"That seems like a good thing to make sure of, yeah."

"Anyway. If this can fix the Wardstone, that's incredibly important. Thank you so much," she tells the Storyteller. 

"I would say that you are welcome, but... it tastes bitter, knowing that by my words I may have just consigned someone to death. Please, if you take away anything from what I said, know that I do not call such power dangerous lightly."

"--I understand. But--I need to try. I end someone's existence every time I kill a demon; if protecting Golarion from the Abyss is worth that much blood, surely it's worth a risk to me. Even a very serious one." 

She hesitates. She feels really bad about accidentally guilt-tripping this guy because he doesn't know about her teaspoonful of legendariness. 

"And...I...don't know if my soul is normal. I--looked at myself with the Aeon's eyes, and there was--something weird?" 

"There are many things that might catch the eye of a vigilant aeon without safeguarding you from this power, but if you think you truly might I can at least examine your legend. You at least have something of the attitude that many of them shared."

He extends a hand towards her again, but doesn't make contact without her permission.

Luzai gives him her hand. 

When they make contact, there's a feeling almost like a static shock, and Luzai is suddenly elsewhere. She sees a kaleidoscope of possibility, ten thousand things she could have been and might yet be still, that remains in her field of vision just long enough to tantalize her with the knowledge both alien and eerily familiar before swirling into unrecognizability. She sees a girl, and her brother, born to a loving mother and a monstrous father; she sees a girl, an only child, who died too soon. Then they're in turn replaced, the day that she knew that Geb's nation was an evil she could not tolerate, the day she swore that Arazni would be free, the day that she seized her own destiny and fled with her brother into the desert sands, the day she died, slain by inquisitors and hurried off to the abyss - and then the words that brought it all together.

I promise.

She gasps, reeling back slightly before she gets ahold of herself, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. 

"What was that?" 

"You... saw that?"

He seems almost as surprised by the notion as she was by the vision.

"I have a particular ability to read legends, both of other people and objects, without a need for an interceding spell. For most this doesn't amount to much, but other's legends have more of a story to tell, and it's the only way I know of to check if someone has that spark. In all my years, though, I've never had someone else come along with me."

"Yes, I saw it. What an amazing ability." 

"I have often been glad of it. As for the purpose of the vision, though... What you plan to attempt will still be dangerous, not least because of the demons, but with that knife there's at least a chance of your success. May fortune favor your heroism."

“Thank you. …Do you want to come back to the Defender’s Heart with us, it’s safer there.”

"If you are willing to tolerate the fact that these old bones cannot walk as fast they used to, I would be glad of it."

"Of course! No one would expect otherwise." Even if it's sort of weird that he's that geriatric in the first place, she sort of thought elves didn't do that?

Then they can make their way back through the market square to the defender's heart. Their enlarged party offers some advantages when it comes to smooth travel; not only does the Prelate turn out to be far less suspicious of their new members than he was of Daeran, it turns out there aren't many groups of cultists willing to pick a fight with over a dozen armed combatants. Even the insects mostly steer clear, though there are a few exceptions .

Insects can go burn stab squish. 

Luzai is a sensible girl who is not going to hold "Hulrun isn't suspicious of them" against the Storyteller and the members of the Order of the Flaming Lance. 

In the time between them setting out in the morning and their return, someone must have gotten their hands on tents, because there are a number of them set up in the yard outside the tavern. Someone clearly stepped in to make sure they were gridded enough to allow relatively easy travel through, but somehow even more than the congestion of yesterday it serves to give the impression of being crowded.

This is, like, mildly inconvenient, but actually Luzai is really in favor of it being crowded! It means more people are here in comparative safety! 

They had better go report to Irabeth right away, they have so much intel. 

"That took longer than expected; did something go wrong? You don't seem injured, at least."

“Hulrun is on the warpath against the Desnans,” Luzai half-sighs, “and is now aware that I exist. That’s the only thing that delayed us that I would classify as going wrong, although if you disagreed with me about whether recruiting Count Arendae qualified that would be fair of you. We did get a lot done, though! The demons et al are going to attack the Defender’s Heart tomorrow evening, unless they change their plans between now and then. And we found the Storyteller! And a magic knife that the Storyteller thinks I could use to fix the Wardstone. Also I bluffed some cultists who were going to burn the Storyteller, and also some members of the Order of the Flaming Lance, alive, that I was a high-ranking cultist and gave them some misinformation about our defenses before shooing them, and also stole their barrels of alchemist’s fire.”

She stops talking and takes a deeeeeeep breath. That was a lot.

How in the world does that happen on a retrieval mission? They weren't even gone for a full day!

"I see. Thank you then, for all the additional people you saved. As for the count, as much as I would rather he were almost anywhere except here I don't want him dead, so I'll have to deal somehow. It's not like you bringing him around wasn't predictable after how we first met, after all. Do you have any information for what the attacker's numbers and disposition will be?"

"Some rough estimates, but, like," she spreads her hands helplessly. "Demon cultists. I have no idea how relevant the numbers are by now, let alone when it happens." She pulls a sheaf of papers out of her bag. "These are the notes I took, both during the spying at the Tower of Estrod and after I lied to the cultists at the library. Oh, and when I found the magic dagger, there was also the last remaining fragment of the psyche of an Aeon that Deskari killed, there, and I sort of--absorbed it? But I think I should probably find someone else to offload it onto, if possible, because it's, uh, not maximally compatible with who I am as a person." 

What even is an Aeon? Nevermind, that's not the important. She puts the notes in her pile for urgent review; if she only has a day left, she needs to spend it as efficiently as possible. 

"I'll make sure to put it to good use. Can I expect to count on your spellcasting for the attack tomorrow? And if so, do you expect the same is true of the people in your retinue?"

"Yes absolutely, aaaaand probably. I will talk to Nenio and Daeran and Camellia." 

"Inheritor bless you."