Liara was waiting for me and Divah down at the tower hearth whose great hall was full of people packed together like a can of sardines.
"She's here!" said a gruff feminine voice I recognized from all the times we'd cursed at each other. "She's here!"
The half-orc Kaveera stood at the head of a tide of red jackets who were all staring up at the staircase that Divah and I had just appeared in.
"Divah~~h!" roared another voice I recognized. One that didn't usually bellow that loudly unless he'd drunk his berserker Kool-Aid, because I knew him to be a very meek kid most of the time. "Divah~~h!"
Rollo—one of the Academy's many berserkers who preferred emerald to maroon, a growing trend among close-range combatants who wanted a little more maneuverability to go with their aggression—was hanging out with a group of his fellow green cloaks who had their hands raised in tune with their chant of, "Divah! Divah! Divah~h!"
