Jeremiah could feel Allison`s eyes on him as he concluded his story. "I looked for opportunities to practice my craft, but people weren`t exactly advertising. I did a few odd jobs, but that was just labor work for food. And the few times someone did find out what I was, well, it just became easier to keep to myself. Then I heard about that dungeon and&I guess you were all there for that."

　　Jeremiah felt his words hanging awkwardly in the air. He wished there was more he could say, some grand conclusion that would leave no doubt in anyone`s mind that he deserved to live. He forced himself to raise his gaze to see his audience.

　　Bruno, Delilah, and Allison remained motionless, still watching him. They seemed to be coming to conclusions for themselves.

　　"So&" Jeremiah said, trying to sound cheerful in the silence. "No one has jumped up to murder me yet."

　　Continued silence. Then Bruno then set his jaw and clapped his hands on his knees. "I don`t wanna kill him," he said. "He saved our lives, he hasn`t tried to escape, and he doesn`t sound like the evil type. There, that`s my couple coppers."

　　"He seems like a nice enough guy," said Allison slowly, "but there`s only one thing to be done with necromancers." Allison stood and drew her sword, her demeanor grim.

　　"Al, come on," said Bruno. "He ca-"

　　"No!" Allison said. "We agreed, if even one of us thinks he needs to go, then he needs to go. No questions, no voting, no arguments. On your knees, Necromancer. I promise it won`t hurt."

　　Jeremiah`s fear and rage surged. He had nothing left to lose.

　　He leapt to his feet, startling Allison and the others, and even himself. "Tell me what I did! Tell me who I hurt! You let me tell that whole gods damned story just to kill me anyway? I was a necromancer the whole time, there wasn`t some revelation waiting at the end that I`m not! So why did you wait? Just feeling dramatic?"

　　Allison`s face darkened. "How the hell should I know who you hurt? Everything you said could`ve been one big lie! All I know is you raise the dead, and I`ve never, EVER heard of a necromancer that didn`t murder people eventually! I`ve got every reason to believe killing you is saving lives down the line!"

　　Delilah stood as well, biting her lip, but she seemed unable to speak.

　　Jeremiah stepped toward Allison. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I deserve to die. I want to hear you say my name when you do it. My name isn`t Necromancer, it`s Jeremiah Thorn. Look me in the eyes and say Jeremiah Thorn, you deserve to die`!"

　　Allison`s arm shot out of her sling as quick as a snake and seized him beneath the jaw, her broken bones audibly grinding. She lifted his chin and pressed the edge of her sword against his exposed throat. A trickle of blood ran underneath Jeremiah`s shirt. She leaned close, oblivious to any pain in her arm. Teeth bared, she locked eyes with him, and spoke with ugly hatred.

　　"Jeremiah Thorn. You deserve to die."

　　Jeremiah gagged and gripped the forearm of the hand that was choking him. Tears ran down his cheeks and over Allison`s fingers as he waited for cold steel to cross his throat and bleed the life from him. So much learning, so much potential, all about to run out onto the grass.

　　A mournful croaking came from Delilah. She clutched Gus as the toad struggled to free himself and come to his master`s rescue.

　　Moments passed. Jeremiah became increasingly aware that he was still alive. He opened his eyes and saw Allison frozen, eyes still blazing, teeth still bared. But she hadn`t killed him.

　　"I`m so sorry." He choked the words out. He didn`t even know why he said it.

　　He felt Allison`s arm shaking. Delilah placed a tentative hand on Allison`s shoulder. "It`s okay not to kill him," she said, her voice near a whisper. "You won`t be doing anything wrong by being merciful."

　　Allison`s body jerked at Delilah`s words. She gave a low growl that grew into a shout of frustration. Her grip tightened around his throat. His vision swam, his feet kicked desperately in the air. He was being lifted higher, higher.

　　Then all at once he slammed into the ground, air leaving his lungs in a rush. He gasped for breath as he heard heavy stomping growing fainter. Then he was being helped to sit up by Delilah and Bruno. "You`re all right. You`re all right," Bruno murmured, brushing dust off him.Stolen story; please report.

　　Jeremiah`s body ached from the slam and he was struggling to breathe, but Bruno was right. Delilah carefully deposited Gus on Jeremiah` lap. He wriggled and croaked in relief while Jeremiah scratched his chin.

　　Jeremiah could still feel tears spilling down his cheeks. The residual fear and adrenaline combined with the relief of survival into a nauseatingly sweet cocktail. He looked up at Bruno and Delilah, who couldn`t quite bring themselves to meet his gaze.

　　"Thank you both," he rasped. "I know that must not have been easy, but it was the right decision. I promise you, it was."

　　"What are you going to do now?" Delilah asked.

　　Jeremiah looked between them. "I`m going to the city with you to collect my share of money from those doors, of course. As per our contract."

　　Delilah`s eyes widened ever so slightly. "Ah. I was afraid you`d say that. Are you sure we can`t interest you in taking some money to leave? I wouldn`t exactly say you`re safe from Allison at this point."

　　Jeremiah shook his head. He had earned his share and lost a very powerful skeleton in the process. From what Delilah had said about the doors, they were worth more than a cursory payoff. "I`m sure. I won`t get in the way, I`ll just take my cut and be off."

　　Bruno ran a hand through his hair. "Told you he`d want to get paid if he lived."

　　Delilah sighed. "Let me talk to Allison about it. Fair`s fair, and I won`t go breaking an agreement just because I can. I guess you can&well, I guess you can do whatever you want now. Your stuff is over there. We went through it a bit, but we didn`t take anything." She picked up her longspear and followed Allison`s trail into the woods, muttering, "Going to have to reset that shoulder anyway."

　　With a weary groan, Bruno rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He managed a wan smile at Jeremiah, then retrieved his swords. Jeremiah stiffened, but Bruno merely sat some distance away. He wiped them clean and applied mixture of oils, then settled into sharpening the blades.

　　Jeremiah found his own dagger among his things and joined Bruno, who offered him a spare whetstone. Bruno slowed his sharpening, allowing Jeremiah to imitate his technique. They sat together, absorbed in the ritual of maintenance. After so much fear, the rhythmic scraping of steel soothed Jeremiah`s nerves.

　　Finally, Bruno set his swords aside. "So, it`s clearly not a death wish, assuming you don`t consider what happened a missed opportunity. So why`d you do it?"

　　"Do what?" asked Jeremiah. The question could`ve been about anything at this point.

　　"Become a mage. Learn necromancy. Try to adventure."

　　Jeremiah tested the edge of his dagger with his thumb. Sharp as a butterknife. "Well, the home life never felt quite right to me. I didn`t want to be a jeweler like my dad, or a launderer like my mom."

　　"But why a mage? You could have been a farmer or a carpenter or any number of things. Learning necromancy was an awful lot of time spent ruining your own life."

　　"I didn`t want to while my days away in a nothing little town doing nothing little jobs, living a nothing little life. Necromancy was the one thing I was good at. I really thought it`d be different for me." He gave a hollow laugh. "You can see how that turned out."

　　"Was it worth it?"

　　The question caught Jeremiah off guard. He remembered fleeing for his life from angry, axe wielding villagers. Being spit on by people that didn`t know his name. He reflected on the long nights of loneliness he`d accepted as his life, and on the very real possibility that he could`ve been killed this very afternoon. Then he remembered his mother`s bleached white hands, thin nails jagged from the washboard. He remembered his father`s strained eyes and the belligerent chastising of ungrateful customers. He remembered that without him, Allison, Delilah and Bruno would have all been the Matriarch`s dinner. "Yes. Definitely."

　　Bruno cast him an appraising look. "Hope it holds. Not sure you`ve got the instinct to live a vagabond`s life."

　　"Well, what about you?," asked Jeremiah, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why do you bother risking your life adventuring?"

　　"No idea! I grew up on less than dirt and have been taking care of myself since before I could walk. I know I want the wealth, just not sure what will be different when I get it. Delilah thinks it`s about the security I never had. Allison says it`s about having control of my life. They might both be right. But I adventure for the same reason fish swim." Bruno slid a piece of grass along his blade, shaving it in half. "It`s what I do."

　　Delilah and Allison returned then. Delilah gave Jeremiah a weak smile, but Allison did not even look at him as she kicked his pack slightly further away, then sat on the opposite side of the camp. He supposed it was still an improvement over their previous interaction.

　　A shrill whistle interrupted the uncomfortable silence.

　　"Boat!" said Bruno. He jumped up and ran to the river`s edge. Sure enough, a wide, flat-bottomed vessel soon drifted into view.

　　"Looks like a river barge," said Bruno, squinting. "They`re bound to take us, anything to make a run more profitable." He pulled out a small silver whistle, cupped his hands around it, and blew a sequence of short and long notes. Moments later, a different sequence came back from the boat.

　　Bruno sighed. "It`s a bit steep for four people, but with cargo as large as ours, it`s hardly unreasonable. Gonna need six silver from the treasury."

　　Allison handed him six silver coins. Jeremiah was grateful—he had all of two silvers and four coppers to his name. Bruno blew out a series of staccato whistles and the barge slowly began making its way toward the bank.

　　It was a sturdy-looking vessel, weathered wood with little in the way of decoration, save for the words The Happy Hippo in faded letters on the side. As it approached the bank, Jeremiah and Bruno moved the ironwood doors into position to load onto the boat.

　　A narrow gangplank splashed into the shallow water. It took the aid of several sailors to maneuver the doors along it, their weight tipping the barge`s knuckle into the muddy riverbed until they were fully aboard. Delilah followed to supervise the doors` journey to the storage hold while the others acquainted themselves with their new surroundings.