We walk back into Raven Hill just as night is falling. Nisus sees me first and shouts in surprise. He runs toward me, and then notices Delkash at my side. He shouts again, this time in confusion.

“Inka!” he says. “And…is it really you, Delkash?”

Delkash nods. “It is I, Nisus.”

Other villagers are coming out into the evening, summoned by Nisus’ cries, and a low murmur fills the street. There are shouts of welcome from some that I’d spoken with before, and others wave and shout greetings to Delkash.

“Come,” says Nisus. “Let us go see my grandfather. He’ll want to see you both.”

Delkash and I follow Nisus down the now-familiar side street to the home of Makari. As we step inside, Makari himself looks up from a chair by the fire, and his face splits into a wide grin. “Inka! And Delkash, too! Did you succeed, then, my boy? Delkash’s presence can only bode well.”

I nod wearily. “I did. I found what I was looking for.” I pause and glance at Delkash. “And then some.”

Makari laughs, and then sees my bandaged arm. “Oh, you’re injured!”

“It’s not important,” I say, trying to defuse his sudden alarm. “There was some falling rock, and one grazed my arm. It’s only a scratch.”

“All the same,” he says, and gestures to his grandson. “Nisus, go and fetch Nakata. Tell her Inka is back, with Delkash, and that Inka’s arm is injured.”

Nisus nods, and before I can insist that I’m okay, he is out the door and running for the shaman’s hut.

“Now,” says Makari. “Come. Sit. There is still some stew in the pot. Are you hungry?”

Delkash and I both sit, and both admit to being hungry. Another of Makari’s grandchildren serves us wooden bowls filled with stew freshly ladled from a pot over the fire. It smells wonderful, and tastes delicious.

I’m only half-finished with my bowl when Nakata arrives with her apprentice, Giliana. She immediately pushes my bowl aside and instructs me to show her my injured arm. I resignedly oblige her, unwinding the cloth that Delkash and I had used to bandage my arm, and revealing the ugly scratch.

“It is filthy,” says Nakata. “Did neither of you think to clean it before bandaging it?”

Delkash smiles, amused. “There was a surprising dearth of water down there.”

She snorts but says nothing, only instructing Giliana to prepare some herb-infused water to clean my wound. She dips a clean cloth into it, wrings it out, and gently pats it over the dirt and blood and grime that surround the cut. The herbs sting painfully, but Giliana’s presence inspires me to silent stoicism.

I’m able to return to my stew soon, after also enduring a lecture from Nakata on how to best care for the scratch on my arm. I remember only a handful of her injunctions, but I’m confident she’ll remind me daily if I forget any of them. Giliana glances once over her shoulder as she follows Nakata out the door. Our eyes meet, and my heart beats just a little faster. It is some moments before I remember there is still food in front of me.

Makari lets me finish my stew before pulling his chair up next to mine. “My boy,” he says, and glances at Delkash. The old man seems uncomfortable, perhaps even embarrassed. “Now that you are back, there’s more you need to know. Delkash, here… He made us promise to tell you something when you came back from the cave. I confess I didn’t expect him to be present, too…this makes it all so awkward…”

“It shouldn’t,” says Delkash. “Pretend I’m not here.”

Makari snorts and shakes his head. “Delkash made us promise to tell you that the cave was only the first part of what you had to do.”

“The first part?”

“Aye. The second part…” He glances again at Delkash and clears his throat. “There is an ancient spear, an artifact from before our ancestors arrived in the Ironlands. It belonged to my grandfather, but was lost in a battle between villages a long time ago, before I was born. I—that is to say, Delkash, or, well, anyway, I—need you to retrieve that spear.”

I blink. “Where is it?”

He clears his throat again. “The site of the battle is about a day’s journey from here, a ruined village where no one has dwelled in a generation. But…it’s haunted.”

“Haunted?”

He nods. “There is a bonewalker there. Every so often a traveller will think to stay in the ruins for the night, tempted by a fey enchantment on the area, and the bonewalker takes them as they sleep.” He swallows and looks away. “You will need to fight and defeat the bonewalker, in order to claim the spear.”

I look from Makari, who seems genuinely miserable to convey this news, to Delkash, who seems entirely unconcerned by it. “Is this another test?” I ask the mystic.

He tips his head toward me in acknowledgement.

“Very well,” I say. I pull my iron pendant from beneath my shirt and hold it in my hand.

Makari’s eyes grow wide as he realizes my intent. “There’s no need—“

I place my other hand on his arm and shake my head. “I Vow upon this iron,” I say, beginning the ritual words of the oath. “I Vow upon this land. I Vow upon my heart, and upon my spirit, that I will go and find this bonewalker, and defeat it, and return with your grandfather’s spear.”

Makari nods in the solemn silence that follows. “There truly was no need for all that. But thank you, just the same.”

I turn to Delkash then, still holding my pendant, intending to formalize our friendship in the same manner, but he stands abruptly. “No time for that,” he says. “You should get some rest, and prepare yourself for the bonewalker. We can afford to wait a couple of days, but no more.” He looks to Makari. “I assume the room I used before is still available?”

Makari looks stunned but nods. “Y-yes, Mystic. Of course. The room is yours.”

I’m stunned, too. To be so callously brushed off... I feel hurt, injured in a deeper, more painful way than the scrape on my arm can ever approximate. “I think,” I say slowly, after Delkash leaves, “that I would like to go to my room now, too.”

“Of course,” says Makari. “Whenever you like.”