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.”