Dungeons and Diapers
Chapter 8

Meant to post this before Chapter 9, got things out of order!

“No way,” Sandra said, blinking away the shock. “A school?” 

“Believe it,” Hadrian replied, sitting on a rock past the end of the bridge. They’d had to carry him here, given that the latex bodysuit and high heeled boots were making it hard for him to walk. “It all fits. I’m sure if I sit down and start going through the documents I have on hand, it’ll just prove my theory.” 

“Wait, I don’t follow,” Tarja said. She was sitting down next to him, watching the caravan move past. “He’s going to start teaching magic?” 

“That’s not what a school is,” Hadrian said. “Magic is arranged into… shall we say, types, called ‘Schools’. There are eight of them.” 

“Like, Divine, Arcane, that sort of thing?” 

“I mean… no. The Schools are more broad than that, and they define the type of magic being cast. You’ve got Illusion for spells that create… uh, illusions, for example. Nearly every spell in existence falls into a school - I can count the universal spells I know of on one hand, and the ones I can cast with just my thumbs.” 

Quinn frowned. “Something I never really understood - Does magic come from schools, or do we come up with spells, then decide a school later?” 

“It’s complicated,” Hadrian said. “It’s kind of both. Magic is influenced by human perception. Wizards specialize in schools, because that’s how our understanding of magic is shaped. If the Wizard of Paraphilia manages to make a new school, from scratch, it would fundamentally, permanently change the way that we use magic.” 

“It’d be a sort of immortality,” Sandra realized, explaining it out loud as she got it. “Kingdoms, legends, they all rise and fall, but magic schools don’t go away. Damnation, they transcend planes. His work would be permanent. He’d never be forgotten, not in an eternity.” 

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Quinn said. 

“Think again,” Hadrian said. “Magic and human nature affect each other. Now, think about the kind of magic he’s creating - It’s powerful, making it attractive to anyone looking for easy strength, and it’s cruel. Do you want to live in a plane where the strongest people, those with the greatest authority, got there through sexual torture and malice?” 

Quinn thought about that, then nodded. “Point taken.” 

“So, how do we stop him?” Tarja asked. 

“We find someone who’s got a vested interest in preventing that, and we make them help us. There’s a Temple of Calistria in the place we’re going, right?” 

“I think,” Sandra said. “Most big cities have one.” 

Hadrian looked down at the latex boots that were sealed around his feet. He swallowed, nervously. “Well then, we just need to get to the city. For now, I’ll just have to… ride a horse, or something. We can afford a horse, right?” 

…

“Oh gods my feet hurt,” Hadrian moaned, as they walked in through the city gates. 

“You’re complaining,” Quinn grunted, hefting the heavy burden on his back. “I’m carrying a couple hundred pounds of cursed crib and you’re complaining.” 

They’d parted ways with the caravan upon arriving at the city, and since the adventurer was a guild problem, they had taken him with them. Since they lacked horses and carts, though, it meant Quinn was carrying the adventurer until they found a place to leave him. 

“I didn’t know that my calves could ache this badly,” Hadrian whined. “And everything’s hot, and tight, and- Ugh.” 

“We’re all tired. It’s been a long day of marching, after an even longer day with the Wizard.” Sandra shook her head. “Even Tarja’s flagging a bit, and I’ve seen more feats of endurance from her than from anyone else in the party.” 

“I’m not,” Tarja protested, but her deflection was undermined by the way she stumbled as she walked. Everyone needed sleep, a proper meal, and a day or two to relax. 

“Let’s get to the temple, and then we can rest.” Sandra didn’t need to ask directions - she could make out several temple spires in the city, and only one was painted with stripes of black and yellow. 

They turned some heads as they walked. Quinn in his busty dress and hauling a massive crib obviously drew eyes first, but Hadrian’s latex costume and strut walk got more than its fair share of glances. It probably even helped hide the diaper poking out from above Sandra’s waistband, though she felt guilty at having her own embarrassment shielded by her friends’ humiliations. 

By the time they made it to the temple, the sun was low on the horizon, casting the sky in a crimson red glow. 

This Temple of Calistria didn’t resemble any church Sandra remembered visiting. It was church-ish in the exterior, but the interior resembled… something else. 

There was a central stage for sacred leaders to do their work, but it was long and narrow, extending from the back of the temple to the front, with many branches coming off it. The intent seemed to be that clergy could walk out amongst those coming for a service, without being on the floor and mingling with them. Each branch was surrounded by chairs and small tables, and trays for offerings were set out so that anyone who wished could contribute and support the temple. 

Oh, and there were stripper poles set up, with half-naked dancers performing on each one. All had a rapt audience, leaving coins in the offering trays in exchange for special attention from the performers. 

It was… mesmerizing. Sandra had to stop and stare at first when she walked in, until Quinn grunted in protest. 

“This isn’t feathers that I’m carrying,” he commented. 

“Right,” Sandra said, walking in and looking around for a member of the clergy who wasn’t occupied. The closest she saw was a stocky, limber gnome in the corner, whose bit of the stage wasn’t being visited by any of the patrons. 

“This way,” she said, shuffling towards the open seating.

The Gnome, dressed only in strips of carefully folded silk, was built from well toned muscle, and had evidently exercised in particular to tone her butt and build up her chest. She was stacked, her body deliberately sculpted so that it seemed that half her body weight could be found just in her ass, thighs, and breasts. It wasn’t Sandra’s thing, but Hadrian was sitting forward a little as Quinn set down the crib next to the wall and the whole party gathered around.

“How can I help you, dears,” the gnome asked, displaying remarkable flexibility as she raised one leg onto the pole. “Just come to flaunt your proclivities for the world to see?” 

“You don’t need to dance,” Sandra said, quickly, absently tugging up on her trousers as though it could hide her diaper. “We’re just here to talk.” 

“Not everything is about needs,” she pointed out. “Serendipity.” 

“Hmm?”

“That’s what you can call me,” Serendipity explained, spinning slowly around the pole. “The show is free, but if you want anything else, make a donation to the gods.” 

Sandra frowned, digging in her pouch for a few coins and dropping them in the collection tray. 

In response, Serendipity lifted herself up, spreading her legs wide. It was wildly impressive, and Hadrian sat forward even more, watching with clear interest.

“Hadrian,” Sandra snapped. “We’re here on business.”

“You’re here on business,” Hadrian shot back. “I’m along for the ride.”

Sandra glanced at the rest of her party. Quinn was nervously sitting in his chair, a little concerned that the delicate wood might break if he sank into it too much. Tarja was just blushing and staring at the ceiling. I guess it is just me. “We have someone who needs to be given to the church’s care. A member of the adventurer’s guild, who’s been subjected to some intense sexual torture and curses. We don’t have the means to undo what’s been done to him, and he can’t protect himself. He’s currently bound in a crib, unable to get out, and anyone who tries to free him is inflicted with curses as well.” 

“Curses,” Serendipity said. “Is that your excuse for wearing your identities so openly?” 

“They’re not our-” Sandra frowned. “Yes, we’ve all been cursed. Some of us worse than others.” 

“Indeed,” Serendipity confirmed, glancing over the party. She seemed especially interested in the contrast between Hadrian and Tarja. “Some of you much worse than others. If your wizard wishes to come serve with us, I think his current attire would make him fit very well on stage.” 

Directing the conversation back towards work, Sandra asked, “Can you help him?” 

Looking Hadrian in the eyes, Serendipity said, “Maybe this evening, if he comes to my room and makes a large donat-”

“Can you help him,” Sandra interrupted, gesturing emphatically at the crib. 

“Oh, yes.” The gnome was hanging upside down on the pole, held up with her legs, the strips of silk that covered her nipples seeming like they could fall off at any moment, but just barely hanging on. Sandra suspected magic, but found no trace on the gnome’s clothing that would keep the silk where it was supposed to be. “Leave him with us, we’ll see what we can do. The guild may be charged for the supplies we need.”

“Understood. He’s a brother, through and through,” Sandra said. If a guild master gave her shit for making the commitment without consulting them, she’d deal with it. “We’ve also got some other information, information that the church needs to be aware of.” 

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow and smirked, an expression that looked strange as she spun gracefully around the metal pole. “I think we can decide what we need, but if it’s necessary I’ll pass it along.” 

“We know what the Wizard of Paraphilia is planning,” Sandra said. “We fought him, we got away with it, and we know what’s going to happen next.”

For the first time since they’d started speaking, Serendipity hesitated. It wasn’t a dramatic falter, she didn’t fall off the pole or completely lose character, but they had her attention. Spinning to a stop, she got to her feet. “Are you certain?” 

“Hadrian,” Sandra said. “Stop drooling, and tell her what you told us.”

“No,” Serendipity said, quickly. “Not here. It’s not the time, nor the place, for these sorts of talks. Come back in the morning. Our high priest will be available then.”

“Where is he now?” Sandra asked. “It’s urgent.” 

Serendipity frowned, “He’s… busy.” 

As if on cue, an elf walked in from back stage, wearing nothing save for carefully arranged gemstones which had been adhered to his body, creating glimmering lines that ran along his tight, toned body, a pattern that aimed down towards his totally exposed-

“Um-” Sandra said, face feeling flush and hot. “We’ll return in the morning.” 

“You’re welcome to stay awhile,” Serendipity proposed. “We’ve got rooms.”

“We do need lodging,” Quinn pointed out.” 

“Not those sorts of rooms,” Tarja explained, quietly. 

“Uh…” Quinn frowned. “Oh. OH.” 

“Let’s go,” Sandra said, pushing to her feet. “There’s a guild inn somewhere in town, and we don’t have the gold to spare here anyways. Serendipity, do you need anything else from us?” 

“Can the adventurer be fed and washed?” 

“Fed, yes,” Sandra confirmed. “Washed… Well, some of his clothes seem to self clean occasionally, but that’s as much as we’ve figured out. Honestly, none of us are curse experts, and we had to be careful not to be bound ourselves.”

“Leave him here, then, and we’ll do what we can.” Eyeing Hadrian, Serendipity added, “I’ll watch for you to come back.” 

Sandra rolled her eyes, grabbed Hadrian by his latex-covered arm, and led her party out of the ‘temple’. It was only a short walk to the inn alley, and from there Sandra just had to spot the guild symbol on one of the tavern signs and walk right in. 

“A table,” Tarja said tiredly, as they walked in.

“A chair,” Hadrian piped in, bemoaning his aching feet.

“Some dinner,” Quinn added, rubbing his belly hungrily. 

Sandra smiled. Her party could use a reward. “And a round of ale!” 

Cheers, as they found a place to sit. Sandra went up to handle the orders and the payments, taking a spot near the end of the bar, so the protruding waistband of her diaper wouldn’t stick out too much. 

“How can I help you, dear?” a busty barmaid said, leaning forward over the counter. She had to be in her late 40s, but she still had a solid body and she was happy to flaunt it. 

Oh, to be that confident when I’m older. “I need a round of whatever you’ve got for supper, a round of ale, four rooms, and a chat with the local guildmaster,” Sandra said. 

“We’ve got roast mutton, mead, two double rooms, and you’re speaking to her,” the matron replied. 

Sandra blinked. Guildmasters were experienced warriors, but she didn’t get a dangerous vibe from this woman. That was… scarier than if she’d been rippling with muscle. Standing a little straighter, she said, “As long as there’s beds for four, we’ll make it work. I’ve got some reporting to do on questing activities.”

The guildmaster nodded. “Want me to take the tab out of your bounties, hun?” 

Sandra shook her head. “No bounties. We recovered a captive guild member from a wizard who’d been keeping him captive, but he’s pretty bound up with curses so I put him in the care of the local Calistrian temple. I don’t think the rescue bounty for him was large, but put it towards any fees they accrue in his care. If it costs any extra, you settle that with me.” 

Leaning back, the bar’s matron spoke under her breath. “D’arvit.” 

Pausing, Sandra said, “I… don’t know that oath, but if it’s a problem-”

“No. Leon D’arvit,” she supplied. “He is- was, I suppose- a regular here. Mostly handled small quests. The kind that couldn’t pay, but helped out the locals. You found him?” 

“I… don’t think I know his name,” Sandra said. “And it’d be hard to identify him, after everything that was done, but… maybe?” 

“He’s got blue eyes, with flecks of grey,” the guildmaster supplied. “Even if he was scarred, or injured, you can’t mistake them.”

Sandra nodded her head a little, remembering what he looked like. “I think that’s him.”

“Your rooms are covered. Dinner, too.”

“I said to put the bounty towards-”

“This isn’t a bounty, it’s a thank you. D’arvit is a friend.” 

The corners of her mouth turned up in an appreciative smile, but Sandra just moved on. “On that note, let me fill you in on what’s been going on with his captor.” 

Ten minutes later, she was back at their table, carrying four frothing tankards of the bar’s finest mead. “Only two rooms, so we’ll have to share.”

“I’ll share with Tarja,” Quinn said, pausing to add, “If that’s alright with…”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tarja confirmed. 

“You and me together, then,” Hadrian said. “I guess the smell won’t bother each other as much.”

At the comment, Sandra sniffed, and turned pink. When did I- Oh. Wait. “That’s you?” 

“This sucks,” Hadrian grimaced. “And I thought the pacifier was bad.” 

Sandra had to nod in agreement. “You’ll get used to it.” 

“Oh yeah? How long will that take?” 

“I’ll let you know when I do.” 

That got some chuckles, at least. By the time food arrived, delivered with an extra helping of potatoes on the side, Hadrian’s diaper had at least self-cleaned, and the mead made it easy to ignore any looks being cast their way. 

They ate, they drank, they were merry. 

Given the events of the past days, nobody had the energy to stay up into the wee hours, but they weren’t eager to go to bed, either. Sandra ultimately put her foot down after three rounds of mead, and then again, two more rounds later.

“We need sleep,” she said. “We’ve got appointments tomorrow, and we need to find some proper, paying work.” 

That got groans, but compliant ones. The party shuffled upstairs to the available rooms, and Sandra paused, while they were upstairs. Maybe it was the late hour, maybe the alcohol, but she was feeling sentimental. As Quinn opened the door, but before they could all split up and sleep, she spoke.

“Before you turn in, there’s something I want to say.” She got three sets of eyes on her and cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

Nobody was quite sure what she meant, and Tarja made the confusion explicit. “For?”

“For… you know. Following me,” Sandra said. “Trusting me. It’s my fault that we got into this mess, but I’m doing what I can to fix it, and… It wouldn’t have taken much effort to abandon me after that first encounter went wrong. You’re all talented fighters… Well, a talented barbarian, wizard, and ranger. You could have found other parties. But you stuck with me.”

She wiped at her eyes, which were wet for some reason. Okay, I’ve definitely had too much to drink. I’m getting sappy. 

“Sandra,” Hadrian said. “You’ve saved all our lives, a few times over. There wouldn’t be enough of us to fill a shoebox if you hadn’t been there.” 

“You know who wanted to take me as a level one ranger?” Tarja asked. “You say anyone would take us, but you did take us. And you made us into a good team.” 

“I… thanks,” Sandra said. “Thank you. Get some sleep, and let’s pretend I wasn’t all sappy once we’re sober?” 

Quinn smiled. “Based on what we’ve gone through, it’s fair to say that no matter what happens, what the Wizard pulls next, I know we can count on you. Good night, Sandra!”

She smiled proudly as they went into their room, leaving her and Hadrian to retire to their own space. 

“You mind if I do some research for a while before I sleep?” Hadrian asked, lighting a candle almost immediately once they were inside.

“Not at all,” Sandra said. “I’m a deep sleeper.” 

“Oh?” Hadrian paused. “You know, I never asked about this, but I thought elves didn’t sleep.” 

Sandra shrugged. “Some of us do.” 

“Well, I’ll try to be quiet, anyways.” 

Sandra nodded, pulling off her shoes and setting aside her various weapons and gear before climbing into bed.

It had been a long day, and she enjoyed an equally long, deserved sleep.

…

Sandra awoke a little after dawn, but she didn’t get out of bed right away. She stayed under the covers, relaxing with her eyes closed, until her diaper self-cleaned and she couldn’t make any more excuses not to get up. 

Crawling out of bed, she stretched and yawned. Hadrian was snoring away, his latex bodysuit squeaking slightly as he tossed and turned, and she let him rest. They didn’t have anywhere urgently to be. If he wasn’t awake in an hour, she’d start to rouse him, but for now there were no worries. 

Pulling on her boots, belt, and her less overt gear, Sandra decided to go check and see if the others were awake yet. Stepping softly, so her footfalls wouldn’t wake Hadrian, she crept out of their room and tiptoed to Quinn and Tarja’s room, raising her hand to knock quietly…

“... improvement?” Quinn was asking something. 

Sandra trusted her party with ler life, but she was still naturally curious. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened. 

“I think it’s worse. I don’t know.” Tarja sounded… not scared, but definitely uncomfortable with something. “My balance is worse. It’s… it’s getting hard to stand.” 

“We should tell Sandra.” 

“You heard her last night. She’s already so hard on herself, and that’s without knowing about my personal troubles. Why should we put more weight on her shoulders?” 

“Because you need help.”

“Not yet. Maybe there’s a workaround. We don’t know what the stars do.” 

Swallowing, Sandra took a few steps back, quietly opened the door to her room, and then slammed it shut. 

Stomping loudly, she walked over to Quinn and Tarja’s room, before banging a hand a couple times on the door. “Quinn! Tarja! Are you awake?” 

If they didn’t want to talk to her, she wouldn’t force it. 

Quinn responded a second later, yawning loudly. “Just… waking up!” 

He was a bad actor, and the yawn sounded fake. Or maybe I’ve just got an advantage on knowing that he’s lying, Sandra thought. “I’m going to go get some breakfast. Do you want me to bring you something, or will you come down?” 

A couple seconds passed. Tarja finally called back, “We’ll be down.”

“Alright,” Sandra said. 

She was sorely tempted to continue eavesdropping, but they deserved their privacy. If Tarja didn’t want to explain what was happening to her, and it wasn’t hurting the rest of the party, Sandra wouldn’t push. 

For now. 

Half jogging down the steps, Sandra found what was being served for breakfast - smoked fish by the pound and bread by the loaf, apparently - and got enough to feed five average hungry people, or three hungry people and one hungry Quinn. 

Waiting at the counter, her ears perked up. 

“... isn’t that the elf who says she got beat by the Wizard of-”

“Yeah, I can see her diaper.”

“But I heard she was with some other-” 

Sandra glanced around, trying to identify who it was that had started whispering about her. 

She didn’t notice anyone straight away. A few people seemed to hurriedly make it obvious that they weren’t paying attention to her, though, which was a dead giveaway. 

Except… not all who looked away were at the same table.

Sandra raised an eyebrow. The adventurers guild wasn’t a rumor mill. People shared stories, sure, but ‘sharing stories’ didn’t mean ‘hearing news from different cities and spreading it around’ unless it was something particularly legendary, like a mighty hero slaying a dragon, or at least something comparably newsworthy. 

Her party was good at what they did, but they were small time. The guild grapevine wouldn’t be sharing that much stuff about her. 

It couldn’t just be bar chatter, either, because the crowd wasn’t uniformly the same with who had been there the night before, and they hadn’t really talked about the Wizard. She’d mentioned a wizard, but not the wizard, and that was a pretty huge distinction. 

So how… 

It took her a second to realize her blind spot. The guild wasn’t a rumor mill, but she hadn’t just stopped at a guild bar. First, she’d stopped at the temple of Calistria. That was a rumor mill. 

“Damn,” she muttered to herself, keeping her head low and tugging down at the waist of her shirt while she waited for the others to join her. 

When Quinn and Tarja inevitably did join her, she just offered a whispered warning. “Some of our… misadventures might be public knowledge around here,” she explained in a low tone. “Sorry.”

“Bound to happen,” Tarja replied, wobbling a little as she got up on her stool. 

Am I imagining that? Sandra thought. Or is she actually having trouble? Was she like this yesterday and I was just too distracted to notice?

“How are you both holding up?” she asked, as they spread jam onto the bread and ate. It was a simple meal, but a satisfying one. 

“Hungover,” Quinn said, gesturing down to his chest. “And I’m not still used to sleeping on my back, but fine besides that. I haven’t really been hit hard.” 

“Okay,” Sandra said, looking to their ranger. “How about you?”  

“Oh, well,” Tarja shrugged. “It’s… I am adjusting. It... doesn’t really alter how I can fight.” 

All right then, Sandra thought. Keep your secrets. 

It bothered her, but pushing the issue did no good. She finished up her meal, wrapped up food for Hadrian in waxed paper, and dismissed herself. “If you have anything to pack up, I’d do that now. Be ready to go in half an hour?” 

They all agreed, and Sandra went to get Hadrian. He was in the middle of meditating and preparing his spells, so she let him be, going about her own morning preparations. While he got finished up, she mapped out her plan for the day in her head. 

Go to the temple, explain what they knew about the Wizard, and then… check in with the guildmaster for quests. 

Not much of a plan, but it was better than nothing. 

The party saddled up, eventually. Sandra didn’t light a fire under anyone’s backside, letting everyone take their time and dilly dally, though eventually - even conceding that speed wasn’t important - she started to get antsy and rushed everyone out the door. 

The morning market stands were reaching the end of their busy period as the party walked up the street. All the best, freshest fruits and vegetables had been picked over, and soon they’d all be either packing up and going home, or resupplying for the late afternoon customers. 

The temple, by contrast, looked like a bawdy townhouse the night after a party. Priests were mopping up where vomit or booze had been spilled, and there were more than a couple hungover… ‘worshipers’... who were sleeping it off in the corners, where light couldn’t get to them. 

Sandra didn’t need to look around for the high priest. Though he was now wearing clothing; a formfitting yellow-black leather something that highlighted his supple, toned form, somehow drawing the eyes up to his face, his hair that indicated he took care of himself without being fussy, the way he moved so gracefully even when…

Shaking her head, Sandra blinked a few times, fighting off the feelings of warmth between her legs that had nothing to do with the state of her diaper. Fucking hell, I haven’t- 

She shook her head again. What was I thinking about?

“I’m going to go talk to the priest,” she announced, as much to remind herself of her objective as to inform her party. “Hadrian, I need you with me to explain the magic. Tarja and Quinn, you’re welcome to hang back… maybe speak to another priest, if you wanted to. For any reason.” 

It wasn’t her best moment of subtlety, and she spotted the glance that the two of them shared, but nobody commented on it.

“Uh, I might ask about how D’arvit is doing,” Quinn said, shrugging. 

While the two of them walked off… Okay, is Tarja stumbling or am I imagining that?... Sandra walked up to the high priest, bowing slightly. 

“We don’t bow, here,” the priest said, immediately. 

“Oh,” Sandra said, feeling sheepish and even a little shy. Dammit, I’m not a schoolgirl. He’s just a priest. “Apologies, I forget that some temples don’t hold to the same sorts of overt rituals and displays. Greeting aside, I’m Sandra, and this is Hadrian.” 

“You mistake, rogue,” the high priest said, his eyes dancing with mirth as he stepped forward. “We hold to customs, ours are simply more appropriate to the goddess we serve.” 

He reached out, his fingers gently wrapping around the back of Sandra’s head as he pulled her into a deep, sensuous kiss. The sort of kiss that songs were told of, the kiss of two lovers meeting after separation by war, or from the passion of newlyweds. He drank her in and gave as much of himself, and Sandra couldn’t help but sink into the surprising embrace. 

Separating, he whispered in a sultry tone, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sandra. I am Gwyndomere, a high priest of Calistria.”

She spluttered for a moment, reeling from the passion, and Gwyndomere pulled back from her and stepped up to Hadrian.

The two men kissed, leather sliding against latex as their bodies met, and the priest shared his lips with Hadrian, showing the sort of intensity that songs were told of, the kiss of two lovers meeting after-

I think he’s just a good kisser, Sandra considered, though a part of her still wanted to believe that the passion was all for her. 

It was Hadrian’s turn to splutter and blush as they pulled apart, blinking a few times as he caught his breath and the priest spoke in a sultry whisper. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hadrian. I am Gwyndomere, a high priest of Calistria. I hear you had an encounter with the Wizard.”

“He had an encounter with us,” Sandra said. “We won.” 

“Did you, now?” the priest asked. “And the diapers are for fun, then?” 

Coming from him, the jibe didn’t hurt like it would coming from a peer, but it did make her feel abashed. “I didn’t say we made it out unscathed, but we got away with his notes, we rescued a peer, and we forced him to agree to stand down and give us space. Hadrian can tell you more about what he’s planning.”

Gwyndomere looked to Hadrian, raising an eyebrow.

“A school,” Hadrian said simply, his cheeks still a little pink after the kiss.

That was all it took. Gwyndomere got it, without further explanation. “You should show me those notes.”

Hadrian nodded. “They’re in my bag. Is there somewhere we can go over them in private?” 

“We can go to my rectory,” the high priest confirmed. “Sandra, I believe that Janet had some business she needed to talk to you about.” 

“Janet?” Sandra frowned.

“Eh, that is, Serendipity,” Gwyndomere corrected. “She goes by Janet when she’s not on the stage.” 

“Right. Janet. Where is she?” 

Gwyndomere pointed to where a couple hungover worshippers were being attended to by a stocky priestess. Nodding, Sandra walked over, got Janet’s attention, and said, “I heard you had a business question. Is something wrong with the adventurer?” Pausing, she added, “His name is Leon D’arvit, by the way. I found that out last night.” 

“He’s stable,” Janet replied, straightening and stretching. She looked tired, like she hadn’t yet actually gone to bed since the night before. “Fussy, kept me up, but stable.”

“Then what is it?”

“We can fix him,” Janet said. “It won’t be easy, and it’ll take months of ongoing work, but we can fix him. But to do that, I’m going to need some supplies.”

Dungeons and Diapers
Chapter 9

“Okay, what’s the deal?” Sandra asked, holding a cup of warm tea as she sat down on the studded leather bench in the back room. “And why the privacy?” 

“Because,” Janet said, ensuring that the door was locked and lighting a few candles. “Rumors may be fun, but they can also kill a quest in the cradle if we’re not careful.”

“The wizard said he wouldn’t scry on us,” Quinn pointed out, leaning awkwardly against the X-shaped piece of furniture on the side of the room. 

“And did he say anything about informants?” Janet asked. After letting the question float in the air for a few minutes, she added, “And besides, he’s not the only player in town. It’ll make sense once I’m done explaining, I promise.” 

“Sure…” Tarja said, looking around the space. “But why are we back here?”

Janet held up a finger, then took a small brass pan pipe off the wall, taking in a breath. Sandra recognized it as a wondrous item, and expected some sort of sound barrier or distortion when Janet used it.

Instead, Janet puffed out a breath, blew on the pipes, and they produced the sound of a loud WHACK!, followed by a pained, aroused moan. 

Janet set down the pipes, but the illusion repeated, the sound of a sexual beating echoing through the room. Speaking just loud enough that the party could hear her, she explained, “I wanted to cover the sound of our conversation, and the only place this illusion would be reasonable is back here.”

“Ah,” Sandra said, nodding. “That… makes sense.”

Tarja turned a little pink, but it was far from the most embarrassing thing they’d done in the past couple weeks. 

“So, I have a ritual spell that I can use to relieve the effects on D’arvit,” Janet continued, “But, in order to counteract the intensely, sexually charged magic that’s been cast on him, I need a magical object imbued with equal, opposite energy. Like balancing out law with chaos, or chaos with law. We must provide the opposite side of the coin in order to create harmony.”

“And you need us to find an object for you?” Sandra asked. “What sort of scale are we talking about?”

“If it were anything less than extreme, we’d already have it on hand,” Janet said, looking over at Quinn. “Uh, don’t touch that.”

Quinn paused in the middle of inspecting a large wooden paddle that was hanging on the wall, which gave off a faint magical aura. “Oookay.” 

“It’s for… self play,” Janet explained, simply. “Anyways. We’ve got a fair number of particularly mundane items. Self-adjusting weigh scales tend to do the trick, but for this, we need something on the level of a relic, to counteract the sheer power of sexual magic that was used to bind him. Good news is, I have one in mind so you won’t need to search. Bad news, I don’t know how you’ll get in there.” 

“What’s the object?” Sandra asked. 

“Dranngvit’s Ledger. A tome that lists the relative value of all major trade goods at the trade ports listed within. We know it’s held within the Great Library at the City, but that’s as far as our information goes.”

“That’s pretty good information,” Quinn said. “We go to the library, take the book. Is it in a restricted section or something?” 

“Quinn,” Tarja said, with a tone that conveyed, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about’. 

“What?” Quinn asked, oblivious to the subtext. It was possible that he was distracted by the loud sound of a spanking that was echoing above their conversation. It was also possible that he was just a bit socially inept. 

“The library isn’t available to the public,” Janet explained, before Tarja had to step in. “Only high ranking merchant and political guild members, nobility, certain scholars, people of that rank can grant leave to enter it at all. And beyond that, there’s a series of trials to enter the zone that the ledger is kept within. It’s built to ensure that nobody can take the valuable information without having the knowledge necessary to use it - If you are found to be unwise or unworthy, you can’t even look at the books and relics held within.”

“Well that’s dumb,” Quinn said.

“The last great library got burned down by pillagers after a siege, who were mad that the treasure held within wasn’t made out of gold,” Tarja pointed out. 

“So,” Sandra mused. “We just need to find someone who can get us into the library, get through these ordeals, and take the book?” 

“First part’s harder than it sounds,” Janet said. 

Sandra pursed her lips. “I’m not so sure it will be. We’ve got connections.” 

“Who?” Janet asked.

Raising an eyebrow, Sandra asked, “Do you need to know?” 

Janet hesitated, then shook her head. “I suppose not, and I can appreciate your discretion.” 

“His name is Darius,” Sandra said. “We did a quest for him a few weeks back, he seemed like good people.” 

Janet blinked. “Why-” 

Sandra smiled. “I wanted to see how you’d react.” 

Another pause went by, broken only by the loud moans and sounds of what had changed to a whip or possibly a belt. “Well… If your Darius can get you into the library, you’ll just need to pass the tests, then have your wizard complete a simple ritual at the end and take the book. That’s all we know.” 

“And why can’t a Calistrian priest go get the ledger?” Sandra asked. 

“Because we aren’t allowed in the library for one,” Janet said. “And our skillsets tend not to fall under ‘passing bureaucratic ordeals’, for two. Besides, that’s what subcontractors who owe us favors are for.” 

“Fair,” Sandra said. “We can do the job. Payment?” 

“We do the spell to cure your guild member,” the priestess said. “If you think you deserve a cash payment for that, take it up with your guildmaster.”

“That’s a deal.” Sandra got to her feet, wincing at a particularly pained, aroused cry from the illusion. “You can turn that off now, I think we’re done here.”  

“I actually have a couple questions, kind of a… sidenote, I guess,” Tarja said. “But Sandra, you don’t need to wait up for me.” 

Her party was keeping secrets from her. Sandra hated it, but confronting Tarja about it wouldn’t be productive. “Deal with your thing, I’ll go see how Hadrian is doing,” Sandra said. “Quinn?”

“He can stay,” Tarja said. “Er… I mean, it doesn’t really matter, but…” 

“Quinn, stay,” Sandra instructed, leaving the dungeon room to go find her wizard. 

…

They took another day in town. Hadrian had to finish explaining the magic he’d learned to one of the few people who would understand him, and they needed to restock on supplies, talk to the guildmaster about a rate for the job, and generally recover from the last several days of action. 

Tarja decided to do some shopping on her own. Sandra pretended that she didn’t think anything of it, but it was hard not to stare when she saw the usually so graceful changeling stumble on her way out the door.

The guildmaster, at least, was more than willing to pay standard rates for a party of their skill level doing a relic retrieval quest. Since it was in-house, it didn’t pay as well as when a wealthy benefactor hired the guild to do contract work, but it was a fair rate. She even hooked up the party with a caravan that needed a basic escort on their way to the City. It was a low rate, but since they were headed there anyways, Sandra was more than happy for a little extra coin in their pocket. 

A sending confirmed that Darius would be in the City handling business for the next week, and that he’d be happy to meet to discuss a business proposition - though, of course, his new wife would be taking part in the negotiations, as per his customs. Sandra was already anticipating Karena throwing a fit at their mere arrival, but there was no getting around that. If Darius’s merchant guild connections didn’t pan out or if he turned them down, they’d just need to start over on finding a way into the Great Library. 

With all that wrapped up and finalized, it was time to travel, and for once, their travel was uneventful. Nobody messed with the caravan on the three day trip to the City, so for the party’s part, it was just a few days of travel, rest, and recuperation. 

At least, for most of the party.

Tarja’s clumsiness continued to get worse. Dropping silverware over dinner. Failing to get a campfire started with a flint, because her hands were shaking so badly. Tripping over her own feet in ways that would seem ridiculous for someone with her grace just a few days prior. 

It was building to a confrontation point, and Sandra knew it. If this went on for much longer, they wouldn’t be able to pretend everything was fine. Even Hadrian was starting to notice, and he tended to be about as oblivious as a person could get. He’d stopped stumbling in heels after a few days of forced practice, and a quip after Tarja tripped about how he was more stable on heels than she was without was eerily accurate. 

Tarja was, at least, able to walk through the gates of the City under her own power, but Sandra could do the math. She knew how quickly Tarja’s dexterity was degrading, and it didn’t seem like it would be that long before she would lack the coordination necessary to stand.

She’ll come to you when she’s ready, Sandra reminded herself. Don’t push her. You’ve pushed them enough. They’ve given you enough trust without you making a fuss over this. 

After another night at the Sodden Songbird, the guild-friendly inn and tavern, it was time to meet with Darius. They dressed up for the occasion, as much as possible - Bathing, putting on their nicer clothes that weren’t so battle worn. Quinn chose not to wear his armor even though it looked more like a ballroom dress than a battle outfit, choosing instead to put on simple but neat cotton clothes. 

Hadrian couldn’t do nearly as much as the rest of the party, but at least ensured that his latex bodysuit and gloves were clean, and timed the removal of his pacifier so that he wouldn’t have it show up at an inopportune time during the meeting. 

The manor was large for a home within the City, though modest for someone of Darius’s standing, only two stories high with plain, practical architecture. Sandra knew he had manors in more than one city, but given that so much trade would be conducted in the City, she had expected something a bit more grand. 

Still, she presented herself to the master of the house, who looked the party up and down, nodded, and left to confirm the appointment. 

“Do you suppose Karena might be… indisposed?” Hadrian asked, sounding hopeful. 

“Shh,” Sandra said. “She might be able to hear you, and we need to be on her good side.” 

“Does she even have a-” 

Quinn thumped him on the back of the head, and that ended the discussion.

The master of the house returned a moment later. “They are ready for your proposal,” he said. “Come in.” 

The party followed, walking in through a modest entry hall and up the stairs.

“Restrooms are to the left, and should you require refreshments or changing supplies, I can fetch them for you,” he explained. Sandra noted the comment about changing supplies, but he was almost stoically professional, and it came off as a frank explanation of what he could offer rather than a jibe. Most likely, living with someone else cursed to wear diapers, he’d long since stopped being amused by the novelty of it.

Or, maybe he was just really professional. Sandra couldn’t be sure. 

Either way, he stood at the side of the double doors leading into Darius’s office, pulling them open for the party. 

Darius was inside, but he wasn’t sitting at his desk. Karena was. They both had a large map spread out in front of them, and Darius was leaning over the side, pointing and explaining something about trade routes. Karena, unsurprisingly, had a sneer on her face, and that expression didn’t go away when she looked up and saw the party. 

Sandra sighed. Maybe this was a waste of time. Bowing slightly, she did her best to remember the rules of courtesy, “Darius Drumet, I’m honored to be in your household.” 

“Sandra Cassidy, I welcome you and your party,” Darius said, addressing them with a smile and a bow of his own, before setting a hand on Karena’s shoulder. “But this is not my household alone.”

“Darius and Karena Drumet,” Sandra repeated, doing a second bow. “Of course.” 

“What do you want?” Karena cut in. “We’re busy.” 

Sandra walked further into the office, her party coming in behind her. There were chairs laid out, so she gestured to them. “May we sit?” 

Darius didn’t respond, instead looking down at Karena, deferring to her. After a begrudging pause, she nodded. 

Oh gods, Sandra realized, as she took a seat. He’s using this as a training opportunity for her.  

“Explain it all to me,” Karena said. “What do you need from us, and what are you offering in trade?” Blunt, which was expected. Sandra suspected that she’d been instructed on what to inquire about, but hadn’t yet learned the courtesy of how to ask about those things politely.

Then again… Sandra didn’t personally mind blunt. It let her cut to the point. “We’re trying to retrieve a ledger from the Great Library. We can pass the trials on our own to get to the inner sanctum, but we need someone with trade guild authority to let us in. In exchange, we will give the tome to you once it’s done being used by our client.” 

“What tome, exactly?” Karena asked. 

No point hiding their goal, seeing as it was their main bargaining chip. “Dranngvit’s Ledger.” 

Karena glanced up at Darius, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know what that is.” 

“A relic,” Darius said. “Useful, valuable, but getting it is risky. Who is it for?” 

“The Calistrian temple,” Sandra said. “The same wizard who cursed Karena has also begun targeting adventurers, but the ledger can be used in a curing ritual.” 

“You want out of your diapers,” Karena said, flatly. 

Sandra shook her head. “It’s not for me, or any of us.”

Karena frowned. “But you have been cursed. Obviously. No self-respecting wizard would wear that by choice.”

Darius cleared his throat, but it was a little late for propriety. 

“It might be possible to use it to cure us, too,” Sandra conceded. “But we’re not doing it for ourselves. A good man was cursed to the point of complete helplessness. We want to get his life back, and we need the ledger to do that. By my estimation, it could provide a great trade benefit to you as well, given the information inside.” 

Leaning on the desk, Darius took a deep breath. “I appreciate you coming to us, but I’m afraid we can’t accept this offer.” 

“Do you need further incentive?” Sandra asked. “I can’t offer wealth directly, but if you want to retrieve anything from beyond the trials, or guild credit-”

“It’s not that,” Darius said. “We’ve got a position we need to uphold. If we let you into the library, then we’ll be responsible for whatever you do in there, and… well, I mean no offense, but the guild isn’t known for maintaining collateral damage. You could cause great destruction if you make a mistake, and that would hang around our neck.” 

“We’ll be careful,” Sandra said, quickly. “We won’t do anything that could harm the books or relics in the library, even if it means failing the trials. Obviously, maintaining the integrity of the library is our first priority.”

Darius sighed. “I believe that you’re sincere, but we-”  

“You keep saying we,” Karena interrupted. “I’m pretty sure I haven’t said anything about it yet.” 

All eyes fell on Karena. A second passed, before Darius said, “I’ve spent too long working on our partnerships in the City to risk it.” 

“Is this your business, or is it a partnership?” Karena asked, simply. 

Darius pursed his lips. “I’ve got more experience-” 

“Is this your business, or is it a partnership?” Karena repeated. 

Pressing his thumb to the bridge of his nose, Darius shut his eyes and sighed. “It’s a partnership.”

Karena nodded. “And did you ask what I thought before you said what we were going to do?” 

“No,” Darius said. “But trust me-”

Karena finally stood, facing her husband with a flat look. “I do trust you, but I disagree with your stance. We’re in a recessive period of business, and we need an edge to regain that trade or we’ll be overwhelmed by our competition. This relic could offer us that edge, and- No, no. Let me finish.” She raised a finger, cutting Darius off as he opened his mouth to speak. “And, if we don’t trust the adventurer’s guild to act safely and do their job correctly, then why did you hire them to escort me?” 

The question hung in the air for a long pause, and Darius had no response. 

“You think they’re too reckless and incompetent to go through a library, but they were fine to protect your wife?” Karena demanded. “Some partnership!” 

“That’s not what I-” Darius started. “Fine. The decision is yours, and the consequences will fall on your share of the business.” 

“Yeah, no. We do this together. I’m not going to hold back the benefits from when the plan works, and it would be silly if I did, so I’m not going to protect you from the risks, either.” 

Karena’s expression had grown harder over the course of the discussion. It was still mostly flat and cold, but there was just a hint of anger that threatened to take over her demeanor if things got pushed any further. 

Darius wilted. “Fine.” 

“Thank you.” Karena faced Sandra again, opening her mouth, then rolling her eyes. “Dammit, not-” 

Plop.

A pacifier appeared between her lips, and she had to turn and face Darius to get his help removing it. With it removed, she made a few tentative noises as she regained her voice. “Buh- mbuhn… uh… anyways. Ask your contacts with the temple if this spell would be repeatable, so long as they were lent use of the tome. I might commission their services once this is all said and done.” 

“Will do,” Sandra said, surprised at how the conversation had gone. She’d expected Darius to be in their corner, with Karena being the one they needed to convince. Either way, she’d take the win. 

“We should go over details and work up a contract,” Karena said, sitting back down. “How long- Uh.” 

She turned pink, her nose wrinkling slightly, at the same time that Sandra caught a whiff of a dirty diaper. The whole room pretended not to notice anything as she, Hadrian, and Karena all quietly checked their own diapers to see if it was them.

“Uh… I don’t need to be here for this,” Hadrian said, after a pause. “I’m going to… take a walk.” 

Both diapered women sighed in relief. At least it wasn’t me. 

“Right, details,” Sandra said. “Let’s get down to brass tacks.” 

…

The Great Library lived up to its name. Getting access was fairly painless with the writ of approval from Karena Drumet, though the party had to surrender their weapons, spell components, and generally anything they could use for combat. 

The library was arranged in ringed tiers, circled by an enchanted stone wall that could protect it in case of siege or invasion. The complete outer ring of the library was nothing but book shelves stacked with tomes, and Sandra had to drag Hadrian through it by his collar to keep from getting sidetracked looking through all the many, many books stored there. 

“We can do this later, after the quest,” she insisted, walking them through the next ring of the library, which was more akin to a museum of relics. 

Few had practical merit, there were no magical swords or enchanted armor - rather, it had examples of different scales from across the nation, murals and artwork depicting great trade ships, and other boring but historically significant artifacts.  

The trials they were meant to face, then, were in the third ring. 

No guards barred the only passageway through the third wall, protecting the contents of the Library’s greatest knowledge and treasures. Just a simple signpost, with a plain message written on it. 

All those who pass through this door will be weighed and measured in wisdom and intellect. Should you be found wanting, you will be barred from entry from this day until the End of Days. 

“That’s a bit dramatic,” Quinn commented. “What’s wrong with just saying ‘Banned forever’?” 

“From the lore I’ve been taught, I don’t expect there will be any fighting,” Tarja said, ignoring his question. “From what I’ve heard of this test, it’s largely cerebral in nature. Hadrian should take point, he's got more book knowledge than the rest of us.” 

“Hadrian leads, then,” Sandra agreed, glad that she could summon a knife if it did come to combat. She didn’t trust any trial to be bloodless and nonviolent, no matter its reputation. 

Bodysuit squeaking slightly, Hadrian led the way through the door and under a low passageway while Tarja took the last few moments before entering to give the party reminders. “Be ready for anything. It could be a test of reaction, of quick wits, of thoughtfulness - Don’t let your guard down.” 

They entered the third ring, and the trials began. 

It was, largely, an anticlimax. Nothing came rushing at them, no sphinx with riddles, no instant challenge. 

Instead, the party found itself facing a long, ethereal… line. Dozens of people were waiting in a snaking queue separated by ropes and stanchions. At the end, a man working at a desk was handling paperwork, very, very slowly. 

Sandra’s magical vision saw that the people in line were illusory, but she doubted that cutting past them would work. 

The first trial, it seemed, was a test of patience. 

“Tarja,” she said. “Do we all need to go through the trials, or does just one of us need to complete each one?” 

“We’re tested as a party. As long as one of us can pass each trial and nobody fails, we’re fine.” 

“Then I’ll go,” Sandra said. “I’ve got reasonably good endurance, and I won’t need to step out of the line for bathroom breaks. Everyone else… find something to do to kill time, I guess.” 

She stepped up and got into line. 

It was ungodly boring. 

It barely moved. One person would get their paperwork done, and the line would shuffle forward by mere inches. Every time she tried to count how many people were ahead of her, the number seemed to shift, making an accurate count impossible to gauge. 

Hours dripped by, as though she’d stepped into another dimension and the passage of time had changed. Her diaper self cleaned, at least once, indicating the hours. She had nothing to do, nobody to talk to, all she could do was wait. 

At times, she was tempted to cut forward, noticing gaps in the line and inobservant people who wouldn’t notice her slipping forward. She didn’t give into temptation.  She waited, patiently, for the little eternity it took to get to the front of line.

Finally, it ended. She got to the front of the line, where the bored-looking attendant slid across an exceedingly long and detailed form for her to fill out. It required listing a lot of mundane details and signing a few dozen times, but she got through it with speed and quality penmanship, ensuring along the way that the paperwork wasn’t magically binding in any way. 

Once it was complete, the attendant looked up, nodded, and called past her, “Next!” 

Then, the whole line vanished with a puff of smoke. 

The rest of the party looked up, noticing she was done. Quinn was stretching and generally keeping himself warmed up physically, Hadrian was reading through a spellbook, and Tarja was just sitting cross legged and leaning against the wall. 

“Gods,” Sandra groaned, stretching out her back. “How long was I waiting?” 

Quinn shrugged. “Fifteen minutes?” 

“Did we pass?” Hadrian asked. 

“I think so. We’re not being booted out, so…” Sandra shrugged. 

Tarja sat up from where she’d “And there’s the next test…” 

From around the bend of the ring, what appeared to be a hundred and one soldiers were approaching, all with bandanas tied tightly around their heads. Some were blue, and some were purple, seemingly in an even split - though Sandra couldn’t make a precise count that quickly. 

The party tensed, readying for combat. The soldiers didn’t seem aggressive, but they were approaching fast, and they were coordinated. If they wanted to cause trouble, they could pose real problems for the party very easily. 

Instead, they stopped in a rank, twenty feet away, and the only soldier without a bandanna stepped forward. 

He cleared his throat, getting the attention of the party. “To pass the next trial, you must answer me this question. The soldiers behind me cannot speak, and are all perfectly rational. They cannot-”

“Fifty days,” Hadrian said. 

The speaker paused. “Excuse me?”

“Fifty days,” he repeated, confidently. Glancing at the rest of the party, he said, “What? I know this one. Classic logic puzzle.” 

“Erm…” the speaker said, glancing back at the soldiers and shrugging. “Well… yes. You have passed.” 

And, like the last illusion, they all disappeared in a puff of smoke. 

“So, a trial of patience, and trial of wisdom… sort of,” Sandra said. “So far, so easy. What do you suppose is next?” 

The party pondered that for a moment in silence. The silence dragged out longer. 

After ten seconds, Sandra realized something was wrong. 

Turning, she saw that they’d all been gagged with cloth and had their hands and feet bound with rope. Only she could still move and speak freely.

Whirling again, a figure was standing in front of her, wearing a formal cloak and breeches. “The final test,” he said, “Is a test of delegation. Three accomplices, three tasks. You will set one to each, and they must pass or fail, on their own.” 

“That’s easy,” Sandra said. “I know my party.”

“Then you should not struggle at all.” The figure stepped back, waving his hand out as three challenges appeared before them. 

A bear, in a fenced ring, raging and furious. Fighting the beast would be easy for Quinn, even without his weapons. 

A long, scrawled document sat next to an empty scroll. Something word-based, easy for Hadrian. 

And, finally, a deep, open pit, with a raised platform on the near end and slender rods placed every six feet to balance upon. 

Under normal circumstances, perfect for Tarja, but today…

“Down the beast,” the figure said. “Translate the record. Cross the pit.” 

Sandra spun, facing her party. The choices were obvious, but also impossible. Tarja on her best day could cross that pit without blinking, but as things stood, she’d stumble and fall on the first jump. 

But saying that out loud meant acknowledging that Tarja was losing her dexterity. It meant admitting that Sandra had known all along and not said anything, because she was waiting for Tarja to show her a little trust. 

She swallowed. 

“What do I do if my party can’t complete these tasks?” she asked. 

“Admit defeat and leave.” 

She swallowed, realizing her mistake. She should have confronted Tarja sooner, resolved her curse before doing these challenges. Now, she might have doomed them all. 

Glancing back at Tarja, Sandra saw that her eyes were wide with the same realization. 

Think. There’s got to be another solution.

She took a step forward, inspecting the pit, hoping to find some trick that would aid in crossing it. It was some twenty feet across, with a ramp leading up to the ten-foot-high platform. It seemed like it would help, starting on high ground, but in practice it would make the jumps from rod to rod even harder - Each rod was a couple feet lower than the last, but staggered unevenly. Only a great acrobat would be able to make those jumps.

In fact, Sandra was starting to doubt that Tarja could have actually crossed it on a good day. It was too much, even for her.

Frowning, she walked over to the bear, examining it. A big, furious beast, slamming its shoulder into the fence and making it shake. Could Quinn even fight that thing? 

Finally, she walked over to the scroll, squinting at it. It only took her a second to recognize the language written there, and once she did, she had an idea of what to do. 

“Tarja will handle the bear,” she said. “Quinn, the translation. Hadrian, you’d better have something up your sleeve to cross that pit.” 

“Is that your final decision?” the looming figure asked. Sandra nodded. The figure, along with the bindings on her party, vanished. 

Tarja stepped up to Sandra, shaking her head. “Sandra, I-”

“Not now,” Sandra said, turning away from her. “Do your job.” 

Tarja hesitated. She was shaking, but it wasn’t clear if she was unsteady or not. “How long have you known?” 

“Since before we returned to the temple,” Sandra said, flatly. “You should have told me. I gave you plenty of chances.” 

“I didn’t- You had so much you were dealing with,” Tarja said.

Quinn didn’t know what to say, standing back awkwardly, but Hadrian didn’t know what was going on and was too obtuse to know that staying quiet would be wise. “What are you talking about?” 

“Tarja’s been hiding her curses from us,” Sandra said. “Quinn has, too. And if I hadn’t found out through luck, we’d all be banished from these trials right about now.” 

The changeling opened her mouth, her voice cracking a little. “I’m sorr-” 

Sandra cut her off. “Do your job, and let’s hope we can pass this trial in spite of things. If anyone fails their test, then you and I are going to have words.”