《Like Father, Like Cultish, Magical Dungeons》


 Opening Moves

    For the sake of her country, Freckle had to infiltrate the New Learning. Her father spent her childhood teaching her how.


    After so many years, she still had to dig her feet into the warm, coarse beach sand not to run to her disguised celebrity friend, Uncle Dalice, and the noontime shortness of the blue-spirited extra shadow he¡¯d been casting lately. She pressed her teeth into her tongue to avoid calling out either and looked around the beach. On her white shorts, she traced an O for herself and her friends, a line for obstacles and advantages, and an X for two guards securing the door to an old, beach side gala lounge and the hazing ritual that her father¡¯s not-so-benevolent rivals.


    Like a pawn hiding behind a bishop, she rounded the red-blue-violet crowds to rendezvous pre-infiltration with the others. She arrived, and Uncle Dalice was holding a rusted old nail in front of his tinted eyeglasses. Leaning in, she asked, ¡°Did you recruit anyone else?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He turned the nail over in his fingers. ¡°I see no indication that this is any newer than we¡¯d guessed. We¡¯re clear to sneak in after you.¡±


    Uncle Dalice tossed the nail through his shadows and into the spraying sea.


    His extra shadow rippled toward Freckle. ¡°Get going! We¡¯ll race you to the trapdoor, beat you there, and conquer this trial!¡±


    Freckle blinked. ¡°Are we ready for that?¡±


    The shadow snorted. ¡°Oh please, here comes our latest recruit already! She needs you inside to let us all in.¡±


    ¡°Our latest recruit?¡± Freckle surveyed the beach, and Uncle Dalice pointed out to her a winged woman with dragon horns.


    Freckle noted the blue-violet aura she wore and the bright red spot on her shoulder. Though she stared at the spotted aura (she¡¯d never seen such a thing before!), she bit her tongue and updated the positioning on her shorts with her own movement and one extra ally.


    She went to sacrifice herself, kicking up sand and dusting her shorts in a beach yellow. One guard wore a true violet aura (clearly, he was a fear type), and the other wore a reddish-purple one more difficult to interpret, except that he had some element of anger.


    Freckle looked more carefully at his aura as he glared at her from in front of the gala lounge door. In the eye area, it held the blackness she¡¯d long associated with hopelessness, but she gleaned nothing else about him.


    He glared at her, and she, a volunteer to be her father¡¯s pawn, would be taken any moment. In chess, it was the endgame that mattered, and the logic made it easier to bear the strategic vulnerability.


    ¡°Freckle Grand,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m registered for twelve thirty.¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The guards straightened and gawked. One angled himself as though trying to look down her shirt.


    ¡°She¡¯s wearing all white. Think we could push her into the water?¡±


    ¡°From here?¡±


    Sometimes, going for weak moves at the start could convince your opponent to make mistakes that cost them the game and altered your life forever. Freckle reached into her pocket and pulled out a clay tablet baked with the word shame. "Or maybe you could catch me after the Trial. I''d hate for you to get in trouble over leaving your posts for me. When do your shifts end?"


    ¡°Cover-¡±


    One guard put his hand over the other¡¯s and whispered something in his ear. As he pulled away, he frowned at Freckle. ¡°What are you giving up to undertake this trial?¡±


    "Check your records," she said. "My family has already sacrificed a good deal of money for me to be here."


    The guards softened their sneers as they checked the records to confirm that she was rich enough to gain respect from those who claimed to hate material wealth.


    After she entered alone into the grimy maze that the old building had been converted into, the door clicked shut behind her. It left the only sounds within the maze her pounding heart, some buzzing insects somewhere nearby, and a dripping sound that could have been connected to the foul stench in the air.


    Freckle used her fists to muffle her screams. No, she hadn¡¯t been taken by the enemy (and what a relief!), but why did her own morals put her into a position where she could have been? Why did they put her here, in what she understood to be a sometimes-deadly hazing ritual inside a dilapidated building?


    Yet, the same inner voice she''d listened to since she was a child begged her to stop throwing a tantrum and go be a hero. She hadn''t been taken, so she could adjust her strategy to move toward a square behind the enemy''s lines.


    Though Freckle looked up and around at the maze, tracing obstacle lines on her leg only got her so far as the hasty wood walls obscured most of the room. The floor wasn''t any better, as the grime and coloration made it difficult to discern where one tile ended and the next began, and it made her wonder how difficult it would be to find the emergency exit that Uncle Dalice told her about from antiquity.


    She turned her ear to guess the path from which the buzzing came, and though she and the insects remained the only life she could account for her on leg-map, a strangely angelic singing filtered through the door as though from the guards.


    Opting for a systemic approach to searching the maze, she hurried to search for the trapdoor to sneak her ineligible teammates inside.


    The grit on the floor crunched with every step, and as she peeked around her first corner, she saw an aura-less half-armor display turn its helmet toward her. "Fraud! Traitor-born! Defect! There is something seriously, incurably wrong with you. Show some respect for once in your life!"


    "Lies," she said, knowing that there was no living person to hear what she said to the armor. "My father is merely a rival to the gods in power. Just because the religion switches every few centuries does not make him a traitor or me a defect!"


    But she was a fraud, wasn''t she? Pretending to be fully human to qualify for the Trials. Pretending to be interested in converting to the New Learning to place herself as a spy.


    As the armor continued its tirade, Freckle clenched her fists and examined the floor. If there was one upside to finding a dead end, the floor was cleaner here, as though few bothered to track grime onto it after realizing they''d gone the wrong way. She could see with relative certain that this wasn''t where the trapdoor hid.


    Huffing, she returned to the first passage, wondering from how far away she could hear the others knocking if they reached the door before she did. It probably wouldn''t be as easy to hear over any further insults from the maze''s armor.

 Positioning

    Freckle explored the paths to the entrance¡¯s left first. She peered around each maze corner before she took it, and as she reached deeper into the gala hall, the Trial¡¯s stench grew, its buzzing faded, and dripping sounds replaced the buzzing. When she reached a dead end at what she thought must be the building¡¯s back, little bits of sun and rain pushed inside from the ceiling-holes above a puddle. She sloshed through the stagnant water to search for the trapdoor (not in that part of the halls), and in her continued search, both set off many more of the insulting armors and avoided a wasp¡¯s nest.


    Softly, a tapping came from the floor. Freckle followed it into a dead end and backtracked. In one of the damp, stinking corridors, she gave the armor a minute to quiet itself before she followed the tapping to its source.


    She bent and brushed away grime from the tile edges with a grimace. Wherever the trapdoor¡¯s seams were, it blended in perfectly with all the other tiles. ¡°Give me a moment. I need to figure out how to open this.¡±


    The tapping became a small thump that vibrated the floor. Yet, even the knock revealed nothing of the door¡¯s edges. ¡°What do you mean you need a moment?¡± asked Uncle Dalice¡¯s extra shadow. ¡°We can see what type of trapdoor it is from down here. It¡¯s not that hard!¡±


    ¡°Wow, Gullshower,¡± Uncle Dalice said, ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were psychic. We may know what the trapdoor looks like from beneath, but we don¡¯t know how well its handle held up.¡±


    Beneath the floor, the two argued with nastier words than any of the armors until Uncle Dalice hummed loud enough to almost muffle his shadow¡¯s rips instead.


    Freckle hit the tiles. ¡°Help me out here! I can¡¯t find the handle. Hit its underside for me?¡±


    A clang resounded from beneath her feet. ¡°Do you not see the great big metal door?¡±


    What a temper. Freckle frowned and stomped on the tiles. ¡°Of course not! It¡¯s all tile. Do you hear this? They must have laid the current flooring directly over the emergency exit. Now, how are we supposed to get you through?¡±


    A woman¡¯s voice that Freckle didn¡¯t recognize murmured something beneath the floor. An unfamiliar man¡¯s asked, ¡°What¡¯s up there with you?¡±


    Freckle blinked underfoot. ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Our latest recruit had a plus one,¡± Uncle Dalice said, ¡°so now we have two new recruits. I¡¯ll introduce everyone properly when we can see you face-to-face. Anyway, what is up there with you?¡±


    So far, Freckle had only encountered the grimy maze, the wasp¡¯s nest, and the magical armors. As she recounted this for the group, she slowly looked around to ensure that she wasn¡¯t missing anything. She updated her finger-traced map on her leg to include her ally¡¯s position beneath the sealed-off door as well.


    ¡°Wasps?¡± the latest recruit asked. ¡°Did you just say wasps?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t there be?¡± the shadow asked. ¡°The New Learning didn¡¯t exactly call me in for pest control, did they? Like they can¡¯t admit that any place can attract pests for me to kill!¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Hubby-¡±


    ¡°Wasps? Did you see how they got in? What else is up there, a wasp hole? There¡¯s a wasp-sized hole somewhere, isn¡¯t there?¡±


    Pursing her lips, Freckle placed her best estimate of where exactly the wasps and the ceiling holes were in relation to her with a gentle brush against her linen shorts. ¡°There¡¯s a nest, and there are small holes in the ceiling letting today¡¯s sunlight and last night¡¯s rainwater inside. Of course there¡¯s a puddle beneath. Is this important?¡±


    ¡°Wifey, fly me to the roof? I¡¯m getting through the ceiling!¡±


    ¡°Star-gazing on the roof tonight? I want to see what the planets have to say about our success.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely! Plan-adjusting routine: walk in a circle three times and announce the new plan. Star-gazing with Wifey! Star-gazing with Wifey! Star-gazing with-¡±


    ¡°Newlyweds! So illogical.¡± Uncle Dalice¡¯s humming escalated to loud la la las.


    Freckle frowned at the tiles. ¡°I¡¯m lost. What does this have to do with opening the trapdoor?¡±


    ¡°The husband is fey,¡± Uncle Dalice¡¯s shadow said. ¡°He shrinks to fit through pest holes. Be wary of what he can do to you. Don¡¯t let him turn you into a living shadow!¡±


    ¡°He can shrink?¡± Freckle asked, but she stood rather than listening for the shadow¡¯s reply closer to the muffling floor. ¡°Wait, you were turned into a shadow? What were you before? Human like everyone else?¡±


    If the new latest recruit could shrink, Freckle understood how he¡¯d be coming through the ceiling, and she moved to meet him. She retraced her steps through the maze, listening for the quiet drips to help her find her way back to the corridor with the holes in its ceiling.


    Around the time she was avoiding the wasp nest, there was a loud splash within the Trial, and one of the armors started shouting.


    ¡°Useless piece of chaos! An utterly unimportant failure at everything you do! Lazy! Stupid! Your abilities aren¡¯t worth the air you breathe!¡±


    She ran.


    Around the corner came a clanging.


    ¡°Ow, ow, ow! Why¡¯d you have to be made of iron, you piece of scrap?¡±


    Before she reached the dead end, a blue-auraed, wiry man (a sorrow type) with antler¡¯s like a young buck¡¯s, crashed into the wall ahead. Green eyes met hers as he got to his feet.


    From behind him, the armor, grasping the wall with one gauntlet, punched the fairy man in the back with its other. He fell onto the floor, shrank to a wasp¡¯s size, and closed his eyes.


    ¡°Hubby?¡± the winged woman called through the ceiling. ¡°Did you beat it?¡±


    Such faith in a man who Freckle saw getting beaten up by the armor that was now inching itself back toward its display. Clearly, he hadn¡¯t even needed to fight, and yet, here he was, forcing Freckle to have to rescue him anyway.


    She stepped toward him.


    As she did, the armor turned its helmet toward her. ¡°Criminal! Crook! Aiding and abetting a trespasser? This is how you prove that your religion is better than ours?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t beat it.¡± With a trembling hand, Freckle picked him up and checked on him. His eyelids twitched, and he groaned. ¡°I¡¯ve got him!¡±


    ¡°Is he okay?¡±


    The fairy rolled from Freckle¡¯s hand, and landed, human-sized, on the floor. ¡°Wifey, I¡¯m fine! I found that elite kid, and she¡¯s going to show me where the tile is for me to acid through!¡±


    Freckle clicked her tongue at the fairy. ¡°Elite kid?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have to be?¡± he asked quickly. ¡°To be let in the door? I thought the Trials were only open to humans whose parents are among the elite.¡±


    Of course Freckle trusted Uncle Dalice not to tell his recruits the most sensitive things about her, but how little did he tell them? ¡°I¡¯m twenty-two. I¡¯m not a child. Let¡¯s get this over with. The trapdoor¡¯s this way.¡±


    The fairy wobbled along behind her. ¡°You earned yourself enough in-store credit for a free potion! As soon as I¡¯m open for business, I¡¯ll tell you!¡±

 Back Row Strategy

    ¡°Here.¡± Freckle redrew her map on her knee as the fairy took a vial from his pocket.


    The fairy bent and poured acid onto the grout with enough precision that Freckle couldn¡¯t tell that it had done anything until he lifted the tile and revealed the trapdoor beneath. He blinked at it. ¡°It¡¯s iron. You¡¯d better get it.¡±


    Mentally, Freckle moved her pieces onto the board that was the maze as she opened the door. Up climbed Uncle Dalice''s shadow, and the winged lady, whose aura held no such spot in the color of her husband¡¯s aura, now that Freckle saw her up close.


    The shadow leaped from Uncle Dalice to Freckle and swirled around her. ¡°You¡¯re still human. Good.¡±


    Freckle curled her lips at him. ¡°Uncle Dalice, are you going to introduce all these assumptive, ill-cooperative teammates now?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about me!¡± The shadow leaped from Freckle to the fairy.


    Uncle Dalice climbed from a rusted metal ladder that lead into a dusty corridor below.


    Freckle frowned at the footprints he left, even mixed with the floor''s grime. ¡°We¡¯re going to get caught, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    The fairy reached for his pocket. ¡°I have a hand broom! It¡¯s a standard part of my dungeon-delving kit.¡±


    As the shadow grumbled, Uncle Dalice cleared his throat. ¡°Yes, yes. Introductions.¡±


    ¡°Everyone, this is Freckle Grand. She¡¯s a Seer who gives us a special advantage in facing the Trials.¡±


    Freckle put on her best chess face and remained silent. Strictly speaking, yes, she was a Seer, as by definition, a See-er was simply one who sees, but her abilities were more about being the daughter of a god who had to categorize everything, even emotions, into logical categories.


    When everyone glanced at her, she nodded politely.


    Uncle Dalice gestured to the shadow next. ¡°Gullshower Stripes. He¡¯s a pest control guy who got turned into a shadow by the fey.¡±


    Beside her, Freckle noticed the fairy backing away from the shadow. It seemed those two as chess pieces wouldn¡¯t make a willing combination in cornering an enemy king.


    The winged woman was ¡°Lifeblood Foci,¡± a distant descendant of the dragons overthrown as upper class by the New Learning. Uncle Dalice snickered a bit before introducing her husband.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°And this is her husband, who happens to be my realtor, Sap Foci.¡±


    ¡°You''r a realtor?¡± Freckle stared at Sap, who stopped and peered around a corner, not seeming to listen. ¡°I thought you were opening some business related to potions?¡±


    Sap sniffed. ¡°Do you smell honey? Oh! And I¡¯m not a realtor anymore. I¡¯m a potion vendor! You¡¯ll get the potion I owe you.¡±


    When Freckle sniffed, she smelt the faintly-sweet scent of honey too. ¡°Does that mean something?¡± she asked, readying a finger to trace a fresh board. ¡°Does the maze have bees too, do you think?¡±


    ¡°Fairies like honey,¡± Gullshower said, slipping ahead of Sap. ¡°They¡¯re right little pests who curse pairs of brothers for taking a job for a beekeeper!¡±


    Sap blinked. ¡°But it¡¯s honey! It¡¯s got to mean something good. Lunch? I¡¯m hungry.¡±


    Taking him by the arm, Lifeblood said, ¡°Sap, focus.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s honey!¡± He took her hand and lead her forward.


    As he explored, Freckle raised a brow at Uncle Dalice. ¡°What¡¯s the strategy?¡±


    ¡°I told you honey means something good!" Sap called. "There¡¯s a door here. We¡¯re looking for a door, right?¡±


    Sighing, Freckle followed the sound of his voice. ¡°This hazing ritual is supposed to be a retrieval mission. Somewhere, they¡¯ve hidden a cache of baked clay passes to the rest of their Trials, and I¡¯m supposed to take one.¡±


    As she rounded a corner, she came to a wooden step with a splintering door atop it.


    The door grew a mouth. ¡°Hazing ritual? No, we¡¯re an entrance exam to keep you honest. If you wish to move forward, you must confess the truth!¡±


    Much like the armors, the door had no real feelings to create a readable aura for Freckle. It was almost as though the New Learning meant to make it more difficult for the demigod children of Freckle¡¯s father to bypass the Trials, and considering how long the gods behind them had been feuding with her father, perhaps that was indeed why no living being with a heart more complex than a wasp¡¯s waited for Freckle inside this Trial.


    Crunching footsteps announced that Uncle Dalice had joined the rest of them at the door, and Freckle looked toward him and Gullshower. ¡°You¡¯re certain I have an advantage in the Trials over anyone else my father could send you?¡±


    ¡°Through your work outside the Trials. Don¡¯t forget, you¡¯re still dealing with people.¡± Uncle Dalice rested his hand on the doorknob, snickering. ¡°And speaking of people, he believes the past actions of a place stick around. Of course he¡¯d make this place the trial Trial and stick your goal up on the stage!¡±


    Sap pulled a splinter from the door. ¡°Oooh! Do you think so? Is that going to make the potions I can brew from the talking door extra powerful?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m getting creepy vibes from this place!¡± With a grin, Lifeblood swooned against her husband. ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s potions for the enemies?¡±


    Gullshower stretched himself thin across the wall to point at Sap. ¡°You¡¯re a fairy! Don¡¯t pretend you don¡¯t know how magic works!¡±


    Alright, so the two pieces wouldn¡¯t willingly corner any kings in a combo, but were they at least two pieces of the same color? Freckle stepped toward the both of them. ¡°Are you two here to fight, or are you here to infiltrate?¡±


    Gullshower crossed his arms. ¡°I¡¯m here looking at the traps! If there¡¯s any object powerful enough to turn me and my brother back to normal, it will be part of a magical dungeon trap set by the elite.¡±


    Lifeshower checked a compact mirror and applied silver-winged eye shadow to her face. ¡°I¡¯m here to put myself in not-quite-dangerous situations and live out my fantasies of being rescued by my hubby!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to fight monsters for potion parts!¡± Sap plucked another splinter.


    Uncle Dalice rattled the doorknob.


    ¡°We¡¯re not here to be your cure, amusement, or supplier, and we are not your enemy. Confess the truth, or get out!¡± The door gathered its remaining splinters into teeth and bit Uncle Dalice.


    He stepped down with a hiss.

 Mind Games

    Uncle Dalice removed his oversized sunglasses, revealing the empty eye sockets and glowing eye lights underneath. If there were any consciousness to the door, she knew it would react to them, a display of his undead nature.


    ¡°Confess the truth!¡±


    Freckle clenched her fists. By the door¡¯s commands, she knew the door meant that they had to recite the New Learning¡¯s dogma at it. What she hadn¡¯t worked out was what safeguards it had against insincere confessions: was this door blocking them, or was it off to the diagonal, ready to be taken?


    ¡°Confess the truth! How¡¯s that supposed to keep us out?¡± Gullshower slipped toward the paper-thin crack beneath the door, but the door splintered itself to cover the gap and thus stopped Gullshower.


    Freckle stepped toward the door, flexing her fists. ¡°The only way through is to confess.¡±


    ¡°Confess?¡± Lifeblood asked, peering at Uncle Dalice¡¯s sockets. ¡°You mean like our secrets? Like the door is our own personal diary now? That¡¯s why he¡¯s up there, isn¡¯t it? To confess to the door that he¡¯s undead.¡±


    Shaking her head, Freckle stepped toward the door. ¡°I¡¯m the one technically registered to be here. I should handle this.¡±


    ¡°Confess!¡±


    Freckle stopped in front of the door and dug her fingernails into her palms. ¡°I confess I¡¯m a t-terrible¡­.¡±


    She was a terrible person who¡¯d trained for this all her life and still couldn¡¯t handle infiltrating the cult when the time came. She was a terrible fraud who led her father on about how ready she was to confront the Trials because she didn¡¯t want to be a bad daughter. Terrible. A terrible example of pretending to be something she wasn¡¯t, believe something she didn¡¯t, in order to infiltrate the evil religion of the time, rather than leading a new religious order as herself to begin with.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Freckle punched the door, and her fist came away with a splinter. Wailing, she plopped down in front of it. ¡°They¡¯re just words that I¡¯ve always been responsible to speak! I should be able to say them!¡±


    Gullshower attached to her shadow. ¡°What¡¯s this? You¡¯re letting a door walk all over you? Stand up straight and tell it to let you through! Tell it you¡¯re exactly what the New Learning needs, and you¡¯ll punch it again if it doesn¡¯t give you the respect you deserve and open up!¡±


    Freckle shook her head again. ¡°It won¡¯t open for just any confession. It¡¯s¡­. They¡¯ve gotten smart. One good way to win a chess match is if you can psych your opponent into making mistakes, so they¡¯ve made the door to respond only to some sincerity in reciting their self-loathing dogma.¡±


    She didn¡¯t know if it responded to sincerity, but if the New Learning set all this up, why wouldn¡¯t the door be listening for sincerity?


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make it a choice between-¡±


    ¡°Oh! It wants a sincere confession?¡± Lifeblood bent down. ¡°I love acting! What does it want me to say?¡±


    Gullshower shaped his shadow to let light bleed through where his eyes would be, and then he narrowed his eyes at Lifeblood. ¡°Why do you want to let a badly sanded door walk all over you?¡±


    Sap searched through his utility belt. ¡°He¡¯s right. Maybe we don¡¯t have to let the door make demands. If I have more acid somewhere, I¡¯ll-¡±


    ¡°I thought we weren¡¯t leaving a trace, Hubby?¡± Lifeblood leaned against Freckle, giggling. ¡°I¡¯ll let the door recruit me into its cult, and then you use those amazing creations of yours to free me on the other side!¡±


    Uncle Dalice cleared his throat and rapped on the door. ¡°I confess that I¡¯m the useless idiot who stood by and watched as my girlfriend¡¯s soul got eaten with the rest of the band¡¯s. Yet, I am here to prevent my further slide into hell.¡±


    Freckle gasped as Uncle Dalice¡¯s life story opened the door and confirmed that she¡¯d be committing further fraud to infiltrate the New Learning.

 Securing the Center

    Gullshower and Sap raced up the stairs that waited through the open door with shouts of ¡°Me first!¡± and ¡°Honey!¡± Still sniffling, Freckle got to her feet and entered just ahead of Lifeblood as Uncle Dalice ushered her up the steps.


    When she reached the top, she stepped onto an old stage where old stars on the floor sat beneath newer paint that listed identities of shame: the corrupt, the unlovable, the nobody, the forgettable, the useless, the traitor, the bore, the weak, and the outcast. Already, Gullshower was scrunching across the floor and Sap was climbing onto a human-sized vat in the far corner.


    Uncle Dalice left her eyeing the corrupt star as he stood himself on the useless one and took a fox pelt from beneath his jacket. He set his over-sized sunglasses on his face and stroked the soft-looking fur.


    ¡°Sap, don¡¯t eat that! Who knows where it¡¯s been?¡± Lifeblood hurried toward the vat.


    ¡°But it¡¯s honey!¡±


    ¡°You, your illusion reality games, and your sweets!¡±


    Freckle watched Lifeblood fill up a vial with honey and encourage Sap to test what was in it, and she wondered if they would have been any more open to rebuilding her native religion over infiltrating its rival than everyone¡¯s grudge-holding Uncle Dalice.


    She stepped toward them.


    ¡°What is in the honey? I don¡¯t see where else they¡¯d keep the passes but in the vat, and I¡¯d like to know what else is in there before I search for one.¡±


    Lifeblood blinked. ¡°Feathers. Maybe some mold. Sap, don¡¯t eat it!¡±


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Gullshower stretched thin on the vat. ¡°Don¡¯t do it! Regardless of what else is in there, you get covered in honey, and you get covered in feathers and wasps too! You shouldn¡¯t be putting up with this.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re in pest control. Can¡¯t you deal with the wasps?¡±


    Gullshower grinned. ¡°Oh, I can. Expect the New Learning to take it out on you after you choke! The wood here¡¯s flammable. We can smoke the wasps out.¡±


    ¡°Smokey honey. Hmm¡­.¡± Sap licked his finger. ¡°I don¡¯t taste anything off. I¡¯m telling all the fairies this is in here!¡±


    Freckle reached for the top of the vat. ¡°I¡¯m okay with feathers. I knew this was a humiliation ritual when I signed up.¡±


    As she hauled herself onto the lip, she smelled mold. Wrinkling her nose, she looked around for where the smell was coming from.


    Nearby were some old curtains separating the stage from whichever wooden walls framed the maze on the other side. Black, and she doubted black was the gala¡¯s original color.


    Instead of on her shorts, she traced her map inside the metal honey vat. Piece, piece, piece, piece, piece, hazard, hazard. The thick honey she dove into made a clear trap when combined with the wasps, but how many matches could be won without sacrifice?


    She felt the bottom for the baked clay tablets that would grant her passage into the three full Trials to join the New Learning, and she checked with her thumb that all three breakable sections remained: Struggle. Group. Wealth.


    When she surfaced, corpse-cold hands lifted her out. Warm hands joined Uncle Dalice¡¯s.


    She wiped honey from her eyes and spotted Gullshower inspecting the curtains¡¯ slimy bottoms. ¡°We got it. It¡¯s time to move.¡±


    ¡°Move?¡± Gullshower asked. ¡°You stay put. If everyone¡¯s so worried about being caught, we¡¯re cleaning up first, and then we¡¯re dealing with the wasps. You can move when we¡¯re gone. I can¡¯t believe you let yourself agree to go through all this.¡±


    He had expressed concern, hadn¡¯t he? Of putting her through this. If it were up to him, would he have agreed? Or would he have been truer and taken the route of rebuilding her father¡¯s worship base first?


    She smiled. ¡°Later, you should teach me what you¡¯ve learned from exterminating pests.¡±