To Juel’s little team, it was just the first step on their long journey. The boys were supposed to shop for supplies there and buy themselves a Transvolo to Torgor. Lainuver, having counted their money twice, concluded that such a laughable sum would never interest a mage powerful enough to know the Transvolo spell. Orion was more optimistic about the matter. They were young Lifekeepers on a quest; a bunch of cute kids to most people, a reminder of some special Lifekeeper-related story to the rest. It was unlikely that anyone, even a powerful mage, would charge them much for a spell. With enough luck on their side, they could even get a Transvolo for free!

The road to Firaska was wide and well-tended to, so walking it was pure joy. The boys, quiet at first, started talking to each other. Careful words soon turned into a lively chatter, with jokes and puns and bursts of laughter.

When someone asked about Firaska’s origins, Oasis answered him with a story. Three thousand years ago, Firaska was a tiny settlement on the edge of the nastiest part of the No Man’s Land, the part where the darkest, vilest creatures lived. The first Firaskians must have been exceptionally brave people to live there. What were they fighting for, why didn’t they settle on a safer spot? Freedom. That was the answer. The dangerous place they chose for their city was their ticket to independence from both South and North allowing them to stay within the territory of stable magic at the same time.

Hard times create strong people, the proverb says. True. Malconemershghan was one of them.

He left Firaska when Sereg the Grey Inquisitor took him as an apprentice but he kept the Firaskian spirit in his heart. If the Grey Inquisitor hadn’t killed him and destroyed his followers, the whole North would have been as free now as the old Firaska was. Was. Because Firaska became an ordinary Southern city and lost its freedom forever.

“Who’s been in the North?” Orion asked, looking around.

For a while, the boys were silent, then Kosta Ollardian spoke up in a quiet, quivering, wheezy voice, the kind of voice someone with a chronic illness might have.

“I’ve been in the North once,” he said. “It’s crazy cold there. I was ill for the whole journey. My father says that the North is a bad place. He hated it when grandfather sent him there.”

“My master says there’s,” Jarmin took a deep breath, “CEN-SOR-SHIP!” he said in a loud whisper. “What’s censorship, Orion? Is it an evil ghost ship?”

Someone snorted, stifling his laughter, behind Orion’s back. Orion kept his cool.

“No, Jarmin, it just means that there are some things you are not allowed to say and write in that country,” he explained. “I don’t think their censorship is that bad, though. I’ve been in the North several times and they definitely have way fewer shitty books in their bookstores. Maybe the South needs a little bit of censorship too.”

“Well, our dear Sainar would strongly disagree with you, I’m afraid,” said Lainuver with a sly smile.

The weather was warm, the company was merry, and the road was easy, but even with all things perfect, you can’t walk from Magrove forest to Firaska in a single day. By the evening, the boys had to camp.

Judging by the clouds gathering in the sky, it was going to rain, so they had to find a proper shelter if they wanted to stay warm and dry that night. But where could they find one in the smooth grassland between the Lifekeepers’ holy place and the nearest city? There were trees, of course – a thin diadem here – and there but they were no help.