Cheliax is not free.

Oh, some of Cheliax is free. Most of Cheliax, even, which is more than was true a few months ago. But Cir's been smuggling slaves out of Cheliax for a decade now, and they aren't any more free than they were under Asmodeus. You'd think it would be one of the first priorities of a Good government, but then, you'd think a lot of things, wouldn't you.

Cir rubs the wooden butterfly in his pocket smooth. He knows the routes to Andoran well by now, and it's an easier journey to make when you can be sure you'll always have clean water and healing and dream-food that's just as substantial as the real kind. His dreams warn him when there'll be unexpected patrols or floods or raiders or any of the minor unlucky inconveniences that can kill an ordinary person trying to escape. 

He used to have a count of how many people he'd rescued. He lost count a few months in. He starts a new count, now, for the new government, and loses track of that one too.

In late Kuthona Cir has a dream telling him that some kind of government convention has been announced. Clerics are invited to attend. Desna has five spots.

Maybe they'll even manage to abolish slavery, he thinks bitterly. It's not really fair. He thinks maybe he lost his ability to be fair sometime after last Pharast.

"I'm not abandoning this work," he says in the dream, and the woman nods and smiles and wishes him good luck, and when Cir wakes up the next day he has another circle of spells.

So apparently it's now "illegal" to do all kinds of perfectly normal wizardry experiments, even if you're using orphans or beggars or other people no one cares about. (Some of them are still legal on slips, but it totally fucks up your experimental results if you just assume slips and humans will work the same way! And besides, slips are expensive.)

Anyways, the good news is, the paladins were assuming Llàtzer was just a wizard, and when they took his spellbook they didn't also take his holy symbol. So he broke out of the place where they were keeping him 'till they could decide whether they wanted to kill him, and stole his spellbook and his research notes back, and by the time they noticed he was gone he was halfway to the next barony.

He doesn't actually want to break the law, so in the new barony he's mainly focusing on the legal kinds of experiments; you can get all kinds of data without actually maiming anyone. He doesn't really think anyone who matters will care about his old hobbies. But he'd definitely not rather have to go argue with a bunch of boring nobles who don't really understand the true potential of magic, so he's perfectly happy to stay right where he is, at least until the paladins show up again.

Sorry, you're asking for priests of the goddess of revolution to come to your big government meeting in the capitol? And you think we're dumb enough to fall for that?

"Gather around," whispers Waxy, and all of Master Felip's slaves crowd around her, and she holds up the notched knife that's almost like a sword if you squint, and all their bumps and bruises and scrapes from the day heal up. 

"Remember, you mustn't tell anyone," she says, even though of course they all know that by now.

They're lucky that Felip doesn't pay very close attention to them — but then, Waxy's always been a lucky person. 

Maybe someday she'll be lucky enough they can all get away, or lucky enough to have a good opportunity to kill Felip, or lucky enough that the Queen remembers she's supposed to be a good person now, but not yet. Maybe not ever.

Some resurrected count and his men have apparently gotten the bright idea to go clear out the forest, just like it's the days of fucking Aroden again. Valentí isn't, actually, strong enough to kill a count, but the count's awfully starved for trustworthy men who are any good in a fight, and has decided to bend on "good in a fight" rather than "trustworthy."

He hides in a tree and picks them off as they approach. They're confused, at first, and then angry, and then scared enough for the living ones to leave, which is really most of what Valentí wanted to begin with.

(It'd be convenient for the forest, if he could channel positive, but he's under no illusions it'll ever happen.)

Anyways, the thing about being a murderer is that the Crown doesn't like murderers, and especially doesn't like murderers who fuck with counts, and Valentí's not an idiot so he's not going anywhere near the cities if he can help it.

Gozreh chose Pere a few months after his shockingly non-fatal decision to go be a hermit in the woods.

The thing about being a hermit is that you don't hear about constitutional conventions.

The Rose & Lily doesn't collapse in the earthquake, which is lucky, because if it had collapsed a whorehouse wouldn't have been in the paladins' top thousand priorities to rebuild. (Eudòcia has never actually met a paladin, but Barbara met a few at the Worldwound, and she says that they're like Asmodean clerics, except that they won't sleep with you and when they hurt you they pretend it's for your own good. The first half of that, at least, is borne out by the next few weeks, and Eudòcia isn't stupid enough to test the rest.)

The days and weeks after are — bad. Half the city is in ruins. Bread is barely affordable. Anyone who wants clean water has to walk halfway across the city. Enough women have turned to the trade just to be able to afford to eat that it's making a serious dent in the Rose & Lily's customer base. Eudòcia picks out a few particularly reliable customers and starts offering them discounts for information — which stores will sell you bread at a discount if you'll take burnt loaves, which parts of the city still don't have many women picking up clients, which ships will take you out of the country if you'll only comfort the sailors the whole way to Andoran.

Maragda is brave enough, or stupid enough, to try to tell one of the paladins when one of the men gets upset about being asked to pay the agreed-upon price and takes it out on her face. The paladin won't even talk to her, he just gives her an awkward look and then shuffles away down another street.

Eudòcia looks around at the girls of the Rose & Lily, and she knows that if anyone is going to protect them, it's going to be her.

Eudòcia hunts down the man who hurt Maragda and makes absolutely sure he's in no shape to do it again. She keeps offering discounts for information, but she's got a better sense, now, of what sort of information she needs to protect her girls. Three weeks after the fall of Egorian she wakes up with magic; she does channels for the girls three times a day, and hopes that the paladins aren't nearly so strict as the Asmodeans about members of other faiths. (It'll be worth it even if they are.)

The paladins still don't talk to them. That's fine. The law was never any good for them anyway.

More than a year after the fall of Egorian, Eudòcia hears that the Crown wants clerics off a long list of gods to come to Westcrown for a Constitutional Convention. Calistria is on the list.

Eudòcia isn't stupid. She stays in Egorian.

Apparently the Crown is asking for all the priests to come to Westcrown for some sort of big government meeting.

Gedeó's family is here, and his fields are here, and his community is here. He'll pass.