The land around Horgoff was mostly farms and fields. Mostly they stuck to the paths, but sometimes they took a shortcut across an empty field or through a patch of forest.

  Devin saw corn, wheat, and soybeans, as well as several crops he didn’t recognize. They passed a few fruit orchards, and once he heard the buzzing of an apiary. Beyond an occasional dog barking, no one challenged them.

  Devin – So, Casey, you were saying …

  Milo – Can we have this conversation out loud instead?

  Devin – I guess. Why?

  Milo – Communications Boosts are powerful, but even the best have their limits. If you use them too often, problems occur.

  Devin – What kind of problems?

  Milo – There’s no way to know beforehand. Every Boost is different. It won’t be anything fatal or permanent, but it will be … very inconvenient. It keeps people from using a single Skill to become overpowered. Any time you rely too heavily on something, it starts glitching.

  Devin – That’s lame. How do we know when we can use it?

  Milo – Guides aren’t privy to exact limits. I have a sense of impending ... wrongness ... when the system thinks you’re cheating. I suggest that you allow me to manage Party Chat at the appropriate times, and the rest of you only use it in emergencies.

  Devin – What about secrecy?

  Milo – Look at this as an opportunity to practice operational security.

  Milo has disbanded Party Chat.

  Devin considered what Milo had said for a minute before proceeding with the conversation. Most of what he wanted to talk about concerned things that anyone listening in would already know.

  “You were going to tell me what a Convoker is?” Devin said. “And the Order of Caduceus?”

  “Yes,” Casey said. “One question first, though. Back in the clinic, you asked me if I could keep quiet while you snuck us out. I said no, but you still agreed to take me with you. Why take such a risk for someone you don’t know?”

  Devin shrugged. “I figured if you were honest enough to tell me the truth when it might screw you over, I could trust you.”

  Casey was silent for a moment, then she nodded.

  “The Order of the Caduceus was created by an agreement between two deities,” Casey said. “Rainford, the God of Healing and Alchemy, and Ideus, God of Travel and Sustenance.”

  “Rainford is your god, right?” Devin said.

  “Yes,” Casey said. “The two gods decided they could help more people if they worked together. Rainford provided healers and alchemists to tend to sick and wounded people, and Ideus brought in Convokers to provide transportation and supply.”

  “They merged their churches?” Devin said.

  “No,” Casey said. “The churches are still separate, but each sent their most talented priests to the Order. For centuries, it worked. The Order became a source of healing all the land. Then Ideus plotted with another god to betray Rainford and seize the Order. It’s known as the Schism. Ideus and his ally defeated Rainford. All Rainford’s healers were enslaved by the Convokers and Enforcers.”

  “Who was the other god?” Devin said.

  “No one knows, but the Enforcers you fought are their servants,” Casey said. “Since the Schism, the order of Caduceus has been a slave operation. Healers are slaves. Convokers own us and Enforcers punish us and keep us in our place. They mutilate us so we need the sustenance unguents they create to survive. Our services are sold to nations, armies and tyrants across the land. Enforcers are sent along to make sure we are never freed. Anyone freeing a healer invokes the wrath of an organization that can break nations without blinking – because the Convokers know their system would not work without us. The same thing happens to any healers not aligned with the Order who try to operate in their territory.”

  Knowing what had happened to her made Devin feel sick to his stomach. “I admit I didn’t know how much of a hornet’s nest I was kicking when I freed you, but I’d do it again. It’s the right thing to do.”

  She nodded and looked away.

  “How long ago did this Schism happen?” Devin said.

  “Around 3,000 years ago,” Milo said.

  Devin’s mind whirled. As far as he knew, three thousand years was longer than any religion on earth had been around, and that was only since the Schism. How old was this world, anyway?

  “There’s one more thing,” Milo said. “The unguent that Casey needs for sustenance is …”

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  “No,” Casey said.

  Devin stopped walking and turned to her. “What?” he said.

  “Nothing,” Casey said.

  Milo looked at Casey. “Apologies, Priestess, but that is inaccurate. My job is to help this party survive, and it’s necessary that Devin have this information.”

  Casey sighed and looked at the ground.

  “The unguent that provides sustenance has several other effects on the healer’s physiology,” Milo said. “If it’s not taken every 12 hours, it causes severe side effects. You can think of them as withdrawal symptoms.”

  “What the hell?” Devin said. “How long does the withdrawal last?”

  “I’m afraid it’s permanent,” Milo said.

  Devin clenched his fists. “That’s … that’s fucking evil.”

  “Very,” Milo said.

  “Can we steal some?” Devin said. “There must be a warehouse full of the stuff somewhere.”

  “The unguent spoils after a week. The Enforcers get a new shipment a couple of times a week from the Order temples.”

  Devin shook his head. “That sounds like a logistical nightmare.”

  “Logistics is what Convokers are best at,” Casey said. “They have spells that can send things thousands of kilometers, as long as there’s a Convoker or Enforcer on the other end to receive it. They make sure that none of us are more than 12 hours’ travel from the nearest teleport point. The only way to get the unguent is from them, but they can use their spell network to get it anywhere almost instantly.”

  “You said ‘things,” Devin said. “Does that mean it’s not only unguent they can teleport? And they can do this with any Enforcer?”

  “Yes,” Casey said. “That’s why I killed the wounded one. As long as he was alive, the Convokers could have teleported anything into the room with us. Explosives are a favorite. It’s happened before.”

  Devin looked at Milo. “For the record, you never told me that the people I was fighting could teleport bombs into the room at any given time.”

  “That’s because I didn’t know,” Milo said. “I’m not an Oracle.”

  “Actually, they can’t do it any time they want,” Casey said. “They’d have to know what was happening, and most of the teleportation spells don’t work during combat. But if they have time to plan, they can send pretty much anything through.”

  “So never schedule a meeting with an Enforcer,” Devin said. “Got it. Can they teleport people? Are we going to have an army of Enforcers appear right next to us? Can they put a hand on someone while they’re sleeping and teleport them into a prison cell?”

  “No,” Milo said. “Teleporting other people requires an existing magical construct at both locations. Otherwise, it’s like tossing someone off a cliff and hoping they land in water. And any teleport can be interrupted at any point along its path by a strong Dimensional adept. The effect is fatal.”

  “What if we captured an Enforcer and convinced him to help us?” Devin said.

  “They’re fanatics,” Casey said. “It wouldn’t work.”

  “I’ve seen you speak,” Devin said. “I bet you could convince one.”

  Casey shook her head. “If that were the case, I would have talked myself out of captivity years ago. Enforcers are loyal to the Order to the death. You can’t reason with them or torture them.”

  “Priestess Casey is correct,” Milo said. “The Order has many enemies, and no one has ever been able to suborn a single Enforcer or learn their secrets. Such loyalty is unusual. It’s one of the mysteries that makes the Order such a powerful force."

  “This Order sounds more like a cult than a temple,” Devin said.

  “In a way, they’re more like a corporation,” Milo said. “A monopoly.”

  Devin’s mind was overpowered by a memory from his childhood.

  “I need to sit,” he said. He plopped down where he was without waiting for an answer.

  He curled his arms over his knees and tried to remember where he was. His vision blurred and his eyes were wet, like they had been on that night. They drank whiskey and played board games, and then ...

  “Devin?” Casey’s voice seemed to come from far away.

  “It’s too much,” he whispered.

  “Devin? Are you all right?”

  “No!” He screamed it in Casey’s face. “I’m not all right! It’s too much!”

  She drew back, but her eyes held his. Everything came back into focus, and he knew where he was.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Casey nodded. She leaned over him and put her finger on his neck to check his pulse. He wondered what his resting heart rate was now that he was enhanced. Probably something like 12 BPM.

  Casey checked both his eyes.

  “I don’t have a concussion,” he said.

  Casey shook her head. “I’m just checking.”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  “I know you are,” Casey said. She took his hand. “You can talk to me if you need to.”

  He blinked. “I ... I killed him.”

  “Who?” Casey said.

  “My …” The world spun again. No. That had been then. This was now.

  “The Enforcer on the couch,” Devin said. Tears slid down his face. “I killed the others but that was self-defense. The guy on the couch was just sleeping. I choked him and he woke up. He looked right at me, but I squeezed harder."

  His throat closed. Casey squeezed his hand and handed him a canteen. He drank. The water soothed his throat.

  Devin wiped his face. He hated himself for this weakness. His dad would have slapped him if he’d acted like this at home.

  “I killed a whole room full of people,” he said. “And what good did it do? You’re going to die, Milo’s going to die. Everyone from Horgoff is going to die and it’s all my fault and I can’t fix it. I waltzed in acting like I knew everything and... and...”

  “That’s a very pessimistic representation of …” Milo said. Casey shot him a glance, and he went quiet.

  Casey took Devin’s hand again. “It’s good that killing bothers you,” she said. “Rainford teaches us that every life is a gift, and it’s a sin to end it. But he also teaches that sometimes you must take lives to save others. If a viper is about to bite a child, you wouldn’t think twice about killing it to save the child.”

  “You’d be a great ethics professor, but you’re not the one with blood on your hands.”

  Casey shook her head. “I’ve got more blood on my hands than you can imagine,” she said. “I know you saw me cut that wounded Enforcer’s throat. He wasn’t the first bad guy I’ve killed who wasn’t an immediate threat. I can’t even tell you how many. I lost count a long time ago. Do you think I’m a monster?”

  Devin’s shoulders drooped, and he shook his head. Casey put her hand under his chin and lifted it back up.

  “It’s not the viper’s fault they’re a viper, but that doesn’t mean you let them bite the people you love,” Casey said.

  “This isn’t your world, Devin,” Milo said. “There aren’t any lawyers or courts in Teth. The police don’t protect and serve, they oppress and kill.”

  “How am I supposed to know what’s the right thing to do, then?” Devin said. “How do you tell if you’re doing what has to be done, or if you’re killing everyone who stands in your way because it’s easier?”

  “That’s something I can’t answer for you,” Casey said. “We each have to decide for ourselves where that line is. Even the gods can’t tell us that.”

  “I thought my world was bad,” Devin said. “This is a nightmare.”

  “A nightmare you can make better,” Casey said. “Like you did for me. I’m free now. I would rather die horribly and slowly than go back to living like that. I suspect most of the people from Horgoff feel the same way.”

  Devin considered.

  “You asked me earlier why you were here,” Milo said. “Do you understand that a little better now?”

  “Yeah, I get it. I’m here to kill the bad guys. Just don’t expect me to start enjoying it.”

  “If you ever start enjoying it, we’ll have that discussion then,” Casey said. She gave his hand a squeeze. “Come on. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”