“I wish I knew the answer to that one, kid. I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet.”
They walked across the charred lakebed for an hour before they reached the edge of the basin. After a steep climb up crumbling dirt and rock that broke away beneath their fingers, Persh’al dusted off his hands. “Been a while since I’ve hiked like that.”
Cheyenne snorted. “That was pretty easy.”
“Uh-huh. Your face says somethin’ else.”
She wiped at her forehead and flicked beads of sweat off her hand. “It’s the middle of the day in what’s basically a desert. And I’m wearing all black.”
“You did that to yourself.” With a crooked smile, he turned away from her and pointed down the other side of the elevated basin. A round dirty-brown dome rose from the sea of short, scrubby brown grass below them, with two smaller rectangular outbuildings on either side. “That’s where we’re headed first. Should be able to get something a little faster than our own two feet.”
Cheyenne cocked her head. “I doubt that.”
“Okay, faster than my two feet, halfling. Unless you wanna pick me up and run superspeed in no particular direction.”
“I’m good.”
“Then let’s go.”
The climb down the other side of the dry basin was a lot gentler and easier, though Cheyenne had to stop halfway to the bottom to take off her hoodie and stuff it in her backpack. The sound of metal banging on metal and magicals shouting at each other greeted them when they reached flat ground. When they got closer, half a dozen square huts came into view on the other side of the huge domed building. “You know what this place is?”
“It says it right there on the wall—oh.” Persh’al chuckled and dropped his hand. “I keep forgetting you can’t read this stuff. It’s a waystation, more or less. And a small village, looks like.”
“But you haven’t been here before.”
“When that desert was still a lake, kid, this valley down here was all farmland. I’ve been here before, but not like this.”
The rectangular outbuildings were open at one end, and Cheyenne caught a glimpse of a huge ogre standing inside, smacking a huge wrench against a piece of machinery that looked like a small fishing boat hovering two feet off the ground. When he saw the drow and the blue troll approaching, he chucked the wrench into the machine and stared at them.
Two dirt-smeared goblins walked quickly between the dome and the second outbuilding on that side, dragging a rope net with a pile of metal boxes and machine parts behind them. They slowed down when they saw the two, and the goblin woman on the right frowned.
“Doesn’t look like they’re happy to see visitors,” Cheyenne muttered.
“They probably aren’t, but they’ll do business.” Persh’al pointed toward the door cut into the side of the dome. A short, grizzled orc with a long black braid spilling down his back shoved out the door just before they reached it and paused at the sight of them. His lips curled in a snarl before he stalked away, not bothering to hold the door. “Okay, hopefully they’ll do business. Let me do the talking, and I’ll take care of it.”
“No problem.”
Persh’al grabbed the handle and opened the door for them again, gesturing for Cheyenne to enter first. It was much darker and cooler inside, lit by small fist-sized lamps floating at different heights beneath the rounded ceiling. They passed a few crooked tables and wobbly chairs as they headed toward the horseshoe bar toward the back. Two of the tables were inhabited by other magicals, all of them dirt-stained, sweaty, and glaring at the unannounced visitors.
The goblin woman behind the bar was too busy polishing a metal canister with a dirty rag to look up at the newcomers. She squinted at the thing, rubbed it again, and nodded toward the array of items spread out on the bar beside her. “Look through all that first. New shipment just arrived, but I promise you it ain’t fancy.”
“We don’t need anything fancy,” Persh’al said. “Just looking for a working zip and some water. If you have any.”
The goblin thunked the canister on the bar and looked up. Her eyes widened when she saw Cheyenne, and she set both hands down on the bar and leaned forward. “You sure about that?”
Persh’al asked, “Which part?”
“Any of it.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He removed his pack and set it at the edge of the bar. “We got a long way to go. Could use a little help.”
“Help don’t come cheap, troll.” The goblin woman scratched her head, wiggling the ratted, dusty coils of yellow hair piled on it. She watched him dig into the front pocket of his pack, then glanced at Cheyenne. “But I bet both of yous know that already, doncha?”
Cheyenne stared right back at the goblin until the other magical sniffed and looked away. What’s that about?
“Oh, sure.” Persh’al pulled out a thick black case the size of Cheyenne’s cell phone and popped it open. “Not fancy and not cheap. We’re not picky, either.”
The goblin’s eyes widened when Persh’al flicked out a thin piece of blue-tinted plastic the same dimensions as the case and set it down on the bar. She licked her chapped lips and glanced at Persh’al, then leaned sideways and barked, “Cork! You got one of them skiffs up and runnin’ yet?”
An orc sitting at one of the tables scratched his chin, flaking off a layer of dust crusted on his face. “Maybe.”
The goblin woman raised her eyebrows at Persh’al and shrugged.
He swiped another thin card of blue plastic off the top of the stack in his black case and set it down on the first. “How ‘bout now?”
“Yeah.” She chuckled and slid both thin cards across the bar. “We got somethin’ for yous. Still want that water?”
“As long as it won’t kill us.”
A wheezing laugh escaped her, exposing yellow-stained teeth. “You’re in the Outers, lugahw’o. Anything could kill ya.”
Persh’al rapped his knuckles on the bar and nodded after her. “Better make it
