"Oh, no, I think that they should wake up exactly like this," Wood smirked. "And we should be here to laugh at them when they do."

"Well, it could be any minute now, so I suppose there's no point," Slayn conceded.

But "any minute" stretched into ten minutes, then twenty, and V'gol pointed out to the innkeeper that none of them had had much to eat that morning. So they all went to breakfast.

They were surprised when Hanz and Franz, Devin's hulking bodyguards, slipped into the tavern as unobtrusively as two giant men could, and pulled up a bench across from them.

"Hey, um, listen…" ventured Franz uncertainly. He seemed to be the designated speaker, because he stumbled on, with Hanz muttering quiet agreement. "We're sorry about all that trying to kill you guys, earlier –"

"Real sorry," Hanz agreed.

"See, we thought that Devin was a good guy who was beating the goblins, and now it sounds like he's really the bad guy –"

"We didn't know that he was the bad guy –"

"Yeah, we thought he was good, so we thought we were doing the right thing, and it turned out we weren't, so we're, you know, sorry."

"Well, that's all right," Slayn said gently. They were clearly not the brightest stars in the sky, and, 'lackey' seemed to be a career for life as far as they were concerned. "You were probably just under the same spell as the townspeople." Hanz and Franz looked at each other nervously.

"Spell? Oh not, spells don't work on us –"

"Don't work at all – "

"And see, that's the other thing that we came here to talk about." Franz hunkered down low over the table, glancing nervously left and right, and continued in a stage whisper. "We'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say nothing about that to the other villagers. The way magic doesn't work on us. They'd get suspicious –"

"And mean. They can get real mean –"

"Yeah, mean. Cause we're strange like that. So please don't mention it. We don't want to get run out of town."

"Why doesn't magic work on you?" Slayn was fascinated, as usual. "Do you have any idea?"

"Well, it's cause we've got a bit of ogre in us."

"On our grandmother's side-"

"Yeah, she was really drunk. Poor granddad. I think he was scared half to death when it happened."

"Ogre, ey?" V'gol was now peering over the table at the two of them, eyes shining, a half-smile twisting her mouth. "I think I could get along really well with you two boys. I'm used to having lackeys around, and I think you're used to having a master. Or mistress, perhaps." Hanz and Franz looked delighted, and Etoh could imagine them as two giant puppies, ears pricked forward and tails wagging.

"You really mean it, lady?"

"You'd let us work for you?"

"Certainly," V'gol smirked. "I'd love to spend some quality time with you boys. After all, you know what they say about ogres."

"No…what do they say about ogres?"

Even Etoh knew what they said about ogres, but he did not speak up. He was busy staring glumly into his coffee. Now that it was all over and done with, he couldn't shake the drained, depressed mood that had come over him from the moment he'd handed over the stone. Even the coffee, which he usually found soothing, left a bitter taste lingering in his mouth. Like failure. He'd almost let the power pick him up and carry him away, and he was the one group member that was supposed to be so humble, so pure. Slayn tapped him on the shoulder, and Etoh looked up into the concerned face.

"You seem down. Why don't we take some air?" Etoh nodded. They got from the table and found their way to the door. No one noticed them going – V'gol was chattering with Hanz and Franz about her plans to roam the island as the first ever Goblin Interpreter and Diplomat, while shooting coy looks to each in turn. Woodchuck, who had convinced the innkeeper to provide them with a free breakfast, was now trying to wrangle some free provisions out of him – since they were such "famous heroes." Outside, Etoh breathed in the morning air, tasting hints of the smothering heat that would come crashing down on them later in the day. It would be another long day of walking in soggy robes, but he probably wouldn't notice, he'd be too busy brooding over what a fool he was.

"So, who do you talk to when you've got something on your mind?" Slayn asked abruptly, leaning against the side of the tavern.

"What?"

"You're everyone's confidant, right? I've noticed. We all lay our burdens down on you. Where do you go to unburden yourself?"

"Oh, well. I pray."

"Does it help?"

"Sometimes." Etoh did not look at the sorcerer, concentrated on the children in the square that were running around, laughing, throwing pieces of the soft gold at each other.

"Mmm-hmmm," was all Slayn would offer in response.

"It's all I've got, really. My faith. I'm not a very good fighter. I'm not strong. I'm not brave."

"Not brave? Etoh, you follow a hot-headed knight around with more loyalty than anyone else here, and you think you're not brave?"

"Well…"

"Etoh, listen. I've only been friends with Parn for a short time, and it's already worn me out. You've stuck by him his entire life, no matter what fool thing he goes rushing into. That's courage, and that's strength."

"Yeah…Yeah, I suppose." Etoh smiled a little. It was true that Parn had always protected Etoh from bullies, but when they ganged up on Parn himself, Etoh never left his side – even though his weak punches would be no help, and they'd both go home with black eyes. But he never could have run away. It had never even occurred to him.

"Still, I feel terrible, Slayn. That stone…it made me think I was special. And holy. I was ready to run away with it."

"Do you not remember our discussion coming back to the village? The Fallen Star exerts a power over people – no one is immune. I wouldn't have trusted you with it, I wouldn't have trusted myself with it, and I was pretty sure that we'd have to knock Wood out if he took it. It's not something to be ashamed of. It's just human nature."

"Yeah. I just can't get over how arrogant I was when I had it. Like I was somehow purer than the rest of you, and wouldn't be affected it."

"Etoh, don't you realize what a great thing you've done? You held the stone, you realized what it was, and you gave it up. That's better than anyone else in this party could have done, including myself."

"Not really." Etoh shrugged.

"Try giving yourself a little credit for once. It took great strength of the spirit to handle things as well as you did." Etoh supposed that if humble Slayn, who was forever assuring them that his spectacular magic was nothing, really, told him to feel good about himself, he should consider it. But still…

"I'm still not sure that I made the right choice, though. I know that I shouldn't have the stone, and you say that you shouldn't, and it's not powerful enough to save Leylia for Ghim –"

Slayn shook his head, looking briefly regretful.

"-but what if Parn had it? It could help him become a great knight."

"Would it really? It didn't really help Devin become a great sorcerer, did it?"

"Well, no…but Parn's different. He doesn't care about fame and fortune, he just wants to help people…." Etoh trailed off, thinking about everything he knew about his friend, and realized that he could answer his own question. "And Parn wouldn't want any kind of magical crutch to help him along the way…he'd want to become a great knight under his own power. No, it wouldn't work for him. Well, Wood might've used it. I don't think he'd be really dangerous with it - he'd probably just wish to be rich."

"I assume," Slayn replied with a smile. "But you know, I don't think the man would even know what to do with money if he had it. I bet he'd get bored."

Etoh went on: "And I suppose Deedlit wouldn't want magic granting her what she wants…it wouldn't exactly be real then, would it?" Etoh was thinking about the way Deedlit snuck glances at Parn when she thought no one else was looking, the way she hovered over him, hurt when he snapped at her, but still patient and persistent.

"You noticed too, did you?" Slayn said. "She is a bit obvious, but I don't think she cares if the rest of us figure it out, since we've all been good enough not to give her a hard time about it. I approve, personally. They'd make a good couple."

"If he ever really notices her. I love Parn like a brother, but even I have to admit that he's thick as a brick when it comes to romance."

"I think she'll wait him out if she has to. Elves can afford to take their time. Ghim once admitted to me that the patience of the elves might rival that of the dwarves. 'Might,' of course, but that's still high praise coming from Ghim."

"Yeah. Well, best of luck to the two of them."

"Indeed," Slayn agreed. "And to yourself and the princess." Etoh jerked as though he'd been slapped. All Princess Fiana did with her soft dark hair and luminous eyes was make him feel uncomfortable. In all sorts of places.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, nothing. Forgive me, Etoh, I was just playing the eccentric sorcerer," Slayn said, although there was the ghost of a smile – no, a smirk – lingering on his face. He did not even react as a high-pitched shriek rang through the air. "Shall we go back inside? Deedlit must be up."

"You could have at least put us in separate beds!" an indignant Deedlit was saying to an amused Woodchuck as Slayn and Etoh came back in.

"But it was so much funnier to leave you as you were," he argued. She glared at him, ears set back.

"Gods, you're a horrible, disgusting man –"

"Hey, don't be yelling at just me. I'm not the one that arranged you that way. And those two could have moved you at anytime. You could at least yell at them, too." Wood pointed over at Slayn and Etoh. He did not look particularly intimidated by the elven wrath.

"We're sorry, Deedlit, we intended to move you. It's just been a busy morning."

"Morning?" The elf's emerald eyes softened immediately, moved by Slayn's sincere apology. "Have I been asleep that long? What's been happening around here? And why do people keep calling me Celestina Wingheart?"

They had never discussed what exactly would tell their companions. There hadn't been time. But some kind of unspoken agreement was reached, through significant glances and under-table kicks. They told Deedlit the 'official' version that they had told the villagers. V'gol, who was now going by Vaya, had been magically transformed into a goblin. 'Vaya' agreed, simpering and over-acting. When Parn woke up and came charging down the stairs expecting a fight, with Ghim stumbling after him ('Put that damn sword away! You don't' even know how to use it! You're insane!'), they got the same story. Etoh wasn't entirely sure why they were lying to their friends. He supposed they had to with the villagers present, but Slayn and Wood seemed to have no intention of spilling the real story later. He realized that he didn't, either. There just seemed to be no point. Explaining exactly what V'gol was would just start more arguments, and they were all tired of that.

Besides, their three companions did not press for detail. Parn, with the simple honesty that Etoh had always found so admirable in him, took the story at face value, congratulating them on a job well done. Ghim did not seem to care enough to think hard about the story, and was simply anxious to be on their way. Deedlit might have suspected. She threw sharp, intelligent looks between the 'pure-hearted' Vaya, and the mess on Etoh's robes, and frowned solemnly. She caught Etoh's eye and gave him a hard, questioning stare. He blushed, gave a guilty smile, and shrugged his shoulders. Deedlit stared at him a moment longer, then gave him a gentle smile, and returned her attention to breakfast. The message seemed clear. She knew that something in the story wasn't right, but it wasn't important. She wasn't going to press them. There was no point.

It all seemed to have turned out for the best. V'gol gave them a brusk good-bye at the tavern, promising that she was fnished with human meat, having found a viable substitute in adorable fluffy kittens. She intended to roam the island working as a human/goblin interpreters – negotiating settlements between goblin bands and human villages that would end with the fewest possible deaths. Nastiness, guile, and pride aside, she did not seem like an evil person.

They left the village about an hour later, with their packs replenished and water-skins refilled – for free. Woodchuck looked particularly smug, but said nothing, just dropped back into his old position at the rear of the group, next to Ghim. Deedlit skipped easily ahead of the group, not seeming to notice the heat, and drinking in the beauty of the tall grass and rolling hills. Parn marched quickly, pressing the group to make up for the time they had lost, even as the sweat poured down his face and out of the kinks in his armor.

And that left Etoh were he'd always been, herded into the middle, struggling to keep up with his faster, stronger friend.

"And that's because you're weak, Etoh. You always have been," said Jardin, but it was soft. From a distance, just as it had been when he held the Fallen Star.

"Say what you want, Jardin. I know it's not true," Etoh thought back, and felt like for once, he really believed it. "You're just a bully whose made way too much of an impression on me. You're not important enough to stay with me like this. I'd rather save the memories for people I care about. So go away."

And, like magic, he did. The snide voice was silent, and Etoh still found that he had trouble remembering exactly what the bully looked like. It wasn't completely over, he knew. The voice would probably be back at his most troubled moments, to pester and belittle him. But pester and belittle would be all that he could do, because Etoh was damn aware which one of them was stronger.

He turned his face up to the sun, and enjoyed the light on his face, despite the oven-like heat around them. Maybe the map-makers of Lodoss had it right after all.

Author's notes: Er, there are none, actually. This is the end. Finally. Thanks for reading!