Dan practically whipped around to stare in desperate hope as he heard Maeryn’s laughter. “She… she laughed,” he whispered. “By the depths…”

  “Good sign, I take it?” Terrance asked, fitting a pole through one of the metallic rings on the tent fabric.

  “A very good sign,” Dan said faintly, forcing himself to take a deep breath and return to his designated task. “Those who fall too deeply into the abyss… Well, it’s hard for warmth and amusement to reach them. Despair eats everything if you let it. And according to the testimonies I’ve read, that kind of emptiness gives a twisted comfort. Because then at least the pain is bearable.”

  He shook his head. “But laughter means she’s okay. Not great, but okay.” He reached up to touch his heart, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m glad. I’m so glad.”

  Veronica eyed him for a moment, then exhaled softly even as she worked to thread one of her own poles through a fabric sleeve. “Okay. I can admit when I was wrong. Dan, I’m sorry I doubted you earlier. It’s obvious now that you really do care about her.”

  “No, no, you were right to ask,” the alchemist admitted freely, getting back to work. He knelt and hammered a piton into the ground, securing one corner of his tent in place. “I would’ve walked away if I thought otherwise.”

  “Hey, Ooble, you doing alright?” Terrance asked, ignoring the byplay between the two. It was good that they were making up, but he really didn’t want to be involved in whatever spat they’d had. “Staying warm?”

  “I am well,” Ooble replied from a short distance away. The eight layers of heat-insulating fabric in his coat and leggings did a great job at keeping him warm, but it did limit his mobility significantly. Enough so that he couldn’t really bend over and help without falling over. His job at this point was largely to hold whatever anyone handed to him and provide leverage.

  Terrance had the brief mental image of creating a giant snowball with Ooble in the middle, and had to shake his head to clear it. “So Dan, how large are these tents anyway?”

  “Big enough to fit four people comfortably with some extra room to maneuver,” the many-talented man answered. “In a pinch, we could all fit with one, but better to be on the safe side.”

  “Why four-person tents?” Veronica asked curiously. “I thought one- or two-person tents were more common.”

  “They are,” Dan agreed, hammering in another piton. “But they’re also a lot less efficient. Both in storage space, and in heat retention. More bodies inside means the magic has less work to do, which means it’ll last longer.”

  “Okay, fair,” Veronica admitted, “but who’s rooming with who, then?”

  Dan paused, making a face. “I, ah… hmm. I was going to say girls and boys would be easiest for propriety, but there’s only three girls on the team.”

  “What is propriety?” Ooble interjected.

  “The idea of following societal expectations of morality, usually about privacy or appearance,” Dan informed him absently.

  “How do you just have those definitions off the top of your head?” Terrance demanded.

  The alchemist gave him a funny look. “You mean you don’t?”

  “No, Dan. Most people actually need a minute to put vague concepts into words.”

  He looked up at the sky and scratched his chin. “That actually explains a lot. Huh.”

  “What, did you used to read the dictionary or something?”

  “Well, sure. I kept having to look up weird words that old alchemists used,” Dan defended. “I had to keep a dictionary handy to figure out what the abyss they meant.”

  “Boys?” Veronica called out, hands on her hips. Her tent was fully assembled now, and just needed to be secured to the ground. “If we can keep moving?”

  “Right! Sorry!” Dan apologized, hurrying over and pulling another piton out of his pack. Terrance sighed and knelt down to finish hammering down his own.

  “As for rooming, I’m thinking that you’ve got the right idea about divvying it up by gender,” the cartographer continued, taking a step back to let the alchemist finish his part. “But the fourth one in our tent should be Ooble. The dragonkin don’t have the same social moors as the rest of us, and don’t care one whit about human nakedness. Right?”

  “I do not know what a moor or a whit is, but you are correct that I have no interest whatsoever in what you look like,” Ooble agreed gamely. “I find your lack of scales curious, and I am certain your hair requires more care than it is worth, but beyond that? I care not at all.”

  “A social moor is basically a specific form of propriety,” Dan told him earnestly. “And a whit is a very, very old unit of measurement for a tiny amount. It’s only used these days to describe not having any of whatever you’re referring to.”

  “Ah. Clarity.”

  “You know, you don’t have to define every single word for him?” Terrance suggested. “I’m sure he could pick some of it up from context.”

  “And I do,” Ooble agreed. “But it is always nice to have some confirmation. Alchemist Dan’s explanations are very welcome. Your language is very confusing at times. It feels like it is a bizarre combination of several other languages that have somehow melded into one without anyone knowing their origins.”

  Veronica opened her mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it, mouth twisting as she failed to find a rebuttal.

  “Oh! While we are on the subject, I was wondering earlier about the origins of the word ‘companion.’”

  Dan stood, having just finished hammering in the last metal piton. “I… hmm. I actually don’t know that one. But I’m sure the library back home can tell us. I’ll write it down for later.”

  The dragonkin nodded appreciatively.

  “Oh!” Frankie’s shout of surprise had them all looking her way, where she was staring at her hand in awe. It was engulfed in a soft yellow flame, and Maeryn was looking at her with a bittersweet smile. Then she took Frankie by the wrist and gently guided her to touch the small stack of firewood they’d set out. The extremely dry, prepared wood caught instantly, but Maeryn held the new fire mage’s hand there for a long moment, saying something the others couldn’t hear from that distance. Then the captain took her own hand away, but Frankie didn’t move for several seconds, looking at the fire she’d created with a kind of stunned awe.

  “So… I’m taking bets on whether Frankie ends up a pyromaniac,” Terrance announced. “Any takers?”

  “Twenty copper that she sets something on fire in the next week just to see if she can,” Veronica instantly agreed.

  “Thirty copper that she not only sets something on fire, but tries to hide it with Peter,” Dan countered, not missing a beat.

  Ooble regarded them all with a strange expression. “Not one of you believes that she will be responsible with fire magic?”

  “Oh, she’ll be perfectly responsible,” Terrance told him with a grin. “But she’s a tinker. An engineer. Not a single engineer ever gets as good as she is without testing the limits of their tools. And this is a shiny new one.”

  Ooble cocked his head to one side, considering. “Fifty copper that she burns something non-critical at night and tries to bury it in the snow.”

  “Oooh, that’s a good one,” Dan muttered. “Should have thought of that.”

  “What about you?” Veronica asked the rogue. “What’s your stake?”

  Terrance thought about it for a few seconds. “I’ll put fifty copper on the unlikely event of her being good and only lighting campfires for the next week. Outside of emergency, of course. Because if I win, I’m going to collect from each of you in front of her.”

  He received a trio of betrayed stares. “You evil bastard,” Dan whispered admiringly.

  “Ah ah ah,” Terrance chided, waggling a finger at him. “My parents were married.”

  “And you skip right past the evil part,” Veronica muttered.

  “Well, I’d argue that I’m more chaotic than evil, but I’m perfectly self-aware,” Terrance informed her primly.

  “We are going to regret taking this bet,” Ooble mourned, hanging his head. “I am certain of it.”

  “Probably,” all three humans told him simultaneously, though only Terrance’s voice was smug about it.

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  Dinner that night was a hearty stew—mostly because it was very difficult to get wrong, and only Ooble had any experience with campfire cooking. For all of Maeryn’s experience as a hunter, she’d never needed to actually rough it outside of civilization for more than a day, so this was a brand new experience. At least her experience with cooking made the food prep straightforward.

  By the time they finished eating, the sun had long since set, and a heavy blanket of darkness had settled across the icy landscape. The stars and moon shone faintly overhead, mostly obscured by the perpetual overcast sky. Only the fire provided any illumination at all, its flickering light casting out a few dozen meters.

  As Maeryn had predicted, the air was rapidly becoming bitterly cold, and the wind was picking up, biting into any skin they dared leave exposed. “Okay people,” she told the others heavily. “As you’ve seen, we have ice mephits, and those wolf-things we passed. And there could be anything else out there. So we can’t afford to just huddle up in the tents and hope for the best. We need to figure out the watch schedule.”

  She received a round of grave nods. “I think we should go in pairs,” Dan suggested. “To keep each other company, and better handle any pack animals.”

  “Small problem,” Frankie pointed out with a frown. “Half of us aren’t combat-trained at all.”

  Terrance waved her off. “Then your job, if a battle starts, is to wake up everyone else while your combat partner protects you.”

  “Seems reasonable,” Peter acknowledged with a curt nod. “Who’s with whom? And how long are the shifts?”

  “There’s eight of us, so four pairs seems doable,” Maeryn thought aloud. “Shifts would be two hours each. That’s not too bad. I’ll take first shift, since I got a nap earlier today.”

  “I could stay up with you,” Frankie offered. “You could teach me more fire magic?”

  Maeryn shook her head. “Best to consolidate your insights before you stretch too far. If you don’t internalize what you’ve learned, you’ll regress. We’ll talk more tomorrow when we’re setting up camp.”

  The pilot looked a little disappointed, but nodded anyway.

  “I’ll partner with you tonight,” Peter decided. “Unless anyone else wants to? Dan? Veronica?”

  “All yours,” Dan told him with a shrug. Veronica merely nodded.

  “I’ll take second shift,” Terrance declared, leaning back and stretching. “Frankie, do you mind? Might need some assistance with the fire.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Then I shall take third shift,” Ooble volunteered. “Dan, I would be pleased if you would join me.”

  “Works for me,” the alchemist agreed easily. “Our usual arrangement?”

  “Language practice,” the dragonkin confirmed. “You help me with my Human, and I teach you Elven.”

  Maeryn twisted to look at her oldest guy friend in surprise. “You’re learning Elven?”

  Dan nodded. “It was supposed to be the most common language in ancient times. It seemed a worthwhile investment. We can’t rely on Ooble for all the translating, after all.”

  Ernesto glanced over at the last member of their crew to partner up. “Guess that leaves us, huh?”

  “No objections here,” Veronica said, stretching. “Gives me a chance to orient my maps so we can head in the right direction.”

  Maeryn relaxed a little. That had to have been the most painless setup of watch rotation she’d ever been part of. Though it was likely to be the only time it’d be that easy. The first and last watch shifts were highly prized, as it meant the most consecutive sleep. And after some firsthand experience, she fully expected some squabbling over shift order in the future.

  “Well then!” Terrance interrupted the quiet moment before it could stretch too long. “It’s cold as blight out here. We should get inside the tents where it’s warm.” He eyed Dan suspiciously. “They will be warm, right?”

  “Eh, warm’s a strong word,” the alchemist hedged. “The Ice Resistance enchantments will make sure it doesn’t get too cold, but don’t expect it to feel like a balmy sunny day. It’ll warm up more when we’re inside, capturing our body heat.”

  One by one, Maeryn’s companions retreated into the tents. She didn’t hear any shouts of betrayal or swears of vengeance, so she shrugged and put the question of the tents’ warmth out of her head. She actually wasn’t all that concerned; the resistance she’d built as a fire and ice mage meant that she had little to fear from this level of cold. Maybe if it fell another dozen degrees she’d start to really feel it.

  She stoked the crackling fire slightly, and little sparks flew up into the air, where they promptly winked out. “So, Peter. What’s the real reason you wanted to be alone with me?” she asked quietly.

  “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t actually have a solid reason?” he replied, just as soft.

  Maeryn glanced at him. “I might,” she admitted. “But I think that you actually have a dozen small fractions of reasons that just made it sound like a good idea.”

  Peter pursed his lips in thought, then nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I didn’t think you knew me well enough to know that, though.”

  “You and Frankie have a lot in common,” Maeryn told him, looking back at the fire. “I’m familiar with how you two see the world a little differently. Frankie and I have had our share of misunderstandings before I learned how to speak her language, so to speak. Just let me know if I get it wrong, and I’ll try to do better.”

  “I appreciate that,” Peter murmured, his eyes lowering to the campfire.

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. Maeryn’s ears caught the sound of movement in the tents—probably unrolling sleeping bags or something—but kept her hearing focused on the darkness outside the firelight.

  “Do you mind if I ask what magic you’re aligned with right now?” Peter questioned curiously.

  Maeryn shrugged. “Right now I’m aligned to holy, because I’m going to cast Purify Mist a few more times just to make sure we don’t have the Mist sneaking up on us overnight. But I’m still trying to figure out what the best element would be for my watch tonight.”

  He shifted, his eyes lighting up in curiosity. “What are your options?”

  “Well, there’s wind of course. There’s a handy spell called Clairvoyance that would let me use the wind to draw pictures in the snow, scout out a good distance around us. Give us advanced warning,” Maeryn explained. “But the ice mephits from before were camouflaged, and wind wouldn’t do much to them.”

  “Ernesto took care of those with necromancy, right?” Peter pointed out.

  “Yeah, but the issue there is that necro doesn’t give me any sensory abilities at all unless I’m shrouded in Mist. Which is a non-option, since it’d kill you all.”

  “Good point,” the engineer admitted. “Death would be counterproductive.”

  Maeryn paused and gave him a suspicious look. “You’ve been hanging out with Terrance, haven’t you? That sounded like something he’d say.”

  “Guilty.” Peter grinned, and they both chuckled for a minute.

  Eventually, Maeryn shook her head and returned to her explanation. “I could try ice, and do some experimentation to see if I can sense things through the ice and snow around us, but I’d rather try that somewhere safer, and not where being distracted could get us all killed. And then there’s earth, which would be great for keeping my focus for long periods of time, and gives me solid combat capability. So I’m leaning towards that.”

  “That makes sense,” Peter muttered. “I guess I wanted to know, because… because I wonder what it’s like to change the way you think. Would it be easier to connect to everyone else, if I had first-hand experience thinking like they do?”

  He raised his gaze, meeting Maeryn’s for a second or two before shifting the tiniest bit to look at her nose. “Captain. Please. I want to know. When you shift your paradigm, when you change enough for magic to see you differently… Do you understand other people better? Is that why you and Frankie are best friends? Why you’re able to pull together so many different personalities under your banner?”

  “Peter…”

  He shook his head, lowering his eyes back to the campfire. “I had… basically no friends, growing up. I knew why. I was the weird one. The one who would get lost in the puzzles and logic of science. I couldn’t decipher how the other boys talked to each other without words, how what they said didn’t match what they did, and yet they always understood each other perfectly. And I used to wonder what it was like, to see the world like they do.”

  Peter took a long, deep breath. “I know who I am. I’ve always known. And I don’t want to change it. But… I would like to see what it’s like, on the other side. Is that something that changing paradigms could give me?”

  Maeryn took a long minute to answer, trying to find the words. He waited patiently.

  “The thing about changing paradigms,” she began slowly, feeling out each word carefully to make sure she was as clear as possible. “about shifting mana elements, is that it doesn’t create something new. It’s more… reinforcing different parts of who you already are. Yes, I gain a little insight and understanding into people of the same element, but not much more than I would have already had without it. Because if I didn’t already empathize with those people, understand at least some of their mindset, then I wouldn’t be able to attune in the first place.”

  Maeryn looked down at her hand. “When I first attuned to ice, I had to do it through a lens of myself and my experiences. A Maeryn who was cold. Who shut down her emotions and followed through on hard, dispassionate logic. Who would reject the warmth of the sun if it was necessary. But still… recognizably me in the end. It didn’t magically make me understand other ice-aligned people. It just shifted how I react to the world.”

  She raised her gaze to see Peter’s eyes, wet with unshed tears. “So no, Peter. I don’t think changing paradigms would suddenly let you understand all the confusing ways that society works. It would just teach you more about yourself. I’m sorry.”

  Peter wiped his eyes roughly. “Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s about what I thought you’d say. But I needed to hear you say it.” He sighed. “I guess if the answer was that easy, they’d teach everyone some common affinity for mutual understanding.”

  Maeryn snorted, a fond memory coming to the fore. “Mud affinity. If only.”

  Peter blinked. “Mud?”

  “Because it lets everyone in, and doesn’t let anybody out.”

  It took the engineer a moment, before he laughed. He laughed so hard he wheezed and doubled over, slapping his knee a few times. “Mud!” he choked out hoarsely. “By the winds, I never knew you were a jokester!”

  “I can’t claim the credit for that one,” Maeryn told him demurely. “Veronica came up with it.”

  Peter stared at her disbelievingly. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. I’ll swear on whatever you want, she’s the one who told it to me back on Zephyr.”

  “Huh. You think you’ve got someone pegged…”

  “Thing is, I think you and she have a lot in common, too,” Maeryn confided. “Between you and me, I don’t think she had very many friends growing up either. And she’s still trying to figure out generational friendships. It can’t be easy for her, being almost a decade older than the rest of us. Maybe you should talk to her sometime.”

  Peter glanced at the women’s tent consideringly. “Maybe I will,” he murmured thoughtfully.

  Maeryn left it at that. Making her decision, she absently cast another Purify Mist before closing her eyes to focus on earth magic. Solidity. Density. Support. Interdependence. A Maeryn who supported the people around her, and was supported by them in turn.

  The paradigm shift came exceptionally easy tonight. And Maeryn smiled as she returned her attention to the darkness just beyond the reach of their campfire, stoically watching for anything that would threaten her friends.