Chapter 2

Te’ijal’s shovel clanged against a rock. She gestured at the hole she’d been digging, now a few feet deep, and Galahad dutifully stepped inside, picked the shovel up, and lifted it back out for her. Then she returned to her shift. The fact that he’d stolen the soul pendant from her would have been charming in its irony if it didn’t require so much extra effort.

"Walk me through your thought process," she said by way of question, throwing a shovelful of dirt roughly in his direction.

"I tried to destroy it. I couldn’t figure out how. I certainly didn’t trust you with it, demon spawn. So I hid it in the safest place I could think of."

"Several feet underground somewhere, vaguely, in the Wildwoods."

"Yes. As I told you," he said, "it’s not exactly worth the time. Especially if we’re returning to Tor after this."

At this point, Te’ijal just wanted her necklace back, but she knew better than to say as much. "Then we won’t bother returning to Tor. Veldarah is far more familiar with necromancy, after all."

Two nights later, they finally found the soul pendant. It was so packed over in dirt, so many root fibers tangled in its chain, that Te’ijal recognized it more from the thrum of dark magic it emitted than its appearance. It took her nearly two hours to finish cleaning it. She went to wear it again for safe keeping, but she saw Galahad wince out of the corner of her eye and tucked it into the inner pocket of her coat instead.

"I see," said the clerk, pushing her chair back to reel away Te’ijal’s dangling, ominous visual aid. "Well, I’ve been practicing over twenty years now, and I can’t say I’ve ever heard a case like yours."

Te’ijal beamed. "Why, thank you."

The clerk’s professional demeanor flickered for a moment as she narrowed her eyes. "It’s not a compliment."

"Thank you for that," Galahad grumbled.

The clerk coughed once into her fist; clearly conversational rather than sickly. "I would say you two certainly qualify. I just need to see your marriage certificate and contract."

"Of course." Galahad removed it from his pocket and unfolded it from the tight triangle he’d turned it into, passing it over the desk to the clerk. Te’ijal resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

The clerk took it, attempted to even one of the creases and, failing that, looked at the contract as-is. She frowned and made a disapproving noise. "Oh, I see. Unfortunately, it seems I cannot help you."

"What do you mean?" Galahad asked. "You just said that we certainly-"

The clerk cut him off, raising a hand. "I cannot help you," she continued, "because your wedding was performed in Thais. As a result, I have no legal jurisdiction over your marriage. You will have to go to Thais."

Galahad grimaced.

Te’ijal sighed. "I see," she said, taking it upon herself to be adventurous. "Well, what’s one more trip?"