“That’s a small matter,” the Elf said. “Just adopt a posture of purpose.”
“What?”
“Half of blending in is looking like you belong. So we need to look like we have a job to do.”
“I thought that’s why we stole these buckets,” said Gorm, lifting a pail.
“The buckets will just cause questions. And you don’t need them to have purpose. Watch.” The Elf straightened up and set her features in a sort of determined discomfort. “I just pretend I have somewhere to be, and I need to be there fast.”
“It’s the chamber pot, from the look of ye.”
Kaitha scowled. “Fine. We’ll try the buckets.”
“Whatever suits ye,” Gorm grumbled, tugging at his costume. His red and white robes bunched up around parts of his anatomy that rarely grazed the surface of his consciousness, but now screamed for attention with every chafing step. “Long as I can get out of this ridiculous outfit sooner rather than later.”
“It’s not that bad,” said Kaitha.
“Easy for ye to say.” Gorm tugged a wad of fabric from somewhere intimate. It immediately wormed its way back into the wretched position, like a determined sleeper unwilling to be roused. “Everything fits Elves well.”
“My robe doesn’t—” The ranger looked down at herself. The robes she had stolen were far too short for her, yet they somehow accented her lithe form while showing off the almond skin of her ankles and wrists. “Well… I can’t help it.”
“How unfortunate for—gah!” Gorm nearly leapt from his skin at the sight of a Tandosian woman stepping out from behind a rock. His axe was already in hand before Kaitha dropped a hand on his shoulder.
“Stop!” she hissed. “That’s Gaist!”
“What?” Gorm looked.
The Tandosian woman stared at him from beneath heavy, lidded eyes. With a noncommittal nod, she pulled at a crimson scarf in the folds of her robe.
“Gods!” The Dwarf bit his tongue and shoved his axe back into his belt. “Ye scared the tar out of me,” he added, trying to conceal his weapon in the folds of his ill-fitting robe.
“He’s blending. You should try it,” said Kaitha.
The doppelganger nodded.
“By turnin’ into a woman? Or walkin’ like I need to use the loo?”
“Gorm—” Kaitha bit back a retort and let it out as a long sigh instead. “This is the best plan we’ve got.”
“It’s the one we’re goin’ with, anyway,” said Gorm, handing Kaitha and Gaist a pair of borrowed pails. “Let’s just get to it.”
They stepped out of the rocky crag and made their way down the trail to the small doorway in the side of the mountain. It opened into a large hallway with branching pathways.
“Which way?” Gorm asked.
“Follow the water drops,” said Kaitha, nodding to a trail of splashes leading down one hall.
“Fair enough.” Gorm’s skin crawled as they walked through the ancient corridors. Much of the original stonework of the ruined hallway was obscured, either by some long-gone calamity or by the shoddy woodwork that the current occupants had used to shore up their crumbling facility. Yet parts of the old carvings peeked through, revealing intricate patterns of fluid shapes that reminded the Dwarf of swaying branches or bubbling streams. The corridor was like a forest river born of stone and filled with hastily constructed flotsam.
Their tunnel quickly merged into another corridor, and then another. Somewhere along the way, the trail of their predecessors literally dried up, leaving them wandering in the dark. The three heroes tried to stay to side passages and avoid Tandosian patrols, but soon enough they heard the shuffling footsteps of a priest approaching. Even in the syrupy, amber torchlight, it was clear that the newcomer’s robes were finer than those the heroes stole. They kept their eyes to the floor and nodded as the old Elf strode by.
“Praise Tandos,” said the robed Elf.
“Praise Tandos,” Gorm and Kaitha murmured, sharing a significant look.
Yet that seemed to be the wrong response. The Elf stopped and gave them a quizzical look. “Are you new?”
“Uh, yeah,” said Kaitha, setting down her bucket. She let a strand of auburn hair dangle in front of her face just so she could demurely brush it behind a pointed ear. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”
“Okay, well, yes.” The Elf’s patronizing tone suggested he was doing Kaitha a favor; his grin said he was hoping she’d return it. “You can’t just say ‘praise Tandos’ again. You need to say the second part.”
“What?” asked Gorm.
The Elf’s eyes flicked to Gorm for a moment, then back to Kaitha. “You remember. I say ‘praise Tandos,’ and you say—”
“Good night,” said Kaitha. She punched the leering Elf in the throat hard enough to choke off any reply. The surprised man reeled back as if to run, but Gorm caught him with a bucket of water to the gut. The woman usually known as Gaist caught the staggering Elf in a sleeper hold and covered his mouth until he went limp.
They worked in silence. A small storeroom nearby held empty barrels that carried the biting aroma of flame olives. They bound the unconscious Elf with his own belt and left him behind a tall stack of the emptied casks.
“So it’s the Tandosians after all,” Gorm said as the trio of false acolytes peered out into the empty stone corridor.
“Some Tandosian-affiliated worshippers, yes,” Kaitha agreed. “Could be a cult, or some obscure sect.”
The Dwarf shook his head. “This is Johan’s doin’. I got a feelin’ in my bones.”
“I’d rather have proof in my files,” said Kaitha as they slipped back into the hallway.
They made it past another turn and halfway down the hall before they encountered another Tandosian, a pale Human with hair that resembled used straw bedding. “Praise Tandos,” Gorm barked before the woman had a chance to do so first.
