“I expected that help would arrive to make sure we do—and help came.”
The unicorn-horned hare sniffed a patch of leafy herbs and munched, its little nose wiggling. Saeldian suppressed the urge to babble nonsense at it.
Kell stopped near Saeldian’s side. “An almiraj is a good sign. We’re in the truewild, but if an almiraj came to chat, then this part is safe.”
He was trying to steady their feelings. There was no truce or forgiveness—no, they were a team who cooperated.
Jubilee had a grin that would coax the twilight into becoming day. “Good morning, Saer Almiraj.”
That butt wiggle served only to make Saeldian smile, which they didn’t disguise.
“He bids you good morning,” Lorzok said. “He says that his name is the Impatient Made Small Under Moonlight.”
“That’s a mouthful,” Jubilee said. “Can we nickname you? Timsum. Tim.”
Saeldian couldn’t help their amusement. “Tim?”
The almiraj brought both his front paws down in a greatthump,twice.
“Timtim?” Kell asked.
Timtim flicked his ears and munched on an herb.
“He likes that better,” Lorzok reported.
“Ask him if there’s a settlement nearby,” Kell said.
Timtim’s nose wiggled.
“He says that there hasn’t been for a while. Travelers, though, more than usual.”
“Travelers to greet?” Kell asked, his voice sharp.
“Travelers with a purpose,” Lorzok said. “Not lost like us.”
“Are we lost?” Jubilee said.
“We don’t know where we’re going,” Kell said. “That’s the definition of lost.”
“Then what are we doing here?” Jubilee’s voice rose. “You can get lost in the truewild, only to stumble out and it’s twenty years later!”
Lorzok shook his head. “Have no fear. There’s an excellent spot to camp right under our noses. Pitching our tents will go smoothly.”
“We won’t have to pitch tents,” Kell said. “For ages, the noble orc nomads journeyed across Toril—will you tell them, Lorzok?”
Oh, clever. They had to stay positive, so Lorzok had to respond, but he would be talking to Saeldian and Jubilee, not Kell. “I am called Lorzok the Seeker,” he declaimed, only a little dramatically. It was enough to make Saeldian smile. “Among my band, Seeker is not a common name.”
“It isn’t?” Saeldian asked. “I thought it sounded right for nomads.”
“For me, it is a reflection of my life’s work—to meet the heart of perfect nature, the home and being of Silvanus. To my clan, it implied dissatisfaction,” Lorzok said. “Most of my band and my clan know their road, and their road is gold. My clan is wealthy, and they are proud of it. But they trade everywhere, and anywhere, and anything, so long as there’s profit to be made.”
Jubilee made a hum of understanding. “So you are the Seeker because you didn’t like being a merchant?”
“Beingthatkind of merchant,” Saeldian said.
“I thought they were doing wrong,” Lorzok said. “And I couldn’t find what I wanted with them. So I left. And in my seeking, I found Kell, and we decided to seek together.”
“The Feywild,” Jubilee said. “But what does that have to do with tents?”
