From Melior’s Personal Log:
Mr. Bhalasar wasn’t precisely what we were expecting, it seems. Well, ‘cept Sam. Sam’ll follow him to the ends of creation, and then some, I’d wager. Rest of us, we didn’t exactly sign up for steppin’ into a Tusker-magic demon teleport symbol and praying we’re delivered whole. Roscoe was definitely out, he’s been narrowing his eyes at Bhalasar since meeting. Miss Lori, well she is in a bit of a state, ain’t she? Don’t blame her for backing out graceful-like. Me? Much as I grown to like Sam, this is over my pretty lil head.
I did some hemming an’ hawwing about it that night, don’t mistake me. Slinky got tired of my restless twitching by go-time. I hate to break away after we Cloak and Hammer been through so much, but no other choice afforded me was viable. I’ll not be going back to jail, no sir. But that symbol’s hocus-pocus Raven Queeny disappearing act nonsense, no thank you. Lucky I’m such a beguiling lass, and Marvin was not part of the promised complement of soldiers no more. He was set to sneak on out of Altok once that bullshit Green-lovin’ occupation moved in, and he invited me and Slink along. We had to hide, in a fish barrel no less. If only it was ale or wine, I’d have been happy as a clam in there for the duration.
Once out of the bay and on open water, I extricated myself from my fishy hold and breathed free the cool night ocean air. Marvin joined me and after a silence, asked where I was desiring to end up. I shrugged, havin’ nowhere in particular, long as it wasn’t Altok, or Tok. The ship’s mixed crew was a small salvage operation: treasure hunters, scavengers, and the like. That suited me fine, for the time being. Maybe I’ll find trace of Trefeur.
Or maybe I never will. Possible his path won’t ever again cross with mine, I suppose.
Right now, Slinky is flopped around my neck and I’m lookin’ out for falling stars in that endless black.