Quinn didn't have to look for very long before Trelisti found her, Tellik already with him. It came as no surprise; news always seemed to reach him first.
They headed to the archives again, not for any true reason other than it being what they used before. The privacy helped too, she supposed, but it wasn't exactly difficult to find that when so much of the keep was abandoned. The others were already discussing plans within.
"...So I guess that leaves the feather. Any ideas?" Mirtis' voice was muffled until they passed a shelf. He turned towards them. "Ah—good timing. I trust you heard?"
"More than heard," Quinn murmured, throwing a jaded glance towards Tellik and Trelisti. "I'm guessing those two haven't told you their plan yet."
His scrunched-brow response was the only answer Quinn needed. She plopped into a seat by the others, leaving the floor open.
"Am I to do the explaining?" Tellik asked Trelisti, voice slathered with judgment.
"You're the expert," he replied. Quinn swore she saw the edges of his lips curve up, the faintest, catlike smile forming.
"Fine, then." Tellik rolled his eyes. "Are you all familiar with my people—the Korja?"
"Familiar, yes," Elyria replied, somewhat hesitantly. "But I worry some of what's written is poorly documented, or even falsified."
"Much of it is," he said with an edge of disappointment. "I'll spare you the specifics unless you ask. What you should know, though, are the basics. Korja are common elves originating from the region of Khae. Most are nomadic and stay within their tribe for their entire lives, limiting their contact with the outside world. As they're based in Te Fehr, a vast majority are firebrands or lightweavers, and due to the nature by which we're raised—through harsh training and difficult survival circumstances—most tend to be stronger than regular mages. The strongest and most respected tribe is the Qorasi."
Tellik's accent was the fullest she'd heard yet, surrounding the word in a thick, almost musical timbre. The beginning of it sounded like a click, but he spoke it fluidly, in a way Quinn didn't think she could replicate if she tried.
"Most members of the Qorasi hold a special potential, one common only to chieftains in other tribes. This ability is to summon a familiar from Fehr—a flametongue, a sandstrider, an eygroff, or a sunnifa," he continued. She could hear something under his tone, something dull and unamused, but more than that. "...Or of course, in rare cases, a fa'ih. A firebird."
"Is that who we need to contact, then?" Mirtis asked. Across the table, Elyria was listening in fascination.
"Yes, but it's not so simple." An unfamiliar darkness swept over Tellik's eyes. "The Qorasi is not a welcoming tribe. At most, I'll be able to get a short audience with one. And that's under the assumption that they don't throw me out at first sight."
"Why would they do that?" Quinn asked. His tone was stiffer than usual.
"Because of who I am now," he replied curtly. "Once you leave Khae, you become an outsider. You're not permitted to return without special circumstances—and despite what you may believe, fighting a god would push that criteria."
The table shifted at his words, a few disapproving murmurs escaping Mirtis' lips. The only one who didn't look terribly fazed was Eithien, whose face reflected something nearly identical to Tellik's. An expression of annoyance and hate, combined with a sort of bitter acceptance—almost like he was relating to something he'd said.
"May I ask why you left?" Elyria asked, less pushy than Quinn, but still just as interested. "If it's not too personal, of course."
Tellik knew the question was coming, but it didn't stop his cheek from twitching. Had it been anyone but Elyria to ask, Quinn was sure he'd have snapped.
"Why, the glory of being a merchant, of course," Trelisti said, voice teasing. She was sure his cover of an insult flew over everybody else's heads, but she could see the hint of good intent beneath, a rare slip of decency while he pulled the conversation somewhere else. "It's no small accomplishment—he's actually managed to arrange us another boat in no time. With Maenas' help, of course."
"Us?" Quinn asked with a dubious glare. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Oh, right." Trelisti feigned forgetfulness, well aware that Quinn could see right through him. This time, most of the others caught on, but Elyria was still behind. "Did I tell you all we're leaving yet?"
"Leaving?" Mirtis was the first to start to ask, though he caught himself after the first word. "Who's we?"
"Tellik and I. We're headed to Te Fehr while you all sort out the other tasks," he said plainly. It was amazing how absent he could make himself sound, especially with how passionate he'd been that morning.
"You're what?" Mirtis sputtered, eyes shooting open. Elyria's face was wrought with concern, and Eithien's, confusion. He returned to a blank state after a moment of silent questioning, a state that Clariya had never left.
"We think we've found the right path, both from the vision and the prophecy," Tellik took over, regaining his usual air. "A fa'ih feather, a trial by flame. I'm the compass and he's the rogue. We might not know what it refers to by rain, but I'm sure we'll find it in Te Fehr. We've got other things we need to do there, but getting the feather will be the top priority."
"But what about us? How are we supposed to get the other artifacts—especially the seaglass—without a ship or navigator?" Mirtis exclaimed, a flustered panic overtaking him. "And won't getting the feather back to us take too long?"
Though neither Eithien nor Clariya said anything, their expressions mirrored a similar concern. Only Elyria was lost somewhere else, questions written between her brows as she squeezed her own fingers in thought.
"If you absolutely need a ship, Maenas'll spare you some money. But seeing as you don't know the location of the blessroot, I would wait on that anyway," said Tellik, rummaging through his bag for a folded slip of paper. "And I've circled the location we spoke of before—the Merrow's Island, off the coast of Freyhalt. The waters are rough there, so a ship would probably be impractical for the search part, anyway. I trust you all to find your own path."
Tellik handed Quinn the slip of paper, which she opened to find a creased, pocket-sized map. The ink was bleeding through the edges of the paper, but she could still easily see the part he'd circled, towards the southeastern end of the continent.
"I'm not certain of it, but it's possible we don't actually need the feather returned to us," mentioned Elyria, finally speaking the thoughts crowding her face. "From what Clariya said before, the artifacts themselves don't play that big of a part. Rather, we're using them as methods to gain the gods' approval—like trials."
"And in that case, it would actually save us time to split off," Eithien agreed, finishing her thought. "It's not to say there's no use in gaining the objects—I'm sure they'll help us in some way or another in the long run. But if we don't need them there physically, this might work out better."
Clariya thought for a moment, then nodded. "That's a very likely possibility. From what Roen told me last time, the artifacts weren't necessarily used to kill Keyli. They were just security that the other gods wouldn't interfere."
Quinn saw Mirtis piecing it together, slowly easing into the idea. But she could see him caught on some concerns, just like she'd been. Just like she still was.
"I'm still a little worried about how we'll get where we need to," he said, saying her thoughts aloud. "But I guess you're right that we can find another way. It's what we've been doing this whole time, after all."
"That's the spirit." Tellik both tried and failed to voice fake optimism, something more characteristic of the old Mirtis. It seemed like his hope was dimming these days, and nobody could fill his role quite the same way.
"If that's all settled, there's only one question left," Eithien said, facing them expressionlessly. "When are you leaving?"
Trelisti and Tellik shared a look, Tellik's more hesitant, and Trelisti's apathetic. Tellik cleared his throat.
"Well, we've already packed our bags and resupplied," he spoke cautiously, almost as if he was waiting for someone's approval. His eyes strayed to Trelisti. "So in all likelihood..."
"We're leaving in a few hours," finished Trelisti. He didn't bother sugarcoating it.
Quinn expected the group to respond more surprised than they did, but she was met with solemn nods. She wasn't the only one who was numb to Trelisti's impulsiveness, and while Tellik's accompaniment might have been a surprise, they'd never expected him to stay long in the first place. He'd only been with them so far as a matter of circumstance.
"But we want to hear your plan before we go," Tellik added. "It'll be good to have an idea of where you're at, just in case. We might need to bring you the feather after all, or there could be an incident on either end."
The truth of his words struck her right in the ribs. She'd never really worried about the lack of communication with Everhold; everyone there was in a state of relative safety, surrounded by trained mages or castle walls. But whatever Trelisti and Tellik were facing, especially the path that Trelisti intended to follow...
The pulse industry was more than just habitual murderers. It was made up of people whose profession was kidnapping, enslaving, torturing or silencing any who defied them. They weren't like the original soldiers of Everhold, a balance of unwilling captives or complacent believers. These were people who, in a world designed for them to fall, fought tooth and nail for a chance to rise. People desperate for money or survival or something even stronger.
The idea that she couldn't reach Trelisti through that made her heart shrivel in her chest, her nerves pinch with small, electric pains.
"I think we're going to start in Septia," said Mirtis and Elyria jointly, meeting each other's eyes with a small laugh. Elyria continued alone. "If anyone's got an idea of where the blessroot appeared this year, it'll be the other elves. I found a book with a little more information, too—it listed a range of its growth, and how to test if it's Edeviel's variety or not."
"We'll see where the search for it goes from there," Mirtis continued. "So it's really a loose plan right now. But after we find that, we're gonna try to look into getting the seaglass. And unless we find a better way to travel, I imagine that'll mean going to Rith to hire another boat."
"Fingers crossed it doesn't reach that point," muttered Quinn, remembering the absence in her pockets.
"Is that really all you've got?" Trelisti asked, unimpressed. He sent a particularly disappointed look towards Elyria and Mirtis. "No colorful theories or expected timeframes?"
"We're working with scattered, seconds-long visions and a loosely translated prophecy. Forgive us if it's not a detailed itinerary," Eithien scoffed in response. Elyria looked apologetic.
"Just give us a bit. We'll get something eventually," Quinn told him, inviting him and Tellik to sit down with a hand motion. "We could use your help, too—the more ideas the better."
"I doubt it'll make much of a difference," he replied, but took a seat anyway. Tellik followed quickly.
Eithien and Elyria led the talk after that, Eithien more focused on interpreting and tying in the prophecy while Elyria investigated the god's artifacts and took notes. Tellik chipped in every few sentences or so, chirping bits about navigation or merchandising, while Mirtis tossed out ideas for new ways to apply magic. Even Trelisti gave a few tips, advising them with knowledge that Quinn either forgot or never learned. Where to find fences within city walls for a quick coin, codewords in taverns and hidden phrases among sellers, passages marked with characters that she vaguely knew of but never understood. Clariya was more help than anyone else, with her years of experience and knowledge of the gods' domains. There was so much that Quinn wanted to ask about her life, but those were questions for another time.
She wasn't sure how long they spoke before realizing it was a mostly lost cause, though, and nothing they said or did could truly predict the gods' plans. A part of her wondered if this was really just them stalling.
Subconsciously or not, she was near certain that was the case as their time ticked closer and closer to none.