《The Book of Dragons [slow burn, urban fantasy, pie of life, progression]》 Encyclop?dia Creaturae Chimera One of the most diverse classifications of Creaturae, a chimera is anyone who is descended from a variety of different beings who had a composite of animalian features. Griffins, manticores, and sphinxes are some of the best known and most common subtypes. Chimera are rarely able to shapeshift and are usually clearly marked by their heritage. Dragons Dragons, or drakus, are perhaps the least like their legendary counterparts of all the Creaturae. They possess immense strength, tremendous resilience against physical harm, and potent magical skills and resistances, but they aren¡¯t dragons. Not in the literal, flying, serpentine sense. Drakus may have been able to take on such forms in the distant past, but it¡¯s so unknown to them now even they¡¯re not sure about that. Dwarves A proud and wily race of stout-but-powerful people, the dwarves traditionally made their homes in great underground caverns, where they found an endless use for their fondness of stoneworking, smithing, and enchantment. A dwarf who is a master artisan will rarely allow one of their pieces to go to someone who cannot use and appreciate it properly. Elves One of the most ancient races of Creaturae, elves have historically been very different from the modern conception of them. They are generally quite tall, ranging from seven to nine feet, and very thin. Their faces are more narrow and angular than most humans, with slightly larger eyes, and a row of sharp teeth, similar to an alligator or shark. Goblins Once a deeply-isolationist people with an insular culture that interacted only sporadically with dwarves, a long history of being caught up in wars between people building ludicrous strongholds in the mountains and forests where they made their home convinced them they couldn¡¯t stand apart and survive. Although most goblins maintain strong ties with their clan even today, they are much more cosmopolitan and have completely reversed direction. They do a great deal of work as political mercenaries ¡ª oppo research, diplomacy, mediation, espionage, and influence peddling are the bread and butter of the goblins, now. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Gnomes A chthonic race who, like dwarves, live mostly underground, gnomes are a smaller race with an average height of around four feet. They have mildly pointed ears and long, dexterous fingers. They are a fun-loving and mischievous people, prone to exploration and adventuring, though they enjoy applying their cleverness and wits pretty much whenever they can. Nymphs Powerful nature spirits, all nymphs are female and are connected to some very specific aspect of nature (a type of tree, a specific biome, etc.). They have a limited range of shapeshifting, generally their human form, their more natural form, and various stages in between. Magi Mages, shaman, sorcerers, warlocks, wizards, and any other term that might describe a wielder of magic. This term is most commonly used to refer to normal humans who have discovered how to perform magic in any of a variety of ways. Less often, it is used to describe structured organizations of magi who share similar worldviews, philosophies, or styles of magic. They account for the bulk of praeternatural beings in the world, if you exclude largely non-sentient things like basic spirits of nature. Therians Sometimes confused with chimera, therians are beast-people or, as they¡¯re more commonly known, werebeasts. Although some are powerful wielders of magic, therians more often rely on the physical enhancements that come from their full or partial transformations. Vampires There is a greater diversity of vampires than most people would think and their differences range from superficial to fundamental, but there are some traits almost all vampires share. They empower themselves by taking from the essence of others, although how this is accomplished and the impact on the victim can differ greatly between one type of vampire and another. Some are hideous monsters while others are almost indistinguishable from humans. Almost all vampires are significantly stronger and more durable than humans, able to move with superhuman speed, capable of shapeshifting into animals or insects. The most impressive and frightening power of vampires is that a number of them can influence the minds of other people in varying ways, which is among the rarest and most difficult forms of magic in existence. Glossary General Concepts Aether The stuff that exists within, around, and between all things, it has been called many things in different cultures and times, but today it¡¯s most commonly referred to as aether, quintessence, or essentia, and sometimes shortened to quintus or essence. A very old term, atoms, has largely fallen out of use. Aetherite When aether is collected into a physical form, it is called a aetherite (metal), aetherium (crystal), or aetheron (gasses, liquids, and gels). Sometimes the metal is called aethril, in homage to Tolkien¡¯s mithril. Aetherite has the highest potential density, but the product is essentially permanent and immutable. Aetherium and aetheron can both be used as aether batteries, breaking apart when the last of the aether is drawn from it. Creaturae One of the more formal catch-all terms for sentient beings with some supernatural aspect to them. Magi, tending to be the most pretentious and snooty of all non-mundane peoples, sometimes make a distinction between themselves and Creaturae with some specific heritage or source. Other common terms mostly reference the historicity of the Creaturae, and include: bygones, eidolons, holdovers, praets (short for praeternaturals), revenants, remnants, and relics. Drakus The term, both singular and plural, for individuals who are imbued with the essence or soul of a dragon, whether one that has lived past lives or newly formed. Dream, the The collective dreamspace of living beings. Direct contact between individual dreams is exceedingly rare and difficult to accomplish intentionally. Dungeons A catch-all term for different places in the world where, by chance or design, magic is in a state of unusually dynamic flux, often producing strange and dangerous flora, fauna, and, sometimes, treasure. Emergence, the A physical transformation drakus undergo when the essence of their past and current incarnations fully integrate with one another. Hearthbond A primal aspect of magic connected to the ancient laws of hospitality, it can provide a level of power and protection to a person when they are in their demesne. As ideas about privacy and private property have grown stronger, so has the potency of this effect. Savant A kind of wild talent magic-worker whose magic is largely internalized to affect and enhance their natural capabilities. Physical and mental savants are the most common, though in some cases savants are even more specialized, leading to things like strength and perception savants.
The Hidden Society of the Creaturae Byways Hidden paths in the mundane world only accessible to Creaturae. They are often small, unobtrusive, and underground, but in certain cities can be quite large. The Byways in New York City are essentially two- and four-lane roads that can accommodate vehicle traffic. They are mostly hidden under and around the subway systems. Council of Archons Also known as the Synedrion Eidola, this council consists of three members of the Vigiles who are the ultimate authority over the organization. They have personal agents who are officially titled as Strategoi, though some prefer to use a Latin title that is roughly equivalent and call them Consuls. Drakon, the Also known as the Drakon Society, Ordo Draconum, and other names, it is an ancient secret society whose members are imbued with the essence or soul of dragons. It is led by three individuals, the Triumvirate of Flame, which consists of the Primus Draconis, Cordus Draconis, and Animus Draconis. Ekwiyakink Also called the hidden borough, the sixth borough, or the underworld, Ekwiyakink is a series of interconnected subterranean settlements inhabited mostly by goblins and orcs, but with a decent share of dwarves, gnomes, and others. The name is an anglicized form of a Lenape phrase ¡°¨¨kwii hakink,¡± which translates to ¡°under the ground.¡± Four Pillars, the The four relatively simple laws that govern the behaviors of various individuals and factions in the hidden world of the Creaturae. These laws are: Goblin Market A hidden marketplace catering to the Creaturae. In Manhattan, it is located beneath the East Broadway Mall in Chinatown under the Manhattan Bridge with a public access point in a tiny bookstore tucked away on a lower level of the mall. Stolen novel; please report. Lux and lumens (currency) Although Creaturae use regular money, they also have their own form of currency, called lux. Lux is aether, or quintessence, given a tangible form. The value of lux is determined by how much aether is infused into the currency, or how many lumens it holds. At the lowest levels, metal currency is used in the forms of coins and small plaques. The metals used are copper, silver, electrum, gold, platinum, and aethril. For values beyond a single aethril coin, aetheron and aetherium are used. Creaturae in the modern era even have their own banks and can get personal bank cards, although physical currency is still widely used. Outsider''s Council, the A council that governs Ekwiyakink and has nominal authority over all goblins, orcs, and gnomes residing in New York City. Rite of Renewal An elven ritual in which specific, personal memories are removed, allowing them to experience life as an entirely different person with a completely fresh perspective. Tribulations, the When it is thought a new Primus Draconis has been discovered, they are required to perform three tasks to either fully awaken to their nature, demonstrate beyond refute they are the rightful heir, or both. These three tasks are commonly referred to as escaping the vault, entering the depths, and retrieving the sceptre. Vigiles Creaturae An independent organization that enforces what few laws have been adopted by consensus as affecting all Creaturae (see: Four Pillars), regardless of origin or affiliation. The Vigiles was formed as a new order of magi, unprecedented because it accepted other Creaturae into its ranks, in the early eighth century in Constantinople. The Vigiles has undergone two major Reformations since its inception, one in 1453 establishing the Vigiles as fully independent of all other factions and again in 1690 when the current Third Pillar was introduced.
The Magic of a Mythic World Magic Magic is accomplished through the manipulation of aether, an omnipresent metaphysical force. There are four elements that influence any feat of magic: Attunement A less significant version of dedicating a talisman, this mystic process still forms a kind of bond or connection between a Creaturae and an item with magical qualities and is particularly useful as a minor security measure for restricting ease of use to others. Autonomous Construct Artificial beings created by magic ¡ª simulacra, golems, gargoyles, and the like ¡ª who have gained a significant degree of intelligence and consciousness. They are capable of acting independently and even refusing the orders of the makers. Ceremonial Magic and High Ritual Ornate, intricately structured magical spells that rely heavily on symbolic implements, like litanies, runestones, and the like, in their casting instead of an individual¡¯s mental framework. The use of such heavy symbolism and the consistency of their practice in history has helped to anchor the magic more deeply in the aether, giving it a bit more mystic weight. Chanterns Also commonly known as cantrips, chanterns are exceedingly simple spells composed of between one and three well-established symbols and a very brief incantation. While they are relatively weak, their reliance on components deeply ingrained in the practice of magic and human culture make them some of the more stable and versatile spells in existence. Entropic Fire A powerful magic, entropic fire attacks the aetheric connections within an object, causing mutations with brief exposure and leading all the way up to full disincorporation. Because of the nature of the flames, it can only be created in a specifically defined point in space and must remain there permanently. Extra-Dimensional Storage (EDS) Storage containers that are manipulated with dimensional magic so that they can hold much more than should otherwise fit inside. Similar magic can be performed on physical structures, as well. Spells of Sacrifice When performing magic, the caster can sacrifice some of their life force to the magic to greatly empower it. This is irreversible and dangerous, as it can be very difficult to control how much of a caster¡¯s life is given to the magic. In the most extreme cases, a person will intentionally relinquish whatever life is left to them, overcharging the spell by dying in the process. Talisman A talisman is an object that has had a magical connection forged between it and an individual. Dedicating a talisman to an individual generally allows them to conceal or store the item in a mystical marking somewhere on their body for later retrieval and use. Threefold Doors Once a very popular, if expensive, method of protecting access to a location in a structure, this magic creates a layer of hidden doors. The first door is no door, the second is hidden behind the facade and will often be connected to a dimensional space meant to act as a trap or decoy, while the third, real door remains hidden behind it. Wands A common tool for channeling magic, wands (and staves) are usually designed to perform one or more specific feats of magic, rather than being an unrefined focus for any spell a Creaturae might want to perform. Those kinds of wands do exist, but they are far less effective, providing very little in terms of enhancing casting as anything more than an implement in structured magic. Wands are (almost) never sentient and (almost) never choose their wielders. Cast of Characters

The Drakon

Aaron Abrams (POV character) An awkward, nerdy cubicle drone, Aaron was the quintessential example of someone failing to live up to their potential. After a year of poor self-care, he discovered he was the inheritor of a legacy in the Drakon, an ancient secret society whose members are imbued with the essence or soul or some kind of mystic hoopajoop of dragons. Albert Lang Short, scruffy, and squirrelly, Albert is one-third of a trio assigned to protect Aaron Abrams. He has a wheezy laugh, a dark sense of humor, and a tendency to ramble about movies. Alice Aisling Carroll A quiet, demure, perhaps even unsure young woman, Alice is more than just a dreamer, she has an amazing natural talent with oneiromancy ¡ª the magic of the dreamscape. Burdened and blessed by an irremovable glamour that makes her seem especially attractive, that combined with her bombshell good looks provide her no end of opportunities for trouble (and fun!). She has been with the Drakon for almost a decade and has spent much of that time developing her mastery of dream magic. Barrett Freeman Warm in demeanor, Barrett gives off a vibe that is patient and wise, basically a kindly grandfather figure. But he is much more than he might seem at first glance ¡ª the thin and elderly black man is a seasoned combat veteran of the Vietnam Conflict and a cunning tactician with a deep interest in history. Ezekiel Mallory Slightly stooped with age and seemingly frail, Ezekiel Mallory is a surprisingly vigorous old man who leads the more magically-inclined wing of the Drakon. He is a bit out of touch with the times and a not just a little irascible, but his knowledge and dedication contribute greatly to keeping the Drakon from sliding into a position of irrelevance in the world of the Creaturae. For more than two centuries, he has single-handedly convinced each successive Cordus Draconis to stay true to the vision the last Primus Draconis had. Gregory Masters Most people who encounter Greg Masters ¡ª or Shinobi Sensei, as he requests people call him ¡ª find him off-putting and strange. Whatever personality foibles he might have, there are few who contest his position as the Drakon¡¯s expert on training with and using archaic weaponry. Griffin Smythe Gregarious and goofy, Griffin is a font of puerile humor. Dick and poop jokes, bawdy limericks, or even farting for a laugh ¡ª that¡¯s Griffin. But he can get mean when he needs to. Griffin is tall, burly, and sports sideburns and a horseshoe mustache. Katrina Wozniak The Archivist for the Drakon in New York City, Katrina has a reputation for being stern ¡ª even scary ¡ª when people goof around on her turf, but she mostly comes across as vivacious, friendly, and eager to be of assistance. Kiara Lavign¨¦ If you¡¯re striving for professionalism, but your coworkers are consummate dipshits, it can be frustrating. Even if she likes her colleagues, she can¡¯t help being sassy (and sometimes pushy) with them. She tends to be a hard-ass, but usually it¡¯s because she¡¯s trying to do what¡¯s right by others ¡ª or she¡¯s looking for an argument to entertain herself. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Tia Kellogg If snark took the form of a person, and that person could fit into a k-pop girl group with a 90s or Y2K aesthetic, then you added a brain that would give any great thinker a run for their money, you¡¯d have Tia Kellogg. Tia is a post-grad student at Columbia University pursuing a double doctorate in philosophy and anthropology.

Vigiles Creaturae

Aaliyah Dean (POV character) Kicking ass and taking names is Aaliyah Dean¡¯s middle name... and she¡¯s a little pissed at her parents about it. That¡¯s Aaliyah in a nutshell ¡ª she¡¯ll crack a joke then get pissed at you for laughing if she feels like it. She¡¯s a no-nonsense, take-charge kind of woman and she investigates major infractions for the Vigiles Creaturae. She has a bit of a mischievous streak and it¡¯s not unheard of for her to play small pranks. Dylan & West Cut from the same cloth as many rival detectives (who are also pricks), Dylan and West are two of the investigators in the major case squad of the Vigiles Creaturae in North America. If you want a rough idea of the dynamic they create, either because they want to be that way or (more likely) just because they¡¯re assholes, see Martin and Fosse in The Other Guys or the Andies in Hot Fuzz. Enid A squat, fat, mean old woman whose sense of fashion suggests the strictest librarian in a movie made in the 80s but set in the 50s, Enid runs the Cage, an impressive security barrier between the outside world and sensitive areas of the Vigiles Creaturae headquarters in New York. Eresthanon (POV character) Eresthanon is an elf who has just started a new Cycle ¡ª a kind of personal ¡°reincarnation¡± accomplished through a mystic elven ritual. He is pragmatic, sensible, and enjoys comfort, but isn¡¯t ostentatious or flashy. He has a deep dedication to his principles and the rule of law. Ivy Hedera Ivy is a rare specimen, especially outside of the Mediterranean, as she is one of the few active kissiae, a nymph of, fittingly enough, ivy. She handles administration for the major case squad of the Vigiles Creaturae in New York. Kopan Khaldun Khaldun is a Praetor of the Vigiles Creaturae and the chief of operations for the police organization in North America. He is a descendant of sphinxes, with the haunches of a lion and the wings of a falcon. Stugrond The quartermaster of the Vigiles Creaturae, at least at their New York branch office, Stugrond is a dwarven master smith who is nearly as talented in using weapons as he is in creating and enchanting them. He is serious at times and playful at others, but is a generally boisterous fellow. Trey Wilde The front desk receptionist at the Vigiles Creaturae headquarters in New York, Trey is a flamboyant, feisty, and flirtatious fop who is so camp he borders on being a log cabin in the Montana wilderness. Prologue - The Death of Oliver Milton (part 1) Near Spider Rock, Canyon de Chelly, West of Santa Fe de Nuevo M¨¦xico, 1775 Oliver Milton walked through the red desert, close to death. He wasn¡¯t dying, far from it; he was actually quite healthy. It was only that the time and place of his murder drew closer with each step. Milton knew and had known this for a long while, yet he remained intent on facing it. He had accepted what would ¡ª what must ¡ª come. The sun was finally setting, causing the shadows ahead of Milton to stretch and darken. The searing heat would start to bleed away soon and Milton was glad of it, even if it didn¡¯t really affect him. He could, if he wanted, crawl into the very fires of a smithy¡¯s forge and emerge unscathed. While he might not be sweating, he wasn¡¯t immune to discomfort. After more than a year exploring the vast desert that stretched across much of Nuevo M¨¦xico, Milton had begun to tire of the blistering heat. Although perhaps not as large, parts of this American desert were both hotter and less forgiving than the sandy wastes of Arabia or the Sahara. The area of desert he¡¯d traveled the past week was rocky; the stone had a decidedly reddish-orange tinge, as if the ground itself had been painted with the blood of some colossal god at the creation of the world. Milton was reminded of the rocky land around the ancient city of Reqmu, more commonly known as Petra. It won¡¯t be long now, Milton thought. He was traversing a great canyon, or perhaps it was several canyons intersecting each other, and admiring the coarse shrubs that dotted the landscape. For all its harshness, the desert was a beautiful, even majestic place. Milton had never seen a sunset as vivid as those he¡¯d witnessed in this arid land. Although nominally a Spanish kingdom, Nuevo M¨¦xico was inhabited by more natives than Spaniards or their descendants. The peoples of this continent were unlike any of the Old World that Milton knew of, especially this far north. The supposed great thinkers of Europe thought them an uncivilized people, but that was a conclusion formed of ignorance and pride. The people of these lands had simply developed different traditions; they had interacted with and been influenced by Creaturae and the aether in vastly different ways. It was likely to the detriment of all that the human cultures of the two hemispheres had come into contact when they did. A few centuries earlier or later and the future may have looked quite different. That was Milton¡¯s suspicion, at least, but he didn¡¯t put much stock in what was possible when measured against what was likely. Probability was, in his opinion, more reliable than possibility. For instance, he was going to die on this very day and he knew it. If he clung to possibility, he could try to delay or deny his fate. If he did, the future he saw would become indecipherable and uncertain. Worse, acting in such a selfish manner wouldn¡¯t just obscure his vision of what would be, it might undermine the possibility that it even could be. No, this was what had to happen. He had gone to great lengths to set his affairs ¡ª and the affairs of quite a few others ¡ª in order in anticipation of this day. Milton rounded a wall of the canyon on his trek back east and found himself in the presence of a most unusual geological formation. Set near one of the sloping bases of a wall across the open floor of the canyon, two spires jutted upwards to the sky. Or perhaps it was only a single pillar and had been split near the base by some monumental force. One spire rose higher than the other, giving it an uneven appearance. The orange stone pillar soared more than five hundred feet into the air, perhaps as high as a thousand, and the split made it resemble nothing so much as an immense lobster claw. That puts some things into context, Milton mused. Although he was gifted with foresight, the form his premonitions took varied greatly. Sometimes he could seek a vision, but other times they came unbidden, most often in his dreams. Those unsought insights were laden with symbolism and could be difficult to decipher. For instance, Milton had long wondered how he would face his death in a searing red desert and yet a giant sea monster would be present. The bright russet pillar clarified that particular mystery. There were many other questions left unanswered and Milton hoped for more revelations, if only to satisfy his curiosity. Too many questions about the next life, Milton thought. In a world so very different from the one I know. A few minutes later, a campfire flickered merrily in the shadow of the stone pillar, a kettle quickly heating over the flames. The water came to a boil and Milton added some leaves to allow them to steep. He heard footsteps behind him, loud and heavy on the compact earth of the canyon scrubland. ¡°You¡¯ve traveled a great distance to find me. I wonder if we might share a cup of tea before¡­ well, I¡¯m sure you know better than anyone what your purpose here is,¡± Milton said. ¡°Your time has ended,¡± a voice behind him rumbled, punctuated with nearly inaudible clicking and scraping noises. That was a true statement, or close enough that distinctions didn¡¯t really matter. Milton¡¯s death was imminent and it would be at the hands of whomever or whatever was speaking behind him. Yet it was also a falsehood; Milton¡¯s time wasn¡¯t limited to his own life span; he had lived before and he would live again, in a manner of speaking. He might not be precisely the same person, but he was part of a vast legacy. Milton felt perfectly at ease; what would come would come and he had spent years coming to terms with it. His hands were steady as he set out two cups on a flat stone beside the fire, his breath smooth and even. Now that the thing was finally upon him, what he wanted was a moment of respite and civility before the bloody work began. ¡°Almost,¡± Milton agreed, gesturing to a rock across from him. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t have an amicable discussion before we resolve that matter.¡± Heavy footfalls drew closer, reverberating through the hard ground. The stranger was very close to Milton. His instincts told him to tense for an attack, but he held himself steady. This wouldn¡¯t end in a single blow and he didn¡¯t want to risk losing this chance for a conversation. Finally, Milton came face to face with his killer. The stranger passed around Milton, silent as a placid sea, and took a seat across the fire. Apparently they could move quietly if they wished to. The creature¡¯s appearance settled another of Milton¡¯s questions. Although human in shape, no one could mistake the thing sitting across from Milton for a human being. It was more like a clumsy sculpture of a human, with flesh the color and consistency of dark, polished stone. Its features were as sharp and angular as the red stone of the pillar beside them. Its movements were clumsy and stiff, like someone recovering from a long period bedridden. The nature of the assassin sitting across from him certainly put the dreams where Milton died in an avalanche into perspective. ¡°I suspect your maker ensured you were more aptly made than you appear,¡± Milton observed. ¡°Given the recent prohibition on such creations, perhaps some of the artistry has been lost.¡± The creature said nothing; it simply watched him with an unblinking stare. Even its eyes were stone, a fact which might have been unnerving if Milton weren¡¯t expecting this creature to kill before the sun finished setting. ¡°I won¡¯t ask your name for obvious reasons, but I assume you know mine?¡± ¡°To give a snake your name is to give it power over you,¡± the stranger rumbled. An old idea, that, and not exactly an untrue one; but for the thing sitting across from him it was likely more accurate than usual. Milton was no expert on this particular field of magic, but there was a good chance his killer was either animated or empowered by the name it had been given. Still, it was good to have confirmation his killer was a construct ¡ª that meant someone had made and sent this thing after him. Not much to be done about that now, Milton thought. What will be, will be. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°I can see why you might think so,¡± Milton said. ¡°Am I to take it that your primary objection to my continued life is the nature of my being? That is to say, you are here to kill me because I am a drakus and nothing more?¡± ¡°Serpents are a blight, a curse on humanity. Since time immemorial your ilk has only served to worsen the condition of the world and its inhabitants. It is not my task to expunge the lot of you, but I can content myself with severing the head of the snake.¡± So it comes because I am the Primus Draconis, Milton thought. At least my fellows will be free of this threat. Lamentable as it might be, dragons had been deeply unpopular with almost every other group of Creaturae since time immemorial. Except the elves, of course, who were said to remember a time before the rise of human civilization more clearly than any other mystic creature. Perhaps it was even justified, to some extent. ¡°I¡¯d like to think we¡¯re no longer the avaricious beasts sitting on their hoards we once were,¡± Milton mused. ¡°However, I¡¯ve not been able to glean a way to smooth such ancient grudges with the other Creaturae.¡± ¡°It is not only Creaturae who oppose your kind,¡± the stranger said. ¡°You have more enemies than just the lesser beasts.¡± So it is a creation of a magus or an order of magi. Another question answered, while so many remain, Milton thought. Of all the many and varied beings in the world who were not entirely in line with the mundane, only magi were known for objecting to be included as one of the Creaturae. In fact, only a particular brand of highly formalized, esoteric orders of sorcerers took issue with the de facto association being drawn between themselves and partial- or non-humans. That narrowed the list of like creators down somewhat, but not much ¡ª if anything, the prevalent attitudes of Europeans towards those they viewed as less worthy or significant than themselves only proved that kind of thinking was all too widespread. Milton leaned forward and lifted the lid from the kettle. Aromatic steam drifted out and he breathed it in, slowly and deeply. He knew from experience that the fragrance of the tea belied the complexities of flavor it provided. A plump pheasant might have been nice for a last meal, but a quiet tea service would do the trick. To accompany the tea, Milton set out a small container of milk, another of sugar, and a plate with a hardshell cover. He didn¡¯t know how his guest took their tea, if at all, but better to be over-prepared than inhospitable. He detached and removed the lid from the plate and set it aside. ¡°I apologize that I haven¡¯t any cakes, but I hope you¡¯ll enjoy an assortment of nuts, sweetmeats, and other preserved fruits.¡± The living statue surveyed the impromptu tea service laid out before it, then turned its unblinking gaze back to Milton. ¡°I will not be foiled by magic cooked into a paltry meal nor assuaged by a hollow offering,¡± the stone man said. ¡°No magic, no tricks; I simply wish to enjoy a bit of conversation before we are forced to delve into unpleasantness.¡± The tea had steeped long enough for most of the leaves to settle, so Milton lifted the kettle and poured the fragrant brew into each of the cups he¡¯d set out. The porcelain wasn¡¯t the finest, but it was made well enough for the sound of the pouring tea to strike a note of bittersweet nostalgia in Milton. The tea itself was a rich, honeyed brown and a healthy steam rose from the filled cups. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re familiar; this drink is called tea,¡± Milton said. ¡°It¡¯s from the distant land of China, far in the East, where the leaves are harvested and processed by ascetics devoted to lives of utmost simplicity.¡± Milton added milk to his cup and a fair amount of sugar; he was perfectly happy to take his tea plain, but if there was ever a time for indulgence, this was it. The stone man copied Milton¡¯s actions, pouring some milk into the tea then adding sugar, albeit somewhat clumsily. The construct may have been hesitant because it wasn¡¯t familiar with the process or, more likely, since its fingers were as roughly hewn as the rest of it, being rather wide and ending with squared tips. ¡°We were talking of history,¡± Milton said. ¡°You want me and those who follow to die; you and your maker think my people have influenced the course of history for the worse. Is that more or less accurate?¡± Following Milton¡¯s lead, the assassin lifted the porcelain cup to its stone lips and tipped some of the steaming liquid into its mouth. ¡°As it has been, so it shall ever be; wyrms fester and corrupt the world wherever they dwell,¡± the construct said. ¡°The history of dragons is longer than either of us know, I think, but what I would like to talk about is the future.¡± ¡°You have no future, wyrm.¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± Milton said, picking up and chewing on some sweetmeats, savoring the sugary morsel for a moment. ¡°But you do and I worry for you.¡± ¡°You worry for me,¡± the creature said, incredulous. Milton nodded. ¡°You have taken a grudge ¡ª a hatred ¡ª into your heart and let it define you. I fear this will taint your every experience of the world, leading you to see the worst in all things.¡± ¡°The world is irrelevant, only my duty matters.¡± A sadder existence I couldn¡¯t imagine, Milton thought. Milton knew ¡ª or had a pretty good idea, at least ¡ª that this creature would endure a mindset poisoned by this prejudice for years to come before there was any hope for reprieve. His visions of that distant future were confusing and sometimes overwhelming, yet Milton was confident it would be years before the opportunity for change came. A century at least, he thought. The wonders of the future I have seen could not come to pass in any less a time. The buildings he had seen ¡ª things made of metal and glass, soaring into the very sky itself, taller than the greatest pyramids, higher even than the spire of red stone behind him ¡ª were enough to guarantee that. How such structures could be built or stand, Milton didn¡¯t know, but they were the least of the marvelous things his essence would witness next. A part of him wondered if magic might have a resurgence and reach new heights. Milton refused to yield the topic. It didn¡¯t matter whether the creature sitting across from him was worthy of the effort or if there was little hope of reducing the blood spilled in the coming years. He could at least plant seeds in that pessimistic soil and hope a weed of hope would take root and strangle the harvest of nihilism. But it would have to be presented in terms the creature would understand; a perspective inherited from his creator. ¡°Perhaps your duty is the only thing that matters to you, but surely you have opinions. Would you agree, at least, that serfdom and slavery are abhorrent institutions which violate the most basic tenets of natural law?¡± The golem ¡ª or would it be a gargoyle? ¡ª considered the question, awkwardly placing a small pile of sugared nuts into the slot in its face that crudely resembled a mouth and crunching them into pulp. Its face was otherwise still throughout, giving no sign of whether it took anything from the experience. ¡°Nature is filled with hierarchies of power; recognizing one group is more advantaged than another is not innately wrong,¡± the golem said. ¡°The subjugation and exploitation of others to the excess humans have reached is, however, unconscionable and grotesque. Something learned from your kind, most likely.¡± ¡°Let us say a day comes when such institutions have been torn down. Do you believe the state should still be judged as if it were continuing to uphold it?¡± ¡°The stain of such a practice would endure, even if the practice itself had ceased.¡± Milton frowned. ¡°A black mark on their history and one that should never be forgotten lest humility and vigilance against such abuses lapse, but surely you wouldn¡¯t argue it¡¯s the same as if the policy were ongoing?¡± ¡°An unforgivable act is, by its very nature, unforgivable,¡± the golem said. ¡°Judging anyone, be it individual or state, solely by the lowest point in their history ¡ª regardless of how they might have progressed ¡ª seems a rather melancholic perspective.¡± The golem offered no response to that, only taking another sip from its cup of tea. Another approach was needed ¡ª one that might also offer insight into the construct¡¯s makers. ¡°Would you agree the Rome or Greece of antiquity were laudable civilizations known for scholarship and great thinkers?¡± Milton asked. ¡°Of course; they brought light to the darkness of a largely uncivilized world.¡± ¡°So you don¡¯t judge them solely for engaging in slavery? Pederasty? Imperialism?¡± The corners of the golem¡¯s mouth turned down ever so slightly, perhaps the extent of expression it was capable of. After a long silence, Milton continued. ¡°In the years to come, as you hunt down and kill those who would be my successors, I believe you will see that societies and individuals are capable of great change and growth. You might even find you are capable of the same.¡± ¡°My duty is eternal.¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± Milton said, draining the last of his tea with a sigh. ¡°Well, I believe we have come to the point where there is little more to discuss other than the execution of that duty.¡± Although Milton was well more than a century old, the drakus didn¡¯t look it ¡ª his body was more hale and healthy than a soldier in the prime of their life. He rose to his feet smoothly and the golem did the same. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll accept my apologies if I don¡¯t offer my surrender and quietly accept my own death.¡± ¡°Your cooperation was not anticipated,¡± the golem said, and lunged across the firepit. Prologue - The Death of Oliver Milton (part 2) Near Spider Rock, Canyon de Chelly, West of Santa Fe de Nuevo M¨¦xico, 1775 Inhuman hands ¡ª blocky, square-tipped, and made of stone ¡ª reached for Oliver Milton, grasping, aiming to squeeze him to death. In his time as the ostensible sovereign of the Drakon, Milton had focused more on scholarly pursuits, his interest leaning more towards history than magic or martial endeavors. Still, nearly a gross of years as Primus Draconis had not left him unskilled in either. Milton deftly stepped to the side. The golem redirected his swing towards Milton, only to glance off a pane of mystic energy. Runes flared with a ghastly light for the briefest instant at the contact. Broad stone fists began to slam into the shield, but it provided Milton time to perform an incantation under his breath. He ignored the sudden pounding of his heart and the tightness in his ribcage, working his will through the alien fear until clouds of purple plasma sprang into being around his hands. His hands passed through the arcane barrier, striking the stone man once, twice, thrice. With each blow, some of the plasma bled away, clinging to the golem¡¯s torso. The fourth blow missed, leaving a faint swirl of purple energy on one of Milton¡¯s hands. He pulled his hands back through the shield before the golem could grab them. And before the plasma detonated. The blotches of purple energy flowed into each other, then rushed into the golem¡¯s body in a torrent, compressing its stone body between them. The construct probably had no sensitive internals like an organic Creaturae, but stone and metal were still vulnerable to the immense pressure of gravity. Assuming magic hadn¡¯t been used to fortify those materials. Alas, his foe hadn¡¯t been so shortsighted, as Milton learned a few seconds later when the golem recovered from the assault with no visible signs of damage. There was no reason to think this should have been so easy, given this being is almost certainly going to kill me, yet I had some small hope to make a better showing of it, Milton thought. Perhaps this is an opportunity to probe for vulnerabilities that might be remembered later. The attack had provided enough time to complete another incantation and white tendrils formed in the air between the two combatants. They looked like smoke from a fire with unseasoned wood, but emitted a cold so deep they could wither flesh in seconds. Each wispy stream thickened into a strand the width of a finger, then they darted towards and latched onto the golem, wrapping around its torso and appendages. Rimes of frost formed immediately, spreading and thickening in fractal lines emanating from each connection. Milton curled his fingers into claws and thrust them at the ground. The cords of frost yanked downwards, pulling at the golem with tremendous force. Its legs spread, steadying itself, and it pulled back against the strands. The struggle was brief, the tendrils of frost quickly reached their limits and shattered. Many Creaturae possessed enough strength to overpower that particular spell, but few would be unscathed from the hoary frost touching their flesh. The golem¡¯s flesh, such as it was, was unmarked when the icy remnants broke apart and flaked away. Force and frost failed, so we¡¯ll try fire, Milton thought. I¡¯ll need time to call the magic and that requires space. When the golem lunged for him again, Milton grabbed an outstretched arm. He stepped into the creature, pivoting hard, and hurled the figure over his shoulder. Milton had been trained in the ancient and versatile combat sport of pammachon ¡ª each Cordus had been adamant he should know how to fight ¡ª but even with decades of practice, he only risked the throw because his opponent was clumsy, perhaps still learning how to move in a real combat. That would likely not be the case for long. Before his opponent had even crashed to the ground, Milton had launched himself into the air. The powerful leap carried him to a great height, where he latched onto the ruddy stone pillar and began his next incantation. The golem either couldn¡¯t or wouldn¡¯t jump as well and began to scale the pillar. Holding himself in place with one hand, Milton began a series of complicated gestures with the other. A wave of regret flooded his thoughts ¡ª How much more could he have done to prepare for the future or atone for the past? Were his choices for the best or had he turned to fatalism? ¡ª and he brushed them aside. He was too experienced and disciplined to let magic waylay his intent. Nine pinpoints of bright red light appeared in the air between Milton and the golem, equidistant from each other. The lights quickly expanded into motes of flame, their light shifting from orange to yellow and, finally, to blue. Hair-thin lines lanced out from each point, connecting it to others and forming a flaming enneagram in the air. In the center of the nine-sided star, a new flame appeared - white hot. The rays collapsed inward until they made contact with the central flame, and the entire shape turned violet. It was almost impossible to see in the deepening shadows of the canyon. The air around the conjured flames began to hiss and pop as searing heat combusted the natural gasses. A roiling beam of light purple flame burst from the collapsing star¡¯s core. It screamed through the air and struck the golem high on the shoulder, near its neck. The flame bored through the construct, stopping just short of the ground. The very rocks of the canyon floor were superheated to magma, turning molten then immediately starting to cool as the flame lance dissipated. With a tremendous crash, the golem fell to the ground. A plume of dust erupted from the impact, obscuring the golem for a few moments and giving Milton a chance to catch his breath and prepare another spell. Milton took his time going through the incantation, punctuating certain moments using his free hand to form connections to parts of his body with a simple touch. Force, fire, and frost; now let us see how lightning fares, Milton thought. He hadn¡¯t expected the flame attack to be as effective as it was and hope welled up in his consciousness ¡ª he forced it aside, dismissing it for the lie he knew it was. How this battle would end was already known and, more importantly, he knew how magic worked. The emotion was nothing more than dissonance in the aether meant to stop him from working his will. Faint blue arcs of electricity danced along Milton¡¯s hands and forearms ¡ª lightning waiting to be released ¡ª as the spell finished forming. He¡¯d need to get closer to effectively use the lightning or it would be drawn into the stone pillar long before it reached its target. Magic lightning was, after all, still lightning. Before he leapt down, he needed to get an idea of his opponent¡¯s condition. A hot breeze scoured the canyon floor, sweeping away the last traces of the dust cloud obscuring the golem. The beam of superheated magic flame had punched a hole straight through the upper torso of the golem, but the thing itself was back on its feet. From his vantage point high on the stone pillar, Milton could see the ground behind the construct, which still glowed with heat. The creature¡¯s torso, however, was solid, the wound was mostly closed. You can¡¯t win this battle, Milton reminded himself. You¡¯re just gathering information in hopes it will be remembered. As his stone assailant started back towards the base of the monolith, Milton leapt. He was delicate in his movement, not wanting to harm the natural marvel, but it still carried him dozens of feet away from the pillar. The golem was in motion as soon as he was and would be on top of him almost as soon as he landed. When Milton¡¯s feet touched the rocky ground, he dropped to a crouch and extended one hand in front of him, the other clutching it at the wrist to combine the charge of both arms into a single blast. Lightning flashed, an arc of electricity forming between Milton and the construct. The elemental fury ploughed into the stone body, staggering but not stopping it. It slammed into Milton at full speed, sending him hurtling away so quickly the golem couldn¡¯t grab onto him. He landed gracelessly and tumbled several feet in the dirt. Lightning equally ineffective, Milton thought. Maybe its senses are a vulnerability? Milton rolled to a stop and sprang into a crouch. He winced as pain screamed in his sides ¡ª the last impact may have cracked some ribs. With one hand he flowed through a complex set of gestures, starting his next spell, and with the other he palmed a small vial filled with a thick black substance. It was crucial the magic was enacted before he used the potion. Otherwise, he¡¯d lose the element of surprise and might gain no useful information. It would also force him to use an unspoken incantation and he wasn¡¯t confident he could perform this spell without a verbal focus. Before the golem had covered half the distance between them, the air for a dozen paces around Milton solidified into a cloud of opaque darkness. His own senses would be dulled by the inky cloud, but the construct should be worse off. Safely concealed ¡ª in theory ¡ª by the conjured shadows, Milton drank the vial of black ichor. His body turned intangible as it, too, was transformed into shadow. Sliding along the ground, Milton positioned himself near the edge of the inky cloud. As a shadow, he could condense his shape significantly. Not so small he could fit in any opening, but enough for him to slither into a narrow crevice under a wide shelf of rock. If the golem had no praeternatural senses, it should be unable to locate him. It was only a delaying tactic given the outcome of this conflict was literally a foregone conclusion, but the information could be helpful later. The golem charged the massed shadows, the ground rumbling with each step. It came to a stop just as it crossed the edge of the cloud. Milton clearly sensed its movements change in the lightless miasma ¡ª each step was no longer rushed, but uniform; not hesitant but calculated. When it was deep inside the haze, near the center, the golem¡¯s body emitted a single, powerful pulse of light. Milton¡¯s senses were limited by both his form and the unnatural darkness. Still, he was able to perceive a great deal in that momentary flash of mystic power. It emanated from a complicated network of runes etched into the golem¡¯s very body. Although Milton wasn¡¯t as powerful physically or magically as some drakus ¡ª especially his predecessors ¡ª his perception was unmatched. He was confident the golem was not protected by an illusory disguise, yet he had seen no runes on it when they¡¯d sat for tea. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Perhaps the runes may not be worked into its body, but its very aura, he thought. Arcane energies pulsed outwards from the golem, purging the aether in the area of Milton¡¯s workings. The cloud of darkness evaporated and Milton was forced into his normal body ¡ª a slightly uncomfortable experience, considering he had slithered under a rock. The body of a drakus was made of much stronger stuff than stone, so there were no new injuries, but the sudden pressure against his already-injured ribs left him dizzy and winded for a second. A second was all the golem needed. It was on top of Milton before he recovered his bearings, pinning him down and pummeling him with its ungainly hands. Between the stone floor of the valley, Milton¡¯s body, and the golem¡¯s fists, the ground was the weakest; it broke apart with each impact. Pitted against drakus fortitude, the golem¡¯s strength was sufficient to hurt, but not to harm. Pain was not an isolated thing; it accumulated. The damage might never have broken Milton¡¯s body, but it would wear down his spirit. Acid, Milton thought. Need to try acid. Pinned as he was, Milton didn¡¯t have the freedom of movement for any useful focusing gestures. Moreover, the flurry of strikes battering his head meant an incantation might go awry. Without proper foci, only simple spells were open to him and those were unlikely to have the potency to provide any useful information. He didn¡¯t have to do either to change the aether with magic, of course, there was another way, but it was dangerous. Milton scrabbled to get a hold on one of the golem¡¯s arms. A scuffle ensued, each trying to gain the advantage. The golem was fast and Milton couldn¡¯t find purchase. When he planted a foot to lift himself up, the golem swept it out with one of its own. He was well and truly trapped. A trickle of fear spread from Milton¡¯s scalp down his neck. Rather than fight it, the old drakus let the emotion fester and swell, threatening to drive him into a panic. He had come to terms with the inevitably of his death in an abstract sense; actually facing the end of his life had taken all his will to keep his composure. Now, the torrent he¡¯d been holding back was unleashed and quickly became a deluge. Fear was a powerful emotion, but to make use of it, Milton needed more. If he let the fear go unchecked, more emotions would follow in its wake. A desperate shout tore its way out of Milton¡¯s throat and his struggle against the golem became frantic, uncoordinated, and reckless. After the fear came regret, as familiar as it was useless. Underneath it all was exactly what Milton needed ¡ª an ember of rage. There were few things more corrosive or dangerous than rage. Milton latched onto the kernel of anger with all his determination and drove it in the aether around him. He used his unfettered turmoil to sculpt reality. The best he could hope for was to guide it; control wasn¡¯t possible. He hurled that furious intent at the construct sent to kill him. A sickly yellow mist formed around Milton. It did nothing to protect him from the golem¡¯s ceaseless blows, but it was disturbingly mordant, rapidly eating away at the creature¡¯s simple clothing. Smoke rose from the stone body, but the rock-like flesh was mostly unaffected. Maybe it needs a more concentrated application, Milton thought. As soon as the idea occurred to him, the corrosive mist surrounding Milton thickened and condensed, particularly around his hands. It came with a volatile surge of anger. He tried to steady his thoughts; he needed to get the timing right to land a telling blow and to keep the spontaneous corrosive magic from turning on him. Neither were easy. The golem struck him several times before he found an opening to lash out at the creature¡¯s face. He struck true, his blow landing on the golem¡¯s jaw. The construct rocked back at the impact, wisps of smoke rising from its face. It may have been Milton¡¯s imagination, but the impossibly straight lines of the golem¡¯s lower face looked slightly smoother. With the golem distracted, Milton was able to plant his feet, lift his hips, and roll. He wrapped his arm around one of the golem¡¯s legs as he went, forcing it over with him and reversing their positions. He hurled his fists with abandon, recklessly driving their corrosive fug into the construct¡¯s face. He was breathing hard; not because of the exertion, but because his emotions were still roiling ¡ª except the anger. The anger had been given form. Now, it encompassed him, external to his existence. After several long seconds of pummeling, the golem threw Milton off. When they stood to face each other, Milton was almost certain the golem¡¯s inhumanly angular features had been smoothed over mildly. Not so much that it would be noticeable to most, but Milton was terribly perceptive. ¡°So you can change,¡± he said. The golem felt at its face with blocky fingers ¡ª had those lost some of their sharpness, too? ¡ª giving Milton a moment to plan his next move. Acid had some effect, classical elements much less so, he thought. That nullifying pulse rules out several tactics and I have neither the time nor the skill to try temporal magic. Raising his hands over his head, Milton formed a rough diamond with his fingers. He slowly changed the angle of the space between his hands as he muttered an incantation. Deep red rays of the fading sun passed through the opening and, impossibly, split into multicolored beams. Such a bending of light was possible, with the right material. Descartes and Newton had proven that more than a century earlier. With nothing more than an empty space formed by the shape of two hands, however? Impossible. Yet the laws of physical reality yielded to Milton¡¯s magic. Not as easily as they once had, perhaps, but easily enough. The conjured rainbow burst forth and converged on the canyon floor, painting the red stone in a wash of color, and coalescing into a tight circle. Milton carefully adjusted the angle of his hands, causing the beams to rush across the ground and climb the golem¡¯s body towards its face. The creature recoiled, but light was swift. As soon as the light touched the golem¡¯s eyes, seven standing mirrors sprang into being around it. Their edges seamlessly melded into one another and each was a different hue of the visible spectrum. The mirrors reflected each other, creating an infinite expanse of mirrors that stretched off towards an artificial horizon yet never diminishing in perspective. The golem was trapped in an endless mirror maze, colors bleeding into each other and creating a visual cacophony. In the core of the maze, the golem turned in place, spinning in a slow circle. It examined every surface and angle. Unlike the cloud of shadow ¡ª which had transmuted the aether into shadow or conjured shadow to fill the space, depending on your school of thought ¡ª the mirrors were purely illusion. It was a complex and powerful illusion, affecting multiple senses, but it was still an illusion. Milton watched the golem struggling to solve the puzzle from outside of it, glad for a moment¡¯s respite before the end. The golem was no fool; it scanned the floor and the ceiling within a few seconds of being captured. Milton was no fool, either and it found no help there ¡ª the mirrors extended to cover those spots as well ¡ª so it continued rotating within the prison. This continued for several minutes. Is it trying to devise a path? Milton wondered. Or is the magic which animates it unable to conceive of the prism prison in a tangible way to formulate a plan of action? Hoping for additional insight into the golem¡¯s action, Milton slowly approached the prism prison. While the golem turned clockwise, the drakus circled in the opposite direction. As Milton watched, the stone creature began to explore the prison with its hands, reaching out to touch the walls one at a time with its blocky fingers. It didn¡¯t strike the mirror barriers, but pressed its hands flat against the reflective surfaces, sliding from one to the next in a full circuit around itself. Clever, but the illusion affects each of the senses, oft times in contradictory manners, Milton observed. From the front, it looked like the stone man was just running its hands flat over the mirrored surfaces. Any small, detailed movements of the golem¡¯s hands as it explored the mirrored walls were hard to make out from the back. Milton reversed direction and matched the golem¡¯s rotation, getting closer to the prison and slowing to get behind the golem for a better view. Without warning, the golem whirled to face Milton. Its arm burst through the wall of the prism prison, runes flashing around its rocky flesh for the briefest instant. Its clumsy fingers latched onto Milton¡¯s neck with a grip promising inexorable death. A dagger appeared in its other hand, the blade split down the middle so it resembled two long, gruesome fangs. The blades were made of a dark, smoky metal covered with thin, curving bands not unlike the patterns on a fingertip. A faint shine hugged the weapon like a halo. Seric iron alloyed with aetherite for strength, durability, and to better hold enchantment, Milton thought, even as panic fluttered at the edges of his consciousness. If that¡¯s a genuine vampirdolch, it will certainly prove to be an effective gambett. The vampirdolch was among the most vicious of magic artifacts. Originally designed to combat vampiric undead in the 13th century, it stole vitae essentia ¡ª or life force ¡ª from its target. Prolonged or repeated exposure would quickly weaken and kill the victim, transferring that life to the beneficiary of the fiendish enchantment. Which means the malefactor behind this construct will likely survive until these matters can be fully resolved, stealing the life from those with the potential to carry on my legacy, Milton thought. I can only pray they won¡¯t be in a position to disrupt the future I have seen. Milton¡¯s musing was interrupted as the twin blades pierced his breast. It missed his heart but that didn¡¯t really matter. The dagger, as it turned out, was a true vampirdolch; he felt his life being rapidly pulled out of his body. No one knew what the natural lifespan of drakus was ¡ª not anymore, at least ¡ª but it was monumental compared to all but the most long-lived races, like the elves. Milton had been born in 1606 and lived more than eightscore years, all without any significant aging. He¡¯d just started his third decade when he became the Primus Draconis and wouldn¡¯t mark his physical age higher than forty. The vicious magic of the dagger was stripping away whatever was left at a tremendous pace. It had only been a few seconds since the blade had struck and he was already feeling weak and faint. That answers yet another question from my visions, Milton thought, realizing the vampiric assassin he sometimes foresaw was symbolic, not literal. Thank whatever powers might be that such enchantments cannot target the soul of a person, only the life force. Even with his life being drawn into the dagger, Milton didn¡¯t lose focus on the entire purpose of setting out to meet his fate on the terms he had chosen. The tea and conversation he had shared was meant to serve a purpose. He had sewn the seeds, now he needed to encourage them to germinate. He grabbed the golem¡¯s head in both his hands, using what little strength remained to him to force the construct to meet his eyes. ¡°Remember,¡± he breathed. ¡°All things change.¡± He took a shuddering breath as his vision darkened. ¡°Even you¡­ can change.¡± Milton¡¯s body relaxed against the ruddy stone floor of the canyon, his last thoughts of a time to come, a time he had seen that was both terrible and wondrous. There would be more tragedy than joy in the years between his last moments and the future foretold, but, like he said to the golem ¡ª all things can change. Chapter 1 - A Familiar Stranger It was hot, which made him angry, and he was scared, which made him furious. Aaron brushed those feelings aside, chalking all that up as irritation. The cold pit bubbling in the hollows of his stomach was just a byproduct of nerves. It wasn¡¯t anger; Aaron didn¡¯t get angry. He took a few practice swings with the aluminum baseball bat. He didn¡¯t know much about baseball and wasn¡¯t sure how it was supposed to help, but he knew enough to know it was a thing people did. It also gave him a chance to sneak a glance at his team¡¯s dugout along the third base line. Katelyn was there. She was talking with Roger and laughing at something he¡¯d just said. Of course. Aaron sighed inwardly. There was nothing wrong with Roger. Not really. He was just hard to measure yourself against. Better looking, more successful, much more charismatic, and very witty. A far cry from the awkward catastrophe in the shape of a man that was Aaron Abrams, or so Aaron felt. The problem wasn¡¯t really Roger, it was Aaron. Or, more precisely, his stupid crush on Katelyn. Was it jealousy that was making him grip the bat a little tighter? Surely not. It¡¯s not helping that I¡¯m almost certainly about to make an ass out of myself in front of her. And Roger. And every other damned person from the office, Aaron thought. He swung the bat again ¡ª with a little more force than necessary ¡ª and it whistled through the air. Aaron hadn¡¯t wanted anything to do with the interoffice softball league and it was baffling how he¡¯d even wound up there. Team sports ¡ª and sports in general ¡ª had never really been his thing and he was even more hesitant of sports involving throwing and catching a ball. Throwing wasn¡¯t so bad; it was catching a ball that caused him problems. Some deep, evolutionary, lizard part of his brain insisted any ball coming at him was a threat. That inevitably led to either lashing out wildly or getting all jammed up trying to control the impulse. When someone from the office hurt their back, a pressure campaign swung into action to push Aaron into joining. He¡¯d fended the vultures off for most of a week until Katelyn had asked him if he¡¯d be playing at lunch one day. Maybe it wasn¡¯t so baffling how he¡¯d wound up there, after all. Why they wanted him to play in the first place was baffling, though. Quite a few people were weirdly invested in these games, but Aaron wasn¡¯t the athletic type, especially lately. He had broad shoulders, but he wasn¡¯t particularly tall. He¡¯d also let himself get into pretty bad shape over the past year, putting on at least fifty pounds. The only exercise he got these days was riding his bike to work. Yet here he was. Aaron shouldered the bat and looked out over the field, eyeing the pitcher, then the sky. Sizing up the pitcher and checking the position of the sun seemed like the kind of thing an experienced batter might do. What the hell am I even doing? he thought. I don¡¯t know baseball¡­ I¡¯m just trying not to make a damned fool of myself. Something out in right field caught his eye ¡ª an old black man was sitting on an ancient folding lawn chair just past the foul line. It had thick vinyl straps in earthy shades of orange and brown that screamed the 70s. Aaron nearly tripped over his own feet, assailed by the most powerful sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu he¡¯d ever experienced. It wasn¡¯t for anything he was about to do or say; it was focused entirely on the man sitting in a janky little chair. Aaron couldn¡¯t think of how he might know him; the old man didn¡¯t actually look familiar, he just felt familiar. Similar feelings of unattached d¨¦j¨¤ vu weren¡¯t entirely unfamiliar to Aaron; he¡¯d been having a lot of similarly odd moments lately, though never as powerful. He¡¯d mostly attributed it to his fitful sleep patterns lately, caused by especially vivid dreams that he couldn¡¯t quite remember but lingered on him like a haze. He¡¯d considered going to the doctor over it, but he didn¡¯t have the disposable income for luxuries like mental health care. He¡¯d even stopped taking meds a little over a year ago to cut costs. Aaron drifted to the batter¡¯s box, taking his time the last few steps so the feeling would pass. It didn¡¯t, exactly, but it quickly faded into the background of his thoughts and stopped being disorienting. When he stepped across the white line in the dirt, a frozen knot appeared in Aaron¡¯s stomach. He was about to risk abject humiliation in front of his coworkers and it was compounded by the sense the old man was staring at him. He¡¯s just watching the game, Aaron, stop being such a paranoid goon. Now that he was aware of it, Aaron couldn¡¯t shake the feeling the old man was ¡ª and had been ¡ª watching him. He took a few measuring swings, a deep breath in through his nose, and turned his focus to the pitcher out on the mound. Keep your cool, don¡¯t panic, he thought. It¡¯s slow-pitch softball. You¡¯re supposed to be able to get a hit. The first pitch came, nice and easy; Aaron thought he had a chance to nail it. Right before it got to the plate, his eyes darted to the old man and the ball sailed right past him. He shook his head and tried to laugh it off, plastering on a smirk and shrugging like the whole thing was no big deal. Icy tendrils from the knot in his stomach started crawling toward his spine. On the second pitch, he grounded out to first. He walked back to the fenced-in bench to much commiseration from his colleagues. Platitudes were exchanged, backs were slapped, and Aaron tried to force the cold lump in his guts to melt away. At least the heat wasn¡¯t bothering him as much this year and he wasn¡¯t sweaty for all the pats on the back. ¡°You¡¯ll get ¡®em next time, slugger,¡± Roger kindly assured him, which annoyed Aaron just, like, so much. After he took a seat on the bench, Aaron glanced surreptitiously toward right field. Even with a couple hundred feet between them, he was pretty sure the old man was watching him, not the next batter. There was nothing particularly threatening about the guy ¡ª being old and thin wasn¡¯t exactly conducive to generating an aura of menace ¡ª but Aaron found him unsettling nonetheless. Why was he so familiar? And why was he paying so much attention to Aaron? It¡¯s an old dude watching a softball game on a Saturday afternoon. You¡¯re just being self-conscious and imagining things. It became harder to accept that as the game went on. Since he was the least experienced, Aaron had been placed out in right field, where he was least likely to make a game-losing mistake. That also put him much closer to the old man, who stayed right in his field of vision pretty much the entire time. Every time Aaron looked that way, the stranger was looking right back at him, a mysterious smile on his face. After several innings of discreet observation, Aaron finally put a label on that smile ¡ª it was wistful. He didn¡¯t know why the hell this old man would be wistful when looking at him and wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to. When Aaron¡¯s turn in the batting order started to get closer, the lingering annoyance from his last at-bat began to percolate again. It wasn¡¯t anger ¡ª he didn¡¯t get angry ¡ª but frustration was mounting. His coworkers offered him words of encouragement when he got up to go to the plate, but they barely registered. Game face on. Get your head in the game. Other sports-related aphorisms! Aaron stepped back into the batter¡¯s box. The first pitch came in low and lazy. Aaron thought he might get a single or double out of it, but misjudged the timing and swung early. The cold pit in his stomach burst open and started crawling up his spine, again. He took a few dry swings before the next pitch, working out the nerves and trying to focus. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Keep your eye on the ball, he told himself. Don¡¯t worry about the people from the office. Do not pay attention to that old man. Aaron¡¯s coworkers were cheering for him but, for all he knew that was true, it felt like they were laughing at him. He kept the frown from forming on his face. The second pitch came. Danger! Threat! Aaron¡¯s amygdala screeched. It¡¯s coming right for you! Swat it away before you die! His entire body was tense, ready to respond. The ball was moving fast and coming in higher than the last pitch. Too high to be a strike, Aaron thought. He could be wrong, but kept a tight rein on his body anyway, forcing himself to be still. He even turned his eyes down to the plate. A risk, but one that paid off when the pitch was called a ball. The third pitch was deceptively slow. Aaron swung early again and earned another strike. He stepped out of the batter¡¯s box for some more dry swings and inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to suck some of the warm air in to counter the cold in his stomach. Down by one, a runner on second base. Two outs, two strikes, and one ball. You just need a double to tie it up. That was what Aaron wanted to focus on ¡ª the game. Not the people in the bleachers watching him and definitely not the strangely familiar old man lounging past right field. The old man whose gaze Aaron could almost feel. Maybe he¡¯s a chubby chaser and he¡¯s checking me out, Aaron thought. A little cringey, but I could live with that. Aaron turned his attention to the mound. The pitcher was in his starting stance, holding the large ball near his chest. Right before he started to windmill his arm for the pitch, he had the gall to smirk at Aaron. The frigid knot in Aaron¡¯s innards shuddered and clawed its way further up his spine. His frustration mounted and he squeezed the handle of the bat so tightly he almost thought he heard the aluminum groan under the pressure. That was impossible, of course, but that kind of strength would be very useful in this situation. Aaron needed to get a hit. He had to get a hit and get on base. He had to; his pride was on the line. The fourth pitch came, a real bullet with more speed and less arc than previous pitches. It was headed straight across the plate. Aaron saw where it was going, knew when it would reach him, and when he¡¯d need to swing to connect. He stopped fighting the searing cold pulsing in his core. It spread into his limbs and rushed up to his skull. His entire body tingled and he felt faintly nauseous. He embraced the discomfort, pictured it flowing through his body and into the bat. It was time. He swung. A rapid succession of surprisingly loud noises followed: a loud ping; a resounding crack; and, finally, a crash. The bat hit with the ball ¡ª ping! ¡ª then hit Aaron¡¯s back on the followthrough and broke ¡ª crack! ¡ª as the ball screamed down the first base line and blasted through a parked car¡¯s window ¡ª crash! Even Aaron knew what a line drive was; this wasn¡¯t that. The ball had moved too fast, been too level, and smashed through that window with too much force. Everyone on the field ¡ª the players, the audience in the bleachers, even the oddly familiar old man ¡ª were on their feet, staring along the path of the ball. After a few seconds, all those faces turned and landed on Aaron. He felt the weight of their eyes fall on him like a stone wall. He¡¯d never had a problem with crowds, but at that moment he wanted to disappear. Some people might have been proud of that home run, but Aaron felt like he was a freak on display at some rancid old carnival. A fierce argument erupted in Aaron¡¯s thoughts. I hit that ball harder than possible. But that can¡¯t be true because that would be, by definition, impossible. And yet¡­ I did it ¡ª I swung so hard the bat broke and the ball flew across the field like a cannonball. Just adrenaline, though. Nothing else. Nothing weird. That¡¯s almost certainly true; how could it not be? But even still¡­ But even still, no matter how implausible it was, Aaron had hit the ball harder than he¡¯d ever seen anyone hit a ball. No matter what he told himself, it was weird. Maybe it was just wishful thinking; that made the most sense. But even still¡­ Dozens of people were staring at Aaron in stunned silence. That was real. It suggested they thought his home run wasn¡¯t a standard line drive, too, but something so shocking they had stared in silence for¡­ however long it had been. Forever, maybe. He wanted to be home, away from all those eyes. Aaron stooped to pick up the end of his broken bat and walked back to the dugout. The only sound was his footsteps crunching on the dirt of the baseball diamond. He couldn¡¯t get a read on the emotions behind his coworkers¡¯ stares. Were they horrified? Impressed? In a way, Aaron suddenly found himself almost enjoying the attention. There was something both exhilarating and sickening about it. I really, really need to get the hell home. ¡°Sorry about the bat,¡± he said, dropping the pieces on the ground and not addressing anyone in particular. ¡°I think I hurt my shoulder. I¡¯m just a few blocks away, so I¡¯m going to walk home and put some ice on it.¡± After a long, uncomfortable silence, Aaron swallowed hard, picked up his tote bag, and added, ¡°Good game, everyone.¡± He turned and walked across the park, right through the diamond and the outfield. It had been less than a minute since Aaron¡¯s home run and people were coming out of their stupor. He could hear bits of conversation starting as he walked. He tuned them out; he tuned everything out. He was halfway through the outfield when he remembered that everything in life had pain-in-the-ass consequences. Instead of continuing on towards home, Aaron turned and walked along the sidewalk. When he reached the car with the broken window, he rifled through his bag for a pen and paper. Before he could find either, he got an unwelcome surprise ¡ª the old man had walked up and leaned against the car, ugly lawn chair folded under one arm. ¡°How¡¯d you know it was my car?¡± he asked. Aaron blinked at him. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You nailed my car. Well, my rental. How¡¯d you know it was mine?¡± Aaron looked from the car to the stranger, not fully processing what he was hearing. ¡°It¡¯s your car?¡± The old man nodded. ¡°For the moment. So¡­ how¡¯d you know it was mine?¡± He fixed Aaron with an intense, searching look, as if waiting for a specific answer and intent on finding the lie in it. Aaron didn¡¯t know what the old man expected, but his unease grew. He just wanted to leave. He held out a page from his notepad to the familiar stranger. ¡°This has my contact information, get in touch and I¡¯ll try to reimburse you for the window.¡± The old man took the page and examined it. ¡°You didn¡¯t include your name.¡± Aaron realized he hadn¡¯t and felt like an idiot. For about half a second. Then he felt a wave of profound relief as he suddenly realized he didn¡¯t want this strangely familiar stranger to know anything about who he was. Good thing I used my personal email, which is just a stupid gamer tag I¡¯ve had for years, he thought. ¡°Get in touch and I¡¯ll do my best to reimburse you,¡± Aaron repeated. ¡°I don¡¯t care about the money, son,¡± the old man said with a dismissive wave. ¡°Tell me how you knew it was my car. You knew me on sight, I could see it on you. How is it you recognized me? Maybe some odd dreams?¡± Even though the stranger spoke in friendly tones and everything about him suggested he was a relaxed, kindly old man, there was an intensity to those questions. More than ever, Aaron didn¡¯t want this stranger ¡ª or anyone else ¡ª to know who he was. He wanted to go home; he always felt better at home. ¡°Get in touch,¡± Aaron said, turning to walk away. The old man didn¡¯t try to stop him leaving and Aaron picked up speed as he walked away from the park. When he was near the corner, Aaron glanced back over his shoulder. The familiar stranger was still by the car, watching him. What if he goes and talks to people from the office? Aaron wondered. Will they blab? Give a complete stranger my name and who knows what other information? Hopefully not, but there was nothing Aaron could do about it without going back to the ballpark. Aaron crossed the street. As soon as a building blocked him from view from the park, Aaron broke into a jog. His apartment was only two blocks from the park, but he ran for more than twenty, taking unnecessary turns and doubling back several times. He looked, but never saw any sign that he was being followed. You are being one paranoid android, he told himself. When he finally slipped into the alley behind his building and ducked into the back door, he was so preoccupied trying not to dwell on the afternoon¡¯s events that he didn¡¯t even notice he was neither sweating nor out of breath. Chapter 2 - A Dangerous Dream Aaron shut the door to his apartment, locking the door behind him as he always did, and leaned his head against the cool door. No matter the situation, whether he was injured or just upset, he always felt better once he was back in his own space. It was like a sanctuary, a bulwark against the outside world where it was easier to pretend his problems were shut away by the walls and doors. His place had the same four and a half rooms most one bedroom apartments did ¡ª bedroom, bathroom, living room, and kitchen with attached dinette. A tiny room connected the living room, bedroom, and bathroom and doubled as a coat closet and storage space. Each room had its own door, creating a kind of airlock between them if the doors were closed. Having grown up in one bedroom apartments, Aaron appreciated the sense of space and privacy this would have created when he was sleeping on futons and foldouts in the living rooms of his childhood. It also gave him the option to put more closed doors between him and the outside world while he slept, a possibility he liked even if he didn¡¯t make use of it. Sometimes he thought of his apartment as the stupidest dungeon ever built. He smiled at the idea of little tribes of goblins and kobolds defending each of the doors, protecting the treasures in the chambers beyond, like the toilet or the janky old television in the bedroom. His smile didn¡¯t last long as his thoughts turned back to the stupid softball game and the familiar stranger. Aaron walked across the living room to the wide credenza under the windows. He dropped his messenger bag on the floor, tossed his keys down, and plugged in his phone. He was still feeling out of sorts and not sure what to do about it. His thoughts drifted to the small, dusty suitcase on the shelf in the bedroom closet. There was comfort to be found there ¡ª there always was ¡ª but he pushed the idea away. It was a weird day, he thought, but you don¡¯t need to go there. Be strong. He rolled his shoulders, expecting to find them sore and tender, and was surprised to find neither. There wasn¡¯t even pain where the bat hat hit him and broke. That was good, but he still needed something to distract himself. His computer sat catty-corner to the front door, acting as his media and entertainment center in the living room. He sat down and powered it up. A video from his subscription feed would probably be a good way to unwind; he might even laugh a bit. He started a video, draped his company jersey over the back of the desk chair, kicked off his shoes, and flopped down on the couch. He dozed off within minutes.
Walls made of large, heavy stones rose up. And up. And up. So high their tops were lost to sight in the darkness above. The stones had been laid with the same kind of ashlar masonry seen in many old European castles. They were strong walls, capable of containing or repelling all but the most determined threats. The walls were meant to keep something hidden and safe. He didn¡¯t know how he knew that, but he was sure of it. The passage was wide ¡ª fifteen or even twenty feet ¡ª and the floor was a massive slab of gray stone, worn so smooth it nearly shone. There were no seams or joins in the stone as far as Aaron could see. He continued walking down the hallway. He was lost ¡ª which was sort of the point of a maze ¡ª and couldn¡¯t remember if he was supposed to be making his way toward the center or finding some exit along the edges. Perhaps the labyrinth was meditative, or maybe there were galleries filled with statues and topiaries to be discovered. Whatever the purpose of the great stone maze was, there was no sign of it here. He stopped to check if he had any chalk, coal, or some other implement he could use to mark his path but found none. Well shit, he thought. If the design was fairly simple, he could use the wall-follower strategy to find his way. As long as he stuck to one wall, right or left, and followed it, he should make progress of some sort. Not having anything to mark intersections was a real kick in the pants, though. If the maze were complex, following a wall wouldn¡¯t work and he¡¯d be left guessing at random. Without more information, there was nothing for it but to pick a wall and start moving. But which one? Aaron placed a hand flat against the left wall, then crossed the hall and did the same on the right. There was no logical reason for this, quite the opposite; he just wanted to see if one wall felt better. Neither wall, being walls, was particularly inspiring. He repeated the process, closing his eyes this time, in hope he might ¡°hear¡± his intuition more clearly. In this case, the message from his subconscious was loud and clear: you have no fucking clue which wall is the better choice. With a sigh, Aaron picked the right wall and continued walking. After a number of twists and turns, he found himself at a large, complicated intersection. Seven other paths diverged from the hub, all largely indistinguishable from the others. Each was made of the same kind of stone using the same kind of masonry with the same solid floor and each was about ten feet wide, just like the hallway he¡¯d emerged from. The intersection was a decent enough place to mull things over for a moment. It feels better stopping here than at some random spot in a hallway, at least, Aaron thought. So¡­ do I stick with the rule of rights, or pick a path at random? The only real benefit of picking a path at random was that, if he turned out to be right, it would be The Most Amazing Thing Ever and he could pat himself on the back. At the same time, he knew trusting in luck over planning was a fool¡¯s game. People always said that fortune favored the bold, but Aaron thought fortune probably didn¡¯t give a shit about your pluck or can-do attitude. Fortune was fickle and malicious; it favored long odds and let you keep betting until you busted. Fortune favored those who planned around it, whether cautious or bold. A more accurate saying might be: fortune fucks the foolish. All of that meant abandoning the rule of rights without more information was a terrible idea, no matter how cool a lucky guess might be. But maybe Aaron could get more information? He closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and listened. Intuition had failed him, but maybe he could pick up the feel of a breeze, the scent of vegetation, or even the sound of water. After several seconds, he did hear something. It was faint; very faint. Aaron¡¯s head tilted slightly, angled up slightly and toward the sound. It was¡­ like a whisper, punctuated by a single, heavy beat. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Ssssssswih-thump. He didn¡¯t want to find out what was making that sound; it was something that didn¡¯t belong here. Worse, it was getting closer with each dragging thump. Ssssssswih-thump. As quietly as he could, Aaron followed the right wall into the closest hallway. At just five feet wide, he worried the passage might be too narrow to maneuver in if he had to run. Ssssssswih-thump. He crept along, trying to keep a hand near the wall without touching it so he wouldn¡¯t make any noise. It was hard because he kept checking out his shoulder for any sign of whatever was in the maze with him. The sound had a deceptively sedate tempo. It seemed to be moving at a snail¡¯s pace, but it must have covered a lot of ground because Aaron was sure it was getting louder. Ssssssswih-thump. For several minutes, Aaron crept along the hallway. It made several twists and turns and he was thoroughly lost. He¡¯d been lost to start with, but the intersection had been a landmark he could use to orient himself. Now, he¡¯d completely lost track of it. Aaron¡¯s luck took a turn for the worse when his hand passed over the opening to a new passage and he didn¡¯t register the open space in time. He jammed his fingers into the opposite wall. The impact didn¡¯t make much sound, but he gasped sharply in surprise. Sound tended to carry in long, narrow stone corridors like these. He stopped completely, standing still in place. He tried not to breathe. He tried not to even blink in case the thing in the maze could hear the faint rustle of flesh. Even though Aaron was counting seconds in his head, the seconds stretched into an excruciating expanse of timeless fear. Eventually, the moment seemed to fade ¡ª whatever intangible barrier in time separated concealment from discovery passed and it felt like Aaron was in the clear. But as soon as he started to relax, the drag-thump began again, at a much quicker pace. Ssswih-thump. Ssswih-thump. Not a good sign. Aaron turned down the hallway he¡¯d almost missed, still following the rule of rights. The passage was so narrow he had to turn his body slightly so his shoulders weren¡¯t brushing the walls. Speed and silence were his best bet to evade whatever else was moving through the maze and he wasn¡¯t especially practiced at either. Every step felt like a thunderous stomp, each breath a whistling gale. The more ground he lost to the whisper-clomp, the stronger his sense became that whatever was making that noise didn¡¯t belong in the maze with him. He was supposed to be alone. That had a kind of horror all its own, but it was a familiar one. He also came to believe the sound was caused by something being dragged along the floor. His imagination birthed grotesque creatures and twisted monsters, perhaps the limping of some beast with iron shod hooves and a dead leg or a half-snake monster with stone hands. Ssswih-thump. Ssswih-thump. Ssswih-thump. The scraping, shuffling sound drew closer still and Aaron abandoned stealth altogether. The corridors were so narrow he had to move sideways, which is why he¡¯d tried to balance speed with stealth instead of booking it in hopes he could lose the thing back at the tiny intersection. There wasn¡¯t even enough room to do a proper grapevine step without banging his knees into the walls. Since he was going for speed, Aaron could use the claustrophobic walls for leverage. Holding his hands flat to either side, he kept himself up and set a decent pace with a kind of skipping side-straddle hop. There¡¯s some kind of name for this motion; we used to do it in football practice, he thought. What a stupid thing to spring to mind when you¡¯re trying to outrun a mystery monster in a masonry maze. Though he was moving much quicker with his awkward hops, the sound of pursuit was getting closer. The acoustics might have been impacting Aaron¡¯s ability to judge the distance, but the volume provided a good indicator that the gap between them was closing. He was more sure than ever that whatever was in the maze was pursuing him and that he really didn¡¯t want it to find him. Sswih-thump. Sswih-thump. Sswih-thump. Sswih-thump. Aaron pulled himself through the hallway, his body scraping against the smooth stone walls. The passage was so tight he could barely move. If he weren¡¯t covered in a layer of sweat, he¡¯d likely keep getting stuck. Fear blossomed into panic. A boiling heat rested just below his sternum, churning and seething. He wasn¡¯t making enough headway; each second his pursuer was louder, closer. There was a serious threat he would be sick to his stomach, slowing him further. SWIH-THUMP! SWIH-THUMP! SWIH-THUMP! SWIH-THUMP! SWIH-THUMP! The minutes crawled by with the slow agony of a racing heart. Aaron scraped his way through several more turns. Finally, he hit a deadend. He wanted to kick the wall in frustration ¡ª not that he had room for it ¡ª but that would reveal his position for sure. He had no choice but to double back. The shuffling sound was too close, now. So close he could almost feel it ringing in the stone around him. He¡¯d gone no more than a couple dozen feet back towards the last intersection when a shadow fell across the mouth of the passage. The shuffling stopped with a final thump. The silhouette ahead was humanoid in shape. Somehow, Aaron understood that if the thing around the corner caught even the slightest glimpse of him he was as good as dead. The bile in his stomach was pressing against the back of his throat, threatening to erupt. It might be a lost cause, he thought, but if worse comes to worst, I won¡¯t go without a fight. Aaron reversed course again. Maybe the thing would pass by the turn-off to the deadend. That seemed unlikely, so Aaron wanted to get around a corner. He could use it to try to get the drop on the pursuer, at least. As he backpedaled, he slipped on the smooth stone floor trying to edge around a corner. He lost his footing and fell to the hard ground with a thump. It was all over; the chase ended without so much as a fight. Aaron swallowed the awful heat in his throat, unwilling to add another kind of terror to his fate. All that was left was to die. Chapter 3 - An Invisible Intruder Aaron shot up from the couch, groggy and disoriented, and stared around his living room wildly. It was unnervingly silent in his apartment. Even when he slept at night, he always had music, videos, movies, or something playing so there would be background noise; silence made him feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. He blinked around the room a few times, sleep still weighing heavily on his eyelids, before noticing the autoplay on his video feed had stopped. An understandable ¡ª but annoying ¡ª feature of many video streaming sites. Such silences often roused Aaron once or twice through the course of the night, but never more than enough to hit the remote and keep the videos going. The apartment was warm and uncomfortable. Aaron wasn¡¯t sweaty, but he¡¯d neglected to turn on his air conditioner when he¡¯d gotten home, which contributed to the hollow silence in the apartment. Whatever he¡¯d been dreaming about had been really unpleasant to make him feel so crappy after waking up. Probably that awful softball game, he thought. Nothing like a little public humiliation for a little nightmare fuel. He rose from the couch and turned on the window-mounted unit over the credenza. There was a second of tepid air, then the A/C started blasting him with frigid air. A sigh escaped from Aaron as his flesh began to cool. No notifications on his phone ¡ª not surprising ¡ª but the clock told him that he¡¯d dozed off for about an hour. Not a bad length for a nap; any more and he¡¯d have probably thrown his sleep schedule off-kilter. He needed to start thinking about dinner and a shower after being out in the heat, but first he needed to go check the mail. There was probably nothing but bulk crap in there, but the time you didn¡¯t check the mail was the day the most important, time-sensitive, life-or-death letter would show up. After grabbing his keys and locking the front door, Aaron went down to the front lobby of his building. He never left his apartment or car without locking the door if he was going to take more than a few steps away from it. It was a holdover from his childhood, when he¡¯d been convinced murderers and other, less defined evildoers were constantly waiting just out of sight to take advantage of any lapse in wariness. It¡¯s not paranoia, he told himself. Good habits mitigate risk in general. Sure, that risk was much more likely to be a neighbor with a drug habit and sticky fingers looking for a quick score on the sly, but risk was risk. Slacking on the small stuff made you an easy target and one day the small stuff wouldn¡¯t be so small. Down in the lobby, Aaron saw a man through the big plate glass windows on the front of the building. The guy was standing by the big tree near the curb, fiddling with his phone. He glanced up as Aaron came down the last steps and they made eye contact. That¡¯s unfortunate, Aaron thought. Social convention demanded some kind of acknowledgment of the accidental connection. Each man hesitated, holding the other¡¯s gaze for one of those interminable moments of accidental engagement between strangers. They were in too deep and couldn¡¯t politely ignore each other¡¯s existence. Aaron only saw one viable escape from the awkward moment threatening to consume both of their lives. He tilted his chin up slightly in the stranger¡¯s direction. A moment later, the up-nod was received and returned in kind. The fabric of polite society had been protected; they could both go on about their lives. The junk mail went into the trash and Aaron went back up the stairs. Back in his apartment, Aaron locked the door and started trying to think of ways to distract himself from the crappiness of the day. A video game or movie would make a good start, but it needed something to make it more than just an ordinary night. If he ordered some food for delivery and added a couple of the beers from his fridge, that would probably do it. Aaron always had some beer in the fridge. He didn¡¯t really go out any more and he¡¯d lost contact with pretty much all of his friends over the past year or two, but you never knew when someone might stop by. In theory. He liked his space to be his space, but he wasn¡¯t inhospitable to his friends. That left the question of what to do about food. Pizza was the obvious choice; it went well with beer and you got so much of it that a lone, fat slob like Aaron could munch on slices for hours. Especially if he added some bread. But it occurred to him that the softball team had been planning to go for pizza after the game. In fact, they were probably there right now, talking about what a freak weirdo he was. Why can¡¯t I be normal? Aaron opined. Though I¡¯m not even sure I want to be. He was used to being thought of as an oddball or weird or whatever. It wasn¡¯t exactly untrue ¡ª he was awkward and weird at times ¡ª but he didn¡¯t want to bury himself in reminders of his larger shortcomings or what a shitty day it had turned out to be. So, pizza was out. His thoughts turned to the suitcase in his closet. There was comfort in there, after all. The most distracting, reliable kind he knew of. He pushed those thoughts away. There were other, better options. Aaron quickly settled on ordering Chinese food. After a quick call to his usual place, Aaron had about an hour to kill. Not enough time to get into a game and far too much to start drinking on an empty stomach. When he didn¡¯t wind up nursing one, he¡¯d go through beer fast. Better to have something to soak it up so he didn¡¯t wind up totally plastered. He had more than enough time for a nice, long shower, though, and that would definitely help him unwind from the stress of the day. Half an hour later, he stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed, if still a little damp. He¡¯d used much hotter water than usual without realizing it and the air was muggy with steam. He escaped into the cooler air of the bedroom and threw on some clean, comfortable clothes. He¡¯d had an epiphany in the shower on how to recover from the awful day. It wasn¡¯t exactly a healthy choice, but it would be an effective one. In the kitchen, he pulled the six pack of long necks out of the fridge and checked the expiration date. He wasn¡¯t sure how long the beer had been in there ¡ª he¡¯d go months, or even years, without drinking at home ¡ª but he always checked. Once, he hadn¡¯t been as vigilant and had chugged on something that tasted like liquid cardboard. Prior to that terrible night, he¡¯d had the mistaken impression that beer didn¡¯t spoil. The other thing he needed was in the kitchen as well. He opened a cupboard over the sink and pulled out his emergency pack of cigarettes. Every time he quit, he bought a last pack and kept it sealed, just in case. After the day he¡¯d had, he¡¯d decided to quit on quitting. He pulled off the top of the cellophane wrapping, flipped a lucky, and tossed the plastic in the trash. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Now where the hell did I put my lighter and ashtray when I decided to give this shit up? he asked himself. They would probably be on the little cubby shelves next to the credenza, so Aaron grabbed a bottle of beer and walked back through the dinette. He stopped dead cold as soon as his feet hit the carpet of the living room. He had seen¡­ something. He blinked a few times. He had just walked past the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room and his senses had screamed at him. His instincts here were far more clear and orders of magnitude more imperative than his knee-jerk reaction to a softball coming at him. He had seen something. Something just at the edge of his peripheral vision, near the front door. It didn¡¯t make any rational sense ¡ª he turned his head to look and saw nothing there ¡ª yet he was no less certain of it. When he turned away from the front door, he saw it again. Only it wasn¡¯t an it; it was a them. He¡¯d gotten the vague impression a person was standing by the door. Inside his apartment. That was, however, impossible; he had just looked a second ago. Turning to look again, Aaron saw that there was, indeed, nothing there ¨C just an empty corner. Still, his mind insisted, he had seen something. Aaron stayed as still as he could. He carefully set the beer and pack of cigarettes down on the credenza, keeping his eyes trained on the wall across from him. He let his eyes unfocus and tried to force his brain to process the information from his peripheral vision into his conscious awareness. You¡¯re being ridiculous, he told himself, even as he continued trying to see something that couldn¡¯t possibly be there. For a moment, Aaron could almost make out the vague shape of a person, standing in the corner; but only for a moment. As soon as he was consciously aware of the hazy figure, it resolved itself to clarity ¡ª the previously hidden figure was charging at him! Aaron had less than a second to process what he was seeing. From the height and build, the figure was likely male. They were wearing featureless black clothes and a black hood that showed only a small area around their eyes. And they were wielding a knife. It¡¯s some kind of modern-day ninja, he thought in surprise. He reacted on instinct, recoiling from the attacker. He took a single step back and bumped into the credenza under the window. The beer bottle began to rock loudly on the wooden surface. He was trapped! The knife plunged into Aaron¡¯s shoulder. There was no pain, thanks to the combination of adrenaline and shock. With a grunt, Aaron shoved the attacker away and scrambled to get some distance. He wanted to be anywhere that was away from that knife. He pressed a hand to his shoulder, trying to stanch the bleeding. Except no blood flowed into his hand. Aaron and the intruder both turned their attention to where the knife had struck ¡ª there was a small gash in his shirt, but no blood and no wound. The two men made the briefest eye contact. Aaron saw his own incredulity reflected in what little he could see of the assassin¡¯s eyes. The stranger deftly replaced the simple knife with another. This knife was longer, wider, and oddly discolored. The blade had a greenish tinge and, preposterously, a swirling gray aura. When the hell did I snort some crystals that I¡¯m seeing auras? Aaron wondered. A chill formed in Aaron¡¯s innards and quickly spread up his spine, an all-too familiar sign that fear was working its way into his thought processes, trying to wrest control away. That was a bad sign. There were four basic stress responses: fight, flight, freeze, and fawn (or fuck, if you prefer more visceral imagery). Aaron had been afraid many times in his life, but he had only experienced two of those responses. He almost always felt compelled to fight. Sometimes his involuntary response was to freeze, but that usually gave way to fight all too quickly. If his instincts took hold, the results were never good, no matter how things shook out. Control the situation before you lose control of yourself, he told himself. Just how I¡¯m supposed to do that, I have no idea. Use your bullshit training, I guess? Aaron dropped back, setting his body at a slight angle to the attacker. He dropped his stance slightly and raised his hands to a fighting position. He swallowed hard, his throat clicking from the sudden dryness. Half-remembered training from years of casual forays into the martial arts were chasing each other around Aaron¡¯s mind. One thought from all those different lessons cut through the noise: you win a fight against an armed opponent by not getting into one. Or you run. Neither are really an option here, he thought. Fuck fuck fuckety fuck. It had been barely more than a second since he¡¯d realized he wasn¡¯t bleeding. He didn¡¯t know where to look. Maintain eye contact or watch the head? What about the shoulders? Maybe he should keep an eye on the knife? Did he have a weapon of some kind in the apartment he could get to? His thoughts were coming too fast; soon he wouldn¡¯t be thinking at all. The masked figure darted forward. A feigned slash turned into a jab, so quick Aaron barely registered the movement. His body reacted without conscious direction ¡ª not a good sign ¡ª and he stepped back, avoiding the thrust. Aaron was quicker than he looked, but not that quick. That was freaky quick. ¡°Why are you¨C¡± Before he finished his sentence, the assassin was moving. Aaron almost tripped over his desk chair trying to maintain space between them. He backed up into the wall. The knife was coming at his face the moment he hit the wall. He threw up a forearm to deflect, knowing it was too slow. Somehow, he connected with the assassin¡¯s arm, pushing the dagger off course. The long blade pierced the wall like it was paper. The attacker backpedaled several feet, falling into a defensive stance. When Aaron didn¡¯t pursue, they shook their knife arm gently. The longer this goes on, the more likely I am to get shivved. I¡¯m no match for a fucking ninja! Aaron thought. What should I do? On the assassin¡¯s next charge, everything seemed like it was moving in slow motion. Aaron could actually think, although nothing so complex as coherent sentences. Mostly he was processing the ninja¡¯s movement and thinking about how to respond. Rather than moving away from his attacker, Aaron stepped forward and dropped his weight into a wide stance. As he moved, he brought an elbow up, driving it into the intruder¡¯s solar plexus. The ninja was launched off their feet. They tumbled into and over the back of the couch. Aaron stood up, blinking stupidly. What the hell just happened? he thought. The stranger was back on their feet and they didn¡¯t look happy. They bent low and suddenly the couch was hurtling through the air at Aaron, the ninja leaping through the air right behind it, dagger raised. Oh crap! Chapter 4 - An Unforgettable Ambush The air in Aaron¡¯s apartment was filled with things flying through it, all of it coming straight at him. His couch was hurtling right for his face. A paramilitary ninja was somehow leaping over the couch from behind as it flew. The gruesome dagger in the ninja¡¯s hand was also on an unfortunate trajectory. Honestly, it was a lot to be dealing with. Yet, fast as it was happening, Aaron was able to track all of it. He could even think, in a rudimentary way. Complicated thoughts were beyond him, but he could visualize possible responses and how he might accomplish them. The sensation was disconcerting, but not nearly as much as reacting purely on instinct. He needed to keep control; control of the situation and himself. Aaron thrust his right foot forward. His push kick connected with the couch, shoving it back into the assassin. The furniture, the ninja, and their dagger went crashing back into the wall behind them. That was more effective than it should have been, he thought. What the hell is going on with me? The day¡¯s weirdness had steadily escalated and Aaron was starting to wonder if he wasn¡¯t having some kind of absurd, layered dream. He kept doing things that were impossible. First the softball game, now this. He knew some self-defense and hadn¡¯t always been a stranger to violence, but this? This was wild. If you have superpowers in a dream, you might as well lean into it, he decided. Aaron moved to press his advantage, closing on the assassin. He wanted to use his improbable dream strength to start grappling. With the right hold, it would greatly improve his odds against getting knifed. The ninja had other ideas. They twisted into a crouch, the dagger flashing in a series of quick swipes. When Aaron backed off, the assassin pushed the couch completely off themselves. They drove forwards, slashing high and low, coming at Aaron from different angles. Aaron dropped back, instincts warning him not to let that blade cut him. He was moving fast ¡ª too fast ¡ª but the ninja was fast, too, and he didn¡¯t trust himself to attack without an opening. Finally, the intruder made a mistake. A jab aimed for Aaron¡¯s eyes left them overextended. Aaron stepped in close, throwing a hard elbow to the ribs. It was supposed to be a quick pop to set up for a hip toss, but the intruder took off. The assassin soared across the living room and crashed into the dinette table. The ninja was back on their feet in a flash, earning the title once more. Instead of coming right back at Aaron, they muttered something under their breath. Aaron couldn¡¯t make out the words. The sound and rhythm of it reminded him of Arabic. A light haze, like fog, formed. It clung closely to the attacker¡¯s entire form. There was a palpable sense of wrongness to the strange nimbus. Aaron took another step away from it. The haze thickened into something closer to smoke, taking on a reddish hue like rust. The cloud seeped through the assassin¡¯s clothes and sank into their flesh. The intruder began to mimic a bull, each breath little more than feral grunts. Aaron had a very clear sense that whatever advantage his dream strength had given him was gone. Need to change tactics, he thought, grasping for ideas. Before the assassin could finish whatever weird shit they were doing, Aaron bolted into the little closet that separated the living room, bathroom, and bedroom. He pulled all three doors closed with a slam, plunging the tiny room into darkness, and dropped down in a corner behind the door. He waited, his weight almost entirely on the balls of his feet and his legs coiled under him. The quiet and darkness in the tiny space, waiting to ambush a killer, Aaron experienced a moment of mindfulness and clarity. Aaron was an anxious person by nature, but it was chronic for him, not acute. His nerves were a constant background thrum in his thoughts, yet he rarely panicked, even in high stress situations. Now, he should have been terrified and just wasn¡¯t. His breathing was even and blessedly quiet, the rush of blood in his ears strong but not overwhelming, even his body wasn¡¯t fatigued after fighting for his life. This wouldn¡¯t be true in a dream, he mused. I¡¯d be freaking out because the dream would force me to. He considered this incongruity as he focused entirely on listening for the assassin. Unless this isn¡¯t a nightmare. But if it¡¯s not, then what kind of dream is it? Shadows moved under the door to the living room, cutting off Aaron¡¯s rumination. The intruder had approached without a sound, but what else would you expect from a ninja? The shadows didn¡¯t reveal their exact position, but Aaron had help from the wrongness the haze had produced. It clung to the stranger and gave Aaron a vague sense that his assailant was close to the door, but not right behind it. The door burst open without warning. It came to a sudden muffled stop against the coats hanging just above Aaron. If he¡¯d been another inch or two forward, the door would have hit him in the face. He would make his move when the assassin moved into the hallway a bit. Just enough for the door to hit squarely. He shifted some of his weight forward, onto his hands. He¡¯d pull himself into the charge with his arms while he pushed into it with his legs. He could practically hear the coaches from his two years playing football in high school screaming in his head: Explode off the line, Abrams. Fire out of there! He waited. Seconds crept by, Aaron and the assassin each holding their position. The intruder likely sensed some kind of trap in the making. There were two more closed doors and no sign of their target in the tiny room. It was likely they couldn¡¯t sense Aaron or they¡¯d have already rammed the knife through the plywood door. Finally, the stranger stepped into the closet. Aaron could just see their body past the edge of the door. He couldn¡¯t see the knife. Unless the assassin had changed hands, it should be in their far hand. The stranger¡¯s head turned, scanning the coats, jackets, and sweaters hanging at the back of the closet. Aaron held his breath; those coats were also hanging right over him. He was as deep in the shadows as he could be, but would he be seen? After a moment, the intruder adjusted themselves to face the bathroom door, setting their feet to kick it open. Aaron waited for the kick; there wouldn¡¯t be a better time to make his move. With an inhuman snarl, the ninja kicked the bathroom door. It came clear off its hinges, knocked the towel rack off the wall, and clattered to a landing against the rim of the tub. Aaron launched himself forward, keeping himself as low to the ground as he could. He drove the closet door into the assassin¡¯s back, forcing them into the now-empty door frame of the bathroom. There was a loud crack from the impact and the assassin¡¯s ribs. Aaron barely registered it ¡ª all his concentration was dedicated to watching for the dagger. The two struggled to overpower each other. The assassin tried pushing Aaron back and Aaron wanted to keep them pinned. He needed to get eyes on the knife and neutralize it. After a few seconds of back and forth, the ninja forced their way clear of the door, scraping against the wall until they ended up in the bathroom. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Before the intruder could turn back to Aaron, he had charged in for a full-on tackle. He tried to get his hands on the arm with the knife, but he had been right ¡ª the ninja¡¯s body was between him and the weapon. He blasted the stranger off their feet and into the side of the bathtub. The fallen bathroom door buckled with a loud crack under the impact. The thick wall of the tub also broke apart from the force of their landing. The ninja shrieked like an animal and threw Aaron clear of the bathroom with one arm. He backpedaled to keep his footing, his back brushing the hanging clothes when he finally came to a stop. There wasn¡¯t a moment to get his bearings; the assassin was already coming at him. Aaron moved forward to meet the attack. Up close, the knife could only come from so many angles. Sure enough, the assassin snarled and led with a thrust. Aaron turned his body to avoid it, grabbing the wrist and stepping forward, hard. He heard a sickening crunch as the killer¡¯s arm snapped against the frame of the door. He took a knee to the side and almost lost his grip on the ninja¡¯s wrist. His free hand shot out, wrapping around the back of the intruder¡¯s neck, and pulled them, face-first, into the door frame. Aaron felt the blood from the assassin¡¯s nose breaking spatter against his arm. The two men spun in wild circles, grappling for an advantage. They banged into the walls and doors of the little closet. The assassin uttered sounds that grew angrier as they became less human, trying to free their knife hand even with a broken arm. Aaron held on as hard as he could, throwing elbows and punches every chance he got. They broke apart in the living room, the assassin finally managing to dislodge Aaron. Two quick swipes of the blade came at Aaron and he only barely avoided them. They were followed by a jab aimed at his face. Aaron managed to get a block up and the intruder stumbled back, hissing in pain. Forgot about your broken arm with whatever weird ¡®roid rage you¡¯ve got going on, Aaron thought. It was an advantage, but not much of one. I need to end this; I won¡¯t keep getting lucky. The ninja reversed their grip on the dagger and rushed in with a wheezing growl. Aaron locked up for a moment; he couldn¡¯t think. Thankfully, his brain was well-practiced in doing shit without his input. He wasn¡¯t out of control, exactly, but it was a close thing. His forearm met the assassin¡¯s, more of a clumsy chop than a controlled block. That probably made the breaks in that arm worse, but Aaron¡¯s autopilot gave exactly zero shits. His other hand shot out, fingers curled into a leopard fist, and hit the intruder in the throat. There was a nasty pop and the assassin began to choke and splutter. The assassin swiped the dagger wildly, snarling all the while. It forced Aaron back, but didn¡¯t keep him away long. After a particularly reckless swing of the blade, he stepped in close and elbowed the stranger in the solar plexus. Aaron ducked under a swing of the knife and hit the intruder with a backfist as hard as he could. The ninja stumbled across the living room, tripping and falling over the overturned couch. When they didn¡¯t spring back to their feet right away, Aaron took a few cautious steps forward to get a better view. The stranger was laying in a heap between the couch and the wall, breathing heavily. Careful, Aaron, he told himself. This could very easily be a trap. With slow, measured steps, Aaron moved around the couch. The intruder stayed on the floor. They were gasping and wheezing with the occasional snarl or grunt mixed in. It took nearly a minute for Aaron to cover the ten or so feet between them. The whole time he kept his eyes on the stranger¡¯s shoulders, looking for any sign of rolling towards him. Aaron knelt down on the assassin¡¯s shoulder from behind, his weight divided between his knee and the ball of his feet so he could jump back if he had to. He also kept his hands low, near his waist. The ninja groaned piteously at the pressure but made no other move. Rolling the stranger over, Aaron was met with a gruesome sight. The stranger¡¯s neck was at a dreadful angle and the dagger had plunged into their stomach down to the hilt. The entire front of the ninja, from their oddly-smooth mask down to their dark pants, was soaked and glistening with blood. It was a good thing for Aaron the ninja was so grievously injured; he was frozen in place, torn between the instinct to offer help and the urge to pull away in fear and revulsion. Nor was that the only internal struggle he was experiencing as he looked down at the dying assassin. It¡¯s just a dream, he told himself. You don¡¯t need answers. But what if it¡¯s not? Why would this guy want to kill me so badly? And what about all the other weird shit going on? Curiosity got the better of him. He knelt down beside the assassin, hands ready if that knife somehow came at him. ¡°Who are you? Why are you trying to kill me?¡± he asked. A note of hysteria crept into the second question. It might have been embarrassing if Aaron weren¡¯t so wracked with other strong emotions he barely noticed any of them. He wanted to run and hide, to vomit, to weep, even to spend this stranger¡¯s last minutes alive inflicting pain on them for the sake of petty vengeance. He did none of that. When no answers came, he yanked off the sleek hood. The face beneath belonged to a stranger, but a familiar one. ¡°I saw you earlier,¡± Aaron breathed. ¡°When I went to check the mail. You were on your phone.¡± He bristled over the fact he¡¯d shared an up-nod with this person not even an hour earlier. They¡¯d had a brief social connection and now this guy was in his home, trying to stick a glowing knife in him? And busting up the place? And he¡¯d almost forced Aaron to knock over his beer, too. Many more questions began to clamor for Aaron¡¯s attention, but he latched onto the one that stood out from the others. ¡°Did that old man send you?¡± he demanded. The unmasked assassin took several shuddering breaths, each accompanied by a wet gurgle, and tried to speak. Aaron imagined the man¡¯s lungs were filling with blood, but he wanted to hear what the man had to say. He wasn¡¯t an idiot, though, so he was wary. As gently as he could ¡ª and without jostling the assassin¡¯s injured neck ¡ª he pinned the man¡¯s arms down as he leaned in to listen to his dying words. The stranger uttered several brief phrases, each punctuated by a rasping breath. ¡°I struck at the serpent¡­before it could strike at me¡­but its fangs have left me dead.¡± It was a sentence ¡ª technically ¡ª but it didn¡¯t make any sense to Aaron. What was all that about snakes and fangs? The man might have been delirious, but it seemed more likely the whole thing was some kind of screwed up dream. With another awful breath, the assassin continued. ¡°For another chance, I¡­ give what¡¯s left of my life. Leave no trace¡­and make you forget.¡± The last sentence sounded different. It felt different. Each word echoed and reverberated, filling the space in the apartment. The words crashed into Aaron, pressing against him. His ears rang and he nearly fell over, but he held his place. He wanted answers. He needed answers. This stranger bleeding out on his carpet was the only one who¡ª Aaron checked the lock on the front door. It was locked, of course. He always locked his front door. But he¡¯d totally spaced on why he¡¯d come over to this part of the living room and it was the first thing he thought of. He also looked out the peephole. Nobody there. He walked back to the credenze and picked up his beer. Why did I set this down? he wondered. Just to check the front door? Weird. Since he was still up, he might as well look around for his ashtray and lighter. Thankfully, they were in the little cubby shelves between the living room and dinette. If they hadn¡¯t been there, the only other place he would have likely put them was the small drawer next to the desk. After setting everything on the desk, he spun back to the front door, heart rate quickening. Why are you so jumpy, Aaron? he asked himself. It¡¯s probably the delivery guy with dinner. Sure enough, his usual place had pulled through again, getting his food to him almost a quarter hour earlier than they¡¯d said was likely. The night was starting to look up! Chapter 5 - A (Less) Dangerous Dream It was hot, which made him angry, and he was scared, which made him furious. Aaron would have brushed all those feelings aside and ignored the turbulent chill in his stomach ¡ª he didn¡¯t get angry, after all ¡ª but the scene before him was just too weird. He was standing at the plate of a baseball diamond, an aluminum bat in hand. That was familiar. Strangely familiar. So was the park the ballpark was located in, except there were some glaring differences that were perfectly normal yet made absolutely no sense. The first difference was at the edge of the park. Where the sidewalk should have been, massive stone walls rose¡­ and rose¡­ and rose. The walls, which looked like those one might see on some European castle, climbed up into the sky, seemingly without end. It was nonsense, yet Aaron understood that it was exactly what was supposed to be there. Another peculiarity ¡ª or, rather, peculiarities ¡ª were the passages that opened in the walls with irregular spacing. There were more than a dozen of these hallways, each about five or six feet across. Aaron could see that more hallways branched off these, creating the impression of a complicated labyrinth. That, too, was strangely familiar, although it was hazy and Aaron wasn¡¯t sure why the maze was familiar. The most ludicrous ¡ª yet perfectly normal ¡ª thing in the park was the car parked across the pitcher¡¯s mound. Most of the windows were tinted so dark they were basically opaque. One of the windows, however, the driver¡¯s window, was broken. Sunlight glittered on the tiny chunks of broken glass scattered on the ground near the door. Which was odd¡­ Shouldn¡¯t the glass be inside the car? Aaron asked himself. That¡¯s the direction the softball was going, after all. An old black man was leaning through the broken window, his arms resting on the empty frame. He had on an old Army jacket despite the heat of the day and he was beaming at Aaron. ¡°Fancy meeting you here,¡± the familiar stranger said. The cold pulsed in Aaron¡¯s stomach and he tightened his grip on the bat. He stared hard at the old man. He didn¡¯t know why this old man bothered him so much ¡ª he wasn¡¯t angry, just annoyed ¡ª but the feeling was undeniable. ¡°Oh, now, don¡¯t give me that sour puss, son,¡± the old man said. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to make proper introductions. My name¡¯s Barrett; I¡¯m here to help.¡± ¡°Help me?¡± ¡°Shit yes!¡± The stranger slapped the car door lightly, for emphasis. ¡°I imagine there¡¯s been all sorts of weird goings on in your life lately; I¡¯d like to help you sort it all out.¡± Aaron wasn¡¯t sure what ¡®weird goings on¡¯ the old man was referring to. He¡¯d been feeling out of sorts lately and having a ton of extra screwed up dreams, but other than the softball thing, he couldn¡¯t think of anything unusual happening recently. For a brief moment, he saw a masked man lunging at him with a terrible knife. He flinched a little, but the apparition was gone almost as soon as it appeared. ¡°Did I hit the mark?¡± the old man asked, misreading Aaron¡¯s reaction. Aaron¡¯s only response was to give the man a deeply skeptical look. He kept his mouth shut otherwise. ¡°Anyways, like I said, my name¡¯s Barrett. Since we didn¡¯t have a chance to introduce ourselves earlier, you got me at a disadvantage.¡± His smile was friendly, but his eyes were serious. ¡°So, what¡¯s your name, friend?¡± All of Aaron¡¯s half-formed suspicions from earlier in the park came rushing back, this time with something extra. He had a feeling that bordered on ominous and couldn¡¯t put his finger on why. He didn¡¯t know how to respond without being aggressive, didn¡¯t know what was up with this goofy dream, and didn¡¯t have anywhere he could run if things took a nightmarish turn except those narrow stone hallways. He continued stonewalling the old man and stayed silent. ¡°You¡¯re hesitant; I get that,¡± Barrett said. ¡°Let me think a minute.¡± The old man rummaged around in his car for a few seconds. Aaron shifted his weight, bracing for whatever might come. He was ready to charge the car or bolt for the walls. Barrett pulled out a legal pad and pen. ¡°So, let me guess about some of these unusual events and you let me know if they ring any bells, alright?¡± Aaron thought the old man would give him time to answer, but he barely even paused for a breath before listing things off. ¡°You¡¯ve been having funny dreams, maybe about people or places you¡¯ve never been but they¡¯re somehow still familiar. You¡¯ve had trouble with the details of those people and places or they¡¯re blocked off entirely. Like maybe there¡¯s some kind of fog or giant stone walls between you. An associate says that might be a kind of defense to keep yourself hidden.¡± Barrett gestured around at the impossibly high castle walls and the maze passages that radiated from them in every direction. ¡°We don¡¯t really know why you¡¯re hidden away this time, but we¡¯ve got some educated guesses. Way we figure, the special something that¡¯s started to coalesce in you recognizes a threat it¡¯s run afoul of before, so it¡¯s changed things up to avoid the danger. The downside is that it¡¯s a bit more troublesome for us to make contact.¡± That¡¯s not quite right, but¡­ But what? Aaron didn¡¯t know, not specifically. His throat felt tight. Barrett was close, but neither Aaron or the old man knew how close. Or how far. That was the most frustrating thing for Aaron, not knowing what was off. ¡°I¡¯d wager there have been other, more tangible signs. You¡¯ve started doing strange, even incredible, things. Sometimes you¡¯re impossibly strong ¡ª which I personally witnessed ¡ª other times your flesh might be tougher than seems possible or your reflexes are so good you react before you even realize there¡¯s something to react to.¡± Barrett paused to let Aaron digest that, but didn¡¯t wait long enough for him to offer a response. ¡°The change that¡¯s most telling ¡ª and easiest to overlook ¡ª is your body¡¯s response to temperature. Scalding coffee doesn¡¯t bother you anymore, you¡¯re not sweating in the summer heat, and things like that.¡± Aaron couldn¡¯t think of any instances where he¡¯d been as durable or fast as a superhero, but he could easily imagine a scenario where some hooded criminal came at him with a knife or something. In fact, he could imagine it so well it almost felt more like a memory than fantasy. But the other stuff, with the heat? He could think of a dozen specific instances in the past few months that lined up with that. Does the same thing work with cold, he wondered. What am I talking about? None of it works; this is just an especially vivid dream. ¡°The point is,¡± Barrett continued, ¡°that you¡¯re awakening to a power within yourself; a power that makes us close as kin. That¡¯s why I¡¯m trying to help you. Take these.¡± Barrett held out the paper and pen, shaking them encouragingly when Aaron hesitated. Aaron leaned the bat against the front of the car, where it would be within easy reach, and took the pad and pen. ¡°I¡¯m going to repeat a phone number several times. Each time, you repeat the number out loud and write it down. That¡¯ll help you remember it when you¡¯re awake.¡± Aaron gave him an incredulous look, but Barrett just chuckled softly. ¡°It sounds nutty as pig shit, I know, but I can see you¡¯re not ready to trust us just yet and this will give you a way to get in touch when the time comes.¡± Barrett¡¯s smile faded and he looked at Aaron very seriously. ¡°As much as I don¡¯t wanna push you before you¡¯re ready, you are in danger. There¡¯s folks¡¯ll be coming for you. We very much don¡¯t want them to find you, but the clock is ticking. None of your gee-damned office drone buddies would tell us shit all about you, so we¡¯re on the slow road to tracking you down through paperwork since other, quicker methods have proven unreliable so far.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The cold knot in Aaron¡¯s stomach trembled. So the old man had tried to pry information about him out of his coworkers. He hadn¡¯t been this annoyed ¡ª annoyed, not angry ¡ª in years. With the exception of when he¡¯d been stabbed earlier, of course. Aaron shook his head like there was a fly on his ear. Stabbed? He¡¯d never been stabbed. He hadn¡¯t even been cut by someone else since his turbulent youth. These dreams are weird as hell, he told himself. I¡¯m probably mixing up when that bat broke. What a weird mistake to make. Barrett, true to his word, started repeating a phone number. He started slowly, waiting for Aaron to repeat it back and write it down. For a dream ¡ª even a dream as weird as this one ¡ª this was a weird thing to do. But he went with it and jotted the number down. It wasn¡¯t a local number. Two-one-two. That¡¯s somewhere back east, New York or maybe Washington, D.C. I think I¡¯ve seen it in movies or TV shows. Or maybe it¡¯s like the 555 phone numbers? After they got through quite a few repetitions, Barrett picked up the pace and even adopted a sing-song approach like jingles in commercials sometimes used. Aaron rolled his eyes, but played along. What the hell else could you do in a dream? ¡°If you get into trouble or decide you believe me, call that number and we¡¯ll come straight to you. We¡¯re not fooling around here; your safety is our first priority right now.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Barrett hesitated. ¡°It¡¯s like I said, that special something you got makes you close as kin. There¡¯s more specifics to it, but it gets complicated, and it damned sure sounds crazy enough without the proper context.¡± ¡°Crazy how?¡± ¡°The specifics ain¡¯t that important, right now, but I¡¯ll give you a for-instance: if, for any reason, you can¡¯t use that phone number ¡ª maybe you forgot, maybe you can¡¯t find a phone, whatever ¡ª get your ass to sleep and dream. Sounds crazy, doesn¡¯t it? But it makes a sort of sense given the context of this meeting, right?¡± ¡°None of this makes sense,¡± Aaron said. Barrett sighed slightly. ¡°Dreams are fickle and you seem to have unconsciously gone to some lengths to keep yours closed off. Making contact in the dreamscape, like we¡¯re doing right now, was only possible because of how close we were this afternoon and how close I¡¯ve tried to stay. Proximity, and some help from the closest thing to an expert we have, are the only way this little meeting could happen.¡± The rear window of the car rolled down about halfway. From the shadows of the car, a figure in a black mask reached for him, something gleaming in their hand. Not again, he thought, stepping away and reaching for the bat. Wait¡­ not again what? It took him a second to get a better sense of the situation. The person in the car wasn¡¯t wearing a mask, but a deep cowl or hood. For some reason that seemed less threatening. And the hand was slender, with long, graceful fingers tipped with polished red fingernails. The hand held a plain circle, about the size of the bracelet he thought were called bangles, made of gleaming white plastic. Upon taking a step back towards the car, Aaron saw that the bangle was almost translucent. A dark, hazy shadow was visible around the edges and it had carvings so delicate he couldn¡¯t make out anything other than vague details of curves and edges. A woman¡¯s voice, soft but clear like a small stream or brook just out of sight, came from the back seat. ¡°If you use dreams to reach out, picture this charm. Focus on remembering how the light casts shadows within it, or the shapes of the carvings in the stone. That will help establish the connection.¡± The hooded woman in the backseat rolled the bangle in her fingers, spinning it a full circle in the sunlight. Then, both hand and bangle returned to the dark recesses of the car, and the window rolled up. Aaron adjusted his head to catch a glimpse of the mystery woman¡¯s face, but had no luck. The mystery woman, it seemed, would remain a mystery. ¡°Alright,¡± Barrett said, extending a hand to Aaron. ¡°Let¡¯s have that pad back!¡± Aaron looked down at the forgotten stationary in his hand, then returned it. ¡°There¡¯s one more thing you need to be made aware of,¡± Barrett said, turning to stow the pad in the car. When the old man turned back to Aaron, the thick barrel of a shotgun emerged from the window, pointed straight at his chest. Barrett, calm as the late summer sky, said, ¡°You¡¯re basically bulletproof.¡± The shotgun went off with a deafening roar, hitting Aaron center mass. Aaron was knocked clear off the ground and landed on his back several feet away. The knot of cold in his guts unwound, embracing the new pain in his chest and adding its weight to its own. It flared so violently Aaron thought he was going to be sick to his stomach. Before he knew what he was doing ¡ª or how impossible it was that he was doing it ¡ª Aaron was on his feet, bat in hand, and striding back to the car. He didn¡¯t fail to notice that, other than his shredded t-shirt, he was unharmed, but that didn¡¯t do much to soothe the emotional tumult roiling through his body. Having his greatly-expanded stomach exposed in front of a stranger and the mystery woman in the backseat only added to his frustration ¡ª it wasn¡¯t anger, Aaron didn¡¯t get angry ¡ª at having someone asking for trust ambush him with a point-blank shotgun blast. Barrett, for his part, had dropped the gun to the pitcher¡¯s mound and was holding both hands out in front of him showing that he was once more unarmed. ¡°What. The. Fuck?¡± Aaron demanded, punctuating each word by adding a new dent to the car¡¯s hood with his aluminum bat. ¡°Wait! Listen to me, please,¡± Barrett said, his voice raised slightly but his tone steady and even. ¡°I had to put the idea in your head. Certain qualities of your nature won¡¯t function reliably without ideas from your subconscious being introduced to your conscious mind. As a for-instance, that you¡¯re essentially invulnerable to most mundane harm.¡± The bat was badly bent from its last use for punctuation, so this time Aaron kicked the car door. ¡°I¡­ have been¡­ shot¡­ in dreams¡­ before!¡± The door was a bit dented, but had no major damage. That was unsatisfying. Aaron tossed the bat away from him ¡ª out of annoyance, of course, not anger; Aaron didn¡¯t get angry ¡ª and it sailed across the park, hitting a tree with a loud crack. ¡°It¡¯s not pleasant,¡± Aaron added, ¡°whether it¡¯s a damn dream or not, you asshole piece of shit!¡± He kicked the car one last time. It actually slid several inches away, gouging deep grooves in the dirt of the pitcher¡¯s mound. The front end of the driver¡¯s door frame near the hood was deeply dented. That was satisfying. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t know that,¡± Barrett said, shrugging. The pit of cold in Aaron¡¯s guts started to heat up. It crawled up his throat and he felt like he was going to vomit. He turned and stormed away towards the walls. Need to get behind a tree or into one of those hallways, he thought. He didn¡¯t want anyone near him if he was going to be vulnerable from throwing up and he definitely didn¡¯t want the mystery woman to see it. When he was just a few steps from one of the narrow hallways, the woman¡¯s voice drifted across the park to him. It was loud enough he could hear her clearly, but she wasn¡¯t shouting. ¡°Don¡¯t go in there,¡± she cautioned. ¡°Whatever¡¯s in there is not your friend!¡± No sooner had she finished speaking than Aaron heard a horribly familiar sound coming from somewhere down the stone passage. Ssswih-thump. It was close. Aaron placed a hand on the wall and leaned against it heavily. Not this, not again, he thought. Not now. Ssswih-thump. A humanoid shadow began to creep into the hallway at an intersection more than a hundred feet away. Aaron closed his eyes and tried to breathe. If you¡¯re going to be sick, just be sick, he told himself. He knew it would be better to just get it over with ¡ª it always was ¡ª but he hated the vulnerability that came with throwing up and he couldn¡¯t get over his fear that he¡¯d somehow be unable to draw a breath and suffocate. And with his body locked up with tension, he was in no shape to fight or run from the pursuer in the maze. The tidal rush of his own blood pressing on his eardrums drowned out everything else. His eyes were squeezed tight and the muscles in his jaw, neck, and shoulders were taut fighting to stop himself from being sick. Cold still churned in his stomach, but it was heat clawing its way up his throat. I just want this to be over, he thought. I want this sick out of me and want out of this fucking dream. As if dragged from desire to reality by the thought, the awful heat finally broke free. It poured out of his throat, a scorching torrent of stomach acid or bile or whatever scraping its way out of his body. He tensed so much that the darkness behind his closed eyelids seemed to turn bright, like he was facing a bright light instead of a gloomy stone tunnel. All he could think about was when it would stop long enough to drag in the next panicked breath, to keep himself alive even as his body betrayed him. Maybe it won¡¯t come this time, he thought. Or maybe I¡¯ll just wake up. Chapter 6 - Jumping at Shadows Aaron jerked awake in bed, tangled in his sheets. The room was awash with bright, white light. It took his sleep-addled mind a second to realize the light came from the headlights of a car pulling into the alley behind the building. His heart was beating fast and his breaths were quick, but he found he wasn¡¯t sweating despite how uncomfortably warm he felt. That¡¯s mildly unsettling in the context of that crazy dream, he thought. Even more unsettling how clearly I can recall what happened in the dream. Even if Aaron had wanted to keep an open mind about the possibility of anything Barrett had said being real, he just couldn¡¯t think of a sane way to do so. In a perfect world, he¡¯d put some of Barrett¡¯s claims to the test, but the real world was far from perfect and Aaron didn¡¯t fancy the idea of tearing ligaments or shooting himself literally in the foot trying to prove whether he had superpowers. Could I try a super jump? he wondered. Those aren¡¯t always tied to super strength, though. In comics, anyway. It would be awesome to find out he had superpowers, but wasn¡¯t it a little childish to even entertain the thought? Plus, Barrett had said something about people being after him and that didn¡¯t sound very awesome at all. Aaron wasn¡¯t thinking clearly. He was fully awake yet the dream still lingered in his thoughts. He was facing one of those rare moments where being at home wasn¡¯t calming but left him feeling cooped up. He needed to go for a walk around the neighborhood or something, get some fresh air to clear his head. Who the hell dreams their wise old wizard mentor is some scruffy, hobo-looking dude in a rented Chevy? Aaron wondered ruefully. Gandalf never took a cheap shot at the hobbits with a twelve-gauge, either. Even worse than getting sucker punched ¡ª sucker shot? ¡ª by the old man was Aaron¡¯s reaction. He hadn¡¯t been angry enough to lash out since high school. He¡¯d barely even raised his voice with people for more than a decade. Rage, he¡¯d realized in his youth, was a winning ticket in the psycho lottery and came with short odds on a trip to prison. Aaron stepped into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face, trying to rinse away the emotional residue still lingering from the dream. When he pulled the hand towel away from his face, his heart practically leapt into his throat ¡ª someone was standing behind him, reflected in the medicine cabinet mirror. They had a blank mask covering most of their face and held a strange dagger with a living serpent for a blade. The serpent¡¯s fangs were bared and ready to plunge into Aaron unprotected back. Aaron spun and almost stumbled into the bathtub. He managed to stay on his feet but nearly punched a hole in the wall before he realized the masked figure had just been a figment of his imagination. It had seemed so real¡­ Probably some combination of that stupid dream and something I watched, he told himself. He definitely needed to take a walk to clear his head. Aaron grabbed his phone, put in some earbuds, and locked his front door, heading out into the cooler night air. It was only a quarter after one and, since it was Saturday night, there would be people out and about in the neighborhood. Downtown and Midtown were the major hubs of nightlife in Sacramento, with plenty of bars (and bars with enough space to masquerade as tiny nightclubs). He walked at a decent pace to bleed away his agitation, but not so fast he¡¯d draw any attention. Aaron had lived in the neighborhood for several years and been visiting to hit the bars since he was in college, so he knew where all the super busy spots were and made sure to keep at least a half a block¡¯s distance from any of them. Running into someone he knew when he was feeling so on edge was the last thing he needed. Even so, he passed a number of small groups out enjoying a weekend¡¯s revelry. After a couple blocks, he had the strongest intuition someone was following him. He took a turn at the next corner so he could sneak a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, someone was heading his way. Probably just a coincidence, he told himself, and started taking random turns every couple blocks. His nervous energy wasn¡¯t burning off; it was actually getting worse. The music was helping him keep a good pace, but it was like trying to bail water out of a boat with a fork. It was only made worse as he realized the person behind him was definitely taking every turn he did and gaining ground to boot. Aaron turned off his music and started looking for places that would either let him shake them off or get the drop on them. Two blocks later, he spotted a dumpster sticking out past the mouth of an alley between two apartment buildings. He increased his pace to a light jog and turned into the alley. As soon as he was clear of the corner of the building, Aaron ducked into the space between the first dumpster and another beside it. He didn¡¯t fully crouch because that would leave him vulnerable, but he hunkered down so his head wouldn¡¯t be visible over the large metal bin. The sound of footsteps approached, moving at a brisk pace. The footsteps had a kind of shuffling quality, like the person following him was dragging their feet a little, or maybe that they had a limp. Swih-thump. Aaron heard that noise purely in his mind, but his breath caught and he tried to suppress a shiver running down his spine. The sound of footsteps wasn¡¯t really like that, at all, but the association set Aaron completely on edge. He adjusted his stance slightly so he was just able to see over the top of the dumpster. Hopefully the shadows in the alley would make it very hard to spot the top of his head. A few seconds later, a hooded person jogged into view. They stopped right next to the dumpster. The hooded man ¡ª Aaron guessed it was a guy from their build and the sound of their breathing ¡ª rested an arm on the edge of the bin and took a few breaths, looking around. The same shadows that Aaron hoped were hiding him from notice filled the stranger¡¯s hoodie and kept him from seeing their face. ¡°Dang,¡± the stranger breathed, turning to look back around the street. This is my chance, Aaron thought. Move now or risk them spotting me. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Aaron, mind made up, moved fast. Two quick steps brought him around the dumpster and put him right on top of the stranger. He yanked their arm behind their back and lifted slightly to get them balanced on their toes, then pushed them into the wall on the other side of the alley. It wasn¡¯t the best arm lock, but he had control with his other hand and the wall to limit their movement even more. The stranger¡¯s response was entirely not what Aaron was expecting. ¡°Haha, oopshie,¡± the stranger said. ¡°Hey, Aarom, is that you? I think I fell over.¡± The man¡¯s words were heavily slurring. It was also a voice Aaron recognized. It belonged to a guy named Jeff that Aaron frequently spent time with when he went out drinking. As mortifying as it was to realize he¡¯d just attacked a bar buddy, Aaron was far more astounded to realize he was holding Jeff against the wall almost a foot off the ground. How the hell did I do that? he asked himself, setting Jeff down as carefully as he could. Jeff turned around, wobbling a bit in place. ¡°You shaved me from busting my nose, Aarun,¡± he said. ¡°Thanksh, bud.¡± ¡°Uh, no problem, Jeff,¡± Aaron said. Despite regularly drinking himself insensate, Jeff was both well-known and well-liked in the neighborhood. He was the kind of outgoing person who was friendly to everybody and he¡¯d been far more forgiving and kind to Aaron than most people were if he was around long enough to stick a foot in his mouth. ¡°Wassgoinon, man?¡± Jeff asked. ¡°Not much. You scared the shit out of me, though; I thought you were trying to jack me or something.¡± Even Jeff¡¯s laugh was slurred. ¡°Nah, not me, dude.¡± He put a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder and gestured energetically in several directions with the other. ¡°I saw you walk by the¡­ the, uh¡­ y¡¯know, the place? Back there? With the shuffleboard?¡± ¡°The Tavern?¡± ¡°Yesssssh, that¡¯s the place, Arim!¡± He patted Aaron¡¯s shoulder enthusiastically. ¡°You know we keep it janky, but if someone tries to jack you, you gotta¡­ you gotta hate them haters. But keep it janky, y¡¯know?¡± Jeff accompanied the last sentence with a wobbly little dance. Aaron nodded along. ¡°Right. We keep it janky.¡± If I¡¯d been out drinking with Jeff, that haphazard cluster of sentences would have probably struck me as the Deepest of Wisdom, he thought. The conversation continued in that vein. Jeff rambled and veered from half a topic to the next and Aaron obligingly smiled along. Eventually, Aaron was able to lead his acquaintance back to the point. ¡°So why¡¯d you follow after me, Jeff?¡± he asked, for the third time. ¡°I tooold you: I wanted to invite you to this after-hours speakeasy some people I know are holding at this new warehouse co-op art space. It¡¯sh gonna be a goood time, Airn.¡± In the five minutes they¡¯d been talking, Jeff had most certainly not told Aaron any such thing. Under normal circumstances, Aaron would almost certainly have gone. Jeff knew literally everybody and it always felt really nice when he made the effort to include Aaron in his shenanigans. Tonight, however, Aaron was still feeling distinctly on edge. His eyes had been darting to every flickering shadow or passerby within a block of them the entire time they¡¯d been talking. Even after finding out the person following him had been a drunk friend, Aaron still had the most peculiar feeling he was being hounded through the streets. Jeff has always been cool to me, Aaron mused, but I¡¯m not in the right headspace to be drinking around strangers in a sketchy warehouse bar in the middle of the night. What was also sticking in his mind ¡ª no matter how much he tried to avoid paying attention to it ¡ª was the memory of lifting and holding Jeff clear off the ground without even realizing that. Aaron didn¡¯t think he¡¯d imagined that, but it was just plain impossible. He hadn¡¯t been to a gym in more than a year and it only took a couple weeks for loss of strength and muscle atrophy to start setting in. And Jeff wasn¡¯t exactly a small guy; he was slim, but had four or five inches height over Aaron. After making his excuses, Aaron walked Jeff back to the bar near his apartment. He didn¡¯t want to leave the man stumbling around alone and it was nice to have company, even if Jeff likely wouldn¡¯t make the best backup if Aaron¡¯s vague sense of danger proved to be prescient. From there, Aaron kept his music turned off and covered the last few blocks at a fast jog, scanning every nook and cranny an ambush might be lying in wait along the way. As eager as he¡¯d been to get out of the house when he woke up, now he wanted to be back in his own space, with its doors and locks. Thankfully, he didn¡¯t cross paths with anyone else. He took the steps up to the rear door of his building and then up to his apartment two at a time. When he got inside, he shut the door and locked it, just like he always did, and leaned his forehead against the door. The thick wood was almost cold now that the window-mounted air conditioner had been running for hours. Aaron relished the sensation. I made it, he thought with a heavy sigh. I¡¯m safe. For a moment, Aaron¡¯s thoughts turned to the little suitcase on the shelf in the bedroom closet. There was comfort to be found there; real comfort. He pushed the thoughts away. It was just a bit of anxiety, nothing to lose his head over. When he turned around, he stumbled and slammed back into the door. A man was laying on the floor, propped against the wall behind the couch. His face and neck were covered in blood, his head lolling at a terrible angle, with a large knife buried in his stomach. Aaron shut his eyes tight, his hands involuntarily clenching into fists. It¡¯s not real, he told himself. It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s not real. When he opened his eyes again, the body was gone. He released the breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding and headed for the bedroom. As he was rounding the end of the couch, he saw a masked figure standing by the door out of the corner of his eye. They had a grisly dagger in their hand and lunged at him as soon as he registered their presence. Without thinking, Aaron bent and lifted one end of the couch with a single hand, creating a barrier between them. When nothing happened, Aaron let the couch go. It hit the floor with a thud and, of course, there was no one in the apartment. His downstairs neighbor ¡ª a younger guy who was a nurse or something like that ¡ª pounded on his floor a couple times. So you¡¯re seeing things and being a shitty neighbor, Aaron admonished himself. He sat down on the couch as gently as he could and put his face in his hands. But you definitely are seeing things. You¡¯re paranoid, hallucinating, and almost lost your shit on Jeff. He buried thoughts of the suitcase in the closet before they even finished forming. It wasn¡¯t going to do him any good when he was losing his mind. And I am losing my mind, he thought. There¡¯s nothing else for it; in the morning you¡¯re checking yourself into a psych hospital. Aaron slumped back on the couch. Dawn was hours away, but there was no way he was going to let himself go back to sleep. What if he had more dreams that drove him even deeper into madness? He wasn¡¯t willing to take that risk. So, he waited. Chapter 7 - Commitment Dawn came and, with it, uncertainty. Now that Aaron was facing the imminent reality of going to a mental hospital, doubt was starting to creep in. A bit of research on the internet told him he could check into a hospital fairly easily, but the prospect of being deemed a danger to himself or others was daunting. He could lose his freedom entirely, winding up locked away for a very long time. Will they make me wear a paper robe with my ass hanging out? he wondered. Or lock me in a room that¡¯s a little too similar to a prison cell? It would be so easy to sit at home and hope that whatever was happening to his mind would pass. But this wasn¡¯t a little thing like putting off doing the dishes or waiting for a sprained muscle to recover. Ignoring this problem would be wildly irresponsible; there was a real chance he¡¯d hurt someone if things kept on as they were and that was unacceptable. An overnight bag sat by the couch, filled with a few changes of clothes and some toiletries. He didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d be allowed to keep in the hospital so he erred on the side of optimism. He even had charging cords and his cheap tablet in the bag. Maybe he¡¯d be able to pass the time with music, videos, or reading. Just after seven o¡¯clock, he got his bike out of the building¡¯s garage and started on his journey. His first stop was the bodega a block from his apartment, where he added several bottles of soda, snacks, and a couple packs of cigarettes to his bag. He exchanged pleasantries with Jack, the middle-aged Indian man who owned the store and ran it with his kids, but didn¡¯t hang out to hear what crazy stories or gossip Jack had to share. Really pushing the limits of optimism thinking they¡¯ll let you keep cigarettes at a hospital, he told himself. Aaron rode east. His next stop was a bit of extravagance in the form of comfort food. He stopped at a place he knew opened at 6 a.m. right on the border of Midtown and East Sac. It was early enough that the brunch crowd would still be sleeping it off, so he expected a fairly quiet breakfast. The bar was, indeed, quiet. The only people he found inside were a bartender, waitress, and, presumably, a cook. He sat out on the back patio where he could smoke and read until his breakfast ¡ª an omelette with hash browns, bacon, and toast as well as a side of biscuits and gravy ¡ª arrived. The food was good, the atmosphere quiet, and he felt relatively at ease. The meal wasn¡¯t entirely peaceful; there was a moment that set his nerves jangling like car keys dangled over a baby. A loud shout erupted from a room behind the patio and Aaron bumped the table when he startled a bit. He settled down quickly enough; the shout had been a cheer and it reminded him the place also had a small card room attached. When he was done, he got back on his bike and headed south. The hospital he was going to, the Bidwell Center for Psychiatry, was a small private hospital on Folsom Boulevard. It was right near his alma mater, the state college, and was twenty or thirty minutes away by bike at a comfortable pace. It would be much longer if he took the trip at a leisurely pace¡­ which he did. He wasn¡¯t procrastinating, not even a little bit. He was simply enjoying the ride. It¡¯s not like he was in no hurry to rush through what could turn out to be his last minutes of freedom. Not at all. He was just enjoying the scenery. Eventually, even his sedate speed got him to the hospital. Maybe I should¡¯ve walked, he thought. What¡¯s a little five mile walk when you haven¡¯t exercised for over a year? The Bidwell Center for Psychiatry was a wide, one-storey tall building, two to three hundred yards across. The walls were light green with gently-sloping white roofs. Two broad wings on either end formed a recessed courtyard in the center, with the entrance in the middle. Several benches lined the courtyard, covered in white trellises hung with vines and a number of young trees were planted around the courtyard, as well. Aaron lingered by the bike rack at the edge of the courtyard. He lit a cigarette and stared at the building. A constant, low-grade hum of anxiety had been hanging at the edge of his awareness all morning, gnawing at his resolve to check himself in. Now that he was standing in front of the hospital, the hum had escalated to a rattle. Why did it have to be such a pleasant morning? he lamented. Not that I¡¯d wish for more paranoid hallucinations, but they certainly would make this decision easier. It took Aaron three cigarettes, but he finally went inside. The lobby was surprisingly small, not much larger than Aaron¡¯s living room. A narrow reception desk sat across from the glass doors and there were four spindly chairs that served as a waiting area. The lady behind the reception desk gave him a small stack of papers to fill out and told him someone would be with him shortly. Most of the paperwork was standard for any visit to a new doctor ¡ª medical history checklists, insurance information, and the like ¡ª but it included a lengthy questionnaire about his mental state. Aaron had decided to downplay the severity of his symptoms; he wanted help, but he didn¡¯t want to be committed long term. It was also hard not to feel like he was blowing things out of proportion after a calm morning of no imaginary knife-wielding assassins. An orderly came and called for Aaron before he finished the questionnaire. The orderly, who introduced himself as Joseph, was average height with a sleek, muscular build. He led Aaron into a small interview room that was barely big enough for a table and two chairs. Oddly, one of the chairs was placed so it would block the door when it was closed. ¡°Excuse me,¡± Joseph said, stepping into the room and pulling the door closed behind him. ¡°Please, set your things down and have a seat.¡± The layout of the room basically forced Aaron to take the seat farthest from the door. A subtle way to make it easier to trap or restrain someone in here, Aaron thought. That might just be the anxiety and paranoia talking, though. ¡°If you didn¡¯t have time to finish filling out your paperwork, you can do that now or wait until later,¡± Joseph said with a smile. ¡°There¡¯s never an end to paperwork and I¡¯ll have even more forms for you when you¡¯re done, so don¡¯t feel like you have to rush.¡± Aaron plastered a smile on his face that he hoped was friendly and continued filling out the questionnaire. Joseph took the seat across from him. ¡°So, what brought you to the hospital?¡± he asked. This is it, Aaron thought. Time to thread the needle. He took a breath, steady but not deep. ¡°I¡¯ve been feeling really on edge the past couple days,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I¡¯m used to anxiety but this has been different. I feel like people are about to attack me. Not, like, shouting at me but more like coming at me with a knife or something.¡± He paused. ¡°A few times I even felt like there were people hiding in the bushes or shadows, about to jump out at me.¡± Joseph nodded along, expression sympathetic. ¡°That must be hard. Periods of heightened anxiety aren¡¯t unusual for people who have to cope with it regularly. Why do you feel coming to the hospital is the right choice for you at this moment?¡± Aaron used the last question on his form to cover a pause and consider how to answer. He only took a couple seconds so it wouldn¡¯t be obvious he was measuring his words. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯d attack anybody, but these feelings have been so strong that I¡¯m starting to question myself. It seems like a professional would be in a better position to assess my situation than I am. Just the thought of lashing out in panic, thinking I¡¯m defending myself, has me freaked out.¡± More sympathetic nodding from the orderly. ¡°I can understand that and our staff would certainly be glad to try to help. I do want to make sure you¡¯re aware of the potential ramifications of a hospital stay. People who spend time in a psychiatric hospital, for any reason, often aren¡¯t prepared for the long-term consequences. For instance, former patients are often surprised to find they¡¯re barred from buying a gun after treatment.¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I don¡¯t have any real interest in owning a gun, so that¡¯s okay. Even if I did, I¡¯d have a hard time justifying choosing the chance to maybe buy a gun someday over the risk of taking a swing at someone because my brain is telling me they¡¯re about to stab me.¡± Joseph made a note on his own clipboard, nodding. ¡°I think that¡¯s a sensible outlook. So, if I¡¯m understanding you, you¡¯ve been feeling on edge and like you¡¯re about to be attacked. Have you been seeing or hearing anything that isn¡¯t there?¡± Aaron had thought about how to answer this question a good deal in the long hours of the night. He shrugged. ¡°How could I know? I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve had any hallucinations, but the sense of danger has been so strong it¡¯s practically the same thing.¡± ¡°Can you tell me more?¡± the orderly asked, taking more notes. Aaron sighed. ¡°I had a bad dream last night, so I went for a walk. To clear my head, y¡¯know? This guy was following me and I was convinced they were trying to sneak up and attack me. It turned out it was a friend from the neighborhood who was drunk and trying to invite me to hang out. I totally misread the situation.¡± ¡°What did you do before you found out who it was? When you thought you were about to be attacked.¡± ¡°I tried to shake them off, but that didn¡¯t work out. Eventually I ducked into an alley and confronted them when they caught up.¡± The orderly nodded. ¡°Can you tell me more about how you confronted them?¡± Aaron rubbed his chin. He definitely couldn¡¯t say he¡¯d lifted a fully grown man clean off his feet like he weighed as much as a box of cereal. That was the weirdest part of his recent delusions and would definitely be a red flag to the doctors. ¡°I hid behind a dumpster and when he came up to the alley, I twisted his arm behind his back and pushed him into a wall.¡± Joseph scribbled a few more notes. ¡°What if you hadn¡¯t known them?¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to think I¡¯d have come to my senses, but I¡¯m here because I might not. What if I thought some random person was trying to kill me and beat the crap out of them?¡± ¡°That makes sense to me,¡± Joseph said. ¡°So, just for clarity ¡ª this anxiety you¡¯ve been experiencing lately is more specific and more severe than you¡¯re used to. And you¡¯ve reached a point where you¡¯re worried you might attack someone thinking they mean you harm. Is that right?¡± There it is, Aaron thought. The lynchpin in any case for an involuntary hold: ¡®are you a danger to yourself or others?¡¯ Reluctantly, Aaron nodded. ¡°I think we can admit you for a 72-hour hold, which gives us time for observation and you a chance to speak with a doctor at least once a day. Does that sound alright?¡± Again, Aaron nodded. After a bit more administrative paperwork, Joseph led Aaron back into the ward. It was much nicer than Aaron had expected. The first room was a large communal area. A long nurse¡¯s station ran nearly the entire length of the wall with the entrance. The bulk of the communal space was occupied by large round tables with plastic chairs. A small bank of payphones ¡ª actual payphones, like from an old movie ¡ª took up a small section of the wall near the entrance. The corner across from the entrance had high windows looking out on a small, walled courtyard. Flower planters with attached benches ran along the walls and a large sycamore grew from a central planter. The windows were tinted to limit light coming from outside, which was fortunate because that corner was also the communal television area, with a wide TV in the corner and several small couches and plump chairs. The other far corner had a small reading area, with squat bookshelves against the walls and a few more comfy chairs to sit and read. There were also two wide hallways flanking the courtyard corner. They were both thirty or forty feet long and had three doors on each side. Joseph walked Aaron to the nurse¡¯s station. Three other staff members were busy with various tasks behind the counter, but they all said their introductions to Aaron and one handled his intake, making a folder with his documents and placing a plastic band on his wrist. The plastic was soft and flexible and plump with edges that didn¡¯t cut and chafe. ¡°Let¡¯s get you set up in your room,¡± Joseph said. He led Aaron through the common room and down the hallway to the left of the television corner. There were several people in the communal area, but Aaron had no idea which ones were patients; all but one of them ¡ª a rail-thin, tiny old woman with flyaway hair the color of pure cotton in a long gown ¡ª were wearing either staff uniforms or street clothes. ¡°These are the men¡¯s rooms,¡± Joseph explained as they walked down the hallway. They went into the middle door on the right side. Aaron realized the walls of these rooms ¡ª and probably the women¡¯s rooms on the other side ¡ª formed half the walls of the little courtyard. Sadly, the rooms didn¡¯t have a door or window to the small outdoor space. I never cared much about trees and nature and all that, but it might have been nice to go sit out there, Aaron mused. Maybe I still will. The room itself was quite spacious, but rather spartan. It was bigger than the average motel room and furnished much the same ¡ª two full-sized beds with a small end table between them and a long, low dresser with two sets of wide drawers on the wall across from the beds. The room even had a little bathroom in the corner near the door, with a toilet, sink, and shower. Each of the fixtures was rather unusual, having been designed in a way that minimized their potential to be used for self-harm. The showerhead, for instance, was a small, angular metal protrusion that stuck out of the wall only two or three inches. The bathroom had a door, but it was a flimsy little thing made of balsa wood or something similarly delicate that folded up and couldn¡¯t be locked. ¡°This will be your room while you¡¯re with us,¡± Joseph said. ¡°You¡¯ll be bunking with another patient, but he¡¯s very personable and good about giving people their space. If you find it¡¯s causing you anxiety or discomfort and you don¡¯t think you can manage it, come see us at the nurse¡¯s station and we¡¯ll see if we can work something out.¡± The orderly gestured to the far bed, which was obviously the unused one. ¡°Set your things down over there and we¡¯ll do an inventory.¡± Aaron set his bag on the bed and they began to go through everything. Joseph sorted them into three piles. The first pile contained Aaron¡¯s toiletries and most of his clothes, the second all the snacks, cigarettes, and electronics, and the third just two things ¡ª a pair of pants and a hoodie. ¡°You can keep all these with you,¡± Joseph said, indicating the first pile. ¡°We¡¯ll have to store these,¡± he added, indicating the second. ¡°The last we¡¯ll have to check.¡± It turned out the clothes in the third pile had drawstrings in them, which weren¡¯t allowed in the hospital. Joseph was able to pull the drawstrings out without needing to cut anything, so Aaron got to keep them and the drawstrings went with the prohibited stuff. ¡°No snacks, no electronics, and no smoking,¡± Aaron observed. ¡°I¡¯m guessing we won¡¯t have the opportunity to step outside, like into that courtyard, for something like a cigarette?¡± ¡°Afraid not. We have a wireless radio headset you can check out from the nurse¡¯s stations, dozens of books in the reading corner, and pretty good cable,¡± Joseph explained. ¡°I¡¯ll need you to empty out your pockets, too, and then I have to pat you down.¡± Soon, Aaron¡¯s keys, phone, lighter, and the remains of his emergency pack of cigarettes were added to the prohibited pile. After Joseph gave him a quick pat down, he wrote down all of Aaron¡¯s prohibited items on an inventory and put them in big plastic bags. Those sodas are going to be lukewarm and probably explode with fizz if I ever get out of here, Aaron thought with a sigh. At least I only picked up smoking again yesterday, so I shouldn¡¯t fiend too bad. A woman in scrubs carrying a clipboard stepped into the room from the hallway. When Aaron noticed her, she just smiled and said, ¡°Rounds.¡± ¡°We check the rooms several times an hour to make sure everyone¡¯s doing okay,¡± Joseph explained. ¡°So, in terms of what you¡¯ll be doing while you¡¯re here ¡ª we offer three meals and at least two group sessions every day. You can participate as much or as little as you¡¯re comfortable with, but being active is encouraged. Other than that, a psychiatrist will speak with you at least once a day to find out what your needs are and how we can best address them. Everything sound good?¡± Aaron nodded. He wasn¡¯t confident he could really say anything right now around the bundle of tension in his throat. ¡°Cool,¡± Joseph said, packing all the plastic bags with Aaron¡¯s stuff into the bag he brought from home. ¡°Lunch is in a couple hours; you just come out and get a tray from the cart, then you can eat anywhere in the ward. The next group session is at three o¡¯clock, if you¡¯re interested, and the doctor will probably speak with you this evening around dinnertime. Do you have any questions for me?¡± ¡°So that¡¯s a definite ¡®no¡¯ on the smoke breaks?¡± Joseph chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m afraid so. This is a hospital, after all.¡± Since Aaron had no other questions, Joseph picked up the bag with most of his belongings, said goodbye, and left Aaron alone in the room. Aaron sat down on the neatly-made bed that would be his for the next three days ¡ª and hopefully no longer ¡ª and stared at the floor. Well, he thought, here I am. Chapter 8 - Warded Aaron sat on the bed in his hospital room for a long time, staring at the floor and barely thinking. He only disturbed himself to put his clothes in the drawers on his side of the room and use the restroom. Now that he was in the psychiatric hospital, he didn¡¯t want anything but to leave. More than that, he wanted ¡ª yearned, even ¡ª for the dreams and hallucinations all to be real. Within the confines of those thick concrete walls, he had his first chance to think without a cloud of fear gnawing at him. Who wouldn¡¯t want to find out they had some kind of secret heritage that came with cool powers? Aaron had daydreamed about exactly that very thing his entire life, yet balked when it turned up. Except this is some kind of mental disorder, not a superhero origin story, he told himself. You¡¯re just crazy, Aaron, not a part of the MCU. As anyone who follows politics could tell you, a realistic outlook is far less soothing than even the most outlandish comforting lies. Before he knew it, an orderly was stopping by each room to announce that lunch was ready. Despite having a large breakfast on his way into the hospital, Aaron¡¯s stomach told him that he could stand to eat. Back in the common area, people were gathered in a vague clump around one of the large, round tables. A tall rolling cart with trays set at various levels stood beside it and an orderly was keeping things, well¡­ orderly. Despite the organization being more of a loose scrum than a line, the orderly was getting people their lunch following some kind of method only they understood. Aaron, not wanting to do something wrong and look like an idiot, milled around outside the cluster of patients, intent on learning through observation. His attention was drawn by the oddest pairing of people. There were more than a dozen patients standing around the lunch cart ¡ª more women than men ¡ª but two of them stood out. The tiny old lady with wispy white hair he¡¯d seen when he arrived was talking with a massive bald black man. The guy had to be six and a half feet tall, maybe more, and quite heavy. His size was all the more noticeable standing there with the little old woman. Their size, skin tone, and hair ¡ª or lack thereof ¡ª weren¡¯t the only odd contrasts between the two. Where she wore pajamas, slippers, and a fluffy robe, the big man had on a sleek, red baseball jersey with white trim that said ¡®Iam¡¯ on the back. Aaron didn¡¯t follow baseball so he didn¡¯t know if that was a real player or the big man¡¯s own name, but he was pretty sure the jersey was custom because the number on the back was a sideways eight, the symbol for infinity. That¡¯s a pretty cool jersey, Aaron thought. I¡¯d probably go for hockey or football, but it¡¯s still hella cool. Aaron had been so distracted by the odd pairing, he¡¯d failed to pay attention to the process for getting lunch. There was nobody left for him to watch, so he had to fly blind. He was pretty sure people had just been grabbing a tray with one of the plates covered by a maroon plastic lid. There were quite a few of those left on racks, so he pulled one out from near the middle at random. The orderly stopped him before he could walk away. ¡°Did you want to grab some chips or drinks?¡± she asked, gesturing to two cardboard boxes on the table he hadn¡¯t noticed. ¡°Take a couple, if you like.¡± One box had little juice containers like Aaron used to get when he was a kid and the other little bags of chips in a variety of brands and flavors. He grabbed a couple of each, added them to his tray, and looked for a place where he could sit down and eat. Aaron took his tray over to the reading corner, which was empty, and sat. He perused the books, impressed with the variety of genres present even if most of them were older, and grabbed a Stephen King novel he¡¯d never even heard of. He opened it without bothering to read more than the title. The lunch provided was a sandwich, as he¡¯d guessed, but it was a surprisingly hefty chicken salad affair. It was clearly not some cheap, pre-packaged mix, either. Aaron wolfed the sandwich down; it was delicious. Quite possibly the best chicken salad he¡¯d ever had, actually. About ten minutes into his meal, when Aaron was working his way through the bags of chips, Joseph came into the common room with a man, a patient if the overnight bag was any indication. The orderly gave the new arrival the same quick tour he¡¯d given Aaron a couple hours earlier. Aaron wasn¡¯t sure, but he felt like the new guy kept shooting glances his way. You¡¯re imagining things, he told himself. Remember why you¡¯re here. After lunch, Aaron took the book back to his room. He sat on the bed and tried to get comfortable, head propped up on one hand as he laid out. The words on the page wouldn¡¯t fully register, his mind dwelling on the new patient and what Aaron¡¯s distorted recollection increasingly painted as their sinister interest in him. It was just a couple glances in passing, likely nothing more than Aaron had done himself as he tried to get his bearings in an unfamiliar setting. Agitated as he was, Aaron dozed off after just a few minutes.
Sssswih-thump. It was closer now, the thing pursuing Aaron through the maze. It was closer every time he slept. Aaron preferred to think of it as an ¡®it¡¯ rather than a ¡®them,¡¯ despite the humanoid shape of their silhouette. He was reasonably certain it wasn¡¯t human, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to think of it as a person of any sort, nor even an animal. He couldn¡¯t have said why. It¡¯s interesting how I¡¯m remembering things more clearly with each dream, he thought. Is it the Conspicuous Pursuer getting closer? Or something else? How much closer was hard to say; the passages were made of stone and sound carried. The stone halls were as high as ever and, like always, barely wide enough for him to walk through without his shoulders scraping against the walls. Not exactly ideal for moving quietly but Aaron pushed onwards, trying his best not to make any noise and give away his position. Something was off. It was a familiar dream, the stone labyrinth, one he¡¯d been having for a while. How long, exactly? Months, at least, maybe years; maybe his entire life. Aaron never remembered it when he woke and it was only recently he carried even an impression of it between the dreams themselves, but it was all too familiar nonetheless. And yet¡­ There were things that were different, that had changed. Aaron didn¡¯t know when the changes had started or even what all of them might be. The Conspicuous Pursuer was new, he was pretty sure of that. There were other things ¡ª important things ¡ª that he couldn¡¯t identify and it was frustrating for him. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. As he crept through the narrow passage Aaron paused for a moment, fixated on that idea of things changing. It had something to do with the stone, or the walls. He gently pressed his hand against the rock, feeling how it was smooth and yet still carried a hint of its native coarseness. Sssswih-thump. Was it the masonry? Or the size of the blocks? No, he felt that those had been consistent, even if he couldn¡¯t remember every dream in this place. It had something to do with the walls, but it wasn¡¯t the walls themselves. Aaron moved his head to look at the walls all around him. He had to move slowly, gingerly even, because the hallways were so narrow he risked bumping his head, chin, or nose if he wasn¡¯t cautious. Except that¡­hadn¡¯t always been true, had it? Ssswih-thump. Judging by the sound, Aaron¡¯s Conspicuous Pursuer couldn¡¯t have been more than a few hallways away. He ignored it for the moment, focusing on the idea that had just proposed itself then tried to flit away like a frightened bird. Aaron turned sideways, angling himself so that his shoulders were pressing against each of the walls in the confined space of the stone passage. He placed his palms flat against the stone. The hallways, he thought. It has something to do with the hallways. He widened his stance and lowered his hips, pressing his back into the wall behind him. He started to push against the walls in both directions, steadily increasing the pressure and force he directed into the stone. It was an absurd exercise ¡ª the walls were hundreds of feet high, at least; the weight of that much stone meant it was impossible for him to budge them ¡ª but he continued to push anyway. After a couple seconds, Aaron realized the physical strain wasn¡¯t the limiting factor; the problem was concentration. Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate to say the problem was focus. His body was willing to push back against the walls with everything he had, yet he was having trouble deciding to actually do it. Frustration was quickly building towards¡­ annoyance. Because Aaron didn¡¯t get angry. ¡°Fucker,¡± he breathed, not entirely of his own volition. He was so sick of his own shit ¡ª his hesitation, his weakness, his lack of control or discipline. Why is it the only time you have any willpower is arguing over stupid bullshit, he excoriated himself. Then, quietly but aloud, ¡°You dumb. Mother. Fucker.¡± Grunting with the last word, Aaron actually banged the tip of his nose into the wall. It didn¡¯t hurt much, but anger bloomed, cold and trembling, in his guts. No, not anger. He didn¡¯t get angry, so it had to be something else. Let¡¯s call it pique. As he failed to make any progress on whatever it was he was doing with the walls, pique rushed headlong into vexation. Soon, even that gave way to irritation. As he became more aggravated, Aaron sort of lost track of the purpose behind pushing against the walls and the goal became nothing more than to just push the stupid things until they either gave him what he wanted or broke. Either way, he¡¯d feel better. Ssswih-thump. It sounded closer than ever, closer even than when its shadow had fallen across the end of the¡ª Recollection, like a fuse bursting in the dark, flashed in Aaron¡¯s mind, illuminating a tableau just long enough for the eyes and mind to process it. The halls¡­used to be wider, he realized. It was more than a realization, it was knowledge. Not so long ago, these hallways had been much wider. Aaron drove the icy tremors of his pique through his body and into the walls and they receded. Or, it wasn¡¯t that they receded because that implied motion; the walls were simply, suddenly, further apart. They were still narrow, but they were more than wide enough for him to walk through normally. Finally, some lucid god damned dreaming, he thought. This was almost as bad as fighting that stupid ninja. That thought brought Aaron up short. Fighting a ninja? He hadn¡¯t had any dreams with ninjas in them since he was a kid. It might be interesting, but at the moment he wondered if he might be able to lead himself into a dream with that mystery woman in the robe. Preferably without the old dude around. Ssswih-thump. Ssswih-thump. That sound meant it was time to get a move on. Aaron began to move through the hallway once more but stopped at the next intersection. A small, sleek door made of metal or plastic with rounded corners was fixed into the stone wall at about shoulder height. It had no handle. That¡¯s the most inconvenient door I¡¯ve ever seen, he observed. When Aaron took a step towards it for a closer look, the door opened. It swung downward, hinged at the bottom. The interior of the door had carpeted steps with metal railings built right into it, leading up to the newly-revealed opening in the wall. The area past the door was too dark to see anything inside. Sswih-thump. Sswih-thump. Sswih-thump. That clinched it. Aaron scrambled up the stepped ramp and through the portal. Aaron found himself in the passenger cabin of a luxurious private jet. The carpets were plush, the seats made of light leather that looked soft and expensive, and the walls covered in wood paneling. The cabin wasn¡¯t unoccupied. A man in a dark suit sat in one of the chairs, his back to Aaron and a cell phone held up to his ear. Light glinted off the man¡¯s cufflinks and a heavy but understated pinky ring. The clothes and jewelry might be different, but even from what little he could see of the man, Aaron was pretty sure it was that Barrett guy. Am I being racist right now? Aaron wondered. It¡¯s not like I know a lot of old black dudes, even in my dreams. Whatever conversation the man was having on the phone, Aaron couldn¡¯t make out any of it. The words were indistinct and distorted, like they were being run through a very old speaker that was also underwater. When he tried to make out what the older man was saying, all he heard was a warbling buzz. ¡°Great. I¡¯ve gone from being Superman to Charlie Brown,¡± Aaron muttered to himself. ¡°Wah wah-wah wah waaaah.¡± As Aaron looked around the cabin, debating on whether he should try something like shaking the old man, he saw that there was another person in the plane with them. At the rear of the passenger area, a figure in a hooded robe knelt on the floor. A dark mat was spread out beneath them, decorated in strange symbols set in the borders of strange geometric shapes. Nine candles burned around the mat, giving off a strange, purplish light. The figure was gently rocking or swaying on their knees to a rhythm Aaron couldn¡¯t identify. Could this be the mystery woman from the back of Barrett¡¯s car? Aaron wondered. ¡°Uh, hello?¡± he said. The figure quickly lifted their arms to their sides, slightly above shoulder level, and the cabin was filled with a bright flash of light. ¡°Holy shit!¡± Aaron cried, covering his eyes. Well, that can¡¯t be a good sign, he thought ruefully. Chapter 9 - Liaisons Aaron stumbled away from the powerful flash of light, banging into the steps of the door to the jet¡¯s cabin. Only that should have been impossible because the hatch was open; he should¡¯ve fallen back out into the stone labyrinth. When his surprise from the burst of light wore off, he examined the wall more closely. Sure enough, the hatch was closed. He¡¯d only been in the cabin a few seconds and hadn¡¯t heard anything, but he just shrugged it off. Dream logic, he figured. The hooded figure had resumed their previous position ¡ª arms tucked in close and body gently rocking ¡ª after the light show. The man in the suit, however, shivered in his seat like he¡¯d been doused in cold water. He stood, looked around the cabin, saw Aaron, and positively beamed at him. ¡°Well, fancy meeting you here, son,¡± Barrett said, chuckling. ¡°I guess you couldn¡¯t remember the phone number.¡± He took a step forward, extending his hand to shake, and Aaron saw that Barrett ¡ª who was standing in front of him ¡ª was also still seated, his head lolling to one side against his shoulder. The seated Barrett had turned somewhat translucent while the colors of his body and clothes had grown more vivid and almost seemed to glow. Barrett noticed where Aaron¡¯s attention was directed. ¡°That¡¯s my real body, or waking body if you prefer,¡± he explained. ¡°And this other me is me in the Dream.¡± ¡°In a dream?¡± ¡°Not a dream, the Dream,¡± Barrett said. ¡°It¡¯s the place where dreams take place and dreaming minds go. Usually everyone¡¯s in their own little duck pond and different people¡¯s dreams can¡¯t do much more than brush up against one another, but sometimes more direct contact is possible. That¡¯s how we¡¯ve been meeting.¡± ¡°So, kind of like the collective unconscious, only it¡¯s not inherited.¡± ¡°It¡¯s much more complicated than that,¡± Barrett said, chuckling again. ¡°I don¡¯t pretend to understand more than a bit of it, it¡¯s real deep stuff. The important thing is that we¡¯ve finally able to work with it a bit and were able to make contact with you.¡± ¡°And you want to help me because we¡¯re related or something, right?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not related in that way, but yes, we are as close as kin,¡± the old man said. ¡°You and I share a very rare kind of heritage, one that¡¯s got a lot more weight to it than something as simple as blood ties.¡± Aaron thought back to their last conversation. Barrett had said something about Aaron gaining powers, including being bulletproof, which he proved by shooting Aaron in the chest with a damn shotgun. What Aaron couldn¡¯t figure out was how that fit into his delusions. Was it supposed to create some kind of heroic identity that would allow him to justify hurting people he viewed as threats, saving further damage to an obviously precarious self-image? He needed to know more. ¡°This heritage comes with power, like supernatural power, and I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s some kind of duty or obligation to fight a nefarious enemy?¡± ¡°Shit no,¡± Barrett laughed. ¡°I mean, yes, our heritage comes with power, but we¡¯re not secretly protecting the world against the forces of evil or anything like that.¡± He paused for a moment. ¡°There are times when we have to fight things that are objectively bad, but most of our conflicts are with enemies who hate us for the usual reasons ¡ª selfishness, ideology, or historical grudges. Mostly, we keep to ourselves.¡± That wasn¡¯t what Aaron expected to hear. The conception of madness as chaotic and unpredictable stemmed largely from humanity¡¯s relatively limited understanding of it, but there was generally some kind of method in the madness. Aaron wasn¡¯t an expert, but he hadn¡¯t gone to school for nothing and he knew there should be some kind of internal consistency that would make sense to him, at the very least. If he could figure out those cognitive distortions ¡ª the way his delusions were incorrectly interpreted the world ¡ª he¡¯d be one step closer to limiting its impact on his life and behavior. ¡°So what is this shared heritage that gives us both power?¡± he asked. ¡°That¡¯s the kind of thing that really needs to be explained face-to-face,¡± Barrett said. ¡°The Dream is working against us on that front, but that¡¯s alright. You¡¯re here and that means you¡¯re ready to let us help you. So, who are you and how can we reach you?¡± Before Aaron could decide how he wanted to respond, the robed figure at the back of the plane called out to them. The voice had a dissonant and hollow quality and it jangled against the nerves in the confined space of the cabin. It was also familiar in a way Aaron couldn¡¯t identify. ¡°Something is wrong.¡± Both men turned their attention to the robed figure. Aaron was pretty sure it was the mystery woman under that deep cowl, but the voice that had come from her had been decidedly masculine, even with the spooky sound effects added to the mix. ¡°You have to wake up,¡± the voice intoned. With a start, Aaron realized why the voice was familiar ¡ª it was his voice. He must have muttered those exact words to himself thousands of times trying to motivate himself to get out of bed in the morning. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Aaron asked. The robed figure raised their head towards them and Aaron caught a glimpse of wavy red hair beneath the hood. Barrett started talking to them ¡ª her, probably ¡ª but Aaron couldn¡¯t hear what was said, only the same two sentences. ¡°Something is wrong.¡± Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. The robed figure pointed at Aaron and Barrett turned to him, grasping him firmly by the shoulders. The old man was saying something, quite emphatically, but Aaron couldn¡¯t make out a single word. ¡°You have to wake up.¡± The pieces of the puzzle fell into place for Aaron as Barrett and the mystery woman became more agitated. The mystery woman was acting as a conduit of some kind between both Aaron and Barrett in the Dream and their waking bodies. That meant the voice Aaron was hearing actually was his voice ¡ª or at least his internal monologue ¡ª but it was based on things his sleeping body could sense. So there¡¯s danger or something around my real body, but I¡¯m sleeping through it, he realized. That means I need to wake up. But how? Aaron looked around the plane, looking for something that would spark an idea about how to force himself to wake from his dream. He looked for anything with liquid in it, thinking he could throw some water on his face and that might pull him out of sleep, but didn¡¯t see anything. Nothing was occurring to him and he was starting to freak out a little. Having no idea what the danger or problem near his sleeping body was did not contribute to his sense of calm. Suddenly, a voice boomed through the cabin. ¡°Let there be light!¡± The entire plane was washed out with white light, so bright it was almost painful. He winced away from it, and¡­
Aaron had sat up in bed and put his feet on the floor before he was even fully awake. He blinked around the hospital room, his mind half in a daze. A man was standing near the foot of his bed, close to the drawers against the wall, frozen in a slightly hunched position. Aaron recognized him as the newly-arrived patient from lunch, the one he¡¯d thought was sneaking glances at him. He wasn¡¯t the only other person in the room. The humongous black man in the custom baseball jersey that Aaron had seen at lunch was standing just inside the door of the room. His hand was on the lightswitch that controlled the overhead fluorescents. ¡°A little much?¡± the big man said, voice a deep bass. Aaron rubbed at his eyes, which were stinging and crusty with sleep, then turned his full attention back to the stranger by the dresser. The stranger¡¯s eyes darted from Aaron the man in the doorway. ¡°You lost?¡± he rumbled, giving the stranger a look that suggested he knew otherwise. ¡°Sorry,¡± he replied, shrugging. ¡°I just checked in a little while ago; I must¡¯ve come into the wrong room.¡± The giant eyed the new patient up and down, but finally stepped back so he wasn¡¯t blocking the door. That was all the invitation he needed; the stranger headed right for the door. He did glance at Aaron over his shoulder on his way out. The look was innocuous, on the surface, but Aaron felt a jolt of anxiety. Before he was through the door, the big man blocked his path with one arm. Quietly, he said, ¡°Thine foot shall slide in due time. Consider what comes after if you keep to that path. Thus saith me.¡± The other man¡¯s face expressed the same confusion that Aaron felt at the somber pronouncement, but offered no comment. He gave the much larger man a noncommittal nod and then ducked under his arm, leaving the room. The big man strolled into the room, looking Aaron over. ¡°You look like you seen a ghost,¡± he said. ¡°Don¡¯t fret too much, there¡¯s all kindsa weirdos and crazies here. Like as not he was looking to rummage through our drawers for something more comfortable than grippy socks.¡± Aaron tried to school his face into something that didn¡¯t convey a message of ¡®I¡¯m a frightened animal and might lash out.¡¯ The rush of adrenaline from waking to find a stranger near his bed was fading, yet the suspicion of something more sinister than a scavenger hunt for tube socks lingered. He didn¡¯t want to paint as paranoid and, more importantly, he wasn¡¯t keen on pissing off a behemoth in a mental hospital. ¡°I was just shocked to wake up to someone standing over my bed, I guess,¡± Aaron said lamely. Iam ¡ª maybe ¡ª waved it off. ¡°No harm, no foul; and I¡¯m sorry if I was a bit dramatic earlier. It¡¯s just so tempting to trot out the classics, even if they are a bit cliche.¡± ¡°The classics?¡± ¡°Yeah, you know¡­ vengeance is mine, thou shalt not, for I so loved the world, all that good stuff.¡± Aaron scratched his cheek. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I follow.¡± The big man sat down on the other bed, facing Aaron, and extended a massive hand. ¡°You must not¡¯ve had much churchin¡¯ growing up. Pleased to meet you, I¡¯m God.¡± The only thing keeping Aaron¡¯s eyebrows on his head was the lack of clearance for departure. He couldn¡¯t think of a good reply to that and keeping his mouth shut seemed like the better part of wisdom, here. He was uncomfortably reminded of his own madness in the form of all that stuff about super powers bouncing around in his head. ¡°Anyways, the orderlies asked if I would come tell you supper was ready, seeing as I¡¯m your roommate and all. So here I am.¡± His roommate stood up, which wasn¡¯t impressive but, at the same time, totally was. ¡°Anyways, supper¡¯s ready. And don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t be offended if you don¡¯t say grace or anything.¡± ¡°Oh, well¡­ that¡¯s very, uh, progressive of you. I¡¯m sorry if I don¡¯t refer to you as the Lord or anything; it¡¯s not really something I¡¯ve got experience with.¡± The big man waved one hand dismissively. ¡°Pssh! I¡¯m not the hair-trigger, smite-happy deity I get made out to be sometimes. That was just a phase, really.¡± He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. ¡°Speaking of being progressive, I want to apologize for my language earlier.¡± Aaron¡¯s expression must have conveyed the confusion he was feeling, because Iam continued a moment later. ¡°Using terms like ¡®weirdos and crazies¡¯ isn¡¯t a very kind or helpful way to refer to people going through a mental health crisis. Especially coming from the person indirectly responsible for mental health crises existing in the first place.¡± Aaron nodded politely. He couldn¡¯t think of anything to say because what the hell do you say to something like that? He found himself looking up at the man¡¯s friendly face and thought Iam didn¡¯t seem like the type to take offense being told outright he was full of crap. Still, between the whole ¡®in a mental hospital¡¯ thing and the ¡®foot or more of height difference between them¡¯ thing, that wasn¡¯t a plan Aaron was going to adopt any time soon, no matter how affable his roommate might be. ¡°Anyways, it¡¯s chicken parm tonight,¡± Iam said. ¡°You do not want to miss that.¡± Without another word, the huge man strolled right back out of the room. Aaron watched him go, still feeling out of sorts, until his stomach rumbled with hunger and he got up to follow. Iam ¡ª or God; or whatever ¡ª was right: if dinner was going to be the same quality the sandwiches at lunch had been, the big man was absolutely right. Aaron wouldn¡¯t want to miss that. Chapter 10 - Delusion-proofing A large, breaded chicken breast lay on a bed of penne pasta, the whole thing smothered in cheese and sauce. Two smaller plates sat beside the main dish, one with a small caesar salad the other with two thick pieces of buttery garlic bread. It looked delicious and smelled even better. Iam was right, Aaron thought. I wouldn¡¯t want to miss this. Bidwell, as far as psychiatric hospitals went, had been full of pleasant surprises. Aaron knew the horrors of the old asylum system had greatly diminished in recent decades, but they still tended to be rather grim places. He¡¯d known people who had been patients and employees at some of the hospitals in Sacramento and he¡¯d heard¡­ stories. Bidwell had a pleasant atmosphere, great food, and, most importantly, none of the patients seemed particularly volatile. The difference, Aaron guessed, is insurance. I have good insurance through work, so I can stay at a private hospital. As with lunch, Aaron took his dinner tray to the reading corner, giving him some space from the other patients. The one who¡¯d been in his room when he woke up from a nap was nowhere to be seen. Aaron tried not to dwell on it and keep his focus on the book. It was a struggle as he found himself scanning the room even more often than he usually would. After ten minutes, Aaron hadn¡¯t managed to absorb more than a handful of sentences. He shifted around his sitting position several times and even started changing the angle he held the book at. Just as he was about to admonish himself for how ineffective all those little twitches would be to his concentration, he spotted something at the edge of his peripheral vision. He didn¡¯t know what it was, at first, but his heart rate spiked and his breath caught. There was a presence, lurking just outside his blindspot, and he¡¯d only seen it out of the corner of his eye. At a guess, Aaron would have said it was the hazy outline of a person, although he couldn¡¯t see it clearly enough to be sure. Whatever it was, the barely-glimpsed presence evoked a clear and tangible fear in him. It was far more immediate and specific than the anxiety he¡¯d had when Jeff had followed him or when he was watching the shadows on the walk back home. No, he realized. There are two presences. Each stood on opposite sides of the room, one to Aaron¡¯s right and one to his left. Despite the lack of details, he got the distinct impression both of the obfuscated figures were watching him. There was something familiar about the strange presences, but it was nothing like the sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu he got from the old man in the park. It was more like the smell of some food that had made you violently ill, an unpleasant reminder of an awful experience; one strong enough just the memory could make you sick again. Aaron forced himself to take slow, deep breaths. The familiarity Aaron felt for the two wasn¡¯t uniform; the one to his left near the hallway to the dorms gave him a stronger sense than the one between the nurse¡¯s station and entrance. In fact, now that he was aware of them and paying attention, the only real sense of similarity between them was how they appeared, or how they were concealed, or whatever it was that made them only appear in his peripheral vision as hazy, indistinct figures. It figures my particular brand of crazy would ruin a perfectly good meal, Aaron thought. Much as he would have liked to ¡ª and as rational as it would have been ¡ª Aaron couldn¡¯t just ignore the presence of two strange figures. It didn¡¯t take long for him to realize that trying to look at them even a little bit more directly caused them to disappear. He needed to figure out some way to focus on them when they vanished as soon as they were at all close to the center of his attention. Aaron speared a bit of chicken and pasta with his fork and raised it to his mouth. He chewed with laborious intent, directing his attention to the flavors. It wasn¡¯t an exercise in savoring his meal, but an attempt to make an end-run around the limits of his own focus. When he felt the flavors were strongly established in his mind, he hurled all his focus at the more familiar figure while keeping his gaze on his tray. For a moment, he thought he saw through the odd distortion obscuring the person to his left, but then it started to fuzz out again. But it was there. It was there and, for the moment, Aaron had it. Oh hell no you don¡¯t, stupid brain, he chided himself. He clamped down on his own awareness with such intensity he felt a tendon in his neck pop. It was terribly uncomfortable, but Aaron refused to let it distract him. Instead, he kept his conscious hold on the partially-hidden figure and, slowly, turned his head. The figure remained motionless, but was inexorably dragged into his sightlines, inch by inch. The figure must have passed some kind of threshold as it moved towards the center of Aaron¡¯s vision because suddenly it was completely revealed. A vaguely familiar man was revealed, wearing dark, featureless clothes. It took a second for Aaron to recognize the stranger as the guy he¡¯d seen when he checked the mail after the softball game the day before. It took yet another second to notice a long dagger with a discolored blade was in his hand. Three distinct thoughts rushed into Aaron¡¯s mind at the sight of the stranger with the knife. They each came so close to one another it was almost hard to sort them out with the general effect of leaving Aaron a bit dazed for a moment trying to decipher them. He can¡¯t be here; he¡¯s dead, was the first thought. I don¡¯t want to fight him again, was the second. Why is that guy from outside the apartment here? was the third. The last thought, though less interesting, almost completely overwhelmed the first two. Aaron was left with only a vague sense of them, questioning if they¡¯d even happened. They were his thoughts, but they came so fast and were subsumed so aggressively, the effect was more like a momentary impulse or fleeting idea than coherent thoughts. He blinked and the man was gone. Not even the haze that had blurred his features remained. He expected the same to be true for the other presence, but when he turned back to his dinner the figure was still there, motionless, near the entrance. Now that he had an idea of how to do it, Aaron was able to pierce the concealment much more easily. He even managed to cover looking in that direction with a glance over at the nurse¡¯s station. When the haze dissipated, he saw the new patient who¡¯d been in his room earlier. There was no knife ¡ª not visibly, at least ¡ª but the man was definitely staring at him. There¡¯s a very good chance, seventy five to eighty percent, that this is all more hallucinations, he thought. But if it¡¯s not¡­ Even if it was wildly unrealistic that supernaturally-concealed assassins were after him or that he was communicating with mysterious old sages through dreams, a part of Aaron wanted it to be true. More than that, his instincts said discounting either without proof pretty much ensured he¡¯d get bitten on the ass. But how was he supposed to get proof of the supernatural? Aaron decided to give that serious consideration. He set down his book and turned his thoughts to the problem. Before he could really start working on the problem, he was distracted by the hidden patient crossing the common room and heading down the hall to the men¡¯s dorms. An orderly with a clipboard followed behind a few seconds later. Rounds, Aaron realized. He can¡¯t be missing for rounds. Sure enough, the new patient came back down the hallway a minute or two later with the orderly, thanking her for waking him in time to get dinner. Aaron kept an eye on the stranger for the rest of dinner, but he dedicated most of his attention to the issue of proof. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. There were three immediate problems that needed to be addressed, each stemming from the last. First, Aaron had to get evidence he wasn¡¯t going crazy. He wasn¡¯t about to test the bulletproof theory, but he had other ideas. Second, if Aaron wasn¡¯t delusional, there was a decent chance the new patient was at the hospital to kill him. Aaron wasn¡¯t confident he could win a fair fight against a magic ninja assassin and assassinations were rarely handled by honor duels, which led to the third problem ¡ª he would need a way to get the hell out of Dodge. He had ideas there, too, but they came with their own obstacles. First things first, he thought. I need proof there¡¯s something real going on. Testing his resilience was completely out of the question. Even setting aside how catastrophically bad that could go if it turned out he was delusional, Bidwell was a psychiatric hospital; they wouldn¡¯t look fondly on attempts at self-harm and an honest explanation would make him look even more unstable than the reasons they usually heard. There was the dream stuff, but that wouldn¡¯t give him any objective, verifiable proof. The best option was to test his strength. He couldn¡¯t just punch a hole in one of the concrete walls. On top of the risk of hurting himself if he didn¡¯t have super strength, it was likely to be noticed by the staff. Making a tiny hole with a single finger could work, but he¡¯d have no way to know the hole hadn¡¯t already been there and his delusion was using it for confirmation. I need something sturdy that wouldn¡¯t have been overlooked if it were warped or damaged, he thought. Thinking of something that fit his needs took the rest of his ¡ª surprisingly delicious ¡ª dinner, but when he dropped his empty tray off he had a plan in mind. His roommate was working on a big jigsaw puzzle and chatting with people and the hidden patient had barely started his dinner, so Aaron would probably have some time alone in his room for his experiment. As soon as he got back to the room, Aaron slid the thin, folding door of the bathroom closed. The light and fan provided some background noise but he wanted more sound in what his experiment was unexpectedly noisy, so he started the shower running. Then, he turned his attention to the faucet in the sink. The little nub of a faucet was maybe two inches wide and protruded out of the basin no more than an inch. It was made of thick metal with rounded and smooth edges. The spout was recessed slightly into the metal body. The whole thing was built to make it much harder for anyone to use it to harm themselves. That was fine with Aaron; the sturdy design worked in his favor. Aaron turned on the water then shut it off again. He needed to know the flow was normal before his experiment and, if it succeeded, he¡¯d need someone else to confirm it wasn¡¯t afterwards. In theory, that would cover the control for the experiment and blind verification. It wasn¡¯t exactly neat and clean, but it wasn¡¯t terrible for a plan formed on the fly in a mental hospital. By a patient, no less. He gripped the sides of the faucet between his thumb and forefinger and started to squeeze. Gradually, he increased the pressure he was trying to exert on the metal, until he was red in the face and the muscles in his neck felt they were going to snap. A close look at the faucet showed no signs he¡¯d made even the slightest impression in the stainless steel. He let out a sigh that could have been relief or disappointment, though he was unsure which. I should take that as a failed experiment, right? Aaron mused. Something was nagging at him, though. Only¡­ at the softball game, when I broke the bat, the swing didn¡¯t feel like it took any more effort than opening my refrigerator, so maybe I¡¯m approaching this the wrong way. Maybe the kind of strength he was trying to test wasn¡¯t physical; or not purely physical, at least. But if not, then how was Aaron supposed to use it? The only thing that came to mind was that it had to be a matter of intent, or maybe even emotion. He didn¡¯t have any particularly strong emotions to call on ¡ª as far as he knew ¡ª but he had plenty of intent. With a deep breath, Aaron centered his focus on his hand and what he wanted to do. He reached for the faucet, his movements deliberately casual, and lightly pinched it with his thumb and forefinger. There was no screeching, no grinding, yet the metal folded inwards under Aaron¡¯s fingers with no more resistance than a damp sponge. No fucking way, he thought. He turned on the faucet. The water came out largely unobstructed, which wouldn¡¯t suit his needs. With a few more careful nudges, he bent the area around the spigot a little more, resulting in a wild spray that spit water out past the basin. It wet the front of his shirt before he could turn the faucet back off. A tapping knock at the thin, folding door gave Aaron a start. He recovered quickly and shoved his hands into the water coming from the shower, then opened the door with dripping hands. ¡°Sorry if I interrupted a shower,¡± the orderly behind the door said. ¡°I just wanted to let you know the doctor will see you in about an hour.¡± Aaron held up his wet hands. ¡°I was using the shower to wash my hands. I think something¡¯s wrong with the sink faucet.¡± Grabbing some paper towels to dry his hands, Aaron gestured towards the sink. The orderly stepped in and examined the faucet briefly. When he turned on the water, a nice spray of water splattered his scrubs just above the waist. ¡°Crap!¡± he grunted. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s bent or warped. I wonder when that happened.¡± Aaron carefully schooled his face to convey confusion and annoyance. He didn¡¯t want to get in trouble for messing up the sink, but he was also grappling with the realization that this was precisely the independent confirmation he¡¯d been aiming for ¡ª he had warped the metal faucet with his bare hands and someone else could see the results. That was pretty good proof the act itself wasn¡¯t a hallucination. He had bent metal with unnatural ease. He had actually done that. Perhaps the most surprising thing about that discovery was that Aaron wasn¡¯t actually surprised, like he¡¯d expected his experiment to work the whole time. Maybe he had. Maybe he¡¯d been leaning towards believing every outlandish thing that had happened over the past two days and this whole hospital thing was just the result of him struggling to come to terms with it. ¡°We¡¯ll have to get someone in to take a look at it,¡± the orderly said after feeling around at the faucet with his own fingers and breaking Aaron out of his reverie. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like it¡¯s got any dangerous edges, so we won¡¯t have to move you to another room. We¡¯ll get a packet of sanitary wipes in here so you won¡¯t have to go out to the restroom in the common room to wash your hands.¡± The orderly fussed over the sink for a few minutes, but finally left to get those wipes. After he¡¯d dropped them off, Aaron sat on his bed, once more lost in thought. The first problem was solved: Aaron wasn¡¯t losing his mind. That was something of a relief. The next problem was the likelihood that the new patient was at the hospital to assassinate him, which was much less of a relief. Aaron could solve the second problem ¡ª or at least avoid it for a while ¡ª by solving the third and finding a way out of the hospital. But that would mean getting in contact with the old man, Barrett, which raised an entirely new, fourth problem. Try as he might, Aaron couldn¡¯t remember the phone number Barrett had made him memorize in a dream. Or tried to make him memorize, anyways. Even the stupid little jingle hadn¡¯t helped and Aaron could only remember the first six digits. Without the number, I¡¯ll have to try contacting them through dreams, he thought. That was a vulnerable position to put yourself in when someone was trying to stick a knife in you and had already managed to sneak up on you asleep once. It also meant the assassin probably knew more about whatever was happening to Aaron than Aaron did, which meant he probably had some weapon or plan that could get around the limited invulnerability Barrett claimed Aaron had. Even if all the superhero stuff ¡ª or whatever it was ¡ª were real, Aaron still didn¡¯t think it was likely his roommate in a mental hospital was actually God and not just crazy, so there was probably no help coming there. God is notoriously hands-off and big on helping those who help themselves, Aaron mused. Which means I probably couldn¡¯t even convince the guy to get involved by ¡®praying¡¯ to him or something like that. If Aaron had his druthers, he¡¯d take a nap in the common room while people were still up and about. Other than dozing off after lunch, Aaron hadn¡¯t slept more than an hour or two in almost forty eight hours, yet he didn¡¯t feel even a little bit tired. Accepting he was in some kind of origin story, living in the Matrix, or whatever the hell was going on was kind of a rush, too, so he was feeling extremely wired. It would probably be hours before Aaron could get himself to sleep naturally. He was just starting to consider the pros and cons of using sleeping pills when Joseph entered the room. ¡°I was sorry to hear your sink is busted. That¡¯s a hassle you don¡¯t need right now, but we¡¯ll get it fixed soon,¡± he said. ¡°On the bright side, the doctor is ready to see you.¡± Aaron stood up. This was the make-or-break time. He¡¯d already downplayed his symptoms when he did the intake forms, now he had to do the same thing face-to-face with a trained psychiatric professional. The less severe his condition seemed, the easier it would be to get out of the hospital. Assuming I survive any more assassination attempts, he thought, then paused, processing his own thoughts. Any more? There hasn¡¯t even been one yet. Or had there? Aaron decided it was best to pull that train of thought into the station for a while. He had an appointment with the doctor. Chapter 11 - Doctors, Dreams, and Death Joseph led Aaron from his room, through the communal area, and to a conference room that was adjacent to it. He hadn¡¯t noticed the room before, but that was due to the door being right beside the nurse¡¯s station. A woman ¡ª the psychiatrist, presumably ¡ª sat in one of the chairs at a corner of the folding tables, going over a case file. She stood when Aaron entered and they shook hands before sitting back down. ¡°I¡¯m Dr. Winters, it¡¯s nice to meet you,¡± she said. ¡°I was going over your file and it says you¡¯ve been having a hard time lately. Can you tell me more about that and why it brought you here?¡± ¡°To be honest, I¡¯m starting to feel pretty stupid about the whole thing. I¡¯ve got some problems with anxiety but it¡¯s usually not this bad. This weekend has been pretty severe, but now I¡¯m not sure if coming here was the right choice.¡± The doctor nodded, scratching a few notes. ¡°Can you tell me more about how your anxiety has been more severe lately?¡± ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d call it paranoia, but I keep feeling like I¡¯m being watched or that I¡¯m about to be attacked.¡± ¡°Have you had any significant life changes lately that might have triggered your heightened anxiety?¡± Aaron took a moment before answering. He couldn¡¯t talk about any of the stuff that had really been going on without sounding wildly delusional, but it wouldn¡¯t be very helpful to say he couldn¡¯t think of anything at all. Thankfully, he¡¯d already given this some thought. ¡°I got roped into playing in an office softball league. My first game was yesterday afternoon and, uh, I felt like I was on display.¡± He took a breath. ¡°Everyone was watching and I never really played baseball, so I was sure I¡¯d make a fool of myself.¡± Winters hummed thoughtfully. ¡°How do you feel that might be related to feeling pursued or threatened?¡± The question wasn¡¯t a challenge, but an invitation. ¡°There was this man there, watching the game from the park,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I thought he might have been homeless ¡ª and maybe that says something about me that I could be afraid of a homeless person for no reason ¡ª but I could¡¯ve sworn he was watching me. Not the game, me specifically.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It made me feel like¡­ like a target or something.¡± More notes were added to the file, then the doctor said, ¡°I can see how that might put you on edge. After the game, did your feelings of anxiety seem to be attached to anyone or anything specific? Did you have some idea about who might have been a danger to you, or why?¡± ¡°No, it was all very non-specific.¡± ¡°But you did have an altercation with someone,¡± the doctor said. ¡°Can you tell me more about that?¡± ¡°I think ¡®altercation¡¯ might be a strong word, but it fits well enough and it was the thing that freaked me out the most,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I went for a walk last night after I had a bad dream. I thought someone was following me and it turned out they were. They stayed on my tail through a bunch of random turns and ran to catch up with me after I ducked into an alley to hide. When I confronted them, it turned out it was someone I knew from around the neighborhood.¡± Aaron paused for a moment and Winters waited patiently for him to continue. ¡°The thing is, in that moment I fully expected they meant to jump me. It could have been a mugging or just someone who didn¡¯t like me, I didn¡¯t know,¡± he said, taking another breath. ¡°But I did know they were following me and I couldn¡¯t think of any reason for that that wasn¡¯t scary.¡± ¡°You say there was a confrontation,¡± Winters said. ¡°Can you elaborate on that? I¡¯d like a clearer picture of what happened.¡± Aaron told her the story; how he¡¯d felt like he was being followed, tried to shake the person behind him, and eventually jumped out of an alley to hold them against a wall. He left out certain things, like lifting Jeff a clear foot off the ground, of course. The doctor listened, for the most part, but interjected the occasional question. Many of the questions were incredibly specific and didn¡¯t always seem relevant. Aaron didn¡¯t know why she wanted to know what bar he¡¯d first met Jeff at years ago, but he tried his best to provide answers. It took five or six similar questions for Aaron to realize she was also establishing whether he had any significant problems with his memory. ¡°Just a couple more questions, if that¡¯s alright,¡± Winters said. ¡°Your medical history doesn¡¯t indicate any current medications; have you had psychiatric meds in the past?¡± Aaron nodded. ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s been a while. I used to get antidepressants and meds for ADHD, but I stopped a little over a year ago.¡± ¡°Why did you stop?¡± ¡°Fell out of the habit, I guess,¡± Aaron shrugged. ¡°Then it was like I wanted to prove I didn¡¯t need them.¡± ¡°No meds for anxiety?¡± ¡°Once, in my senior year of high school. I didn¡¯t notice any major changes, although that was when I finally learned how to swallow pills.¡± ¡°A lot of people have trouble swallowing pills,¡± Winters said. ¡°Oh, before it slips my mind, I wanted to ask if you¡¯ve been seeing or hearing anything that no one else seems aware of since this period of acute anxiety started.¡± Aaron shook his head. ¡°No. Well, I don¡¯t think so, but I guess I can¡¯t really know for sure. Nothing that seemed out of place, anyways.¡± The doctor chuckled politely. ¡°That¡¯s fair. But nothing that stands out as unusual or that was there one moment and gone the next?¡± Aaron immediately thought back to the first hidden figure he¡¯d seen at dinner, the one holding the scary knife. He didn¡¯t know why he¡¯d seen that man or why there had been a moment when he was certain they had been in a fight. He definitely had no idea why the stranger disappeared while the other hidden person ¡ª the new patient ¡ª walked back to the dorm rooms. None of that was the kind of thing you told a psychiatrist in a psychiatric hospital if you believed it was actually real. Aaron had gone to some lengths to get evidence he wasn¡¯t imagining everything happening around him, so it wasn¡¯t something he wanted to share with the doctor. He decided to just shake his head instead of answering out loud; less chance he couldn¡¯t play it off well that way. Dr. Winters seemed to accept his answer at face value because their meeting ended shortly after. She prescribed a low dosage medication for anxiety and told him to see the nurse¡¯s station if he experienced any acute episodes. She also advised him to start seeing a doctor regularly again. ¡°On the whole,¡± she concluded, ¡°I suspect you¡¯re experiencing a spike in anxiety largely because you¡¯ve let your overall treatment lapse. It most likely came on so strong because of the combination of recent lifestyle changes and the stress of this softball game. I¡¯d say the game was what really got your anxiety going and left you feeling on edge. Add in the bad luck of a drunk friend trying to chase you down to talk to you, aggravating everything already going on, and it was a perfect storm to induce something resembling a panic attack.¡± ¡°That makes sense, doctor,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I think these meds will help even out your anxiety and avoid further strong responses, at least for long enough to start seeing a psychiatrist on your own, again. I don¡¯t think we need to keep you on a hold, but I¡¯d like to complete your forty eight-hour stay for observation, just to make sure we¡¯re not overlooking anything. Does that sound alright to you?¡± Two days locked in the hospital with a potential assassin didn¡¯t sound alright, but it wasn¡¯t the right time to press the issue. He wasn¡¯t even sure if she was telling him he could check himself out or not and, besides, what the hell was he supposed to say? What Aaron needed was to make contact with Barrett and hope Mr. Private Jet could find some way to get him released. ¡°That sounds fine,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯m feeling pretty stupid about this whole thing, so I might change my mind later, but your advice is sound and there¡¯s no point making a fuss over it.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. After he said his goodbyes to Dr. Winters, Aaron sat in the common room with his book, pretending to read. He wanted to figure out a way he might get himself to sleep before he was tired, keep trying to remember the rest of that phone number, and, as an added bonus, it let him keep an eye on the lurking patient. Asking for sleeping medication seemed like the most obvious solution, but Aaron knew it wouldn¡¯t work. He¡¯d proven heavily resistant to anything weaker than general anesthesia, and even that took longer than it should to put him out and didn¡¯t keep him down as long as it was supposed to. There were more practical concerns, too. If he got sleeping pills that were strong enough to knock him out, he risked sleeping so deeply he¡¯d be even more vulnerable to the lurker sneaking into his room again. Eventually, Aaron just went to his room and laid down in bed. He¡¯d fallen asleep easily enough after lunch, so he hoped he would drift off again. Hours later, he was both frustrated and excruciatingly bored. The time hadn¡¯t been a complete waste, at least; he had a plan to wake himself up from the dream if he got another warning like last time. It was a crazy plan, but dream logic was nine parts crazy and one part repressed memories. Or something like that.
The stone hallway was broad and, unlike any previous dream, had a ceiling. Like the floor and walls, it was made of stone but included pointed arches in a Gothic style. The dragging sound of the Conspicuous Pursuer that had haunted his dreams was present, but distant. The hallway ended a few steps ahead at a T intersection. Aaron strode towards it, picturing the white bangle the woman in robes had told him to focus on to make contact. When he reached the intersection, he found the metal door to the private jet set into a wall just a few steps away. He walked towards it and swung open. He took the steps two at a time. Once he was inside the cabin, he turned to look behind him. Sure enough, the door was shut. The woman in the robe was kneeling on her mat, as before, but there was no sign of Barrett in the cabin. ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± Aaron said. The woman in the robe raised a single slender finger in an unmistakable gesture to wait, then a soft, murmuring chant filled the cabin. Warm, humid air washed over Aaron¡¯s back and neck. He turned to face the door and found it gone. Instead of a stone hallway or an airport tarmac, Aaron was looking out into a dense jungle in deep twilight. A man stood no more than twenty feet from the portal, silhouetted against the gloom. Even in the shadows of the wild land, the outline of the figure was unmistakable ¡ª a soldier carrying a rifle. Most Americans would recognize the outline; they¡¯d seen it in countless photographs, movies, and television shows. Aaron, after a second observing the figure, suspected it was a soldier from Vietnam, rather than World War II or Korea. The shape of the rifle alone gave it away, but the rolled-up shirt sleeves and dense jungle reinforced his conclusion. Suddenly, flames bloomed, engulfing the entire vista in a hellish orange glow. Clouds of superheated death billowed out and upwards. The jungle disappeared, overwritten by a roiling inferno. The light from the flames washed over the soldier, revealing more details as he slowly turned away from the burning landscape. He was a black man, taller than average, bulky with muscles, and sporting an impressive horseshoe mustache. He looks like an action star coming right out of an over-the-top ¡®80s movie, Aaron thought. The soldier slowly walked towards the door. The fire was expanding behind him and looked like it might actually spread all the way past them. Aaron took a step to the side of the door, just in case, and a second later the soldier stepped through. Only it wasn¡¯t the powerfully-built infantryman in the jungles of southeast Asia; it was a wiry old man with shots of gray in his close-cropped hair wearing an expensive suit. ¡°You, uh, you got rid of the mustache,¡± Aaron said, offering the only thing that came to mind and inwardly cringing at himself. Barrett chuckled as he ran his fingers around the top of his mouth and stepped away from the ¡ª mysteriously closed ¡ª hatch. ¡°Just couldn¡¯t hang onto it, but I got used to my upper lip being cold.¡± For a moment, Aaron wondered how much of Barrett¡¯s dream was a memory and just how old the older man was. That was quickly replaced by immense relief that he¡¯d commented on Barrett¡¯s lack of a mustache and not on the far more noteworthy fact he seemed to be a few inches shorter. How the hell does that even happen? Aaron wondered. He doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s got osteoporosis or anything. ¡°Glad to see you again, son,¡± Barrett said, striding past Aaron into the cabin and taking a seat. ¡°Gave us a right scare the way things ended last time.¡± Aaron remembered how, the last time he had fallen asleep, he¡¯d been talking with Barrett in this very cabin until his own voice started warning him to wake up. When he had, he¡¯d found someone in his room with unknown intentions. That brought Aaron¡¯s attention back to the moment and the reason he was here. He followed Barrett into the cabin and stood in front of him. ¡°My name is Aaron Abrams. I¡¯m currently checked in at the Bidwell Center for Psychiatry on Folsom Boulevard in Sacramento, California. I suspect one of the patients here plans to try killing me and¡­ and it might not be the first time someone¡¯s tried that this weekend, although I can¡¯t really remember any previous attempts.¡± ¡°What, uh, what¡¯s the reason the hospital believes you have for being there?¡± Too deep to hold back now, Aaron told himself. And there¡¯s no shame in taking care of your mental health. ¡°I was worried I was suffering from paranoid delusions and might hurt someone,¡± he said after a long, steadying breath. ¡°I¡¯ve downplayed my symptoms significantly and might even be allowed to check out voluntarily, but they¡¯re aware I¡¯m having an episode of acute anxiety and want to keep me for observation.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be there in half an hour, maybe less,¡± Barrett said. ¡°But if someone is after you, we can¡¯t let you stay asleep, so my apologies for this.¡± ¡°Apologies for wha-¡± Aaron began, as Barrett stood up suddenly and gave him a powerful shove. Aaron felt something press against the back of his legs and he started to lose his balance. Everything slowed and his mind kicked into overdrive. He assessed the space around him, head moving the slightest degrees to let him take in more of the cabin. The mystery woman in the robe had snuck up behind him, on hands and knees, and positioned herself as the tabletop in the childhood prank. A whirlwind of memories assailed Aaron; all those times people had picked on him, pushed him around, or otherwise gotten physical when he was young. Anger threatened to follow in the wake of those memories, a new conduit to let it out when others had been closed for so long. Only Aaron didn¡¯t get angry (anymore) and he slammed that channel shut before it could turn into anything more than irritation. His mind wasn¡¯t the only thing moving fast; his body also reacted. Before he knew what he was doing, Aaron grabbed both of Barrett¡¯s arms near the shoulders and took a step back to steady himself. He heard a soft grunt behind him then the sound of the woman tumbling across the cabin floor. Smooth move, Casanova, Aaron chastised himself. Kicking the pretty girl is a great way to make a good impression. He managed to stop himself from tripping, but the embarrassment mingled with his frustration ¡ª not anger, obviously; Aaron didn¡¯t get angry ¡ª and he felt a quivering frost spread all the way up his spine, its icy fingers reaching out around the back of his head and grasping at the sides of his face. Not a good sign. ¡°Don¡¯t shove me,¡± he growled at the old man. Barrett was unabashed and merely shrugged. ¡°Your life, and so much more, are on the line. A sudden fall is one of the best ways to wake up from a dream.¡± Aaron took a deep, shuddering breath, pulling some of the warmth in the air into himself to fight off the cold. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that, too,¡± he said, glad his voice sounded so even. ¡°I even have a plan for waking myself up. I haven¡¯t been looking forward to it, dream or not, but there wasn¡¯t a lot of time to work out the details.¡± Taking a step back towards the cabin hatch, Aaron took another steadying breath. ¡°Hopefully, we¡¯ll be meeting face-to-face in a few minutes.¡± Without another word, Aaron pulled open the hatch as if it were a normal door. If the jet were in flight at any significant altitude, the pressure outside the cabin should have made that effectively impossible. But had Aaron somehow managed it, there should have been a sudden, explosive decompression. Instead, the cabin was eerily still. The night sky rushed past the opening. Even more absurd, however, was that the door was hinged on the bottom and opened outwards. Aaron had pulled it open into the cabin, like a portal on a submarine. ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± Barrett said. ¡°In more ways than one, I imagine,¡± Aaron replied, then leapt out into the night. ¡°The plane¡¯s not even in the air right now,¡± Barrett muttered in the odd stillness of the cabin, watching Aaron plummet away from the plane and disappear into the darkness.
Aaron woke up to see the flash of a knife. It was plummeting straight for his heart. That¡¯s not good, he thought. Chapter 12 - Checking Out The door to the hallway was mostly closed, but enough light came into the room for Aaron to see light glinting on the blade of a long dagger. A dagger that happened to be plunging right for his chest. ¡°Fucking hell,¡± he whispered. Aaron rolled towards the knife, pushing with his feet so he scooted back on the bed and putting most of his weight on one shoulder. The blade sank into the mattress with a soft hiss, missing him by less than an inch. He reversed direction, rolling across his back. His legs came off the bed and let his momentum spin him until he was half-crouched beside the bed, facing his attacker. It was, unsurprisingly, the new patient. The very same man he¡¯d felt had been watching him, who¡¯d snuck into his room when he dozed off earlier, and who he¡¯d seen hidden by some kind of strange haze. The would-be assassin got a lot less attention from Aaron than the knife in his hands, which was a long dagger with an oddly discolored blade. Less attention wasn¡¯t no attention, however. The intruder stepped onto the bed with one foot, bent at the knee, and lunged like a fencer, the blade thrusting for Aaron once more. Need to get in close, Aaron realized, more as an idea than a fully-formed thought. His hands came up to a defensive position and he stepped onto the bed himself, moving at an angle to avoid the knife. The assassin backed away, taking a swipe with the blade at Aaron¡¯s side. He managed to block with a forearm, but the stranger was quick on his feet and got some distance between them. They danced over and around the bed like that for a few seconds, exchanging places or keeping distance, trying to strike with the knife or avoid it. The assassin was fast ¡ª fast as hell ¡ª but Aaron was managing to keep up with him. That was as much a surprise to Aaron as it was to anyone, but he wasn¡¯t going to complain about it. Speed favored skill, which was to Aaron¡¯s disadvantage in this fight. He couldn¡¯t trust in his theoretical resilience against a knife that clearly wasn¡¯t normal. That meant relying on his strength. Thankfully, he had some practice at that. He just had to hope the assassin couldn¡¯t match him on that front. Unbidden, a thought formed in Aaron¡¯s mind in response to that idea: The last guy couldn¡¯t, not until- The thought broke off suddenly. Not until what? And what last guy? Had there been a last guy? Aaron shook his head, pushing the distraction away. He could deal with confusing, conflicted thoughts about someone attacking him before after he survived someone attacking him now. Now that he¡¯d made the decision to focus, another thought barged in, unwelcome and irrelevant. I hope I don¡¯t wake my roommate, his brain offered. What the hell, brain? his brain also responded. Aaron hopped back from another swipe of the assassin¡¯s blade. He was moving them away from their dance around the bed, towards the rear wall of the room. The stranger had to stay on the offensive, giving Aaron some control over where their fight happened. And he had plans for that wall. There were half a dozen more slashes from the assassin before Aaron got the opening he wanted. It was a good thing, because he didn¡¯t know how long he could keep avoiding the flashing blade. Finally, though, the stranger thrust the blade forward, looking to pierce Aaron¡¯s body instead of slashing him. Aaron grabbed the stranger¡¯s wrist with one hand, the back of his head with the other. Then he twisted his entire body, slamming the assassin face-first into the thick cement blocks of the hospital wall. There was a satisfying crunch, blood splattered against the wall, and the assassin crumpled in a heap on the rough carpet. Aaron kept hold of his wrist and relieved him of the knife. The man¡¯s face was a bloody mess, but everything seemed to be in the right place, more or less. A flash of another man¡¯s face ¡ª this one choking on blood ¡ª flashed into Aaron¡¯s mind, but he pushed it away. Time to think about whatever the hell that was after he survived the weekend. Just as he was about to check the assassin for a pulse, he heard a flush followed by the clatter of thin wooden slats. Ah¡­ shit, he thought. Aaron¡¯s roommate in the psychiatric hospital ¡ª an immense black man with a booming voice who fancied himself to be God ¡ª stepped out of the bathroom and took in the scene. ¡°I hope that wasn¡¯t because he didn¡¯t wash his hands,¡± the giant said with a chuckle, wiggling his fingers. With no idea what to say in response to that, Aaron opted to check his would-be killer¡¯s neck for a pulse. It was there, steady and strong, which was more than a little bit of a relief. He walked over to the dresser with his clothes as the big man crossed the room to kneel down beside the unconscious stranger. ¡°An assassin, huh?¡± his roommate said while Aaron hid the dagger between a pair of his pants in one of the dresser drawers. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind that I didn¡¯t lend a hand, they were a little full. Besides, I mostly help those who help themselves.¡± The temptation to roll his eyes was strong, but Aaron resisted. The big man was a very big man, after all, and he also knew Aaron had a knife hidden in his pants. He wasn¡¯t going to laugh at the ¡°I was holding my dick¡± joke, but he¡¯d refrain from any form of sarcasm, even nonverbal. Plus, he¡¯d had a very similar thought about God helping those who helped themselves not so long ago. His roommate probably wasn¡¯t a deity of any sort, but it was weird to hear your own thoughts echoed back at you, unprompted. ¡°Now, I¡¯m not trying to tell you your business,¡± the big man continued, ¡°but an unconscious fella with a busted nose and blood on the wall is liable to get us both in trouble with the orderlies. I don¡¯t know about you, but I don¡¯t feel like losing dessert privileges. So I say we haul this ruffian back to his room, clean up the wall, and let him come to on his own time.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°I appreciate the help, uh¡­ I¡¯m not really sure what to call you. Is your name Iam?¡± ¡°Ee-yum? Like Ian with an M?¡± the big man replied. ¡°No. What would make you think that?¡± ¡°The jersey you were wearing early, that was the name on the back.¡± The big man laughed. ¡°It¡¯s a long i. Got the same name twice, first and last. Middle name is That.¡± It took Aaron a second to parse that explanation and when he did he stopped himself from rolling his eyes once more. He couldn¡¯t completely contain his sarcasm, however. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re saying your name is ¡®I am That I am¡¯? That¡¯s a little on-the-nose, isn¡¯t it?¡± he asked. ¡°A little formal. People don¡¯t call me that too often.¡± ¡°So what should I call you?¡± ¡°Like I said earlier, I don¡¯t worry over formality much. You can call me the name that¡¯s on my driver¡¯s license, if it suits you. Elroy; Elroy L. Olam.¡± Elroy ¡ª apparently ¡ª took a step towards Aaron and offered his hand. Aaron took it and they shook. ¡°Aaron,¡± he said. ¡°So, my thinking is we sneak this guy back to his room and clean his blood off the wall. Chances are I¡¯ll be getting picked up before he wakes up, so that should work out fine, time-wise. The two problems I¡¯m seeing are keeping an eye out for anyone coming from the nurse¡¯s station and figuring out which room he¡¯s in.¡± ¡°They just did rounds before I went pee, so we have time, and he¡¯s in the last room across the hall,¡± Elroy said. ¡°Alright, then I¡¯ll sneak him back to bed and if you¡¯ll keep a watch in the hall.¡± Elroy looked Aaron up and down. ¡°You sure you want to carry him by yourself?¡± ¡°You¡¯re God, right? You should know I¡¯m stronger than I look,¡± Aaron said, squatting down to heft the unconscious assassin over his shoulders. As he was standing back up, a thought occurred to Aaron and he winced inwardly. First rule of sudden superpowers, Aaron: don¡¯t advertise that you¡¯ve suddenly got superpowers. You¡¯re just lucky this little feat of strength isn¡¯t super-obvious. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Elroy told him as they got near the door. ¡°Everything¡¯ll work out fine. After all, God¡¯s on your side.¡± The giant winked then casually stepped out into the wall, raising his arms over his head in a stretch. Aaron saw the subtle wave of a hand that told him he was clear to go and moved quickly through the hall with his passenger. Aaron was grateful he¡¯d packed plenty of socks. His cotton-clad feet made much less noise on the heavy carpets of the hospital than the plastic-lined things ¡ª what Elroy had referred to as ¡®grippy socks¡¯ ¡ª many of the other patients wore. He was in and out of the other room with barely any noise. The assassin¡¯s roommate remained blissfully unaware and deeply asleep. The two men were back in their room, seated on their beds, just a couple minutes later. Aaron had sacrificed one of his shirts to wipe up most of the blood on the wall and the sanitary hand wipes in the bathroom had taken care of the last traces. ¡°Thanks,¡± Aaron said to the big man. Elroy waved the gratitude away. ¡°No need to say Grace, no need to offer thanks. The first and most important thing is that we be kind to one another, even when it involves weird shit like assassins in a psych ward.¡± After a few seconds of (mostly) comfortable silence, Elroy spoke up. ¡°You have questions.¡± ¡°So many questions,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Should I take that as a sign you¡¯ve become a believer?¡± ¡°Hell no,¡± Aaron laughed. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m agnostic at best, but I believe you believe in yourself and I am absolutely fascinated to hear your perspective on any number of things.¡± Elroy sighed. ¡°Maybe, someday, we can sit down and have a discussion about the whys and wherefores. I travel a lot, so you never know where I¡¯ll turn up.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like we have anything else to do,¡± Aaron observed. With an enigmatic smile, Elroy lay back down on his bed. A moment later, an orderly stepped into the room. ¡°Mr. Abrams?¡± the orderly asked. ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± ¡°Hey, Dave,¡± Elroy said, with a wave. ¡°Hey there, The Lord,¡± Dave the orderly replied as he came further into the room, carrying Aaron¡¯s bag. ¡°Mr. Abrams, your doctor is here and it looks like he¡¯ll be taking you home tonight. If you pack up your things, we can go get the rest at the nurse¡¯s station.¡± Aaron blinked a few times. The doctor was almost certainly Barrett, but assumptions were dangerous. He packed his things into the bag and made sure to slip the knife in a side pocket, blocking the bag from view with his body as he did and leaving it partly unzipped so he could get into it quickly. He stopped after he slid the bloody shirt into the same pocket to cover the handle and turned back to his roommate. ¡°I wanted to thank you again,¡± he said. ¡°It meant a lot, the way you stepped up for me.¡± Elroy waved a big hand dismissively and blew air through his lips. ¡°Pfft. If you¡¯re feeling particularly grateful, pass along the kindness to someone else in need. Then just keep on doing it.¡± Aaron nodded and threw the last of his things into his bag, waving goodbye to Elroy as he followed the orderly out to the nurse¡¯s station. Barrett was there in his handsome suit, beaming at Aaron and evoking a familiar sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Beside him was a red-haired woman in a form-fitting pantsuit. She was, perhaps, the most attractive human being Aaron had ever seen. You¡¯re only adding a ¡®perhaps¡¯ in there so you don¡¯t feel childish, he told himself. She¡¯s, like, movie star hot. Implausibly hot. A low whistle came from behind Aaron and he turned to see Elroy, ostentatiously lurking in the hallway. ¡°Now that¡¯s a woman,¡± he said, wiggling his fingers at the redhead. The woman smiled at Elroy impishly and the big man pretended to swoon against the wall, draping one massive arm dramatically across his brow and clutching at his chest with the other. Dave went to shoo Elroy back to his room while Aaron collected the plastic bags with the rest of his things from the nurse¡¯s station. Barrett clapped a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°I¡¯m so glad we could get here so quickly, but let¡¯s get you home.¡± Aaron wasn¡¯t sure where home was going to wind up being ¡ª almost certainly not his apartment, which probably wasn¡¯t safe ¡ª but he was looking forward to finding out. More than that, he was looking at the promise of finding out more about this mysterious heritage, the power that came with it, and all that it would entail. Wherever they went, it should turn out to be a hell of a trip. Chapter 13 - Packing Up The hour following the departure from the Bidwell Center for Psychiatry was a whirlwind. Barrett, the old black man in the elegant suit, and the impossibly gorgeous redhead led Aaron out of the hospital to a car waiting outside. It wasn¡¯t the same car Aaron had nailed with a softball at the park what seemed so long ago ¡ª it was something of a shock when Aaron realized that had only been the previous afternoon ¡ª but a sleek SUV. A driver in a dark suit waited outside the car, monitoring their surroundings. ¡°We¡¯re going to stop by your apartment so you can pick up some things,¡± Barrett said when they were all in the SUV. ¡°Then, we¡¯ll be off.¡± When they pulled out onto Folsom Boulevard, Aaron noticed that two other cars fell into formation around them, one in front and one behind. When he mentioned it, Barrett let him know they were additional security. The drive back to Midtown only took a few minutes with the lack of late night traffic and soon they were pulling into the alley behind Aaron¡¯s building. It hadn¡¯t been twenty four hours since Aaron left for the hospital, but it felt almost as distant as the softball game. ¡°Some of our people will accompany you inside for safety,¡± Barrett said. ¡°Just pack up the essentials ¡ª a few days clothes and anything you can¡¯t bear to leave behind. It might be a while before you have a chance to come back.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not ominous at all,¡± Aaron said, getting out of the SUV. ¡°What am I supposed to do about my job and paying the bills?¡± Barrett gave him a small, knowing smile and a wink. ¡°We¡¯ll get that all sorted out, son, don¡¯t you worry.¡± A pair of serious-looking people in dark suits emerged from each of the other two vehicles. They weren¡¯t obviously armed, but looked like they should be. Each of them scanned the alley quickly as they moved to the staircase, two going up to the door and two staying at the foot of the stairs. Two more people had taken positions at the far end of their little caravan and were watching for traffic. These guys are kinda spooky, Aaron thought as he climbed the backstairs behind two guards. All of this can¡¯t be for me, can it? ¡°Keys?¡± one of the guards at the top of the stairs asked. Aaron fished them out of his pockets and tossed them up. ¡°My apartment will be the first one on the left going up the stairs on this end of the building.¡± The guards didn¡¯t walk in so much as flowed, pulling Aaron along in their current. By the time Aaron was at the top of the stairs, the guard in the lead was already stepping into his apartment and the other two stopped him on the stairs until their point man could clear Aaron¡¯s home. Glad the place isn¡¯t too much of a mess, he thought. When he got the all-clear and went inside, Aaron dithered on the threshold, the gears of his brain suddenly locking up. For the briefest of moments, he saw a dead man crumpled on the floor behind his couch, but then it was gone. It came and went so fast he barely registered it. That wasn¡¯t the only thing jamming his circuits; he couldn¡¯t seem to get his brain to engage in what he was doing. Packing. He was supposed to be packing. Packing what? Aaron thought. Stuff. Important stuff. Do I have important stuff? He forced himself to take a breath and blink, slowly. He used the brief moment to pull his scattered thoughts into a tiny box where he could sift through or ignore them as needed. This was life or death, he needed to focus. What did he absolutely need to take if he was leaving this apartment ¡ª and probably the city ¡ª for the foreseeable future? Aaron moved through the apartment, heading for his bedroom. A rolling carry-on was the only luggage he had, so he grabbed it from the coat closet and dropped it on the bed. Now that he was getting to it, Aaron realized he didn¡¯t really have a whole lot that he would consider essential. He filled the luggage with clothes and shoes. That was all he really needed. Except¡­ He took the small, dusty suitcase down from the shelf in his closet. He couldn¡¯t leave that behind. Aaron lifted the lid of the suitcase and looked down into the baggage for a few seconds. He even reached out and gently set a hand on its contents for a moment, his eyes closing as he pulled in a deep breath. Just for a second, he thought. There will be time to indulge when we¡¯re somewhere private and safe. The luggage needed some padding to make sure the important contents wouldn¡¯t be jumbled around or crushed, so Aaron added several hoodies, pairs of socks, and tank tops to the bag. After he zipped the luggage closed, he took a mental inventory of the apartment. Is this really what my life can be boiled down to? he wondered. A small suitcase with my guilty little pleasure inside and some clothes? He had a fair number of books, but he could leave those behind; several of the ones he would re-read occasionally were also on his tablet. Thinking of his tablet reminded him of something else ¡ª his computer. He had a computer and a large thumb drive, both full of information. Files and, worse, saved log-ins for most of the sites he used. If the people who were after him found his apartment, those would tell them pretty much everything there was to know about him. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. After setting the luggage down on the couch in the living room, Aaron threw the thumb drive in a pocket of the suitcase. It took a few seconds to make sure the computer was powered down, then he started disconnecting wires. ¡°You¡¯ll be able to get a new, better computer pretty easily,¡± the guard in the living room said. ¡°But this one has a shitload of my personal data on it. Even if I never turned it on again, it would be better not to leave it behind for anyone who might be looking for me.¡± ¡°Good point,¡± the guard replied and promptly started helping him unhook everything. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of stuff on paper, too, but it¡¯s scattered all over,¡± Aaron said. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for that now, but we¡¯ll have someone come pack everything in the next day or two.¡± Packing up his computer made the reality that he was basically moving out finally settle in. He looked around the apartment he¡¯d lived in for more than five years, expecting a sense of wistfulness or nostalgia to overtake him. Instead, his thoughts drifted to other ways he might be leaving a trail in his wake. ¡°We need to toss anything perishable,¡± he said. ¡°If it spoils or rots, the smell might attract attention.¡± ¡°Good catch,¡± the guard at the door said. Aaron went into the kitchen and threw everything that might go bad and start to smell into a trash bag. It didn¡¯t take long and the bag was barely half full when he was done. The trash went to the guard in the doorway and the one in the living room picked up the computer, holding it under one arm as if it weighed no more than a large pillow. He picked up the two pieces of luggage from the couch and they were out the door. Now I¡¯m jetting off to do mysterious superhero shit with a strange old man and a supermodel, all while being chased by knife-wielding assassins, he thought. Or¡­ assassin. It¡¯s just been the one. Right? He filed that incongruous thought with the others like it. He¡¯d have to talk to Barrett about that because it was bothering him, but he had to keep moving. If he was being hunted ¡ª and everything suggested that he was ¡ª movement was going to be key to staying alive. So, he moved. Or he started to. For a second, as he was coming around the couch with his luggage, he saw the dead body crumpled against the wall again. Blood stained their face and chest, their neck was at an awful angle, and a knife was plunged deep into their innards. Aaron stopped dead in his tracks, heart thumping a wild rhythm against his sternum. The guards in the living room seemed to realize something was wrong and they adopted defensive postures, one reaching for some hidden weapon under their jacket. The vision, hallucination, memory, or whatever the hell it was passed and Aaron waved them off, telling them he thought he was going to trip over his own carpet. They all chuckled at that and Aaron willed his heart to calm right the hell down. ¡°I¡¯m ready to go,¡± Aaron told them. As they packed into the vehicles and drove away from his home, Aaron wondered what he was heading towards. He didn¡¯t give a lot of thought to what he was leaving behind. His life hadn¡¯t exactly been a glamorous thrillride, lately. His job was pedestrian and not especially lucrative or satisfying. It was predictable and stable, and that was about all that could be said for it. The same could be said for his social life, which had dwindled to nothing over the past year or so. He barely even talked to his closest friends these days. Still, it was comfortable and that might have been enough, for a while at least. The high life wasn¡¯t meant for people like him. Aaron was so lost in his thoughts he barely paid attention to where they were going, so it came as something of a shock to him when they pulled into a tiny executive airport just a few minutes south of Downtown. He knew the city fairly well, but he¡¯d had no idea the place existed as it was nestled in a big clump of residential area he¡¯d never had reason to spend much time in. After passing through two security gates, the train of vehicles stopped at a private hangar. Two private jets were parked inside, one nearly twice as large as the other, and the whine of their engines told Aaron they were ready to go on a moment¡¯s notice. Based on the length of the cabin Aaron had seen in his dream encounters with Barrett, he thought they¡¯d be taking the smaller of the two planes. Barrett and the beautiful redhead led him to the larger, however, along with several of the guards and all of the crap he¡¯d brought. Most of the other security people boarded the smaller jet, which taxied out to the runway before the hatch was even completely closed. Upon boarding, Aaron quickly realized the source of his mistake ¡ª the jet had been heavily modified. Rather than entering into the cabin, the hatch opened into some kind of control room, ten feet long with banks of monitors and workstations attached to the walls on either side. The panels were all sleek, black touchscreens. Two of the guards took seats as soon as the external hatch was closed. It¡¯s like the Enterprise-D in here, except less beige, Aaron thought. Although the leather upholstery is probably Louis Vuitton or something. Past the control room was the cabin Aaron had visited in his dreams. There was no exterior hatch in the room, but that could be chalked up to the syncretic geography of dreams. Outlandish, impossible things seemed perfectly sensible in a dream and a nonexistent door would hardly stand out. The last guard strode crisply across the length of the cabin and disappeared through a door in the rear. Aaron felt out of place surrounded by such opulence. He didn¡¯t even want to put his luggage down because he felt like his working class garbage would schmutz up the place. The thread count in the carpeting was probably higher than if you added the thread count in every piece of fabric Aaron owned. That he was even noticing or thinking about things like that when he usually didn¡¯t pay much attention to the trappings of status or wealth, let alone actively giving a crap about them, told him just how off-kilter this whole situation had left him. Out of sorts or not, Aaron was on the plane and on his way to a strange ¡ª and mildly frightening ¡ª future. He might as well try to find out as much as he could about his new circumstances. Barrett and the redhead had taken seats across from each other and Aaron was torn about where to sit. It would be weird to sit next to Barrett, since he was most likely going to be primarily talking with the older man, but he found himself almost sweating about the idea of sitting next to the glamorous beauty across from him. He was awkward with women, but he was awkward with everyone, and he didn¡¯t usually get nervous like this. Maybe it has something to do with all these changes I¡¯m going through, he told himself, taking a seat next to the woman. And maybe I won¡¯t notice her as much if she¡¯s in my peripheral vision. ¡°So,¡± the old man said as their plane started to move, ¡°now we have the chance to have us a bit of a chin wag.¡± Chapter 14 - Proper Introductions The old man tugged lightly at the pressed sleeves of his shirt, pulling them out slightly past the cuff of his jacket, and crossed his legs. He settled back into the jet¡¯s leather seat as it began to taxi out onto the runway. ¡°Seeing as we haven¡¯t been formally introduced,¡± he said, ¡°let¡¯s start there. My name is Barrett Freeman and the young lady there is Alice.¡± ¡°Alice Aisling Carroll,¡± the egregiously beautiful redhead said, favoring Aaron with a smile that made his stomach feel like the plane was rapidly accelerating upwards. ¡°I¡¯d introduce all the security folks, but they¡¯re on the clock and it¡¯s good to have some distance from the rank-and-file besides,¡± Barrett added. A frown stole across Aaron¡¯s face. That¡¯s some elitist bullshit right there, he thought. Barrett might have had a military background and be used to that kind of thinking, but Aaron didn¡¯t and wasn¡¯t. All it does is encourage treating people like they matter less than you when you force distance between you and ¡®the help.¡¯ Barrett seemed to read his expression. ¡°I know it sounds unkind, but when you¡¯re in a position where you might need to make hard decisions, distance helps. The ability to consider the value of the life you might have to jeopardize is what separates good leaders from tyrants.¡± ¡°What hard decisions am I going to have to make?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°I can barely navigate working an office job with the occasional attempt to stab me.¡± The thrum of the engines began to pick up and the jet gained speed. In seconds they were lifting off, the plane tilting back into its ascent. The redheaded woman, Alice, was gazing out one of the windows, a dreamy expression on her face, and Barrett simply smiled at Aaron. ¡°You might could be surprised about the decisions in your future,¡± Barrett said. ¡°But let¡¯s set that aside for the time being. I¡¯d like to ask about these assassination attempts. When you reached us in your dreams, you said there might¡¯ve been more than one attempt?¡± ¡°A patient showed up at the hospital after I checked in. I felt like he was watching me then I caught him sneaking around in my room when I woke up from, uh, our first dream meeting. He was there again after the last one and came at me with a weird knife.¡± Aaron paused. This is where it gets weird, he thought, but if I can¡¯t tell these folks about the other stuff, what the hell am I even doing here? Knowing that was true and knowing it were two very different things and didn¡¯t make it any easier for Aaron to talk about it. Even after coming to terms ¡ª and proving ¡ª that he wasn¡¯t hallucinating or delusional, there was a lingering sense of shame attached to talking about mental health stuff, especially something that went beyond the ¡®standard¡¯ stuff people on social media called neurodivergence. It was hard enough to talk about mood, learning, or personality disorders, but to confess you were unsure enough of your sanity to think you could be developing late onset schizophrenia or something? The most galling part was that Aaron knew better. He knew mental health issues were nothing to be ashamed of and whatever judgment someone might form over it was their problem. That didn¡¯t make it easy. He swallowed hard and went on. ¡°I¡¯ve also been seeing things; things that aren¡¯t real. Another, different person. Sometimes they have their own knife and other times¡­ I think¡­ I think I might have killed that person and can¡¯t fully remember it.¡± Alice sat up in her seat and turned her attention fully to Aaron. ¡°Memory alteration is very difficult magic, but not impossible,¡± she said. ¡°Especially for the right people or with alchemy.¡± ¡°Magic? Alchemy?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll get to that,¡± Barrett said, turning his focus to Alice. ¡°Can you detect it?¡± Alice scrunched her nose up in thought; it was an entirely charming expression. Aaron forced himself to keep (most of) his attention on Barrett. He didn¡¯t want to seem like some leering creep, even if a small part of his brain was loudly encouraging him to leer while the leering was good. Finally, she nodded. ¡°I think I could perform a spell to detect a recent alteration. Maybe not what was altered, but at least that it happened. If we could connect in our dreams, I¡¯d be more confident in the results.¡± Barrett rubbed his chin. ¡°Are you feeling up to trying to sleep?¡± Aaron shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m a bit too wired for sleep. Too many questions trying to burst out of my skull. Maybe later?¡± ¡°We¡¯ll stick a pin in it, for now; it¡¯ll have to wait until after the Vault, in any case,¡± Barrett said. ¡°Of course,¡± Alice said, offering Aaron a comforting smile as she relaxed back into her seat. The urge to return the grin was profound ¡ª anything to make a good impression ¡ª but Aaron restrained himself to the smallest smile in reply. Usually, he kept a fairly level head in the company of attractive women ¡ª at least until he tried talking, but he had that problem with everyone ¡ª but this woman, Alice, was on a completely different level. If I smile more than this, I¡¯m likely to wind up baring my teeth at her like some kind of lunatic, he thought. The word stunning isn¡¯t an exaggeration here; I¡¯m actually having trouble thinking straight. He¡¯d known women who could have been models and movie stars, but never anyone quite as good looking as this Alice woman. The stress of his situation might have played a part, but it was just as possible Alice really was that beautiful. On the other hand, maybe Aaron was an awkward, lonely goob who was prone to doing awkward goob shit. It was probably a finely-tuned mix of all three. He had to get his head on straight; there were far more pressing issues than ¡®holy crap pretty girl!¡¯ that needed his attention. ¡°Can you at least tell me why I¡¯ve got people trying to stick knives in me?¡± ¡°Because of who ¡ª and what ¡ª you are,¡± Barrett said. ¡°That¡¯s where things might start to seem a little far-fetched and hard to digest; unbelievable, even.¡± Among the things Aaron had come to terms with in the past few hours were trained killers ¡ª who used knives instead of guns ¡ª coming after him despite his relatively pedestrian existence. Then being whisked away from a mental hospital to a luxury private jet by a small private army of security guards. And a memory that seemed to have been suppressed which Alice and Barrett both felt confident they could somehow detect if not outright overcome. So he felt like Barrett¡¯s claim was a little bold. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡°Shit¡¯s already pretty wild, so go ahead and swing for the fences. I¡¯m interested to hear what you think can top it.¡± Barrett chuckled. ¡°I¡¯d like you to recall two things I said to you. The first was a question ¡ª how is it you recognize me? The second was that you¡¯re awakening to your power. Sound familiar?¡± ¡°I definitely remember the ¡®waking to your power¡¯ stuff,¡± Aaron said. ¡°It had a real welcome-to-the-cult ring to it.¡± That earned a quiet laugh from Alice as she watched the night sky out the window and Aaron felt his guts do a loop-de-loop. His irreverence didn¡¯t seem to faze Barrett at all, whose smile only grew larger. ¡°That¡¯s not far from the truth of it, but it¡¯s not as crazy as it sounds. Let me ask you something else ¡ª have you felt that same kind of familiarity with anyone else in our little entourage this evening?¡± There had been a vague sense of recognition for several of the security people, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as intense as when he¡¯d first seen Barrett in the park or even in the times since. Now that he was thinking about it, there had been different degrees of familiarity between the guards that provoked that feeling. Aaron nodded. ¡°I have, for some, but it wasn¡¯t very strong.¡± ¡°And what about Alice here?¡± Aaron turned his attention to the redhead. She shifted position in her seat to face him again. She had green eyes, Aaron noticed, and he was actually having trouble thinking about anything else. That¡­ bothered him. His brows furrowed slightly. ¡°No, not familiar. She¡¯s¡­ no offense, miss, but I¡¯m having some trouble concentrating around you and it¡¯s a little frustrating.¡± Barrett barked a single, loud laugh, and Alice laughed demurely, as well. Aaron didn¡¯t know what was supposed to be so goddamn funny. He felt his face warming. Did I say something stupid? he wondered. Are they laughing at me? ¡°You must got the spirit of a mule in you,¡± Barrett said. ¡°I bet you¡¯re prickly as a pear when someone tries to move you when you¡¯re happy to set.¡± That comment stung. People sometimes accused Aaron of being obstinate, when what they really meant was that he wasn¡¯t willing to roll over to their every claim or whim without a damned good reason. Most people had, in his experience, a rather authoritarian, tyrannical mindset when it came to their own perspective and they often felt insulted being asked to explain their reason beyond anything more complicated than ¡®because I said so.¡¯ Aaron couldn¡¯t help but frown. Barrett kept talking, giving him a bit of relief and a dawning sense of horror. ¡°Our young friend, Alice, is one of our two prodigies,¡± the older man said. ¡°They¡¯re rare as hen¡¯s teeth for us; usually our people don¡¯t take to magic until they¡¯ve fully awakened to their power. Alice and Tia ¡ª you¡¯ll meet her soon enough ¡ª both had the knack before they came into themselves.¡± Alice had a mysterious grin on her face and Aaron desperately tried not to pay any attention to how absolutely charming it was. ¡°In Alice¡¯s case, she had a talent for unconscious magic,¡± Barrett continued. ¡°There¡¯s two things common to most natural magic ¡ª it can fudge the rules and it often comes at a cost. Miss Alice has a weak glamour stuck to her and that¡¯s probably what you¡¯re noticing.¡± ¡°You¡¯re talking about actual, literal magic, right?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°So when you say ¡®glamour,¡¯ you mean an enchantment of some kind.¡± Alice sighed. ¡°When I was a teenager, I desperately wanted to be attractive and desirable. I had started to realize some of the things I could do were magic so I tried to use it to make that true. I didn¡¯t know I¡¯d never be able to get rid of it, or even dampen the effects.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s like a blessing of hotness?¡± Barrett laughed. ¡°That¡¯s the gist of it. It¡¯s relatively weak compared to a proper glamour, like the fae might do, but it¡¯s strong enough to influence most people to take a specific kind of interest in our gal.¡± ¡°That sounds like one hell of a glow up,¡± Aaron said before he could stop himself. ¡°It made my adolescence better and so, so much worse,¡± Alice conceded. The discussion of performing magic like it was a normal thing people did all the time was interesting, but it took a distant second to the point Aaron latched onto ¡ª something was influencing his mind. The cycle of infatuation Aaron struggled against was already hard enough, but being attracted to someone because they were tampering with his mind? He didn¡¯t like that one bit; it cast every moment with the beautiful redhead into doubt. Has she even been smiling at me, or is that her magic manipulating me? Aaron wondered. Is it an illusion making me see what I want to see? ¡°Is there anything I can do to be less affected by this, uh, glamour?¡± he asked. ¡°Familiarity helps and there are mental exercises that create a strong mental defense,¡± Barrett said. ¡°Coming fully into your power will go a long way towards protecting you from this sort of magic.¡± The old man chuckled again. ¡°And with as strong-willed as you¡¯ve got to be to have noticed the influence in the first place? I¡¯m betting you¡¯ll hardly even notice it.¡± Frustration warred with curiosity and both had to fend off skeeviness, or maybe just pent up horniness. Here was a ready-made excuse to ogle Alice as much as he wanted and he was trying to find a way to fight it? Well that just makes me feel shitty about me, Aaron thought. I don¡¯t want to be some lecherous prick leering at women because I have a passing interest in fucking them. The cinched it ¡ª he needed to find out more about these mental defenses Barrett had mentioned and started practicing them right away. Aaron fought enough losing battles against his own mind, he didn¡¯t need magic throwing its weight behind one side or the other. Moreover, he really didn¡¯t like the idea of someone forcing how he thought. He also couldn¡¯t just come out and say that right in front of Alice, so he¡¯d have to table it for now. There were other things he had questions about and that wasn¡¯t one he could get answers to right now. And how weird is it I¡¯m just, like, accepting that all this magic stuff is real? he thought. ¡°So, uh, why isn¡¯t Alice familiar like you or the guards?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to know for sure, but we have some solid theories,¡± Barrett said. ¡°This sense is strongest when someone is awakening to their power, but that¡¯s not why the recognition is there in the first place.¡± ¡°In my case,¡± Alice interjected, ¡°it¡¯s likely this is my first time.¡± ¡°First time what?¡± ¡°First time being one of us,¡± Barrett said. ¡°The recognition is stronger if there were more or deeper connections in the past.¡± That was leaving a lot unsaid, Aaron felt, but he had no way to guess at what the implications might be. He looked from one to the other, going over everything they¡¯d said so far to see if there was some hint that might give him an insight into what Barret meant. Nothing jumped out at him, but it wasn¡¯t like he had a perfect recall of everything either of them had said. ¡°I feel like I¡¯m missing some important context here,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s start with the basics: who and what are the ¡®we¡¯ you keep referring to; how does it make us ¡®close as kin;¡¯ and, how could I have interacted with someone in the past if I¡¯ve never met them before?¡± Barrett adjusted himself in his chair. ¡°We are called the Drakon, the Drakon Society, the Ordo Draconum, and a host of other names. Our members are called drakus, which is both singular and plural, and we are led by three individuals ¡ª the Primus Draconis, Cordus Draconis, and Animus Draconis.¡± ¡°Drakon, drakus, draconis ¡­ those all sound like words for dragon in different languages.¡± Barrett smiled and tapped his nose with a forefinger. ¡°Right in one.¡± ¡°Bullshit,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Come on, be serious.¡± The old man leaned forward, looking at Aaron with a completely sober expression. ¡°I¡¯m dead serious.¡± Chapter 15 - The Dreams of Dragons Aaron waved a hand dismissively at the old man. ¡°You¡¯re fucking with me. Dragons?¡± ¡°History, mythology, folklore, whatever you want to call the collected tales of our kind and others, tend to exaggerate things, but there are kernels of truth. It¡¯s largely biased storytelling, both in our favor and against it.¡± ¡°I was expecting something much more Marvel and a lot less Tolkien,¡± Aaron sighed. ¡°So you¡¯re telling me dragons and all other kinds of stuff are real?¡± ¡°Yes and no,¡± Barrett said with a shrug. ¡°We¡¯re not great big flying dinosaurs who kidnap princesses and sleep on mounds of gold.¡± He paused. ¡°Well¡­ we may¡¯ve kidnapped princesses from time to time in the past, but that was the politics of war in a bygone era.¡± Aaron turned to Alice. ¡°He¡¯s kidding. Tell me he¡¯s kidding.¡± The redhead gave him a smile that was almost apologetic and accompanied it with the smallest shake of her head. Aaron tried not to dwell on the gentle sway of her hair or the lines of her neck. Fuck, I¡¯m really hating this glamour thing, he thought. Barrett continued, practically musing to himself. ¡°I suppose, centuries back when magic was more flexible, that some particularly magnificent transfigurations were possible. Most of the stories are better looked at as parables and metaphor, though.¡± ¡°So no impenetrable scales or fire breath. That sounds like a pretty weak sauce dragon.¡± ¡°No scales, per se, but we¡¯re tough as hell compared to most other critters. Plus, a lot of the armor we use incorporates dragon motifs and that usually includes scales. And some drakus can exhale elemental attacks in various forms, but that¡¯s uncommon.¡± Assuming Barrett was telling the truth ¡ª which Aaron had some difficulty taking at face value, but, honestly, what other explanations fit? ¡ª that answered his first two questions. There were plenty of unanswered questions, though, including quite a few new ones. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s, uh, let¡¯s come back to the fire breathing later,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Why do I get a strong feeling of familiarity or d¨¦j¨¤ vu from some people?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a mite more complicated, if you can believe it,¡± the old man said with a chuckle. ¡°Every drakus has two spiritual or metaphysical components that make us what we are ¡ª the living, breathing person that exists in the world, and a kind of intangible essence that has bonded with that person.¡± The picture was starting to clear up, but it was still far too hazy for Aaron to be confident he was seeing it clearly. He could guess at what Barrett was leaving unsaid, but that felt sloppy and it opened the door to confirmation bias. Better to aim for specificity than jump to conclusions. ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain how I could have interacted with someone before I met them,¡± Aaron noted. ¡°This second essence ¡ª the soul of a dragon, if you will ¡ª bonds with the living individual that moves through the world. When the body dies, the essence remains, growing in depth for the life it experienced, and can seek a new individual in the world.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s a kind of reincarnation?¡± Aaron mused. ¡°Just my luck I get hit with some kind of inverse tensei whammy instead of getting isekai¡¯d into a world with flying mountains made of chocolate or something.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t understand most of what you said there,¡± Barrett said, shrugging. ¡°I can address the question about reincarnation, though. It¡¯s not just a transmigration of a single soul into a new, soulless body; it¡¯s one soul finding another, bonding with it, and creating an entirely new spiritual entity. The new, combined entity moves forward, building on itself as it finds new people to form a bond with in each life. There are very few eidolons, other than a drakus, that can live multiple lives.¡± ¡°What¡¯s an eidolon?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a catch-all for folks who ain¡¯t normal in the same way as we ain¡¯t normal,¡± Barrett said. ¡°There¡¯s a bunch of similar terms, some with their own connotations and implications, but eidolon is the one I like.¡± ¡°What else is out there, eidolon-wise?¡± ¡°Most about everything, to some degree. You¡¯ll learn plenty more about all that soon enough. I can¡¯t imagine Mallory won¡¯t see to it you get proper learning so you have some idea of what¡¯s what. There¡¯s more immediate concerns we need to get sorted first, though.¡± Shouldn¡¯t I be reeling from all these astounding revelations? Aaron wondered. I¡¯ve got about as much emotional nuance as a young Dan Radcliffe. ¡®Yer a lizard, ¡®Aarey!¡¯ he says. And I just go, ¡®Sounds good.¡¯ Disbelief or skepticism should have made a much stronger showing than just a few half-hearted ¡®say sike right nows,¡¯ and instead Aaron found he was not only willing to buy what Barrett was selling, but eager. Aaron wasn¡¯t always the most practical person, but this was beyond the pale. Accepting that all this was true ¡ª and Aaron found he hoped it was ¡ª it brought him back to the question of what came next. ¡°So, uh, where is it we¡¯re flying to? And why, I guess?¡± he asked. Barrett sucked on his teeth for a second before answering. ¡°You remember what I said about who leads the Drakon?¡± As Aaron recalled, they were led by a three-person council or something like that, each with a fancy title in Latin. Aaron was a nerd, but he wasn¡¯t a super-charismatic, hyper-motivated nerd as written by Aaron Sorkin, so his ability to translate Latin ¡ª or any other dead language ¡ª on the fly was pretty spotty. One of them had been called the animus draconis; animus meant hostility or motivation in English, but Aaron was pretty sure it meant something like spirit or soul in Latin. ¡°They¡¯re led by three people with Roman titles or something like that,¡± he mustered. ¡°Something like that,¡± Barrett replied. ¡°Anyway, Each of those three positions ¡ª the Primus, Cordus, and Animus Draconis ¡ª are always held by the same person. Or, more accurately, the position can only be filled by someone who¡¯s bonded with the corresponding essence.¡± Talk about nepotism, Aaron thought. That¡¯s a family tree with no branches. Why are fantasy stories always so fucking un-democratic? ¡°So it¡¯s an inherited position¡­ that you inherit from yourself?¡± he asked. Barrett laughed. ¡°Something like that.¡± That raised so many questions about the entire process and how it could possibly work, even about how this society of dragon-people functioned. So far, Barrett hadn¡¯t tried to stop him from asking any questions, so he didn¡¯t think he was likely to be boiled in oil for wanting to know more. Not that boiling a dragon in oil would be very effective, Aaron mused. What would Daenerys say? Oil cannot cook a dragon. ¡°I imagine this whole reincarnation thing doesn¡¯t come with a tracking app,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I mean, look at what a pain in the ass it was just for you and I to make contact. It¡¯s got to be way worse for these big important types.¡± Barrett nodded ruefully. ¡°It¡¯s not without its difficulties, no doubt about that, and sometimes it takes a while. Quite a long while. And there can be other obstacles for a new drakus, especially one of those three, to reunite with Drakon in a new life.¡± ¡°What kind of obstacles?¡± Aaron asked, intrigued to know more about the world he found himself thrust into. ¡°For most drakus, it¡¯s a simple enough thing; they start having dreams ¡ª dreams of specific people and places ¡ª dreams that have a powerful draw to them. The people they dream of are drakus and places they dream of are where we¡¯re gathered in significant numbers.¡± ¡°Dreams are a powerful thing, especially for us,¡± Alice commented. ¡°Eventually, a fledgling drakus either pursues those dreams in the waking world or they turn away from them entirely. Sometimes, the essence trying to bond with them is released, but other times it becomes dormant, staying with the individual until their death.¡± So these dreams aren¡¯t exactly prophecy, like in most fantasy, Aaron mused. It¡¯s more like¡­ clairvoyance? That¡¯s not quite right. It reminded Aaron of something Barrett had said in one of their dream meetings, something that had been wrong but Aaron hadn¡¯t been able to pin down why it was wrong. He realized what didn¡¯t fit then and, worse, what didn¡¯t fit now. ¡°You thought I was having dreams like that,¡± he said. ¡°Except I haven¡¯t.¡± Alice turned to him and Aaron forcefully reminded the butterflies in his stomach that, while she might have beautiful eyes, it was as much magic as beauty that was causing them to flutter. ¡°None at all?¡± she asked. Aaron shook his head. ¡°As far as I can remember, up until I met you two, I¡¯ve only had normal dreams. Nothing like what you¡¯re describing.¡± He paused. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve had that recurring nightmare about being chased through a stone labyrinth for a while, too, for the past several months, maybe.¡± Alice leaned in slightly. ¡°Is that what that was? Perhaps your unconscious created a more formidable defense than I¡¯d thought.¡± ¡°I think,¡± Barrett said, ¡°you need to know a little bit of our history to understand how we got where we are.¡± And that¡¯s just what Barrett did; he told Aaron a story. In the late eighteenth century, the Primus Draconis disappeared. Or, it would be more accurate to say, they left the Drakon and were never seen again. Oliver Milton was an Englishman and had been the Primus Draconis for over a century and, one day, he was simply gone. The departure came without warning, but not without explanation. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Milton left word behind that he believed he had to undertake a kind of solitary pilgrimage to prepare the way for the future of the Drakon ¡ª a future that, he said, would be rife with difficulties and offered little in the way of certainty. Even his closest advisors and confidants couldn¡¯t ¡ª or wouldn¡¯t ¡ª say anything more than that. The Drakon was not without enemies and it was widely believed among the Drakon that Milton, alone and without resources, would soon be dead. There had been attempts to kill the Primus in the years before his departure, so their enemies had been growing bolder. So, the Drakon kept a watch for their wayward leader in hopes of lending aid, but they also began to seek the person who would bond with his essence and become the new Primus Draconis. ¡°The problem,¡± Alice chimed in, ¡°was oneiromancy.¡± ¡°Dream magic,¡± Barrett said, answering Aaron¡¯s confused look. ¡°We lost access to dream magic.¡± The leaders of the Drakon, the Triumvirate of Flame, were distinct because they not only dreamt of others, but their fellow drakus often dreamed of them when they were emerging. These dreams helped the Drakon find each new triumviri in the world and identify them and was one of the primary ways the continuity of leadership gained legitimacy. ¡°How do you lose access to an entire branch of magic?¡± Aaron asked. Oneiromancy, as it turned out, was both fiendishly complex and could only be performed in dreams. That limitation came with a novel disadvantage compared to other magic ¡ª it was subject to the same limitations of knowing anything in a dream. Oneiromancy often only made sense in a dream or could barely be remembered after waking. Studying that branch of magic while awake, no matter how rigorously, rarely translated to practical application in the dream and vice versa. The Drakon had painstakingly forged a grimoire over a long period of time ¡ª how long ago and how long it took neither Alice nor Barrett could say ¡ª in an attempt to mitigate those obstacles. This tome of oneiromancy, called The Sleeping Dragon, formed a basis of practical knowledge that made exploring dream magic a more reliable endeavor for the Drakon. The crowning triumph of their work, however, was that it contained spells and exercises that allowed performing certain feats with some degree of consistency. A decade before Milton went into his self-imposed exile, the book was stolen. With the grimoire gone, what mastery of oneiromancy existed in the Drakon slowly faded as individuals who had already learned from it died. ¡°You¡¯re probably wondering why there was only one copy of the book if it was so damned important,¡± Barrett said, echoing Aaron¡¯s current thoughts with a bit less profanity. Barrett continued, ¡°The magic and knowledge contained in The Sleeping Dragon was too dangerous to allow copies to be made. Specific reasons were, I¡¯m told, penned in the grimoire itself. A few passages and rites had been transcribed, which has helped us continue our search for Milton¡¯s successor, but it¡¯s slow going without the full text.¡± Barrett paused, seeming to weigh his next words. ¡°And those problems have been compounded by others.¡± In addition to their efforts being hindered by the loss of reliable oneiromancy, the Drakon had to compete with an aggressive campaign by their rivals to hunt down and eliminate candidates to be the new Primus Draconis. In the more than two hundred years since Milton had departed, the Drakon had only managed to get close to finding and contacting a candidate a scant handful of times. ¡°Is that what¡¯s chasing me in my dreams? Some magic sent by these enemies?¡± Aaron asked. Alice was the one who answered. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. It is something that is trying to find you in the dreamscape and it¡¯s definitely not friendly. I might have thought it was your unconscious manifesting our attempts to make contact if we hadn¡¯t been so close in the waking world.¡± According to Alice, closer proximity let her get a sense for the feelings emanating from dreams, not just the content. Whatever hunted Aaron through those nightmares of the stone labyrinth, it didn¡¯t mean him well. That meant it wasn¡¯t likely to stop just because he got on a plane, which raised the question of what he could do about it. ¡°Continuing to bond with your essence will help and a support structure that reinforces a sense of calm would go a long way, too,¡± Alice said. ¡°I think we could place a couple of warding items that would provide some assistance, although how effective they¡¯ll be is hard to know in advance ¡ª those kinds of enchantments are mostly based on protecting regular people from malicious oneiromancy.¡± ¡°It¡¯s worth a shot,¡± Aaron said, not quite daring to dream of sleep without those ashlar walls and the Conspicuous Pursuer. ¡°Any idea who¡¯s behind the dream invasions and assassination attempts?¡± Barrett rubbed his jaw. ¡°Too many to narrow down. I¡¯m not willing to assume it¡¯s just one, either, but the end result is the same ¡ª the deck has been stacked against us finding a new Primus for centuries and we¡¯ve rarely managed to take things this far.¡± ¡°What¡¯s different this time?¡± ¡°Fate brought us a prodigy,¡± Barrett said, grinning. In 2015, a drakus found the Drakon through dreams. That wasn¡¯t unusual on its own, but it turned out this young woman was a wild talent ¡ª an individual particularly gifted at performing magic without external structure or ritual ¡ª and was the first natural oneiromancer to join the Drakon in centuries. Between her innate talent and what could be gleaned from the fragments left of The Sleeping Dragon, the young oneiromancer was able to glean new, but sparse, insights into a new candidate for Primus. For unknown reasons, those insights came as fragments and flashes of the waking world and never anything within the Dream. The oneiromancer painstakingly pieced these hints together, arduously examining the clues to learn about the candidate¡¯s surroundings. ¡°Dreams are the most personal part of the mind, if not necessarily the soul,¡± Alice explained. ¡°They¡¯re naturally guarded against incursion and it¡¯s dangerous to delve deeply into the unconscious of another.¡± After more than a year of this investigation, the oneiromancer believed she¡¯d narrowed down the city and state where their prospect could be found. The Drakon sent people to make sure someone would be close at hand in the event more could be discovered about the candidate and to act as a conduit for the oneiromancer¡¯s magic in the Dream. ¡°The hope was that proximity would empower the magic beyond what we¡¯d been able to accomplish so far,¡± Alice concluded. ¡°Well, it worked,¡± Barrett said, beaming at Alice. ¡°One night, she starts telling us about a baseball game. It was bothering our candidate and kicking up all sorta anxieties, so he¡¯s dreaming about the game over and over.¡± Now the story was getting into specifics that veered into territory Aaron had deliberately avoided thinking about. He¡¯d wondered, of course, why they¡¯d gone to so much trouble to track him down and contact him, let alone why assassins were after him and Barrett had brought a small army with him. These were things you weren¡¯t likely to do for some new minion joining your super secret dragon club. Yet Aaron had consciously kept himself from drawing any conclusions about any of that. It wasn¡¯t that he was concerned about finding himself thrust into a leadership role, but the opposite. What concerned Aaron was how easily he was willing to accept a role like that, how much it just felt right. How often did people in positions of privilege convince themselves not only that it was deserved, but that they¡¯d earned it? That made him feel even shittier about his own reactions. As long as I¡¯m not some kind of Chosen One, he thought. Bad enough I¡¯m benefitting from magic reincarnation nepotism, I don¡¯t need to be the extra special center of the story destined to save the whatever from the thing in the place. I haven¡¯t done shit with my life to warrant that. ¡°So we had a city and had roughly narrowed down our search to the central part of town,¡± Barrett continued. ¡°Now, we were looking for a park with a baseball diamond. There are only four small parks in central Sacramento.¡± ¡°And only one has a baseball diamond,¡± Aaron finished. Barrett tapped his nose with a huge grin. ¡°Right in one. All we had to do was loiter in the area and wait for a baseball game.¡± ¡°Only it wasn¡¯t a baseball game,¡± Aaron offered, swallowing hard. ¡°Nope, turned out to be softball,¡± Barrett conceded. ¡°We had our people sitting on that park all hours, so when folks started showing up yesterday with bat bags, I got over there lickety split and sat my ass right on the foul line.¡± Aaron remembered it like it was yesterday. Mostly because it only had been yesterday. The old black man had hunkered down in a shabby folding lawn chair, watching him. After Aaron hit his line drive homer, he¡¯d been deeply on edge and just wanted to get away. So he¡¯d left the park without exchanging more than a handful of words with the old man. It had nearly turned out very poorly for Aaron; Barrett and the Drakon hadn¡¯t been the only people searching for him. Aaron was almost certain someone had tried to kill him in his apartment that very night, even if he couldn¡¯t remember it in anything but fragments and flashes. Then they¡¯d found him again the next day and took another stab at it, at him. Who they were and how they¡¯d found him were complete unknowns and that was more than a little unsettling. ¡°So¡­what are you telling me?¡± he asked. Barrett gave him a knowing smile. ¡°I suspect you¡¯ve figured that out, by now.¡± Aaron pushed his annoyance aside, at least enough that he hoped it wouldn¡¯t show on his face. He took a deep breath and steeled himself to play dumb, something he hated doing. ¡°This whole thing is new to me and I¡¯m pretty rattled,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m reaching the right conclusions.¡± ¡°The fella who was dreaming about the softball game, the one we¡¯ve been trying to find for more than two hundred years, is our candidate to be Primus Draconis.¡± Keeping his face blank, Aaron waited. If Barrett thought he was a little slow, he might feel compelled to spell it out explicitly. After a few seconds, Barrett did. ¡°That¡¯s you, Mr. Aaron Abrams. You¡¯re the one we believe has started to bond with the essence of the Primus.¡± Aaron closed his eyes. When he proved he wasn¡¯t delusional, Aaron had thought he might be in some kind mutant superhero origin story. Confirming not only his sanity but that he had superpowers had been thrilling. But it was nothing ¡ª nothing ¡ª compared to the rush he felt at Barrett¡¯s words. It was joyous, yes, but there was a bittersweet undercurrent. It was vindication; a refutation of every doubt, every insincere compliment, every biting criticism he¡¯d ever endured. I¡¯m special, he thought. I am special. As glorious as it was, it was also terrifying and painful. All this time ¡ª all my life! ¡ª Aaron had slowly been worn down, let people slowly convince him that he was nobody important and pushing back or going against the grain was proof he was stupid or lesser or¡­ or something. He didn¡¯t know how else to describe it. That doubt gnawed at him, even now. For the first time in a very long time, there would be expectations of him. Not just from himself but from others, from people who relied on him. That was, perhaps, more frightening than all the assassins lurking in the shadows. He hadn¡¯t done more than coast on his natural talents, intelligence, and creativity for¡­ years. Even if no one ever said it outright, Aaron had largely accepted that he was a borderline-hapless piece of shit who¡¯d never amount to anything. Now¡­ now he had to wonder if he could meet those new expectations, even exceed them. He wanted to. He desperately wanted to. It was like a chance to reinvent and redefine himself, something very few people got to do once they reached adulthood. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, ¡°so I¡¯m the king of the dragons, which are totally real but aren¡¯t actually dragons. Or¡­ I¡¯m supposed to ¡®awaken to my power¡¯ and become the king of the dragons.¡± Barrett made a waffling gesture with one hand. ¡°Not a perfect summary, especially with the whole ¡®monarch¡¯ angle, but you¡¯ve got the general idea.¡± ¡°Fine; that¡¯s fine. What, uh, what comes next?¡± ¡°It¡¯s like you said ¡ª you¡¯ve got to come into your power, complete the bond between your essence and the Primus essence, and prove that you are the rightful successor to the position.¡± ¡°Sounds like we¡¯re gonna need a montage,¡± Aaron said, earning a small laugh from Alice. Barrett either didn¡¯t get the reference or didn¡¯t care enough to acknowledge it. ¡°Your biggest challenge will be earning the acceptance of the Drakon as the Primus Draconis,¡± Barrett said. ¡°There are certain things you must accomplish to gain legitimacy as Milton¡¯s successor.¡± ¡°Is that where we¡¯re going?¡± ¡°Yes, to face your first Tribulation.¡± Aaron raised an eyebrow at the old man; he could hear the capitalization on ¡®tribulation¡¯ and that didn¡¯t sound great. Anything that¡¯s a proper noun is either going to be awesome or a giant pain in the ass, he thought. Regardless of the potential hassle, these Tribulations were an opportunity to demonstrate his worth, to show these drakus people he was the right person for the job. ¡°Where is this Tribulation?¡± he asked. Barrett smiled at him again. ¡°Wyoming.¡± Chapter 16 - The Drakon ¡°Wyoming?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°What the hell kind of lame-ass Labors of Dragoncules is going to be in Wyoming? Do I have to beat Old Faithful in a fist fight or something?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t rightly say,¡± Barrett said with a chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ve made a study of history since I came into my position, but a lot of information is either lost or never got written down.¡± ¡°Can you give me any idea of what I¡¯m facing?¡± ¡°Sure can! We¡¯re going to meet some people ¡ª one of them knows more about rites and ceremonies and such ¡ª and then you¡¯re going for a moonlit swim somewhere in Yellowstone.¡± ¡°A swim?¡± Barrett shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s as much as I can tell you. It might be as much as anyone can tell you about this particular Tribulation, regardless of their position.¡± ¡°You keep mentioning your position¡­¡± Barrett ran a hand over his steel gray hair. ¡°Ah, well, I¡¯m the Cordus Draconis, you see ¡ª the heart of the dragon. Some might call it the arm, scales, or body of the dragon, but the heart is the strongest muscle, after all.¡± Aaron smirked. ¡°Isn¡¯t the butt the strongest muscle?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s the tongue,¡± Alice offered. ¡°It¡¯s a metaphor, you hooligans, and a complicated one, at that,¡± Barrett complained. ¡°Cordus means ¡®heart¡¯ in Latin, but it also means ¡®second¡¯ and ¡®aftermath.¡¯ Each is a good descriptor for my role in the Triumvirate of Flame.¡± ¡°Sounds military in nature,¡± Aaron mused aloud. ¡°If you¡¯re the heart and the animus is the mind or spirit, I¡¯d guess the other one is more academic or magic-oriented?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the gist of it,¡± Barrett said, tapping his nose. ¡°Now, are you familiar with the phrase primus inter pares?¡± Great, Aaron thought. More Latin. It was a familiar phrase, but Aaron wasn¡¯t sure what it meant. It wasn¡¯t just Latin, though, it had something to do with the politics of Rome. Aaron had a vague idea that it was a concept that had started in the Republic and survived into the Empire. He latched onto that and tried to prise the information from his memory. It took him a few seconds, but he dredged up something he thought was at least close to the proper meaning. ¡°It means ¡®first among equals,¡¯ I think.¡± Barrett, grinning, tapped his nose again. ¡°That is what the Primus Draconis is. The word itself has many varied meanings, but they¡¯re all roughly related to the idea of behind ¡®first,¡¯ like the chief or head of something.¡± As Barrett explained it, the specifics were lost to the passage of time but it was known that the entire structure and society of the Drakon had been formed around the Primus. Drakus had not always been united under one banner and had been a deeply fractious lot ¡ª because of course they were, they were dragons ¡ª but at some point in the distant past, they had been brought together under the auspices of the first Primus Draconis. ¡°If our history is anything like what you find in other civilizations, odds are there was a knock-down drag-out and the first Primus was the winner,¡± Barrett said. ¡°Then he sets up the Triumvirate as some kind of concession or power-sharing compromise to stabilize the coalition, but had still triumphed decisively enough to be instilled as the ultimate authority among the three.¡± ¡°And it¡¯s been like that for, what? Thousands of years?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°The precise balance of power among the Triumvirate fluctuates, but it¡¯s been stable in the broad view. The Cordus remains second to the Primus, acting as the right hand, or dextera, and the Animus as the third, being the left hand, or sinistra. My guess is the original Animus had been an especially bitter or recalcitrant enemy and the dynamic was created as a kind of punishment, but it might¡¯ve just been the necessity of establishing a hierarchy.¡± Dragons and ancient legacies, wild, Aaron thought. At least no one¡¯s telling me I¡¯ve got to kill Wizard Hitler or anything, though it¡¯s still early days. If all those old stories were more fact than fiction ¡ª or significantly less fiction, at least ¡ª then Aaron had to ask himself: was he falling in with a bad crowd? Dragons were awesome and powerful, but they were rarely positive or benevolent influences in those stories. Eastern dragons were more of a mixed bag, as far as Aaron knew (which wasn¡¯t nearly as much as he knew about western dragons). Barrett had suggested most of the old stories were propaganda, both for and against dragons, but they were consistently portrayed as arrogant, greedy, selfish dicks. What does it say about dragons that those qualities shine through even in the favorable tales? Aaron wondered. On the other hand, it was hard to picture the people opposed to this Drakon Society as the good guys, considering they were sending assassins solely on the basis of who Aaron might turn out to be, not anything he had done to earn that kind of enmity. In the real world ¡ª the one Aaron had thought he knew until recently ¡ª there were situations that sometimes demanded moral ambiguity. Things were rarely black and white, right or wrong, but sending the shiv brigade after a stranger lacked the kind of nuance needed to make even half-assed justifications for acting like some kind of gritty antihero; it was just murder, plain and simple. Still, it was hard to think of dragons as good beings, no matter how awesome they might be. Aaron considered himself a principled person, so he wanted a better idea of what he was getting into. If nothing else, maybe a leadership role would let him be a force for positive change in the Drakon. ¡°So what does the Drakon do, exactly?¡± he asked. ¡°From an organizational perspective, we try to maintain infrastructure to help our fellow drakus pursue their own goals,¡± Barrett said. ¡°That¡¯s super vague. Can you be more specific?¡± Barrett described the Drakon as a kind of community organization that tried to facilitate the desires of each drakus, within reason. What they considered ¡®within reason¡¯ bordered on ludicrous from Aaron¡¯s perspective. If a drakus joined and wanted to do nothing but be a rich layabout, for instance, the Drakon would provide them a large annual salary. The only stipulation was the recipient move their money through channels that benefitted the Drakon; they¡¯d use a Drakon-owned bank and buy things with a Drakon-affiliated credit card through Drakon-sponsored merchants and brokers. When done properly, every dollar spent traveled through multiple associated channels and generated several dollars of revenue. It was like some kind of magical communist utopia. But their efforts went far beyond something as pedestrian ¡ª Barrett¡¯s words, Aaron wouldn¡¯t have described the amount of wealth they were talking about nothing more than humdrum boring minutiae ¡ª they connected people with similar interests or goals, provided training and help with research, and tried to arrange some form of aid or guidance to every drakus that wanted it. There were limits, of course. The Drakon tried to keep drakus from antagonizing other factions and avoided serious or harmful criminal enterprises. Barrett got cagey when Aaron pressed for specifics on the criminal thing and would only say that the Drakon maintained a presence in the underworld for protection against hostile actors. ¡°Let¡¯s say I¡¯m a drakus who wants to aim a laser at the moon and hold the world hostage; what would the Drakon do?¡± Aaron prompted. ¡°Would they help me build a volcano lair and get me an unnecessarily slow-moving dipping mechanism over a pool of liquid hot magma?¡± Barret laughed. ¡°Why the hell would we do that?¡± ¡°To dispose of any womanizing, alcoholic super spies who showed up to thwart my nefarious plans, of course.¡± Alice laughed quietly as she continued to watch the night sky through the window and Barrett chuckled, as well. ¡°Empire-building and world domination are things of the past,¡± Barrett laughed. ¡°Although there is plenty of espionage and intrigue among the eidolons.¡± ¡°Well, at least we¡¯re not supervillains,¡± Aaron said. ¡°That¡¯s something, I guess.¡± They were interrupted at that point when a guard entered the cabin and told Barrett he had a call. The old man left the cabin for the weird, science fiction-y control room near the front of the plane. Alice, content to daydream, inspired Aaron to use the time for contemplation, as well. He relocated to another seat ¡ª where he wouldn¡¯t be distracted by her magic-enhanced hotness ¨C and tried to remember all the stories he¡¯d heard about dragons. Maybe they¡¯d give him some idea of what his future would look like. Barrett returned a few minutes later, but he just sat back down and started reading some very old book. A little over an hour later, the jet began its descent. The landing was uneventful. The smaller jet taxied into the hangar as they disembarked. Not long after, the collected security personnel led them to several vehicles waiting for them outside. It was the first time Aaron got a clear view of their surroundings. Even at night, he could make out the silhouette of mountains all around. They were jagged patches of deeper darkness against the night sky shaped as much by the absence of stars in the clear mountain air as the depth of their shadows. Aaron had lived his entire life within driving range of Sierra Nevadas and he¡¯d traveled into them a number of times, but he¡¯d never been in a valley where the mountains felt so close on all sides. It was an impressive sight. The airport wasn¡¯t exactly small and it was built on a broad, flat plain, yet the looming mountains everywhere Aaron looked couldn¡¯t have been more than a few miles away from where he stood. It reminded him of visiting the redwoods when he was younger, arboreal behemoths so massive and present you almost couldn¡¯t stop yourself from ignoring the forest for the trees. Fascinating as the view was, they wasted no time getting into the trio of nondescript, dark sedans and moving out. With the security personnel, there were a full dozen people spread between the three cars and there was barely enough room for all of them. They took a maintenance road along the edge of the airport. After a short trip of no more than a few minutes, they passed a large sign announcing the Teton Helibase. Aaron had never seen a helibase, heliport, or anything more advanced than a single helipad, so he was picturing a vertical bay, or maybe rows of roofless hangers. The reality, as was so often the case, was nothing like an imagination influenced by science fiction, superhero movies, and video games. The helibase ¡ª at least the one next to the airport in Jackson Hole, Wyoming ¡ª consisted of five separate helipads placed in a row along a maintenance road with no other significant structures nearby. They didn¡¯t even have chain link fences around them. The first helipad was barely a hundred feet from the entrance and was quite small, the next two further back from the road and slightly larger, and the last two were significantly larger. Both of the last helipads were occupied, though by very different helicopters. The nearest helicopter was huge ¡ª fifteen to twenty feet high, even wider than that, and three times as long. A row of porthole windows lined the side, suggesting the helicopter equivalent of a private jet. The second helicopter was smaller, sleeker, and looked more military than civilian, though it lacked any visible mounted weapons. It had large panel doors on either side. These were open, with a person sitting in each carrying a large machine gun. I¡¯m pretty sure those are actual machine guns, the kind you need to mount to fire, Aaron thought. Only those guard people are holding them like they¡¯re hunting rifles or something. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Aaron leaned towards Barrett. ¡°What¡¯re the guns for if we¡¯re supposed to be basically bulletproof?¡± Barrett patted him on the shoulder. ¡°We might be, but a hostile aircraft won¡¯t, so it¡¯s a good plan A before we have to pull out the big guns, figuratively speaking.¡± ¡°Are you expecting hostile aircraft? In Wyoming?¡± Barrett shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to expect. We¡¯re flying without a map or radar. I mean shit, it¡¯s usually a different Tribulation that¡¯s done first, but this was on the way and there¡¯s no set order for them, so we¡¯re switching things up.¡± ¡°Sounds a little desperate,¡± Aaron said. Barrett shrugged as they walked to the large helicopter. Three of the security detail split off towards the military-style helicopter and the others boarded with them. Once aboard, Aaron¡¯s initial impression of the big helicopter proved to be true ¡ª it was basically an opulent lounge, all leather and wood. There were sections to the fore and aft of the passenger cabin that Aaron got a glimpse into as most of the guards split off from the group. Like the jet, the forward compartment was filled with workstations and electronics. The rear compartment looked like a cargo bay, complete with a big, angled panel that Aaron was pretty sure would open outward and make a ramp. Two of the guards stayed with them and took seats at opposite ends of the passenger cabin. They weren¡¯t the only people sharing the seating area with them; an old man and a young woman were already lounging in the plush seats when they boarded. The old man had pale skin, a shock of wispy, white hair, and he was slightly stooped with age, even sitting. He wore a suit that wasn¡¯t as finely tailored as Barrett¡¯s and looked a bit out of date, but was still of very good quality. That was Aaron¡¯s guess, anyways, but it was based mostly on the presence of cufflinks on the shirtsleeves instead of buttons. The young woman was Asian, barely over five feet tall, and dressed in a style Aaron thought of as 90s grunge. He¡¯d been little more than a toddler at the tail end of the grunge era, but an older cousin had introduced him to a ton of pop culture stuff from the 80s and 90s, so it wasn¡¯t completely alien to him. Both of the people evoked the same sense of familiarity that Barrett did, although the young woman produced a much stronger sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu than the older man, whose presence felt almost muted. The elderly man rose from his chair while the young woman remained seated, apparently uninterested in their arrival, reading from a tablet. ¡°Ezekial Mallory,¡± the old man said, extending a hand to Aaron. ¡°I am informed Cordus Freeman has explained something of our nature and society, so I trust you are familiar with the position of the Animus Draconis.¡± That¡¯s the magic dragon, Aaron recalled. No wonder he doesn¡¯t feel the same as the others, he¡¯s probably got some kind of mystic shroud of secrecy going on. Aaron took the thin hand somewhat gingerly and was surprised to find the grip was quite firm. ¡°Yes, the, uh, spirit of the dragon, I think? I¡¯m Aaron Abrams. Nice to meet you.¡± ¡°My preference has been to translate animus as the dragon¡¯s mind, but heart, soul, or spirit are all sensible interpretations, given the context,¡± Mallory said, then gestured to the seated woman. ¡°This young lady is my apprentice, Tia Kellogg. I hope you¡¯ll excuse her churlishness; it is a hallmark of youth.¡± The young woman, Tia, lifted one eyebrow at Mallory, but barely looked up from whatever she was reading on her tablet. ¡°Pfft. Just call me Tia. Nice to meet you. Very exciting. Et cetera.¡± ¡°Nice to meet you, too, Tia. I¡¯m Aaron.¡± The helicopter was lifting off before everyone had taken their seats, rising smoothly with the slightest sway to the sides as it lost contact with the ground. Aaron had expected way more noise from the rotor or propeller blades, but the cabin was practically silent. Probably an inconvenience people who can afford an aircraft like this pay good money to avoid, he thought. ¡°So,¡± Mallory said, lightly clapping his hands together, ¡°I imagine you may be wondering why we¡¯re in one of the most famous national parks in the world.¡± ¡°I am. Barrett said something about going for a swim¡­¡± Mallory turned a stern gaze on Barrett, but the other man just smiled back at him. Whatever the nature of their disagreement, it seemed minor enough for Barrett to shrug it off. ¡°Yes, well¡­¡± Mallory said. ¡°There are three tasks a candidate for Primus Draconis must perform to confirm their identity and be recognized as the legitimate successor to the position. These tasks are deceptively simple and may have become somewhat more complicated due to the passage of time and the circumstances of the last Primus Draconis¡¯ departure. ¡°Each task, or Tribulation, has a somewhat poetic name, owing largely to the romantic nature of many drakus, but it also generally describes what the candidate must accomplish ¡ª escape the vault, enter the depths, and assemble the sceptre.¡± ¡°And these are supposed to be simple?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°We haven¡¯t much time, so it would be prudent to explain each Tribulation in greater detail as you face them,¡± Mallory said. ¡°You should, however, be made aware of the central premise of all three ¡ª only an individual imbued with the essence of the Primus Draconis, who has awakened to their nature, and has accepted it, can accomplish these feats. No one else ¡ª drakus or otherwise ¡ª could hope for success.¡± ¡°I just have to be me? That sounds too easy.¡± ¡°The specific methodology for each Tribulation is largely unknown, but one thing is certain ¡ª anyone who doesn¡¯t meet the criteria I listed will fail, and likely perish.¡± ¡°Methodology?¡± Mallory nodded. ¡°This Tribulation you are about to face, for instance, is commonly referred to as ¡®entering the depths.¡¯ All I can say with confidence is that there are certain necessary ritual preparations and, after that, you must enter a lake, do something in its depths, then return to us.¡± Again, that seems too easy, Aaron thought. Couldn¡¯t I just jump in the lake, hang out for a while, then come back? ¡°We know it¡¯s not as simple as treading water,¡± Barrett said. ¡°It happens deep in the lake, where even magic senses can¡¯t detect it, and usually takes several hours. What happens down there, we¡¯ve no idea.¡± ¡°To that end,¡± Mallory added, ¡°we shall await your return for one full day. If you haven¡¯t surfaced by then, it is likely you will have met your end and failed the Tribulation.¡± ¡°So no pressure,¡± Tia, the young Asian woman, said with a smirk. Does it say something about my ego that I already think I meet Mallory¡¯s requirements? Aaron wondered. It¡¯s only been a few hours and I¡¯m already comfortable thinking of myself as the dragon version of King Ralph. A thought jumped out at him from somewhere deep in his memory. Only those who do not seek power are qualified to hold it. That was something Plato was supposed to have said, although Aaron couldn¡¯t remember ever reading those specific words from his time as an outraged teenage ethicist. Still, the distinction between being a leader and seeking power was important. A leader should want to lead, but shouldn¡¯t seek to lead for the sake of power or personal gain, he thought. That¡¯s where despots and tyrants come from. ¡°So, I dive into a lake, do some mysterious shit, and if I fail I die. All based on coming to terms with whether ¡®I¡¯m a lizard, ¡¯arry¡¯?¡± The women in the cabin ¡ª Alice and Tia ¡ª both laughed at that, though Alice¡¯s laugh quickly soured and turned into a frown. Aaron¡¯s stomach twisted at the thought he might have been too flippant and annoying, then it twisted right back around the other way as he wondered if her magical aphrodisiac was influencing him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mr. Abrams, who is Harry, precisely?¡± Mallory asked. Aaron waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Just a stupid joke, nevermind,¡± he said. ¡°What everyone has said about this Primus business doesn¡¯t feel wrong to me and I¡¯m on board, but is there danger if I have any doubt at all? Like, even if it¡¯s just self-doubt thinking I might not be cool enough for all this myths and legends stuff?¡± ¡°How firm your conviction must be to persevere is another unknown, I¡¯m afraid,¡± Mallory said. Something else to worry about, I guess, Aaron thought. Nothing I can do but worry, which I will do, but I can at least keep moving forward. ¡°Alright,¡± Aaron said, slouching back in his chair. ¡°So, tell me about these rituals.¡± ¡°Relatively few and simple; they will dispel illusions or temporal- and dimension-warping effects. As you have none, the rituals will be swift,¡± Mallory said. ¡°Does magic that screwed with my memories qualify as an illusion?¡± Mallory leaned forward in his seat. ¡°Something has tampered with your memories?¡± he asked. Tia set down her tablet and was paying close attention. ¡°I think there was a second assassin; or maybe it¡¯s more accurate to say a first assassin since it was before the hospital. I don¡¯t exactly remember it happening, but I have these, like, flashbacks.¡± ¡°Oops,¡± Tia said flatly. ¡°I mighta forgot to pass that message along after our last call, Barrett, on account of I¡¯m supposed to be a student, not a secretary.¡± She turned to Mallory. ¡°Hey, Zeke, Barrett says someone probably messed with our guy¡¯s memories and I say you should get your own damned phone.¡± Mallory rubbed the bridge of his nose. ¡°Yes, well, we shall need to make sure we look into that, then. If you are experiencing moments of recall, you are most likely resisting the enchantment on your own and it will break in time. My apprentice can help speed the process along¡­ after the first two Tribulations. The rituals required for the imminent task won¡¯t interact with that sort of magic.¡± ¡°Memory stuff, added to the list,¡± Tia said, going back to her tablet. ¡°Well, that¡¯s something,¡± Aaron said. ¡°So, if I¡¯m going to be jumping into a lake somewhere in Yellowstone in the middle of the night, I don¡¯t suppose we have a wetsuit, SCUBA gear, and a pair of infrared goggles?¡± Mallory and Barrett exchanged a look that, to Aaron, clearly meant they¡¯d never taken such simple, practical concerns into consideration. Barrett pursed his lips in thought. ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any records of equipment being offered to assist in the Tribulations,¡± he said. ¡°Indeed,¡± Mallory added. ¡°The last time this Tribulation was attempted, neither electricity nor natural gas had been effectively harnessed, yet, let alone even newer technologies. Nor do I believe such implements would be appropriate.¡± ¡°Okay, well, can someone at least throw some buffs on me or something?¡± he asked hopefully. ¡°Darkvision, underwater breathing, maybe, uh, transfigure me to have gills?¡± ¡°You¡¯re mixing your mechanics, friendo,¡± Tia said. ¡°What kinda weird homebrew shit do you think this is?¡± Mallory scoffed. ¡°While the specifics are lost on me, I take your meaning to be that you would like us to imbue you with various enchantments to make your task less challenging. As with the technologies you mentioned, I believe to do such would be most inappropriate.¡± Barrett¡¯s response was more considerate and measured, but no more helpful. ¡°The purpose of the Tribulations is to prove you¡¯re the legitimate successor to the Primus Draconis; external aid could seriously undermine that.¡± Anger wasn¡¯t the right word for the emotion Aaron was experiencing ¡ª he didn¡¯t get angry ¡ª but he was¡­ vexed. In more than two hundred years, the Drakon had not considered the very obvious practical limitations of this Tribulation. It was one thing to ask someone to stand on their own two feet and another entirely to tie a rock around their neck. It was not only throwing someone in the deep end ¡ª literally ¡ª but also expecting them to completely shatter the world record for holding one¡¯s breath. Yes, Aaron was vexed. His musing on what, exactly, he should say to express that vexation was interrupted by Tia¡¯s raucous laughter. ¡°That is the most kkondae shit ever, not thinking of how someone¡¯s going to breathe underwater because it¡¯s not mentioned in the ancient scrolls or whatever.¡± That phrase, kkondae, sparked something in Aaron¡¯s memory, but he wasn¡¯t sure what. He¡¯d heard it before and associated it with music, but nothing more specific came to mind. The tension, at least, diffused a bit with Tia¡¯s snarky observations. She was funny and cavalier in a way that reminded Aaron of his friends ¡ª or the friends he used to hang out with, anyways. Barrett chimed in with a more ameliorative tone. ¡°I¡¯m sure it will work out, Aaron. Your predecessors have done this innumerable times in the past. The capability is in you.¡± Aaron closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled through his nose. ¡°My grandpa used to have this question he¡¯d ask me sometimes and I¡¯d like to pose it to you, Barrett. What has more value ¡ª a wish or a worm?¡± The older man had only had a few seconds to consider the odd question when Aaron provided his own answer, in a sense. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the answer, but try to catch a fish with a wish, then tell me what you think. Here¡¯s another pertinent question ¡ª do these ancient traditions say anything about flying in fucking helicopters?¡± Barrett held his hands out in a gesture that suggested he wasn¡¯t going to push the issue and Aaron flopped back against his seat with a frustrated grunt. ¡°Okay fine,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Let¡¯s jump in the lake in the middle of the night in the middle of a national park in the middle of September and just hope for the best.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the spirit! Embrace the horrors of the unknown,¡± Tia said. For all her glibness, she still gave him a reassuring smile. Chapter 17 - Entering the Depths Aaron spent the rest of the helicopter flight looking out one of the porthole windows as the nearly pristine nature of Yellowstone passed below him. He saw several large lakes beneath them, reflecting the moon and starlight, and wondered which one he¡¯d be jumping into blind. Not long after they took off, the helicopters began to descend, setting down beside a miniscule lake. Miniscule, in this case, being a purely geographical term. From the air, Aaron guessed the lake was only a few hundred feet across, but as they dropped lower he realized it was probably thousands wide instead. He was never very good at estimating distances on a map, even with a scale guide. The lake was almost perfectly circular and surrounded by dense forest on all sides, trees marching right up to the banks except for a tiny sliver of land on the southwestern shore. They disembarked from the helicopters with military precision, the security securing the narrow clearing, then Aaron was led to the very edge of the water. The surface was placid, a still reflection of the night sky. Mallory and Tia led him to the very edge of the water, where they began performing some kind of complicated spell. Tia carved occult symbols in the soft earth, sprinkled Aaron with fluids and powders from a variety of little glass containers, and performed other minor ritual acts. Mallory incanted throughout the process, sometimes accompanying his chanting with gestures of his hands or arms. I think it¡¯s more than one spell, actually. Mallory started in something that sounded like Arabic and now he¡¯s into some archaic Germanic language, maybe something Scandinavian or even a really obscure old form of English, Aaron thought after a couple minutes. Also, how cool are those tiny custom bottles or whatever? I kinda want a wall filled with decanters, vials, and ampules. Real off-topic there, Aaron. Sometimes, Aaron thought he felt something, like he could sense the mystic energies whirling around him and brushing over his skin. It could just as easily have just been the night¡¯s chill. Other than that, nothing happened as far as he could discern. When they were done, Mallory stepped away to rejoin Alice and Barrett, but Tia lingered behind to erase the markings she¡¯d carved from the dirt. ¡°Good luck,¡± she said, giving him a thumbs up before returning to the others. ¡°Remember, we shall await your return for twenty-four hours,¡± Mallory said. ¡°Godspeed, Mr. Abrams.¡± With that, there was really nothing left to do but the thing itself. Aaron stood on the shore of the isolated lake, surrounded by towering pines that were little more than a dark wall of shadow in the still night. He looked out over the water for several minutes, trying to find some inspiration or¡­ something that would guide him on what he was supposed to do next. I¡¯ve come this far by embracing the weird, he told himself. I might as well go all-in. He puffed several deep breaths in and out ¡ª that was something divers did, right? ¡ª watching his breath fog a bit in the early autumn weather. The temptation to wade in slowly and let his body acclimate to the chilly lake was strong but this was not a midsummer¡¯s lark; it was a test meant to measure Aaron¡¯s capability and will. Or something like that. He needed to approach it with grit, tenacity, and other adjectives that politely circumvented describing himself as willful and stubborn. ¡°Fuck it,¡± he said. Shutting his eyes, Aaron leapt out over the water. He hung in the air for a long time ¡ª long enough he considered opening his eyes ¡ª then hit the water suddenly and with a loud crack, quickly sinking below the surface. Instead of the electric agony of plunging into frigid water, Aaron had only a general awareness of the water¡¯s temperature. He knew it was cold, but it didn¡¯t feel especially cold. Barrett said something about temperatures not bothering me as much, Aaron thought. That¡¯s a nice perk, but there¡¯s still so many hurdles I¡¯m going to have to deal with here. For instance, Aaron¡¯s eyes were intractably closed. His desire for a pair of goggles that could pierce the gloom of the lake¡¯s depths hadn¡¯t just been an issue of light. They would have, he¡¯d hoped, allowed him to overcome a lifelong struggle ¡ª opening his eyes underwater. It was the kind of irrational fear Aaron knew he could overcome if he confronted and endured it, yet he¡¯d never been able to force himself to go through with it. Perhaps whatever he was supposed to do or find in the water would be apparent to him through some mystical process, but for all he knew you couldn¡¯t ¡®see¡¯ magic¡­ stuff the same through eyelids like you could regular lights. Maybe it wasn¡¯t even visual, but would register to some other sense. Mallory had said it shouldn¡¯t take more than a few hours, so it couldn¡¯t be something that required searching the lake¡¯s bed by touch. Wishful thinking aside, Aaron needed to open his eyes and get moving before he ran out of air. Placing the sides of his forefingers and thumbs against his eyelids, he tried to pry his eyelids apart manually. It worked, for a second, then he jerked away reflexively and his eyes shut again. He put his hands flat against the sides of his head, palms over his temples, and tried to squeeze his brain into cooperating for once. He writhed in the water, hands against his skull, trying to compress his desire into a physical outcome. Drifting in the cool, dark stillness of the lake, Aaron¡¯s attention was drawn to something far more odd than his childish struggle to open his eyes under water. He¡¯d been in the lake at least a minute. He was fairly out of shape after his last year and he¡¯d been smoking cigarettes on and off since he was a teenager, so cardio had never been his strong suit. Yet somehow he wasn¡¯t feeling the slightest twinge in his lungs. Why isn¡¯t my body flipping its shit for oxygen? he wondered. Experienced divers could hold their breath for something like four or five minutes and the world record was probably significantly higher, but overweight smokers? A minute was probably pushing the limit. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Can I breathe underwater? he thought. If that¡¯s a thing dragons can do, why didn¡¯t anyone mention it when I brought up SCUBA gear? Aaron wasn¡¯t about to test it out by recklessly inhaling lake water, but it was something to keep in mind. It also got Aaron thinking about all the other changes he¡¯d been experiencing since this dragon stuff started. He was stronger and tougher than he¡¯d ever been, perhaps more than any normal human had ever been. Could the key to getting his eyes open be found somewhere in that fact? If my eyes are now effectively invulnerable to knives and bullets, what¡¯s a little sloshing water and sediment going to do to them? he asked himself. Best not to think about how they¡¯re famous weak points heroes use to fell dragons. He would need to know that weaker tissues were no less vulnerable than his skin if he wanted to gain the assurance needed to overcome an irrational fear. Since Aaron wasn¡¯t about to stab himself in the eye ¡ª even if he had a knife on hand ¡ª he needed to think of other ways to test his hypothesis. Aaron stuck the tip of his tongue between his teeth and slowly clamped down; there was pressure, but no pain. He gradually increased the pressure, driving his sharp incisors into the fleshy muscle of his tongue. Mild discomfort, but still no pain. He was pretty sure that if he¡¯d done this before, he¡¯d have bitten his tongue off by this point. That strongly suggested delicate tissue was no more vulnerable than any other bit of meat on his body. It was definitely going to be easier to overcome an irrational fear with academic understanding and empirical evidence. Right? He just needed to clear his mind, focus, and accomplish a little mind over matter. Exactly the kind of thing an easily-distracted neurodivergent with poor impulse control could do in a high pressure situation. No problem. Somewhat fortuitously, Aaron was currently floating in a kind of natural sensory deprivation chamber. That should help him to focus as long as he could reap the benefits before he had a psychotic break. If he was remembering what he¡¯d read about sensory deprivation experiments in college, he needed to relax his body to start the process of mental release. It was well-known that the brain influenced the body. What was less widely understood was that this mind-body connection could work in both directions. All Aaron had to do was relax all of his muscles and just¡­ float to jumpstart the process of a major personal revelation. Yep, easy. Unfortunately, when Aaron tried to relax all the muscles in his body, long-ingrained habit took over and he took a deep breath. Water poured in through his nostrils and down his throat, into his lungs. I¡¯m drowning! his brain screamed. I always knew it would end like this! Liquid invaded his respiratory system and Aaron thrashed around in a state of raw panic. Unbidden, he realized he was probably too deep to be causing ripples on the surface. It was a thought as macabre as it was pragmatic ¡ª no one above was likely to know he needed help. Even if they did, they might leave him to die anyway. No¡­it won¡¯t end like this. It can¡¯t end like this, he demanded. I¡¯m supposed to be the Primus Draconis, not a corpse floating in a pond in Yellowstone! The balance of Aaron¡¯s thoughts skewed even darker at the next unwanted thought ¡ª his body probably wouldn¡¯t float for weeks. Come to that, the lake might freeze over before it did and his corpse could be in the water until the spring thaw. At least he¡¯d be fairly well-preserved when his corpse finally made its way to the surface of the lake. Be less goth, you turdcicle, he admonished himself. Less nail polish and poetry, more solutions. Aaron looked around, looking for the light of the moon penetrating the surface of the lake. He shouldn¡¯t be too deep, so if he could orient himself, he could try to break the surface and cough up the water before he was dead. Hang on a second¡­ how the hell am I thinking so clearly? he thought. And how would I see the moonlight with my eyes closed? Now that it occurred to him, Aaron tried to assess anything else unusual with his situation. His lungs had filled with water but, while it was an unusual sensation, it wasn¡¯t causing the debilitating effects he expected. In fact, he felt perfectly normal other than the strange and heavy fullness in his chest. That was a good sign that he probably wasn¡¯t actually drowning. Perhaps more astounding, while he¡¯d been flailing around in ¡ª perfectly rational! ¡ª terror at his imminent gasping, gurgling death, he¡¯d unintentionally opened his eyes and kept them open. Aaron found, to his surprise, that he could see a short distance around himself. It was not entirely unlike standing in a very dense fog or a steam room. There wasn¡¯t really anything to see in the pristine lake, yet Aaron was certain that he was seeing, though he couldn¡¯t explain how he knew it. So dragons come with a lot of built-in buffs, he thought. That¡¯s pretty dope. Now that he was no longer holding his breath, his body had begun to work his lungs again autonomously. The sensation of water pulsing in and out of his lungs was tremendously odd. Practical concerns aside, Aaron had another fundamental problem he had no idea how to overcome ¡ª what the hell was he supposed to be doing down there? Without warning, waves of memories flooded Aaron¡¯s consciousness. Dozens ¡ª perhaps hundreds ¡ª of overlapping experiences, all occurring simultaneously, all as if he were experiencing them in real time. It was nearly impossible to distinguish one from the other or pick out any specific differences. In every one, however, he was doing precisely the same thing ¡ª diving into this lake. And, in every memory, he went to precisely the same place. As if he¡¯d done it many times before ¡ª because he essentially just had ¡ª Aaron dove deeper into the lightless depths, aiming for a specific area of the lakebed. It took him just a few minutes to find what he was looking for: an oblong piece of obsidian set into the surrounding rock. Even if he hadn¡¯t been able to see a hazy impression of the rock wall, Aaron would have eventually found this strange feature. All it would have taken was days or weeks feeling along the stone blindly, until eventually he would touch the smooth, glass-like mineral embedded in the more coarse stone of the lake¡¯s wall. The flood of unexpected memories had definitely been a boon in terms of efficiency, at least, but it was a unique and unsettling experience. Then again, he realized, I¡¯m almost certain no one else would be able to find this stone ¡ª even if they drained the lake ¡ª but I don¡¯t know how I know that. Like he had in all those memories, Aaron swam up to and through the glassy stone as if it weren¡¯t even there. Chapter 18 - Under Yellowstone On the other side of the obsidian slab, Aaron was suddenly no longer submerged in water. Gravity, being an unrelenting and selfish asshole, immediately reasserted its hold over him. He dropped to the floor, but found his feet were under him before he¡¯d finished registering that he was falling. He¡¯d always been quicker than he looked, but nowhere near that fast. Another sign I¡¯m ¡®awakening to my power,¡¯ Aaron thought. Although that still sounds goofy as hell. Ahead of him, a large tunnel had been carved out of the rock, sloping downwards and curving left. The stone of the walls was smooth but they swelled with gentle rises and falls, like waves. The tunnel was at least thirty feet wide and twice as high, with a dense array of massive stalactites hanging from the ceiling. The floor, however, was barren and free of debris or rock formations. Veins of some kind of crystal coursed through every side of the tunnel, emitting a soft blue light that bathed the passage in a soft glow. The flood of memories Aaron had experienced in the lake ended at the passage through the obsidian portal, leaving him with no recollection of this place or idea of what awaited him further down the tunnel. Maybe that¡¯s by design, Aaron thought. This is supposed to be some kind of test, after all. Despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, Aaron was excited to find out and pressed onwards through the tunnel. After at least fifteen minutes following the tunnel, Aaron realized the curve meant the tunnel had circled back on itself several times, like a great spiral or helix. If the tunnel was artificial, it was a terrific feat of construction. Then again, magic probably didn¡¯t give much of a crap about the logistics and limitations of structural engineering. Geological engineering? Some kind of engineering, anyway. As his time walking the gently-spiraling tunnel approached the half hour mark ¡ª or so Aaron guessed ¡ª the roof began to slope downwards. Five minutes later, the tunnel came to an end. It opened into a massive cavern with a low ceiling. Low, in this case, being a relative term, since it was still thirty or forty feet high. The depths of the cavern were awash in a soft orange light that emanated from the floor, which was not solid rock but a lake of magma. A lip of obsidian jutted up from the ground about two feet in height, sloping out over the molten stone and forming a kind of bench on the shore of the fiery lake. ¡°What the hell?¡± Aaron said. ¡°First I¡¯m thrown into a Dungeons & Dragons LARP, now it¡¯s Minecraft?¡± ¡°Does that make me an Ender Dragon, or just the regular kind?¡± a deep voice asked, resonating against the walls of the stone chamber. Aaron scanned the massive space, unsure where the voice had come from. He could find no sign of another person anywhere on the small embankment overlooking the glowing lake or in the tunnel behind him. He even examined the roof, looking for some small opening where a person or speaker might be embedded. After several seconds, Aaron noticed an odd shadow on the surface of the magma. It was darker than the soot-black, partially-cooled clumps of rock that floated on the surface like tiny oil slicks. The shadow was easy to overlook until it blinked at him as his eyes traveled over the pool, seeking the source of that strange comment. Shadows didn¡¯t blink because shadows didn¡¯t have eyes or eyelids, so it was impossible to disregard the dark stain after that. What Aaron had originally mistook for cooled rock or a shadow was neither, but a long, reptilian head partially submerged in the molten slag. Two eyes and a long snout crested slightly above the liquid, not unlike a lurking crocodile, except there were a number of key differences between this beast and a crocodile. First and most notable was the sheer size of the thing. A crocodile with a head as long as the one Aaron was looking at would be somewhere between a hundred and a hundred and fifty feet long. Aaron wasn¡¯t certain, but he believed that would be the largest animal ever known to have existed. Several ridges ran up the great beast¡¯s head, flowing over the nostrils, up the head, then around and over a slightly-protruding brow. The ridges grew more pronounced the further up the head they traveled, resembling something more like spines or horns as they trailed over the scaled crown. The hide of the creature wasn¡¯t gray, green, or even brown like most crocodiles, and was instead a deep mahogany red, with an undertone that had a dark quality, like dark smoke. As it was deeply improbable Aaron was facing a magma-dwelling, giant dinosaur crocodile ¡ª that could talk ¡ª it was somehow less absurd that he was looking at a real life, literal, straight-out-of-legends dragon. Score one for critical thinking! he thought. But¡­ wait a second¡­ let¡¯s keep that critical thinking bus in the station for a minute and let another passenger on board. How would a dragon, living in a lake of magma buried under Yellowstone National Park, know about Dungeons & Dragons or Minecraft? Perhaps there were more pertinent questions to ask that treated this situation with the gravitas it deserved, but that was the wheel squeaking in Aaron¡¯s brain, so he decided it needed to be oiled. ¡°Am I wrong or are you an actual fairy-tale style dragon residing in a secret lava lake under Yellowstone?¡± he asked. ¡°And, if so, that raises the question of how the hell you know about D&D or Minecraft.¡± The great beast lifted its head slightly, its snout and jaw emerging fully from the molten liquid. ¡°I have the internet,¡± the colossal serpent cooed. ¡°You¡¯d be amazed what you can accomplish with immense magical puissance and Amazon Prime. My cult of mind-controlled slaves helps, too.¡± ¡°The internet? Really? Who¡¯s your provider? Wait, what was that last part about slaves?¡± The dragon laughed softly, a rolling, sinuous sound that caused ripples and bulges in the surface of the glowing lake. Then, it hoisted itself a bit more fully out of the magma, until it had emerged to about chest level. The pointed tips of great, leather wings were folded against the dragon¡¯s back. It had arms ¡ª or maybe forelegs, but they were held like arms ¡ª and the great wyrm let them float on the surface of the lake like it was relaxing in the shallow end of a swimming pool. It¡¯s almost like talking to someone sitting in a bubble bath, except it¡¯s in exactly no way like that at all, Aaron thought. The dragon¡¯s arms ended in hands with three fingers and a thumb, each tipped with a claw that was surprisingly less threatening than Aaron had expected, almost like overlong fingernails. They were a deep black with a glossy shine, as if made of obsidian themselves. Do I have to fight this fucking behemoth for the Tribulation? he wondered. That would be wildly unfair, but Aaron couldn¡¯t rule it out. He might be meant to be a leader for the human-sized, can¡¯t-turn-into-a-dragon dragons, but this was the genuine article. Like, the thing was practically fanart, lounging in the hottest of hot tubs. He¡¯d been pleasantly surprised by what he could accomplish as this whole dragon thing had unfolded so far, but if he had to duke it out with the dragon in the lake of fire? He didn¡¯t like his chances. ¡°I¡¯m just fucking with you,¡± the dragon rumbled. ¡°About the cult and the brainwashing, that is. Not about keeping up with the times or my sweet fiber connection.¡± ¡°That¡¯s cool,¡± Aaron said with a nervous laugh. ¡°So, uh, how is it that you¡¯re, y¡¯know, a dragon? I¡¯ve been told actual dragons ¡ª like real life, giant, flying lizard beasts ¡ª are more of a parable resulting from propaganda.¡± ¡°I think you¡¯ll find that many things that are or were true are no longer thought to be,¡± the dragon said. ¡°It has been some time since the drakus could take on our full, ancestral shape.¡± ¡°Why are you different?¡± ¡°That is a complicated tale and one I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll have to learn another time,¡± the dragon said, a tinge of sadness creeping into the response. ¡°But come, let us introduce ourselves properly.¡± Aaron frowned slightly. He had hours to complete this Tribulation, surely there was time enough for the dragon to enlighten him a little about the mysterious nature of its being. Maybe that¡¯s not a hill you want to die on, eh? he told himself. Besides, maybe it¡¯s some kind of personal thing and you¡¯d be prying. ¡°Well, I¡¯m Aaron Abrams,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m here to prove my place as Primus Draconis.¡± The serpent bowed its great head slightly. ¡°I am Raz¡¯ale. It is a pleasure to meet you once more.¡± ¡°Once more?¡± The dragon, Raz¡¯ale, offered no reply other than an enigmatic smile. At least, that was the way Aaron interpreted the look on its face. Is it an ¡®it¡¯? Aaron wondered. That seems like a rude way to think about someone, but I can¡¯t just ¡®they¡¯ the dragon. ¡°Okay, maybe a weird question, but do dragons have sex or gender? How should I refer to you?¡± Raz¡¯ale bared rows of fangs in what might have been a grin. ¡°Dragons are people and have both sex and gender; I am a male.¡± ¡°Cool, very cool. Me, too,¡± Aaron said, rocking on his feet. ¡°So, uh, what is it you¡¯re doing here?¡± ¡°This is Wyrmhold Cavern; I abide here. I wait.¡± ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± ¡°You.¡± Aaron blinked at the dragon several times. Another seemingly simple concept that obviously had a complicated history and connotations attached to it that Aaron had absolutely no sense of. In this case, he thought he could at least piece some of it together from the context. Raz¡¯ale was waiting in this cavern for the Primus Draconis, which was Aaron, but it wasn¡¯t just Aaron; it was many other people over a very long history. This was an easy thing to know in an intellectual sense, but much harder to fully comprehend. It was like the difference between knowing the war was scary and having bullets and artillery flying through the air near you. How many other individuals had been plucked from their lives, hounded by would-be assassins and other unknown dangers, only to find themselves standing in a sprawling cavern filled with magma, facing a dragon? Would they even have had the knowledge to understand what the molten stone was or where it came from? Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The span of this secret history stretches back untold ages, and I¡¯m standing at the end of it, he thought. I never had to consider a legacy or anything like that, but now I feel the weight of it on me. I can bear it; I will bear it. ¡°Why are you waiting for me?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°It is an ancient duty to remain in this sacred place and act as one of the Tribulations.¡± ¡°How long have you been, uh, waiting?¡± ¡°Long,¡± Raz¡¯ale said simply. Again, the dragon offered a monosyllabic answer that carried so much meaning ¡ª history even ¡ª behind it that Aaron couldn¡¯t really wrap his head around it. As desperately curious as he was to know more about that history, Aaron¡¯s personal experience with isolation and withdrawal harrowed his thoughts. ¡°Don¡¯t you get lonely?¡± he asked the dragon. For a long time ¡ª perhaps a minute or more ¡ª the dragon said nothing. The reptilian face was expressive in much the same way a dog¡¯s face was ¡ª all lips and brows ¡ª so Aaron could only pick out large emotions. The dragon didn¡¯t even have ears. The dragon¡¯s seemingly stolid expression and the extended silence started to fray his nerves. Did I put my foot in my mouth, again? Cross some boundary I wasn¡¯t aware of? he wondered. Maybe I should say something¡­ He took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that was too personal.¡± After a moment, the dragon shook its ridged head. ¡°It is no less than I would expect from you, father. You are more compassionate than you realize or often allow others to see. My existence is lonely at times, but magic allows me to view much of the world when I wish, even if I cannot interact.¡± Aaron was no stranger to social isolation and he¡¯d been going through one of the worst bouts of it in his life over the past year. He knew it was no way to live and wanted to comment on that, but something else the dragon said had caught his attention. ¡°You called me father.¡± There was a slight pause from Raz¡¯ale, then, ¡°Are such titles no longer used among the drakus? Scale father, brood father, father of wyrms, patriarch of flame, and so on?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I only became aware of all this dragon stuff a few hours ago,¡± Aaron said, scratching his jaw. The dragon craned its neck forward. ¡°Hmmm¡­ I confess I haven¡¯t paid close attention to the Drakon recently, but isn¡¯t the Vault generally the first Tribulation? Usually followed by some training and education?¡± ¡°This was on the way and I get the feeling they¡¯re a bit desperate after so long and so many failed prospects,¡± Aaron shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since they had a viable candidate to be, uh, me.¡± ¡°I suppose it has been longer than usual since I was last approached by a candidate,¡± Raz¡¯ale mused, tapping his long, clawed fingers on the obsidian lip of the magma pool. As much as Aaron might like to sit around and shoot the shit with an honest to god dragon, Raz¡¯ale had reminded him that he was in the cavern to accomplish something. The dragon obviously had something to do with his task, but there were no serendipitous flashes of insight or memory helping Aaron figure out what that was. Which meant Aaron was going to have to try to find answers another way. ¡°Speaking of the, uh, Tribulations¡­what is it I have to do here?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°All I know is the task is called ¡®entering the depths¡¯ and I had to jump in a lake without an oxygen tank or goggles or a flashlight or even the faintest idea of what the hell I was supposed to be doing.¡± ¡°That¡¯s quite the run-on sentence,¡± Raz¡¯ale said, regarding Aaron with an expression that might have conveyed skepticism. ¡°Would such gadgets and gizmos have been useful?¡± Aaron shook his head. ¡°It turned out I didn¡¯t need them, but it strikes me as shortsighted not to even consider it since no one seemed to know that. They were more worried about tradition than accomplishing their goals.¡± The dragon huffed another small laugh, which sounded a bit like the sound a train made when it first started to move from a stop. ¡°Using tools wouldn¡¯t disqualify you, but I suspect it¡¯s part of the reason you¡¯ve never, in any life, shared information about what this Tribulation entails. Consider this ¡ª if you had utilized those technologies, would you have found the entrance as swiftly as you did?¡± That¡­ was an excellent point. If Aaron hadn¡¯t needed to try holding his breath or struggled to open his eyes, would he have learned he didn¡¯t need an oxygen tank? It was possible the struggle and revelations of his own abilities had prepared Aaron to evoke or endure the flood of memories that told him where he needed to go. Without those trials before the trial, he might not have bonded with the essence of the Primus Draconis sufficiently to even find the obsidian gateway. Barrett did talk about awakening to my power, Aaron thought. And that might be exactly why no one- why I never shared the details of this Tribulation. These were deep questions and it would be a long time before Aaron could even start to make educated guesses about them. He¡¯d like to think dragons weren¡¯t inherently limited from adapting to the world, but adversity had a way of bringing out the best (and worst) of people more effectively than just existing did. What still rankled, however, was that Barrett and Mallory had been unwilling to consider venturing beyond tradition without explicit permission from the past. Being placid, being reactionary, being scared; these things were the slow death of a vibrant society. But Aaron could only address those problems by conquering the challenge in front of him right now. You¡¯re on a tangent; the lava lizard asked you a question, bud, he chided himself. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I could have found the portal if I hadn¡¯t had to overcome the obstacles created by not having that stuff,¡± Aaron confessed. ¡°Is that all there is to the Tribulation? Or is there something else I¡¯m supposed to do?¡± The great wyrm chuckled. ¡°Do? You¡¯ve already done it. You have come here and you are you, just as you always have and always will. None but the one who bears the essence of the Primus Draconis could find and enter this place, drakus or otherwise. Only you, those who came before, and those who will come after could stand here before me.¡± ¡°So I did it? A winner is me? That seems too easy.¡± ¡°I have¡­ impeded candidates I found particularly odious, in the past,¡± Raz¡¯ale said. ¡°I¡¯m not particularly odious? That¡¯s not the best compliment I¡¯ve ever gotten, but I¡¯ll take it.¡± Now the dragon¡¯s head swept forward until the great, fanged maw was just over the lip of obsidian at the edge of the lake. Aaron¡¯s instinct was to push the scaled snout away, but he kept himself still and faced that magnificent visage. ¡°You are, indeed, not particularly odious. This Tribulation is complete.¡± Aaron let out a long breath. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief. Anticlimactic as shit, but still a relief.¡± The dragon¡¯s face inched even closer to Aaron, until it was barely at arm¡¯s length. ¡°We could have us a rassle if you¡¯re not feeling narratively satisfied¡­¡± Raz¡¯ale rumbled. ¡°I¡¯m good, thanks,¡± Aaron said, holding his hands up in front of him. ¡°I know we¡¯re technically done here, but there¡¯s so much more I wish you¡¯d tell me ¡ª about magic, about dragons, about everything.¡± Again, Raz¡¯ale considered Aaron for a prolonged silence. ¡°The world of myth and magic is, like time or love, very complicated. Perhaps we can discuss it further in the future.¡± Aaron frowned at the dragon. ¡°What? After I die and my soul or essence finds someone else?¡± ¡°No, not at all. I meant that, perhaps, you would be interested in visiting me on occasion. No dying needed.¡± ¡°I¡¯d like that,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I imagine I¡¯ll have to be discreet since this Tribulation is supposed to be such a big mystery, but I¡¯ll figure something out. It might take some time, though.¡± ¡°Time I have, in abundance,¡± Raz¡¯ale said, pulling his head back from the obsidian shore. The dragon¡¯s maw spread in something like a grin, at least as far as Aaron could tell. ¡°I will look forward to your visit. I suspect you will face challenges few of your predecessors have had to overcome but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll rise to them admirably.¡± ¡°You say shit like that and it makes me want to call the whole thing off!¡± The great wyrm laughed again and, with a final ¡ª completely absurd ¡ª wave goodbye, sank back into the lake of magma. Aaron watched until Raz¡¯ale had disappeared from view completely. Turning back to the tunnel, Aaron wondered where Raz¡¯ale would even keep a computer down here and how it got power. Does he enchant it so it¡¯s immune to lava? he wondered. Or maybe he just has a literal nerd cave somewhere down here? It was something Aaron hoped to find out in the future. For now, though, he had to get back to the people waiting for him above. Walking back up the spiral tunnel, Aaron tried to calm himself down. He was practically jangling with excitement from his encounter with the great dragon, but it was marred by the knowledge he would have to keep the details to himself. It was a secret that wanted ¡ª no, longed ¡ª to be told; it was also something so profound and personal he wanted to lock it away and jealously hold onto it so it was his and his alone. The cognitive dissonance of those conflicting motivations was a righteous son of a bitch, no two ways about it. Personal pettiness aside, Raz¡¯ale had made a good point: there were reasons each of Aaron¡¯s predecessors had tightly held onto the specifics of this Tribulation. In this case, forewarned might not be forearmed; too much preparation might make completing it impossible, or at least significantly more difficult. I¡¯m missing a piece of the picture, too, he thought. I have no idea what information is passed along after the Tribulation that usually comes first; opening the vault or something like that. He would need to keep that in mind as he trudged back up to the lake and through whatever came next. He was excited to find out what that would be. When Aaron pulled himself up onto the shore of the lake a while later, no one noticed him at first. In fact, he couldn¡¯t really see anyone near the helicopters, either. It was downright spooky ¡ª of more than a dozen people who¡¯d been around the small clearing, now there were none. Was there an attack? he wondered. If he had to run, he had probably the most secure panic room in the world under a few hundred feet of water below him. Movement in the treeline caught his attention. He had a moment of instinctive fear urging him to get low to the ground or slip back into the water ¡ª anything to maintain an advantage ¡ª but he quickly realized it was one of the security personnel. They had apparently moved to less obtrusive positions while he¡¯d been away. Examining the deep shadows at the base of the evergreens, Aaron could see more of the guards stationed around the clearing. He could even see someone in the cockpit of the smaller, military-style helicopter. Before he¡¯d taken another five steps, the door of the big helicopter opened and four people started down the steps to meet him ¡ª Alice, Barrett, Mallory, and Tia. Aaron had used the time walking and swimming back up from Wyrmhold Cavern to think about what he wanted to say. When the others had gathered around him, there was a moment of tense silence. ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± he said. A brief rush of questions followed, but Aaron didn¡¯t offer any more details. Instead, he began to walk towards the helicopter and interrupted with a concern of his own. ¡°My socks are wet; it¡¯s quite uncomfortable. Can anyone do some magic about that?¡± Three of them were taken aback and seemed uncertain of how to respond, but Tia laughed loudly and held out a hand towards him. She muttered something under breath and waves of flameless heat washed over Aaron, drying him out almost immediately. ¡°Much better, thank you¡± he said, then stopped abruptly and turned on his heels to address Barrett and Mallory. ¡°I¡¯m not going to fault you for not knowing whether technology was permissible and I won¡¯t say one way or the other because that should be a choice made by our successors in the future. What I will say, here and now, is that I¡¯m disappointed it wasn¡¯t even considered. That shows a lack of forethought and lateral thinking that¡¯s going to be very dangerous if our enemies are as dedicated to our instability as I¡¯ve been led to believe.¡± ¡°We were navigating completely uncharted waters, so we put our faith in tradition,¡± Mallory said. ¡°No, he¡¯s right,¡± Barrett sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not caution to refuse a compass or sextant in uncharted waters just because no one ever had one before; it¡¯s reckless.¡± It looked like Mallory was getting ready to respond, but before he could Tia slapped him lightly on the shoulder with the back of her hand. His face puckered up for a moment, but he bit back whatever he¡¯d been planning to say. ¡°Okay; what¡¯s next?¡± Aaron asked, resuming the walk back to the helicopters. ¡°We go home,¡± Barrett said, placing a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder. ¡°And where is home?¡± ¡°New York,¡± Barrett answered. Chapter 19 - Renewal A storm was heading for New York. He didn¡¯t know if this storm was figurative or literal, mundane or metaphysical, or how long it might be until it arrived. He didn¡¯t even know how he knew. Moreover, it would have been extremely unwise to delve too deeply into that particular mystery. That the knowledge was so profoundly anchored in his awareness was a suggestion in and of itself. After all, why would he have begun a new life with such a storm building on the horizon? There were only three reasonable conclusions. First, that he was unaware of it before the Renewal. That was the least likely of the three, so he discarded it. Second, that he had undergone the Renewal to hide from it. All things considered, that was also highly unlikely. Which left the third option, that he had conducted the Rite of Renewal specifically to position himself to do something about it. What that something might be would have been even harder to guess, but he had a clue sitting on the dressing table in front of him. When he¡¯d first awakened from the Rite, he¡¯d had only one question: who will I be? In the few minutes since he¡¯d closed the cabinet on the glowing crystal that held all of his consciousness up until the Rite began, he¡¯d learned some answers to those questions. He¡¯d known he was an elf ¡ª one of the oldest, most reclusive races ¡ª as soon as he woke up. How could he not? The Rite of Renewal created a kind of retrograde amnesia, but the magic only removed episodic memory, not semantic and procedural memory. So he knew the things he knew, just not the things he¡¯d experienced. He could go swimming but have no recollection of times he¡¯d swam before, how he learned, or who taught him. Unlike most of his kin, the reflection in the vanity above the dressing table revealed his appearance was more human-like. Most elves were between seven and nine feet tall and exceedingly thin, while he was just barely over six feet tall and could only be considered skinny by human standards. Otherwise, he had the standard elven features ¡ª pointed ears, large eyes, and two rows of stubby, sharp teeth in a too-wide mouth. Taken on its own, his height would have suggested he was either quite young or very, very old. Elves, however, were creatures made of magic and aura as much as biological matter. Their physical bodies were correspondingly more malleable. He, for instance, was a he, complete with awkwardly placed external sex organs. While biological sex and gender weren¡¯t native to elvenkind, some chose to adopt the trappings of other races as an expression of who they were. Although such expressions were usually stable within and between Cycles, it was quite possible he had chosen his body to be as it was specifically for this one. So, a man! And a roughly human-shaped one, to boot, with a regular flesh tone and everything. How¡­interesting. Being creatures equal parts aether and matter, elves were also more susceptible to collective perception than other Creaturae. Adopting a more human appearance ¡ª if it was, in fact, a choice ¡ª would have been easier than maintaining a traditionally elven form. Especially if he were going to be interacting regularly with human society. That perception of elves ¡ª as extra beautiful humans (by human standards) ¡ª stemmed from two things: humanity¡¯s tendency to conflate goodness (or helpfulness) with beauty; and, the shenanigans of the thrice-cursed fae. Those faerie cousins had, more often than not, called themselves to be elves in their dealings with mankind. Now, there was little distinction between them in the mind of most normal people. But a storm was coming, that was the important thing. He couldn¡¯t forget that. On the dressing table were two objects of immediate interest. One, a leather portfolio binder, bore a label in shining gold letters that read Public Face. He had glanced at it and learned it was a small, interactive catalog that offered a selection of various things he would need for his new Cycle; clothing, vehicles, jewelry, and so on. The other was related, but far more interesting. It was a flat metal box which held a number of things a person would need to operate in mundane society ¡ª driver¡¯s license, bank cards, and the like ¡ª and they told the elf his name: Eric Nathanial. Or, at least, that was his name among mundane institutions. The name engraved on a platinum plaque on the lid of the box had read Eresthanon. The most interesting item in the box, however, was an appointment card. About the size of a business card, it was labeled ¡®Final interview,¡¯ had Eresthanon¡¯s name on it, a date and time, and an address in the Financial District. Two symbols were embossed on either end of the card and they told Eresthanon that his new Cycle was likely to be an interesting one. One ¡ª a simple cross with longer horizontal arms that bent downwards towards the end ¡ª was an ancient symbol for justice. It was a symbol that had persisted across millennia but it was rare that the scales were so plainly rendered. The second was another ancient symbol, an eight-pointed star with straight rays in the cardinal directions alternating with shorter, wavy rays. Eresthanon knew those symbols; they were the sigils of an order that upheld and enforced what few laws had been widely accepted to govern the actions of all Creaturae for more than a thousand years ¡ª the Vigiles Creaturae. There weren¡¯t many reasons he would have an interview with the Vigiles which, when coupled with his sense of an oncoming storm, made it all the more urgent he conclude the housekeeping for his Renewal. The cover of the portfolio opened with the soft but satisfying creek of supple leather, revealing a flexible sheet of smooth, glossy material. It was like a sheet of plastic, except an opaque cr¨¨me color. A single word glowed lightly near the top of the sheet: Ethnicity. After tapping the word with a finger, more words materialized on the page, expanded downwards from the title. The words listed a variety of different human ethnicities. Interactive, animated menus and screens might be new to mankind, but it was old magic that was often eschewed as gaudy and cumbersome, not least because it was a nuisance to enchant. Eresthanon chose Caucasian, which most closely matched his natural complexion, and declined a multiracial background. That would make traversing human society much less cumbersome, ridiculous as it was. The reflection in the mirror changed. Although his golden blond hair and sad, amber eyes remained the same, the other features of the illusion hardly resembled his true appearance at all. It was all too broad, in a way: a square jaw compared to his own narrow, sloping lines; a cleft in the pronounced chin; and the cheeks and brow both protruded much more than his own. It was an obnoxiously masculine face ¡ª according to human standards ¡ª as if someone made a caricature of a comic book character then created a photorealistic version of it. Eresthanon had no objections to experiencing maleness in this Cycle, but this was just ridiculous. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Perhaps Eresthanon had, in a previous Cycle, been close to some square-jawed fellow with high cheekbones and that was the root of his disapproval? Or maybe Eresthanon simply wanted to look more like himself. Prosaic, perhaps, and not particularly adventurous, but familiar and sensible. That felt right to him and, just like that, Eresthanon knew a little more about the kind of person he was going to be. The binder didn¡¯t have any obvious way to fine tune appearance. The only other reasonable option was the image itself. Eresthanon prodded the mirror with a finger. At his touch, several small marks around the mirror Eresthanon had mistaken for blemishes expanded, offering a variety of options keyed to various parts of the face. Some were expandable menus like the menu in the binder, while others were sliders and small circles marked at the cardinal directions. With some experimentation, Eresthanon found he could change aspects of size, position, and even orientation of various parts of his appearance. Eresthanon found he was rather particular once he discovered how much control he had over his appearance. He also enjoyed fiddling with the features, seeing what he could look like if he wanted to and he had soon created a face that was fairly close to his own. Only the lack of elvish features really differed between them. With his appearance decided, he turned to the next page of the portfolio. This page had a similar expanding menu, labeled Anchor, and offered a list of jewelry. This, Eresthanon believed, would be the anchor for the illusory disguise he had just selected. After some consideration, he selected a ring. Magic rings were convenient and their recent resurgence in popular culture would further empower and stabilize the disguise enchantment. Platinum alloyed with aethril would serve a similar purpose; assuming, of course, that aethril was a new term for aetherite, which Eresthanon was more familiar with. He was pleased to discover that he possessed an expansive knowledge of magic, both in breadth and depth. He evaluated the enchantments in the portfolio and the binder with a seasoned eye, thought of ways the disguise might be woven and anchored, and even noticed the occasional errant thought on aether refining and forging. It seemed he was an adept sorcerer and that, certainly, would be useful in the coming Cycle. One bit of magic that caught his eye was on the driver¡¯s license. All the text information had been present, but the picture had been blank. When he finalized his illusory visage, the glamour on the ID had changed to match. That was an impressive bit of adaptive linked enchantment, particularly since it appeared to be automatic and didn¡¯t require any attention or input from the enchanter. He worked through the rest of the portfolio fairly quickly. He selected a diverse wardrobe that fit his tastes and expected needs, largely skipped over the fashion accessories, and selected a phone and vehicle. His aesthetic tastes seemed to be firmly established; he gravitated towards sleek and simple options, neither flashy or plain but somewhere in-between. His driver¡¯s license had an address on it, so his lodgings were likely sorted, although he had concerns about the address. It was something he didn¡¯t have time to deal with at the moment, but it would require attention in the very near future. The last page of the binder thanked him for his attention and directed him to go into the next room. Eresthanon gathered up the bundle of identification and departed through a narrow door that opened at his approach. Beyond the door was a long room lined with more than a dozen closets, their polished wood gleaming in the soft lights. There was a door at the far end of the room and another at the midpoint. Another elf, clad in the light green robes that signified a Renewer, stood near the closest door. ¡°Good morning, Eresthanon, and welcome,¡± the elf said. ¡°I am Mallat. I will be something of a concierge for your new Cycle. I can address any questions or requests you may have and I will ensure any goods you don¡¯t take with you will be promptly delivered to your residence.¡± Mallat raised the doors on two of the closets, which slid up into the ceiling, revealing that they were closer to armoires than closets, with both hanging racks and drawers. They contained the clothes and other items Eresthanon had selected just a few minutes prior, as well as additional goods that Mallat said were added to round out his wardrobe, all of it in line with the styles and preferences from his choices in the portfolio. Mallat advised him to mark anything he disliked with one of the small red tags that were provided and they would be removed before everything was sent out for delivery. The drawers also contained the ring that bore his illusory disguise, the phone he¡¯d selected, and keys for both the vehicle he¡¯d chosen and his home. Mallat provided an overnight bag and suggested he pack a few days of clothes, just in case scheduling delivery had any complications, then stepped out of the room through the far door to let Eresthanon get changed. A few minutes later, Eresthanon stepped out to meet Mallat dressed in a gray suit with a pale blue sweater instead of shirt and tie. ¡°Was everything to your liking?¡± Mallat asked. ¡°Yes, quite,¡± Eresthanon said, ¡°It seems everything is in order and I, for one, am interested to see what the future will bring.¡± Mallat inclined his head in a slight bow and stepped out of the way of the door. ¡°I hope it will be an enlightening experience, Eresthanon.¡± Eresthanon stowed his identification documents, phone, and keys in his pockets. ¡°Calm crossings,¡± Eresthanon said and, with a final smile to Mallat, took his leave. The passage from the room led to an elevator, which led to a hallway, which in turn deposited Eresthanon in a parking structure. A number of cars were parked within sight, but the one closest to the door happened to be a car that matched the one Eresthanon had picked from the portfolio. It was an almost aggressively nondescript sedan, dark in color with heavily tinted windows, nice but not ostentatious. And, as it would happen, the key fob in Eresthanon¡¯s pocket worked. Eresthanon put his overnight bag in the trunk and got in. With a little under two hours until his appointment with the Vigiles Creaturae in the Financial District, Eresthanon decided to take a few minutes to set up his phone to his liking. The meeting was in the Financial District; at this time of day, two hours would be ample time from just about anywhere in the city even if he opted to use surface streets over the Byways. The phone turned out to be more complicated than he expected as it came with an app that included some very sophisticated integrated security enchantments. Building a profile and getting everything just so took a few minutes, but Eresthanon felt it was worth the time. When he finished with his phone, he drove out of the parking garage and onto a two lane road facing an emergency entrance to a hospital. He was, apparently, very familiar with New York City. It took him a moment to get his bearings, but only a moment, and he realized he was in Morningside Heights, which meant the hospital was Mt. Sinai Morningside, St. John¡¯s Cathedral was behind him, and Columbia University was a block and a half away. Another thing he realized as he pulled out onto W 113th was that he didn¡¯t just know New York, he had known New York for a very long time. He couldn¡¯t remember the experiences themselves, but as he thought of landmarks he could imagine what those spaces had been like in the past going back to the very start of the settlement. It was a lovely autumn day, cool but not cold, and the sun was bright in the sky. Eresthanon decided to take Morningside Drive, cross the northern edge of Central Park, then take the FDR down along the East River. It was a nice scenic route that, barring catastrophe, would get him to his appointment with time to spare. The drive should give him ample time to discover what kind of New Yorker he was going to be. Would he be rude to his fellow drivers? Was he proud of the Yankees or disappointed in the Mets? And, of course, did he think New Jersey was a real place, or the fevered imaginings of some sewer demon? Eresthanon was excited to learn more about himself. Chapter 20 - Vigiles It took a little over an hour for Eresthanon to make the drive from Upper Manhattan to the Financial District in Downtown and it had been a lovely drive. His destination was a limestone and granite building twenty to thirty storeys tall, perhaps more, with setbacks for the higher floors recessed in the fashion that had become popular-by-mandate in the early twentieth century. At first, Eresthanon thought he might have pulled up to the wrong building. The entire first floor was taken up by a daycare, which simply wasn¡¯t the kind of thing you expected to see at a holding of the storied magical law enforcement society. Then again, there was only so far dimensional magic could go to alleviate certain physical realities of the universe represented, including the harsh vagaries of Manhattan real estate. The matter was settled when he reached the entrance to the building¡¯s parking garage on the east corner of the building. A lovely, tree-lined courtyard sat beside the building and a man in a plain, brown suit sat at the end of a bench near the sidewalk, eating a sandwich and reading a book. The illusion was neither powerful nor complex ¡ª meant only to fool those with no praeternatural senses ¡ª and Eresthan saw through it without even trying. The portly, bearded man was, in fact, almost ten feet tall, with skin like stone, and small horns on his forehead. What stood out, however, wasn¡¯t the troll sentinel eating their sandwich, but the sigil glowing on the book behind the illusion ¡ª the simplified symbol for the scales that adorned one end of the appointment card in his wallet, one of the symbols of the Vigiles Creaturae. Pulling into the garage, he saw that several overhead signs also bore hidden sigils, guiding him to his destination within the concrete warren. Eresthanon wondered over the nature and purpose of his appointment. The card had said it was a final interview, which suggested he would not only be questioned by members of the Vigiles but that he had been before. Every reason that occurred to him about why he might have chosen to undergo a Rite of Undergoing Renewal in the midst of a series of interrogations was concerning. He must have known the Rite removed episodic memory, leaving him unable to answer any questions about specific knowledge he might have previously held. That didn¡¯t speak well to his intentions and, though there was nothing he could do about it without ending this Cycle, he resolved to be forthright with the Vigiles and not willingly participate in any skullduggery to undermine or circumvent the law. The idea that this new Cycle may have been a way to not personally endure a long punishment for previous crimes sprang into his mind and, for a second, he considered driving out of the garage and living in hiding. Not only was that childish and irresponsible, it also didn¡¯t hold up to scrutiny. Whomever he had been in a previous Cycle might not have been an upstanding citizen, but if Eresthanon was meant to bear the burden of their criminality, all the things he¡¯d be given for this Cycle ¡ª a new wardrobe, vehicle, expensive homes, and very healthy financial accounts ¡ª wouldn¡¯t make sense. It was, theoretically, possible Eresthanon was an instrument of some chicanery from his previous self, but incarceration or a more severe punishment seemed unlikely. Three levels down, Eresthanon reached a section of the garage that was sectioned off by a gate of wide metal bars. Signs on the gate said it was private access only and a small security booth sat to the side of it. For all that the guard looked like a normal human, the symbol of the scale glowed on the identification card hanging on their breast. Eresthanon stopped and rolled down his window. ¡°Good afternoon.¡± ¡°Good afternoon, sir. ID badge, please.¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have one, but I have an appointment soon.¡± The guard typed on a small keyboard in the booth for a few seconds, then opened a paper ledger on the desk. ¡°What¡¯s the name?¡± Eresthanon hesitated, unsure which name the appointment was likely to be under, and decided to go with both. ¡°Eric ¡®Eresthanon¡¯ Nathanial.¡± The guard checked the ledger and computer monitor again, then produced a visitor¡¯s badge and handed it to Eresthanon. ¡°Take a left at the end of the lane and you¡¯ll find visitor¡¯s parking. You¡¯ll see an elevator before you make the turn; that will take you to the building.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Eresthanon said, clipping the visitor¡¯s badge onto his breast pocket and offering the guard a polite smile. A few moments later, Eresthanon stood before the elevator. It was an old-fashioned thing, with external doors made of bronze, wood, and decorated with an Art Deco mosaic. The interior was even more antique. The wood paneling, carpet, and metal fittings were all quite handsome, but terribly out of place ¡ª Eresthanon was fairly certain the building was a post-war construction, at the earliest; the elevator predated it by decades ¡ª and the car had an internal metal scissor gate, brass-plated control panel with only a few buttons, and half-circle indicator dial above the door. It even had a small bench built right into the wall where an operator would have sat when the car was operated manually. The control panel had four buttons, marked by letters instead of numbers: U, M, B, and P. The indicator dial confirmed the order of floors matched the buttons; Eresthanon was on the level marked P, likely for Parking. Eresthanon knew older elevators didn¡¯t use standardized buttons, but he had no idea which of the floors he was meant to go to. Thankfully, the doors closed and the cabin began to move on its own before he could settle on trying one. When the doors opened, it was to a room that bore a strong resemblance to a police station in a movie from the Golden Age of Hollywood. A sturdy wooden reception desk ¡ª elevated slightly, framed by a wooden banister along its front, and an arched window above ¡ª dominated the wall across from the elevator. Walls extended to either side of the desk, with a half glass door to its right that had the word PRIVATE painted on the window in block letters, and a more generic door at opposite ends of the room. Wide wooden benches with deep red cushions affixed to the backs lined the other walls. Eresthanon had to wonder if the Vigiles simply hadn¡¯t bothered to hire an interior decorator since the 1940s or if the noir aesthetic was intentional. At least some things were a bit of a departure from old cliches, as behind the large desk, rather than a surly desk sergeant looking harried and put-upon, a young human man with immaculately coiffed hair and a slightly extravagant suit was reading a magazine. Then again, if the receptionist turned out to be excessively sassy or flirtatious, conspicuously smacked on chewing gum, or had anything remotely resembling a rapid-fire Mid-Atlantic accent, Eresthanon might be looking at a Guy Friday situation. ¡°Well hello, sailor,¡± the young man said, a hint of a mischievous lilt in his voice. ¡°What can I do you for?¡± Elves, being made of magic as much as meat, hadn¡¯t undergone the same evolutionary development as other races; in fact, they hadn¡¯t evolved at all. The first elf to ever exist should be, functionally, identical to the youngest. Without natural predators or competition for resources, elven psychology had some key differences from the others. For instance, emotions weren¡¯t as visceral for them and their feelings rarely influenced their biology. Thanks to this diminished elven physiological reaction to emotion, Eresthanon didn¡¯t actually have to suppress a sigh, but the impulse was there nonetheless. Instead, he offered the most minute nod and smile he could manage. ¡°I have a 4 o¡¯clock appointment. My name is Eresthanon.¡± ¡°You are expected, oh my, yes! Just a moment and I¡¯ll be right with you.¡± If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The young man set down his magazine and stepped away from the raised desk, emerging a moment later through the door marked PRIVATE. He walked to a plain door on the wall further to the right and pushed it open. ¡°Right in here, sweetie.¡± Eresthanon entered a small conference room. Like everything else at this office of the Vigiles Creaturae, it was tasteful without being lavish, but the decades-old style didn¡¯t need to be loud to be ostentatious. It would be comfortable, at least, with those big leather chairs. The elf turned back to the receptionist with a mildly inquisitive look. The young man gave him a saucy wink. ¡°Someone will be along shortly, just take a seat and whistle if you need anything. You do know how to whistle, don¡¯t you?¡± Eresthanon said none of the things that flashed into his mind, he simply smiled and nodded. There was barely time to get comfortable in one of the plush chairs before the door to the conference room opened again and two new people strode in. The first was a large man, tall and broad shouldered. He was a sphinx or of sphinx descent judging by the fact he had falcon wings and haunches of a lion; he wore a suit tailored to accommodate both. The wings, Eresthanon thought, would be the easy part, requiring only careful slits in the back of his shirt and coat, though they might bunch when he flew if they were poorly made. The pants, however, were a true sartorial marvel, following the contours of his lower body enough not to billow but with ample room to allow comfort in movement and sitting. The sphinx had dark, curly hair and a Mediterranean complexion, both fairly common traits among sphinxes even in the modern era. The woman following behind him was tremendously plain, but only by comparison. She was youngish, black, and petite, with her dark hair in long braids. She wore dark, utilitarian clothes that wouldn¡¯t have been out of place on a police officer or soldier. Square shoulders and the corded muscles of her well-toned arms suggested a wiry strength. Eresthanon thought she would have been considered quite beautiful by human standards, even though some might not appreciate such sharp features. She also had the slightly pinched features commonly referred to as resting bitch face. It was funny how humans only ever seemed to slap that label on women, but had no problem with men who had a naturally dour face. Funny enough to make you cry, if you weren¡¯t somewhat aloof from your own emotions thanks to elven physiology. Then again, he was seeing her for the first time and this human stranger could be objectively pissed about something, so he was making a snap judgment of his own. Eresthanon rose from the seat as they entered. He didn¡¯t know what, exactly, he was there for, but it was never indiscreet to be polite until you had sufficient reason not to be. The sphinx crossed the room to him and reached across the table to take his hand in a firm shake. The sphinx spoke with a surprisingly high, soft voice and introduced himself in a form of elvish that was outrageously archaic and almost inappropriately formal, as if he were addressing a member of one of the High Courts. There was plenty of Greek and Latin mixed in, which was to be expected given the origins of the Vigiles. Minus the peccadilloes inherent to his formal elvish, what he said could be translated as, ¡°I am Kopan Khaldun, Praetor of the Vigiles Creaturae and operational chief of North America. It is an honor to be in your presence and we hope you regard ours the same.¡± The two titles ¡ª Praetor and operational chief ¡ª were, Eresthanon believed, distinct from each other. With a mildly bemused expression, Eresthanon nodded acknowledgement, responding in English. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Praetor.¡± Khaldun coughed lightly into one fist ¡ª perhaps to buy a moment to think or even to cover embarrassment ¡ª then continued in English himself. ¡°My apologies if my elvish was stilted or flawed. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve never reached beyond basic proficiency and my training was geared towards dealing with ambassadors from the High Courts. My associate here is Quaesitor Aaliyah Dean.¡± Eresthanon inclined his head to the young woman. Unless Eresthanon was much mistaken, a Quaesitor was an investigative role in the Vigiles akin to a detective. If he were to be questioned on some criminal matter from his previous Cycle, she would likely be the one doing the asking. She merely looked back at him. For all that Khaldun had greeted him warmly enough, she didn¡¯t seem at all pleased to be there. Or, again, he could be making a snap judgment based on nothing more than her natural facial structure. And wouldn¡¯t that just be terribly human of him? Khaldun sat in one of the chairs ¡ª with very little awkwardness despite his feline hindquarters ¡ª and gestured for Eresthanon to do the same. Dean remained standing, just behind Khaldun¡¯s chair. ¡°I understand you aren¡¯t clear on the nature of this interview. Is that correct?¡± Eresthanon nodded. ¡°Let me put your mind at ease: you¡¯re not in any trouble with the law. Quite the opposite, in fact. This is a final interview for you to join the Vigiles Creaturae as an agent of that law.¡± That answered Eresthanon¡¯s lingering question about the purpose of this meeting and in a way that left him far less concerned about the life choices of his previous Cycle. The idea that the ¡®final interview¡¯ with the Vigiles Creaturae might have been a job interview had never occurred to him, and for a very good reason. Eresthanon blinked a few times. ¡°Join the Vigiles Creaturae? But¡­ I¡¯m an elf. Has there ever been an elf in the Vigiles?¡± ¡°Both the Vigiles and your own people have historically been hesitant to see elves join our ranks ¡ª even considering the unique capability of elvenkind to essentially create an entirely new life and identity ¡ª but there have been instances when it has happened. Twice, in fact, in the thirteen centuries since the Formation.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not surprising it¡¯s so few given our isolationist tendencies; I¡¯m just surprised there have been any,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°My people have a fondness for justice, but we rarely participate directly outside of our own governance.¡± Khaldun smiled. ¡°The history of all our races are littered with the occasional elven hero or sage, lending a hand to thwart an evil or right a wrong. It stands to reason that two of your kin, opting for the relative drudgery of law enforcement, might not stand out.¡± At a gesture from the sphinx, Dean produced and handed him a folder. ¡°Of course, you are your own person and are free to walk away from the position. On the other hand, if you¡¯d like to pursue it, our final interview will be a fairly simple process; just a survey on law, history, and personality to demonstrate your readiness for the job.¡± One question answered and now he was faced with another: did Eresthanon want to work for the Vigiles? He must have been quite motivated, in his previous Cycle, to do so; no matter how Khaldun might downplay it, the Vigiles would certainly have been more than merely hesitant to allow elves among their ranks. The first and most famous requirement for membership in the Vigiles was a renunciation of all outside affiliation, a pledge of loyalty to the organization and the laws it upheld. This policy, Eresthanon knew, had been instituted at the First Reformation more than five centuries earlier. Elves were not just among the races least likely to forsake their ancestral allegiance, they further complicated the issue because of their ability to adopt ¡ª and relinquish ¡ª new identities. Was it possible to fully trust the loyalty of someone who had lived other lives and could pick those lives back up at a moment¡¯s notice? Still, the idea appealed to him and he was inclined to say yes. Not only had this apparently been quite important to him in his last Cycle, but hadn¡¯t he spent the last hour considering how unwilling he was to undermine, evade, or mislead the law? Eresthanon also had to take his sense of a building storm into consideration. As it was likely he had that sense before his Renewal, it was also likely joining the Vigiles was connected to it. He didn¡¯t want to tie his new life in this Cycle to his motives in the last, but he seemed to be in a position to do something in relation to the tumult he could feel. He wanted to see what that something would turn out to be. ¡°I believe I would like to continue in this endeavor, Praetor Khaldun,¡± Eresthanon answered. ¡°I may not know every detail about the person I am and will become, but I am confident in my dedication to the law and my principles.¡± ¡°Excellent,¡± Khaldun said. ¡°This binder contains the survey in two forms, on paper and on tablet; use whichever you¡¯re most comfortable with. If you come across any questions you can¡¯t answer, don¡¯t guess. Mark them with an X and move on. When you¡¯re done, let the receptionist know.¡± Khaldun slid the binder across the table to Eresthanon and stood. With a final nod to Eresthanon, he and the young woman accompanying him, Quaesitor Dean, left the conference room. Eresthanon opened the binder and found one cover had a tablet affixed to it and the other a sheaf of papers. A ballpoint pen and styles were held in a small pouch on each side. Since the paper survey didn¡¯t seem too dense, Eresthanon decided to fill it out by hand. He flipped back the cover and began. Chapter 21 - Iustitia per Vigilantiam Praetor Khaldun had called it a survey ¡ª and Eresthanon supposed that was as accurate a choice of word as any ¡ª but it was likely going to be scored in some fashion and that made it an exam. The elf didn¡¯t know when, if ever, he¡¯d last taken an exam, but he wasn¡¯t relishing the experience, novel though it may have been. Still, the questions on the first page were straightforward and Eresthanon was confident in his knowledge. His aim was to be concise in his answers, but it did give him a chance to consider things from a perspective that hadn¡¯t existed until a couple hours ago. Each asked Eresthanon to describe one of the Four Pillars ¡ª the ostensibly simple laws the Vigiles investigated and enforced among the Creaturae ¡ª and any issues he was aware of around their enforcement. They were the bare minimum needed to prevent chaos and even then most had only been widely accepted for a little over a thousand years. The First Pillar: Death is a loss to us all, murder the greatest theft. Murder. Almost every civilization made this one of their first and most grievous criminal acts. The connection with theft might confuse a regular person, but for Creaturae death wasn¡¯t always final, so framing it in a way that made sense to the selfish and powerful made a twisted kind of sense. Along with the usual debates over what qualified as justified killing, the Creaturae had long-standing ¡ª and bitter ¡ª disagreements over whether the First Pillar applied to the killing of other Creaturae or to mundane humans, as well. Eresthanon knew that, more often than not, the Vigiles had not extended the protection of the First Pillar to mundane humanes. The Second Pillar: Thy essentia is thine own. Prohibiting a more literal form of theft, the Second Pillar effectively forbade the taking of another¡¯s essentia against their will. Magic was possible because of aether ¡ª an omnipresent, intangible substance that permeated all of existence ¡ª and essentia was the name for aether when given a physical form, particularly when unrefined. Enforcement was probably the most complex of the Four Pillars, as what was considered a violation was the subject to many arguments. Raw essentia ¡ª and its sources ¡ª were usually protected, as was the currency that was generally made from it. Other forms essentia took, particularly objects imbued with the substance to create powerful magic items, were trickier. Everything else ¡ª land, buildings, servants, normal money, and so on ¡ª were up for grabs in the shadow games of the Creaturae. The Third Pillar: The secret must be kept. Added in the 16th century, almost a thousand years after the Vigiles was formed, the Third Pillar was a radical departure from the status quo, seeing the Creaturae go into hiding from the rest of the world. Some scholars might have argued that things like the Inquisition were the cause of this Pillar¡¯s creation, but Eresthanon knew it had been loosely enforced in its infancy. The Enlightenment changed things. As humanity began to turn away from superstition and the mystical, it quickly became evident there were dangers in a more rational mankind the Creaturae had never faced before. Not only did this diminished belief weaken magic in general, these new, rational humans would seek to understand and exploit what they didn¡¯t understand. While some Creaturae might effectively be invulnerable to anything a mundane person or group could do, the vast majority were not. The Fourth Pillar: Time is inviolable. Meant to curb the rarest and potentially most dangerous magic, the Fourth Pillar had become less of an absolute ban and more of a labyrinthine framework of precedent over what was and wasn¡¯t permitted and under what circumstances. The difficulty of manipulating time, even on the smallest scale and the most minimal results, made the Fourth the Pillar that was broken the least often. It was, however, tested. Unlike the other Pillars, those accused of breaking the Fourth were far more likely to argue the law didn¡¯t apply in their specific circumstances than that they were innocent of manipulating time. Any form of movement through time ¡ª even purely sensory acts meant for observation ¡ª remained completely prohibited. The rest of the survey was more complex, containing a mix of short answer questions that checked Eresthanon¡¯s analytical thinking, personality, and knowledge of history. Each contained clever prompts and traps meant to tease out insight into who Eresthanon was. He found the exercise thoroughly enjoyable because he wasn¡¯t exactly sure who that might be. The questions on history were the most noteworthy, because they contained a number of references to events Eresthanon was fairly certain hadn¡¯t happened. There were few purposes such questions could serve. One would be to test how thoroughly the Rite of Renewal had scoured his memory, which suggested that some of the fake historical events weren¡¯t as fake as they seemed to him and there was the possibility he had personally participated in them. That would mean his involvement was so extensive the Rite had removed even general knowledge. Or the questions could have been designed to see if he would fixate on trying to glean clues about his previous Cycle. There was another possible trick to the questions: if none of them had happened, they would show if he felt compelled to produce an answer even when he didn¡¯t have one. That was a personality trait you definitely wouldn¡¯t want in someone who would be investigating crimes. Rather than dwell on them, Eresthanon marked each question that fell into that category with an X, as he¡¯d been instructed. His past was interesting ¡ª and he found he did like a mystery ¡ª but among the elves it was considered an insult to the Rite of Renewal to dwell on it. More importantly, though, Eresthanon truly was more interested in who he was going to be, not who he had been. It took a little over an hour to complete the survey. Praetor Khaldun and Quaesitor Dean returned to the conference room a few minutes after he told the receptionist he was done. Khaldun scanned the survey quickly, then handed the folded back to Dean. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Everything looks in order, then,¡± the sphinx said. ¡°All that¡¯s left are the formalities.¡± Khaldun rose from his seat and withdrew a small clay tablet from somewhere in his suit jacket. It was six inches by four inches and three inches thick. An eight-pointed star was engraved into the face of the tablet, just like the one on the appointment card. Eresthanon hadn¡¯t thought about it much earlier, but he recalled that the symbol was commonly called the Star of Shamash. He suspected the other side of the table would be engraved with the scales. The elf rose from his seat, as well. Khaldun cleared his throat and held the tablet flat before him. ¡°Now begins the swearing of oaths. I name you, Eresthanon of the elves, and call on you to bind yourself to the Vigiles Creaturae. Will you freely give your allegiance to our cause?¡± Eresthanon, in the tradition of the elves, held up his hand, flat with fingers together, and placed his fingertips against his chin just under his mouth. Even if he turned out to be a die-hard New Yorker, he would never mix up the ancient gesture for speaking solemn truth the elves had been using for much of their history with the somewhat similar beginning of a common hand gesture. That usually started under the chin, after all. ¡°I do give my allegiance to the cause of the Vigiles Creaturae,¡± he replied. ¡°And do you give your promise to uphold and support the Four Pillars, abiding by and defending them?¡± ¡°I do promise to uphold and support the Four Pillars. I will abide by their strictures and protect them,¡± Eresthanon pledged. ¡°And will you conduct yourself as an agent of these laws faithfully and without reservation?¡± ¡°I will conduct myself faithfully and without reservation as an agent of those laws.¡± The star on the tablet shone with a faint blue light at the conclusion of the oath. Eresthanon maintained somber eye contact with Khaldun, though he had the smallest impulse to smile. How many initiates to the Vigiles had thought the oath magically binding because of that bit of theatricality, he wondered. A geas, a proper magical geas, had certain conditions that simply weren¡¯t being met here ¡ª for instance, Eresthanon knew the terms of the oath, but not the consequences of violating it ¡ª but more importantly, a geas settled into the mind like a kind of intuition, easy to tune out but impossible to ignore, like pants that were slightly too loose. Eresthanon had no such sensation and he was keenly attuned to such things as both an elf and a wielder of magic. It was possible the tablet applied a curse, which could be more discreet, but it would have to be carefully done to avoid notice, which would be entirely counterproductive considering the accompanying light show. More likely, it was meant to impress the unwary with the severity of their oaths and disincentivize them from shirking their duty. Eresthanon thought that would be a clever application of psychology without directly infringing on the will of others. ¡°Having so sworn,¡± Khaldun continued, ¡°you are hereby appointed to the position of Tribune Legatus, pending the satisfactory completion of a probationary period, at which point you will be elevated to a full Tribune. I now present to you your badge of office.¡± Khaldun withdrew a thin leather wallet from another pocket , flipping it open to reveal a gleaming golden badge, another eight-pointed star. All the rays of this one were straight, but the points at the cardinal directions were longer. The sigil of the scale was also emblazoned in the center. Words arced along the top and bottom of the center of the star. The top was the name of the agency, Vigiles Creaturae, and along the bottom was their credo ¡ª Iustitia per Vigilantiam, justice through vigilance. The Praetor slid the wallet across the table to Eresthanon. He lifted the wallet from the table and stared at the gleaming badge. To think, when he¡¯d realized his appointment was with the Vigiles, he had been worried his Cycle¡¯s purpose was to somehow suborn or bypass the law. Instead, he had discovered that he was going to be an instrument of that law, a defender of order and justice. The Vigiles stood in stark contrast to the laws of men, which were used for control and maintaining the status quo as often ¡ª or more ¡ª than for the well-being of the people. But they were also more like a basic framework than a full system of government. The various factions and races were trusted to handle their own affairs so long as they didn¡¯t violate one of the Pillars. That could get very messy and brutal conflicts were not uncommon; the Four Pillars ensured things never escalated too far. In theory, at least. That wasn¡¯t to say the history of the Vigiles was free of blemishes. When it was formed in the early eighth century, the Vigiles was a collaborative effort ostensibly meant to create a standard of conduct to limit how warfare was conducted among the Creaturae. It was spearheaded by numerous influential orders of magi who asked for representatives to be sent from a number of major factions. In practice, the early Vigiles had been a tool wielded by the magi in charge for their own ends. An internal revolt in the fifteenth century led to the First Reformation, which brought about major changes in the organization. Before then, members hadn¡¯t been required to disavow their former loyalties and pledge themselves to the Vigiles and the Pillars. The judiciary of the Vigiles Creaturae was inquisitorial, rather than adversarial, and the highest duty of all officers of the court was the pursuit of truth; determining guilt was simply a byproduct of such inquests. Trials were conducted by a panel of three magistrates, two prosecutors, and two advocates for the accused. Eresthanon wondered if they¡¯d modeled their system after the elves. When a dispute or crime affected members of two of the three elven High Courts, a representative of each Court sat in judgment, with an additional two representatives on each panel. An advocate from each of the two Courts involved would sit on a panel and the third Court would be represented on both. This design was intended to keep the proceedings in search of the truth, rather than in search of victory. It raised the question of what, exactly, Eresthanon¡¯s duties in the Vigiles would be. Each of the titles mentioned so far ¡ª Praetor, Quaesitor, and Tribune ¡ª were judicial positions in Roman antiquity, but they served a number of other functions, as well. Eresthanon didn¡¯t think he was signing on for some sort of administrative posting. It had only been a few hours that Eresthanon had been himself, but he had the distinct impression that paperwork and bureaucracy would be deeply unappealing to him. Was he a man of daring action? He couldn¡¯t say. But he certainly didn¡¯t think he was a pencil pusher. ¡°Thank you, Praetor,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°What will the duties of the office involve?¡± ¡°As a Tribune, your role is largely investigative, not unlike a police detective,¡± Khaldun said, then gestured to the woman behind him. ¡°Quaesitor Dean will be your partner in the field as well as your training supervisor. She¡¯ll take you to get your equipment and start getting you oriented to the job.¡± Dean inclined her head slightly to acknowledge that she¡¯d been mentioned, but didn¡¯t respond otherwise. He couldn¡¯t have said why, but Eresthanon had a sense that she was not happy with the situation. Khaldun took a step back from the table, nodding to both Eresthanon and Dean. ¡°I look forward to seeing what you can contribute to our vigil, Tribune Legatus.¡± The Vigiles didn¡¯t go for the whole saluting thing, apparently, as the Praetor departed the room without further fanfare, leaving the elf and the young woman alone. Chapter 22 - Badge of Office Throughout the process of Eresthanon¡¯s initiation, Aaliyah Dean had not so much as wiggled an eyebrow. Her face had remained fixed in its natural state: pissy. Some people ¡ª men in particular; the mundane, non-magical sort most of all ¡ª had a tendency to read the natural state of her face as some kind of insult against the raw sex appeal of their cocks or whatever it was men got their panties all twisted up about whenever a woman didn¡¯t fawn over their bullshit. Well, fuck ¡®em. All those assholes were lucky she wasn¡¯t (still) the feisty type who would gladly slap someone for calling her a bitch. She¡¯d never had a problem holding her own against dickheads with an attitude. Even when they had sexual dimorphism to carry their water for them, she¡¯d scrapped enough times she could pretty much mitigate the disadvantages biology had unfairly foisted on her. These days, she was stronger than the strongest man on the damn planet (weirdos like her excluded, of course). It didn¡¯t make her taller ¡ª because of fucking course it didn¡¯t ¡ª but being a weirdo came with plenty of perks. One of those perks was not, apparently, working alone. In the six years since Aaliyah had joined the Vigiles, she¡¯d managed to avoid a partner almost the entire time, which wasn¡¯t unheard of for investigative positions. For the past two years, however, she¡¯d been a Quaesitor in the rough equivalent to a major case squad ¡ª detectives who investigated particularly serious violations of the Four Pillars. In that squad, working with a partner was standard operating procedure. Even still, she¡¯d managed to duck it until today. Now, she was saddled with some elf dude and it was, apparently, a Big Deal. No doubt after she¡¯d trained him in the basics of their job, she¡¯d be stuck with him. Aaliyah didn¡¯t know quite what to make of this Eresthanon guy so far. He seemed respectful and professional, but he was also a pretty boy. Those were almost always more trouble than even the average man was worth. She did have to wonder why he looked so human. She¡¯d always heard elves were walking freak show nightmares that looked like a cross between the demon guy from Death Note and a Slenderman. Maybe he was a half-elf? Were those a thing? And his clothes. A light-colored suit with a pale, almost pastel, sweater instead of a shirt and tie. She didn¡¯t know if he was wearing boat shoes or penny loafers, but her instincts said he definitely was. He looked like the guy in the backseat in a Night at the Roxbury sketch. Or maybe the keyboardist for the Dick in a Box guys. All he needed was a stupid chain to complete the look. The elf didn¡¯t look sleazy, actually, but it was the vibe. Sure, he¡¯d been professional in both meetings and he hadn¡¯t leered or ogled her, plus he¡¯d spoken respectfully and apparently Khaldun had found nothing objectionable in his survey responses¡­ Okay, come to think of it, maybe she was just fuming over having to partner up with someone and it was coloring her judgment. She didn¡¯t normally let stuff like this get to her, but this wasn¡¯t a case so she wasn¡¯t in the right headspace to compartmentalize everything like she usually did on the job. In fact, it had been a couple weeks since she¡¯d had a case and that was wearing on her more than she wanted to admit, too. This elf guy might not be a total piece of shit and she could consider giving him the benefit of the doubt. From what little Khaldun had said, he had a pile of valuable skills, not least of which was an impressive knowledge and command of magic, even by elven standards, and he¡¯d basically erased all his memories to take on the job. That suggested a level of commitment and dedication she could respect. Then again, maybe he just had a shitty life and wanted to move on. She could relate to that, too. Aaliyah took a breath, in and out. Not a deep breath ¡ª she didn¡¯t want the rookie to see her composing herself or give him a reason to stare at her tits ¡ª but a mindful, centering breath nonetheless. Finally, she addressed the elf. ¡°Alright, Tribune, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve got a lot of questions, but let¡¯s save it until I get through my spiel, okay?¡± The elf regarded her with a small, polite smile, and simply waited for her to continue. A man who knew when to keep his damn mouth shut? That was promising. She gestured for him to follow and left the conference room without looking back to see if he had, explaining the gist of the job over her shoulder. ¡°So, the first thing you gotta know is what we do. You and I are a little like them cops on the Law & Order. When there¡¯s some big violation of one of the Pillars, we go snoop around, talk to people, and find out who¡¯s to blame and who needs an asskicking. Sometimes, we just collect evidence and testimony to build up a case then refer it to the magistrates and they deal with all the incarceration and so forth. Other times, we gotta go chase the bad guys down, okay? You with me so far?¡± The elf nodded politely, following her through the lobby, the door marked PRIVATE, and into the hall behind the reception desk. Aaliyah noted a small smile on the elf¡¯s face as they passed through the door and thought he was, for some reason, amused by it. Personally, she thought the design aesthetic at VC headquarters was classy ¡ª elegant but not overstated ¡ª and she was particularly fond of the fine details that went into a lot of the woodwork and glass. If the fop at the front desk had his way, the lobby would be a flamboyant nightmare as affected as his name, Trey Wilde. The eyes, they roll. Why didn¡¯t he just call himself Trey Clich¨¦? A little more on the nose, perhaps, but it rhymed so at least it would add some style. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Aaliyah¡¯s next stop on the orientation tour was the Cage, a barbican in the middle of the building made of ancient enchanted stone with actual metal portcullises on both sides. It was the first and most severe barrier to entry into the more sensitive areas of HQ and one of the few spaces that didn¡¯t match the decor found in the lobby. The chamber itself was not large, but it could accommodate about a dozen people at a time if they didn¡¯t care about their personal space. As they approached the first portcullis it rose silently in its concealed tracks. Eresthanon gave the structure a measuring, analytical look. He was probably examining the magics placed on the chamber. Aaliyah was no great shakes at most magic, relying on her smarts and innate capabilities more than anything else, but even she knew the stone and metal bars were all covered in a delicate tracework of enchantment. Coming back from a job one time, she had forgotten to take off the glasses that let her see traces of certain kinds of magic and it had been like walking up to a flashbang that never stopped exploding. After stepping into the barbican, the heavy, metal grille fell down behind them with a hellacious crash, sealing them in. Aaliyah watched Eresthanon out of the corner of her eye; if he startled, she could snicker at the dainty little elf. He didn¡¯t give her the satisfaction, probably because he was some kind of selfish asshole. A recessed window was carved out of one of the walls between the portcullises. The metal bars covering the window were much thinner than the grilles and there was a wide, rectangular opening at the bottom. On the other side of the window sat a fat old woman sporting winged glasses and a beehive hairdo. When she spoke, it was with the rough-edged voice of someone who smoked enough they had to be trying to avenge some perceived wrong their lungs had done to them. ¡°Wadda ya want?¡± the old woman rasped. The surly attitude came as no surprise to Aaliyah, who knew the old bitch was as rotten as she was ugly, but it usually caught the unaware off guard. Like the portcullis, it produced nothing more from the quiet elf than a couple calm blinks. ¡°Enid, this is Eresthanon, our new Tribune Legatus. Eresthanon, this is Enid,¡± Aaliyah said. The elf inclined his head slightly. ¡°Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Enid.¡± Enid, charming little monster that she was, grunted and stared at both of them, saying nothing. Aaliyah let her stare for a few seconds, begrudgingly impressed that Eresthanon seemed perfectly composed in the face of her ongoing leer. His equanimity only made Enid leer harder. To Aaliyah¡¯s surprise, Enid broke the silence before she did, even if it was just to repeat herself. ¡°Wadda ya want?¡± ¡°Our new Tribune needs to be attuned to the system,¡± Aaliyah said. Enid looked the elf up and down, still failing to elicit a response beyond a placid smile, and grunted, ¡°Badge.¡± The elf pulled out the wallet Khaldun had given him earlier and deftly opened it with one hand, presenting the badge within. Enid gave the elf a look of deep incredulousness and held up her empty hands. ¡°What¡¯m I supposed to do with this fancy bit a nothin¡¯ you handed over, pretty boy?¡± She tilted her head, giving the slot at the bottom of the caged window a significant glance. Eresthanon chuckled softly and slid the slim leather case onto the desk. ¡°Were you born yesterday or something?¡± Enid rasped. ¡°About three hours ago, technically,¡± Eresthanon replied calmly. Enid cocked an eyebrow at him for a few seconds before scooping up the wallet and setting it into a plain wooden box the size of a small humidor. The old woman laid a hand on the box and an intricate network of lines, shining with gold light, traced themselves along the wooden surfaces. Then she slid the box up to the window slot. ¡°Hand,¡± she croaked. Eresthanon placed his hand on the wooden box. Aaliyah remembered this process from her own orientation; the box would draw on the magical energy of the person touching it and forge a mystic connection. The Vigiles routinely dedicated objects to its members in this way to ensure their equipment couldn¡¯t be used by anyone outside the organization. Sometimes, they dedicated the object to an individual so only they could use it, which had additional advantages. For the most part, the bond between a specific vigilum and their badge of office allowed the use of any standard equipment as long as they had their badge on them. What Aaliyah remembered most clearly ¡ª because it was so much more visceral than all that nerdy magic bullshit ¡ª was the sensation of the bonding, a kind of cold that tingled and pulled on her flesh deep below the skin. The sensation had been everywhere, for her, not just in her hand. It had been uncomfortable, but not unbearable. The bonding had a much more pronounced effect on the elf. When Enid activated the enchantment, his entire body seized up like he was being electrocuted. Eresthanon¡¯s too-wide mouth spread into an awful rictus grin and Aaliyah thought she glimpsed a second row of smaller, jagged fangs behind the first. She could see why writers who¡¯d want to cast elves in a good light made them either ethereally beautiful but generally human-looking or funny little helper gremlins. A real elf might have an otherworldly quality that could seem beautiful at a glance ¡ª even the taller, lankier ones that were supposed to be more common than Eresthanon¡¯s roughly human dimensions ¡ª but if they were reaching for you with their spindly hands, maw agape, and a glint of magic (or something else) in their huge eyes? Shudder. Eresthanon released the box with a gasp. He took a few quick steps away but wasn¡¯t quite stumbling backwards, and quickly regained his bearings. Enid was gleefully sneering at him. ¡°Aura-bonding to an object is simple enough magic, but creating a bond through that object to a network is an interesting approach,¡± Eresthanon said in a slightly breathless tone. ¡°Mildly overwhelming for Creaturae of a more ethereal nature, although I shouldn¡¯t think the Vigiles sees many applications from the fae and ghosts seem even less likely.¡± A yellow-toothed grin was Enid¡¯s only reply. She opened the wooden box and slid the badge wallet back under the slot. The elf gave her a long, considering look, his face once again politely impassive. Aaliyah thought he may have been fit to burst, but he just gave Enid a polite smile and winked. That seemed to confuse and unnerve the old bag more than anything Aaliyah had ever seen. She still wasn¡¯t thrilled to have a partner, but she was starting to think the elf would need a lot less babysitting than she¡¯d expected. ¡°Come on,¡± Aaliyah said, ¡°we have to go downstairs to get your kit sorted.¡± Aaliyah stepped up to the second portcullis and Eresthanon fell in step behind her as it slid up into the roof. Chapter 23 - Standard Loadout Aaliyah led the way through the maze of corridors at her usual quick pace. Like most New Yorkers, she had places to be and shit to do. Eresthanon, being more than half a foot taller and with a longer stride, had no trouble keeping up. As they walked, she pulled out her badge and hung it from her belt, gesturing to Eresthanon he should do the same. He chose to slide his into the breast pocket of his jacket. The elf was definitely quick on the uptake, another sign he wouldn¡¯t be a total anchor around Aaliyah¡¯s neck. They went through an innocuous door into a small room set up as a lounge and breakroom, then proceeded through another plain door into what appeared to be a shallow pantry closet. The shelves of paper plates, napkins, boxes of snacks, condiments, and so on, swung away when Aaliyah touched it in the right places in the correct combination. Knowing where to put your hands was just part of getting through this door; it would have been meaningless if either she or Eresthanon hadn¡¯t been attuned to the network and carrying their badges. A spiral staircase descended down a narrow stairwell. Eresthanon stopped just inside to make sure the door swung shut. The elf was security-conscious and attentive, so Aaliyah figured he must have noticed the door they¡¯d come through was nearly a foot thick. He probably clocked the dense, metal crossbars that could slide into heavy brackets on either side of the door, as well. ¡°You probably saw the four buttons in the elevator when you came in, right?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°I did, indeed,¡± the elf replied. ¡°There were some labels on the buttons I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen before.¡± ¡°U and M, I¡¯m guessing?¡± Eresthanon nodded. Aaliyah snorted a laugh. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯ll screw with you. They mean Upper and Main, basically the first floor and the second, making four in total. Except that ain¡¯t exactly accurate. We have an extra floor you can¡¯t access except by super secret staircases that¡¯re stashed away like this one. It¡¯s all very Austin Powers meets Game of Thrones, I know, but we¡¯re basically every law enforcement and spy agency rolled into one.¡± ¡°I see. So the basement is above the parking level?¡± She scrunched her face up at that. ¡°You know, I¡¯m not sure. The buttons might be fibbing and, now that I think about it, I think they just might be.¡± They passed through another thick security door at the bottom of the stairs and emerged into a hallway which, like the Cage, didn¡¯t match the design style of the rest of the building. The walls and ceiling were made of coursed rubble stone, supported by thick, pointed arches and the hall was lit by luminescent crystals hanging from the ceiling. Several passages branched off the hallway with irregular spacing, but Aaliyah led Eresthanon to a pair of heavy, iron-banded oak doors near the stairwell. ¡°We call this floor the Dungeon, mostly because of all the rock walls,¡± she said. ¡°It used to be part of an old VC stronghold and they move the whole thing whenever they relocate. It¡¯s a big pain in the ass, I¡¯m sure, but it¡¯s got old magic, y¡¯know? The kind you can¡¯t replicate too easy anymore. Not for nothing, but I probably wouldn¡¯t relocate too often with that kinda pain in the ass hanging over my head. We¡¯re heading to the Armory, right through here.¡± She pushed open one of the stout doors and walked inside, the elf following in her wake. The Armory was nearly thirty feet across and four or five times as long. The walls were lined with a variety of racks, cases, stands, and other containers holding the primary contents of the room ¡ª weapons. They were present in nearly every shape, size, and description ¡ª daggers, swords, hammers, axes, spears, shields, and more. The center of the room was an open space, sectioned into a number of distinct segments or lanes by long carpets that were between five and seven feet wide and fifty feet in length. The only other feature in the room was a great slab of wood in the corner across from the doors. Whether it was a podium or a desk was the subject of some debate, but the person seated behind it never bothered to clarify. Aaliyah went directly to the desk, Eresthanon a couple steps behind. The man seated behind it was quite short, just a little over five feet, but nearly twice as broad as a heavyset human. Although he was without a beard, there could be no mistaking the powerful figure as anything but a dwarf. When the duo reached his desk, the dwarf spoke in their strange, ponderous language. The dwarven language was made up of individual syllables, which were paired together to form a meaning and, all too often, a sub-meaning. It seemed simple, but it was devilishly complex. Sometimes a syllable pairing would change the meaning of other pairings, before or after it, or even the entire phrase. Add in pronunciation and emphasis for even more nuance, and the dwarven languages were basically a pain in the ass made manifest. Aaliyah knew it was an intricate, deep language, but to her it just sounded like those forehead guys from Star Trek. ¡°Gurd got. Duk mant. Beb terk. Bier mend,¡± the dwarf said. Aaliyah, with all the solemnity she could muster, said, ¡°Eresthanon, I present to you Stugrond, master dwarven smith and quartermaster of the Vigiles Creaturae of North America.¡± The elf inclined his head slightly in greeting. The dwarf continued his dour recitation. ¡°Sem kret. Olb dorn. Ree mak. Vurn.¡± Before Aaliyah could speak again, Eresthanon replied in the same ponderous language. ¡°Gish bik. Meg dutt. Yom bolk.¡± Stugrond stared hard at Eresthanon for several seconds, then he bellowed a guffaw. ¡°Fair enough, fella, fair enough.¡± Aaliyah scowled at the two of them, but Stugrond was all smiles. ¡°Don¡¯t look at us like that, Dean! You can¡¯t blame me that your first chance to screw with a rookie turned out to be an elf who happens to know the most infuriating dialect of dwarvish ever made.¡± Eresthanon smiled politely at Aaliyah. ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry, Quaesitor Dean. I didn¡¯t know this was a traditional hazing. I presumed the master smith was having his own little joke and responded the only way I could to be respectful of their culture. As the old saying goes, ¡®If a dwarf pulls your leg, kick them in the mouth.¡¯¡± Stugrond laughed again. ¡°¡®Kick their teeth up their nose¡¯ was the way I¡¯d always heard it, but my folk come from around the Mediterranean and aren¡¯t so traditional.¡± ¡°Delightful,¡± Aaliyah said, fuming a bit at losing out on screwing with the new guy. You had to be serious in a job like hers and doubly so if you didn¡¯t want to take shit from nobody, but Enid and Stugrond had been her chance to have a little fun. Eresthanon had acquitted himself admirably in both cases and foiled her plans. The bastard. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Have no fear, Quaesitor, I¡¯m sure you shall find ample opportunity to play japes at my expense,¡± the very same bastard offered. He probably meant that sincerely, Aaliyah thought, which was extra frustrating. She wasn¡¯t the sort of person to screw around at work ¡ª she was a professional ¡ª and she had doubts about whether they¡¯d form the kind of camaraderie where she might get that relaxed with him. This was work and there were reasons she preferred to work alone, games of grab-ass and other assorted forms of asshattery among them. She had no desire to be ¡°one of the boys.¡± Still, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to keep an eye out for opportunities to poke at the elf¡¯s cool fa?ade. ¡°Anyways,¡± she said, ¡°Eresthanon has his badge and Enid set him up at the Cage, but he needs the rest of his kit.¡± Stugrond nodded. ¡°I was told there¡¯d be a new vigiles today, so I¡¯ve prepared the usual.¡± The dwarf retrieved a lacquered box from behind the desk and placed it on the flat surface. Inside were four strange objects ¡ª a sleek, thick rod of wood half a foot in length, a metal plate about the size of the palm of Aaliyah¡¯s hand, a small black pebble, and a coil of very thin, silvery rope. Aaliyah recognized them, of course, but Eresthanon was looking at them with some small amount of interest. Stugrond lifted up the metal plate. ¡°This carries two enchantments. One is a shielding charm. You¡¯ll need to activate it and it won¡¯t help much against repeated physical impacts, but it¡¯s great against moderately potent magic attacks. The other is a morphing illusion. Most of our agents put it in the wallet with their badge where the ID would go. It allows them to modify the illusion to present decent credentials to nosy bureaucrats as long as they know what they want it to look like.¡± He exchanged the plate for the stick. ¡°Stun wand. Only good out to about five or six feet; it jostles the fluids of the inner ear, so most humanoid creatures will be affected. It¡¯ll disorient and imbalance anything that isn¡¯t heavily magical for several seconds.¡± Next came the thin rope, with glittering strands interwoven that caught the light and shimmered faintly as the dwarf held it up. ¡°This is our standard restraint. If you bind someone¡¯s hands with it, it will greatly hinder their ability to access and manipulate aether. It can also resist fairly immense strength. It¡¯s rated against trolls and ogres, but that¡¯s about the top end and it¡¯s just a general assessment, so some subjects might be able to break loose. You can never be sure when some jackass has heroic strength beyond the norm of their kind.¡± Holding up the ends of the rope, Stugrond wrapped one end over the other, like the start of tying shoelaces. ¡°You don¡¯t need any complicated knots, even, just a half knot like so cinched tight will activate the binding enchantment. They¡¯re not foolproof and slippery customers can finagle themselves out with some time, but it will hold against most bygones for several hours.¡± Lastly, the dwarf held up the pebble, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. ¡°This is for emergencies. It¡¯s a tiny dose of a potion of shadow form and will turn your body into an animate shadow for about thirty seconds. All you have to do is put it in your mouth, bite, and swallow. You won¡¯t be able to pass through a nonporous surface like glass or plastic, but you can slither through even the tiniest of cracks and openings.¡± After returning the tiny capsule to the box, Stugrond closed the lid and slid it towards Eresthanon. ¡°We don¡¯t issue dimensional storage, but nothing in your standard kit should interfere with those kinds of enchantments if you want to use a personal one. The last thing you¡¯ll need to sort out is your armaments.¡± Aaliyah had been looking forward to this. Stugrond was an infamous stickler about not letting anything he forged go unless he knew it was going to a competent wielder. He made sure of that with completely unnecessary tests of skill that usually left the recipient battered and humbled. This was, she¡¯d been told, something of a dwarven custom, at least for the more serious artisans among them. Dwarves who made things with a certain degree of skill didn¡¯t sell them to just anyone, they made sure the product of their work was going to a worthy home. Aaliyah thought it was an exaggeration until the first time she¡¯d gone to a dwarven bazaar. It had been a surreal experience ¡ª dwarf artists sitting in their stalls and stores, staring at potential customers, judging them. Then, if someone did want to make a purchase, they had to convince the dwarf to sell to them. Dwarven culture favored forthrightness and a degree of pride bordering on arrogance, so they tended to be brash and dismissive, even insulting, to anyone who hadn¡¯t earned their respect. Stugrond was a relatively tactful example of his people, but he was no less inclined to make someone work for it to receive something of his creation. Aaliyah had introduced him as a master smith, but it would have been more accurate to call him a weapons master or master armsman or whatever nerdy bullshit quasi-medieval term applied. The point being, Stugrond was exceptionally skilled in the use of a wide variety of archaic weaponry as well as their forging. Very few people who came to the Armory to get their kit walked out without getting pounded on by the dwarf. Other than the things they did when no one was looking, there were few better ways to get the measure of a person than when they had to throw down for real. ¡°Just take a walk around the room, Tribune, and pick out a few weapon you¡¯re comfortable using,¡± Stugrond said. Eresthanon began to stroll along the racks, examining them at his leisure. ¡°It may take a few minutes, I¡¯m afraid, as I¡¯ll need to see what jumps out at me. Shall I aim for a specific number?¡± ¡°As few or as many as you like, to start.¡± The elf nodded and continued his circuit of the room, occasionally picking something up and performing a cursory examination of the weapon. More often than not, he¡¯d set the weapon back on its rack, but he wound up with a small collection after several minutes ¡ª a polearm with a long, broad blade at the end, a pair of short swords with a vague resemblance to kukri which Aaliyah couldn¡¯t identify specifically, and a mace with a flanged head. The elf had dithered over the mace more than any other weapon. Stugrond had retrieved a rolling cart from the door behind his desk while Eresthanon searched and stood or laid each of the weapons on it as they were selected. When Eresthanon was done, he rolled the cart to one of the carpeted lanes. ¡°Which one first?¡± the dwarf asked. Aaliyah hunkered down until she was sitting with her back against the wall, watching the two of them. If only Stugrond kept popcorn in the Armory! Eresthanon lifted the polearm out of the cart and Stugrond smiled. The dwarf took a sword slightly taller than he was from one of the racks on the wall. The weapon had a large pommel, elevated rings on a very long handle, and small tines emerging from either side of the blade past the crossguard. It was a German sword, Aaliyah thought, with a really dumb name like ¡®the two-hander¡¯ or something like that. European swords all had stupidly obvious names ¡ª longsword, broadsword, bastard sword, arming sword, short sword, and so on ¡ª and she¡¯d never really been interested in melee weapons. She was more of a hands-on type, especially now that she was living in a world where firearms weren¡¯t useful most of the time. Between her experience fighting barehanded and the innate gifts that came with being the Billy Badass kind of freakshow weirdo that she was, she¡¯d never bothered to take anything from the Armory other than a long knife. That particular blade was modeled after the Egyptian khopesh and she hadn¡¯t had a reason to draw it yet. The dwarf hauled his giant ¡ª frankly ridiculous ¡ª sword onto the carpeted lane in front of the cart slung over his shoulder. He set the point of it down on the ground, the blade angled away from him. Then he pulled a flask out of a pocket and flipped the cap open, pouring some kind of oil down both sides of the blade. ¡°Do the same on the head of the glaive, please,¡± he told Eresthanon, holding it out to him. Eresthanon seemed to have an understanding of dwarven culture, because the know-it-all prick followed suit without comment. He poured the oil down the long blade of the polearm and applied it to the metal cap on the butt of the haft, as well. ¡°A blunting agent?¡± Stugrond nodded, a twinkle in his eyes. ¡°My own concoction; I call it Dwarven Training Wheels. Blunts the blade and dulls impacts, but it also produces a magical jolt on contact so there¡¯s no silly arguments about whether you scored a blow. Dean over there might be able to shrug off the juice without a visible sign, but even a dwarf¡¯ll get the jitters for a second if this goop touches them.¡± ¡°A clever design,¡± Eresthanon said, capping the flask and handing it back. Stugrond set the potion or whatever the crap it was on the cart, picked up his weapon, and took a position on the wide strip of carpet. The sword was angled downward so that the tip hovered just off the floor and he held it in a strange grip, one hand on the handle and the other on the blade between the guard and the small tines. ¡°Now,¡± Stugrond rumbled. ¡°Show me your worth, Tribune.¡± Chapter 24 - Personal Armory Stugrond stepped forward, his blade leaping off the floor. He swiped at the haft of Eresthanon¡¯s glaive with his massive sword. Eresthanon adjusted his position and there was brief contact with their two blades, then they began a series of quick exchanges. Their feet moved swiftly, changing their angles as they jockeyed for position. They probed at each other, blades flowing from one contact to the next, searching for an opening. They made contact only for the briefest moments, just enough to deflect or be deflected. Neither would overcommit and risk leaving an opening. Eresthanon relied on elven reflexes, following a brief contact with a lightning quick follow-up to snake through Stugrond¡¯s defenses. The dwarf went for moments of leverage, using his strength and the weight of his weapon to overpower Eresthanon. Neither were having great success, so it remained a battle of footwork and position. Boring, in other words. Although their weapons didn¡¯t maintain contact for long, the motion reminded Aaliyah of the sticky hands drills she¡¯d done in a number of martial arts, only way more aggressive and incorporating footwork. They went at it without any definitive blows landing for several minutes, then Stugrond took several steps away from Eresthanon. He kept his absurd sword up in a guard position until he was clear, then swung it up onto his shoulder. ¡°You could¡¯ve moved faster,¡± the armsmaster said. ¡°You didn¡¯t.¡± The dwarf puckered his lips at that but offered no retort. Instead, he stowed his demon-slaying anime sword back on its rack. Eresthanon slid the glaive into a slot on the rolling cart. He began applying the blunting potion to the two short swords. The swords were made of a dark, almost black steel. They had very short handles with no crossguard, the hand protected by a kind of hook that curled over the hand at both ends. The blade was thinner near the hilt, almost concave, and reminded Aaliyah of the kukri with significant differences. The blade was slimmer, the angle not as severe, and it tapered to a much sharper point. She knew she¡¯d seen blades like it before in some dense history book someone had foisted on her and she thought it had something to do with the African elephant guy, Hannibal. It also reminded her of the swords all the pretty boy elves had used in that Legend of the Rings movie, but she hadn¡¯t dated a nerdy bitch in a hot minute to get roped into watching those so she wasn¡¯t sure about that one. Stugrond inspected the two swords with a critical eye, then turned to Eresthanon. ¡°Are you sure you want two? We have a variety of shields, they¡¯re just not out on the racks because they take up so much space. Wielding two blades when neither are short is pretty suboptimal for real combat.¡± ¡°These are what spoke to me,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°I don¡¯t believe it¡¯s a nascent desire simply to look ¡®cool¡¯ and I think I can wield them effectively.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± the dwarf said. ¡°Those are falcatas, though, so make sure you blunt the edge on the rear of the blade, as well.¡± While Eresthanon coated his swords ¡ª falcatas, apparently ¡ª Stugrond strolled along the weapon racks. He selected a sword that was practically an archetype ¡ª a long, double-sided blade with a short handle and simple crossguard ¡ª then opened a couple cabinets beneath some of the displays to peruse shields. The dwarf settled on a buckler, eighteen inches across and held with a closed fist instead of an arm strap. Then he, too, coated his weapon in the oil and the two men squared off again. Eresthanon''s fighting style in the second bout was completely different. Instead of the tit-for-tat and fencing footwork he¡¯d used with the glaive, he moved more like a boxer or grappler, striking from oblique angles. With a blur of feints, thrusts, and slashes, Eresthanon probed for an opening and tried to lure Stugrond¡¯s shield out of position. The heavy end of the falcata hit the shield with force closer to an axe than a sword, leading to some very satisfying thonks and cracks. The dwarf was more pressed in this matchup, but held his own. ¡°I guess dwarven height comes in handy sometimes, master smith,¡± Aaliyah called out after one of Eresthanon¡¯s blades clipped the top of his shield and sailed over his head. Once more, Stugrond stepped back from the fight when he felt it was time to end. The dwarf shot Aaliyah a nasty glare and she, not being a scaredy-cat pussy-ass bitch, replied with a shit-eating grin. Finally, Eresthanon picked up the weapon he¡¯d taken the longest to select ¡ª the flanged mace. Although his expression gave nothing away, Aaliyah thought he was uncomfortable with the bludgeon. Unlike his two previous selections, he seemed more clumsy testing the mace for weight and balance. Aaliyah perked up from her seat against the wall. If her new partner was going to get thumped in any of his tests with the dwarven armsmaster, it was going to be using that mace. She had no idea why it had been one of his choices considering how uncomfortable he looked futzing around with it. Stugrond was coating the head of a halberd and monitoring Eresthanon as he warmed up. ¡°You sure you don¡¯t want a shield?¡± ¡°Academically: yes, of course, and it¡¯s foolish of me to do otherwise. However,this is what feels¡­ comfortable, for lack of a better term.¡± Aaliyah wondered whether it was a mark of stubbornness or ¡ª more likely, in her opinion ¡ª those weird partial memories the elf was supposed to have from whoever he used to be. Stugrond, for his part, accepted Eresthanon¡¯s decision and the two faced off once again. She didn¡¯t think the old dwarf was going to go easy on Eresthanon no matter how well they¡¯d hit it off over the language thing. The third bout ended quickly ¡ª Stugrond landed several telling blows in a few quick exchanges. He set the haft of his halberd on the floor as he stepped back with a grunt. ¡°You¡¯re hesitating, second-guessing every move,¡± the dwarf said. Eresthanon nodded mutely, considering the mace in his hand. ¡°I must admit to some discomfiture. I am leery of my instincts wielding it.¡± A gun-shy partner? Aaliyah didn¡¯t like the sound of that. It could be her ass on the line when this clown was overcome by his so-called ¡®discomfiture,¡¯ a five-dollar word if she ever heard one. Stugrond reached a different conclusion. After some thought, he said, ¡°Some martial training is particularly direct, even brutal, especially those meant for war instead of demonstrations of skill or mastery.¡± Eresthanon looked at the stout weaponsmaster, giving him his full attention. ¡°Sometimes even hardened soldiers hesitate to apply what they¡¯ve learned because the consequences of doing it right are more terrible than doing it wrong. But this isn¡¯t war and between the alchemical oil on that weapon and my stone bones, you can let your training and instincts do what they were meant to do.¡± Aaliyah bit her tongue because this was serious stuff ¡ª life-or-death stuff ¡ª and she didn¡¯t want to screw with it. After a few seconds of weighing Stugrond¡¯s advice, however, Eresthanon shot a glance her way. She didn¡¯t know elves from cocks and had only known her new partner a few minutes, but she was pretty sure there was a mischievous twinkle in those freaky big eyes. If he was giving her permission to sass, her new partner just might have a little gay boy hiding inside him, looking to shade. ¡°Stone. Bones?¡± Aaliyah called out, snickering. Stugrond said nothing, just grunted and waved dismissively in her general direction without even looking over, which earned him a full-on cackle from the peanut gallery. Eresthanon, on the other hand, had his eyes closed and was taking centering breaths. He adopted a lower stance than the previous bouts and cocked his arm, the head of the mace hanging back over his shoulder. Stugrond gave him a nod and they were at it again. For a second or two, Aaliyah thought Eresthanon was still hung up on whatever was bothering him about the mace. He took a few halting steps at the initial probe of the halberd¡¯s point, the mace shuddering as he adjusted and readjusted his arm without actually swinging it. Aaliyah pursed her lips; better he stick with his first two choices than hesitate when shit got real. Then, the elf erupted from his low stance. He sidestepped a thrust of the halberd¡¯s deadly tip, but when Stugrond followed it up with a pushing slash of the bladed head, Eresthanon rolled his body under it and flowed into his opponent. The mace lashed out, hitting Stugrond in the ankle and jarring his footing loose. Eresthanon rode the momentum of the strike, redirecting it backhand into Stugrond¡¯s elbow, and then back again into his neck. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Stugrond tumbled to the floor with an undignified squawk and Aaliyah was on her feet before she knew what she was doing. Eresthanon had started to swing the mace down again in what would have been a killing blow and she had the strongest intuition he was going to kill the fallen weapons master and nevermind the alchemical hoodoo on their weapons. The feeling was completely irrational and all that much harder to ignore for how deeply visceral it was. Eresthanon froze in place, the mace suspended over his shoulder again and ready to strike. His expression was completely inscrutable. He loomed over Stugrond for a second. The dwarf¡¯s eyes shot towards Aaliyah. She didn¡¯t see fear in his eyes, but the exact same sense of danger that had propelled Aaliyah to her feet. The elf hadn¡¯t even moved that fast ¡ª and Aaliyah knew elves could move faster than most ¡ª it had just been¡­ brutal. A relentless assault that forced a single opening then multiplied them. It had been like watching a river flow, swollen by rain, except the river was dragging a boulder along its currents. It was a long second between the three of them, until Eresthanon stepped back, tossed the mace onto the cart, and offered his hand to help Stugrond up off the carpet. ¡°That was certainly something,¡± Stugrond said when he was back on his feet. ¡°You¡¯ve got a good deal of skill with each of the weapons you chose, but you were frankly terrifying with the mace.¡± Aaliyah would never admit it, but terrifying was precisely the right word. She¡¯d seen more than her fair share of violence and known a lot of people who lived violence, but the elf had been something else. It wasn¡¯t the brutality or precision of his skill with that overhyped baseball bat that was so jarring, it was how casual the whole thing had been. It was like watching guys who could sink free throws without even paying attention, just letting muscle memory carry them through something as mundane to them as spreading schmear on a bagel. ¡°I can¡¯t help but agree, master Stugrond; it was unsettling, to be frank,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°It¡¯s always that way when a warrior first discovers what they¡¯re truly capable of. The decent ones, anyway.¡± ¡°Not for nothing,¡± Aaliyah added, ¡°but if you can do that reliably, the fancy club might be the only weapon you need.¡± Eresthanon considered that for a moment. ¡°Perhaps, but there¡¯s always a benefit to be found in versatility and I¡¯d prefer not to rely on that particular weapon. It¡¯s not a frame of mind I¡¯d like to propagate.¡± The dwarf nodded. ¡°Understandable, quite understandable, and not a problem in the slightest. I can easily dedicate these four weapons to you, unless you¡¯d prefer more customized pieces, which would take some time to produce.¡± ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary, master smith, these arms were of exemplary quality and you¡¯ve been more than generous with your time already.¡± Stugrond rolled the cart back over to his desk, where he produced another small case, this one made of metal and very sturdy looking. ¡°No trouble at all,¡± he said, removing several bits of arcane paraphernalia from the case. ¡°Are you familiar with the dedication of equipment to an individual?¡± Eresthanon nodded. ¡°I understand the theory, though I can¡¯t say I¡¯m practiced with the specific enchantments.¡± ¡°Unlike the standard methods, we bond the object to the individual¡¯s magical essence, rather than their body. It¡¯s more complex, hence all the materials I¡¯ve got here, but it has a number of advantages.¡± Eresthanon¡¯s eyebrows rose on his forehead slightly, an expression that would suggest he was mildly impressed at that pronouncement. Aaliyah was good at reading people and thought she was starting to get a feel for her new partner. That tiny expression, in her opinion, meant he was practically astonished over the Vigiles¡¯ little proprietary enchantment. Stugrond didn¡¯t even notice and continued with his presentation. They were both nerds any way you looked at it. Useful, powerful, magic-wielding nerds, but nerds nonetheless. Eresthanon stroked his chin thoughtfully. ¡°That would provide a great deal of flexibility in where you place the marking, I should think. Will the marking migrate if the body is damaged?¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you grasp the significance,¡± Stugrond said, more than a little pleased to have someone take an interest in the bit of magic he¡¯d helped create. ¡°The mark will continue to function normally if the physical locale is damaged and even remain somewhat effective if the placement is severely maimed or removed.¡± ¡°I take it, then, that if an arm bearing the mark were severed, the magic of the bond would remain intact, but the talisman would be limited in where it could appear?¡± Stugrond beamed. ¡°Yes! The talisman can still manifest anywhere on the body, even with the mark detached. Which is directly tied to the greatest benefit of our process ¡ª and why we¡¯ve tried to keep it under wraps ¡ª if the talisman gets more than about twenty feet from the owner, it will return to the marking.¡± That seemed to be particularly interesting to Eresthanon. If Aaliyah had to guess from his expression, she would say he was shocked. Maybe even flabbergasted. ¡°Without conscious invocation? Regardless of impediment? Does it discorporate?¡± ¡°No magic or act of will is needed nor have we found anything that can stop the return.¡± Here the dwarf¡¯s smile broadened even more. ¡°And the talisman doesn¡¯t have to discorporate unless there¡¯s an obstacle it can¡¯t penetrate.¡± Aaliyah didn¡¯t know what all of that meant from a technical standpoint, but she knew she should slip her knife through a mail slot, walk away, and it would cut through the door as long as it wasn¡¯t significantly reinforced with magic. A useful trick she¡¯d employed a couple times. Stugrond continued geeking out. ¡°We¡¯re trying to work out a way to allow a talisman to be left somewhere and conjured remotely, but it¡¯s proving to be a major pain in the ass.¡± Eresthanon nodded. ¡°Teleporting anything, especially without a stable nexus, has always been a nearly legendary feat of magical power. I would be terribly impressed to see such magic in this day and age.¡± If she let them, these two would probably spend hours talking about math or whatever nerd shit was behind how the pointy hats did their magic. Normally, she couldn¡¯t have cared less, but if she had to sit here and listen to it¡­ ¡°Why don¡¯t you two talk it over at Comic-Con; I¡¯ve got shit to do with my day,¡± she interjected. Like the urbane conversationalist and paragon of wit he was, Stugrond merely grunted in response and finished laying out his enchanting tools. The armsmaster fidgeted with Eresthanon¡¯s chosen weapons, making sure they were laid just right on the desk before him. ¡°We¡¯re going to have you hold each weapon one at a time, then tell me where you¡¯d like the mark placed,¡± Stugrond said. ¡°Whenever you want to summon a specific weapon, it will manifest outside your clothes and remain suspended for about a second as long as you¡¯re not wearing a half inch or more of layers. You¡¯ll want to bear in mind that it could be uncomfortable or a tripping hazard depending on your position and environment. So¡­let¡¯s begin!¡± Aaliyah knew the ritual was basically the same as the one Enid had performed in the Cage with Eresthanon¡¯s badge and she was glad to see that the elf made that connection, as well ¡ª he was clearly steeling himself in anticipation of another jarring experience. He was thinking on his feet and that was a good sign; she didn¡¯t want a partner who couldn¡¯t adapt on the fly. Eresthanon was shaping up to be not quite a complete turd and that was more than she¡¯d dared to hope for when they told her she had a partner coming. The day wasn¡¯t over, though, and he¡¯d have plenty of opportunities to show his true dick colors before they clocked out. The ritual to dedicate each talisman was significantly more complex than Enid¡¯s box of bad touchies. You didn¡¯t get to be a dwarven master smith just by working metal; you often had to be nearly as skilled in enchanting objects as making them. Stugrond handled it all with a deft hand. First, he loosely wrapped Eresthanon¡¯s hand that held the weapon three times, with a length of rough cord, a long ribbon of silk, then a fine metal chain. Next, Stugrond dropped some kind of dried herb or leaves into a small metal bowl and set them on fire. The bowl was held so the smoke drifted up and swirled around the hand and weapon. The smoke smelled like hot garbage. That wasn¡¯t Aaliyah¡¯s opinion, it was an outright fact. She was a New Yorker, she knew the smell of hot garbage. After a few seconds, Stugrond poured some kind of hazy liquid over Eresthanon¡¯s hand, collecting the runoff in the small metal bowl and extinguishing the leaves. Finally, the dwarf dipped his fingers into the bowl, mixing and scooping out a clump of dark goop. He used his fingers to smear a vague shape, or maybe a symbol, where Eresthanon wanted the mark placed. Despite the¡­ interesting¡­ smells, Aaliyah couldn¡¯t resist craning her neck to watch as each disappeared into the elf¡¯s flesh, replaced by a distinct marking. The magic allowed Eresthanon to determine the form each mark would take. Tattoos, birthmarks, constellations of freckles and moles, all kinds of markings were possible, but Aaliyah had been told they always had to convey something about the talisman. Forging a bond with a talisman required a strong connection between object and owner, so muddying that with attempts to obfuscate the mark of the dedication undermined the magic. Eresthanon opted for tattoos of the objects themselves, although significantly smaller than the real items for convenience. Except for the mace, which manifested as a tattoo of a word in what appeared to be an elvish script. Aaliyah was curious what the word meant, but that wasn¡¯t any of her damn business (until it was). As Stugrond conducted each of the bindings, Eresthanon showed obvious signs of discomfort, but not like he had in the Cage. Either elves could adapt to extreme experiences in less than an hour or the impact of this ritual wasn¡¯t as severe. The latter seemed more likely and Aaliyah wondered why. Hadn¡¯t Eresthanon said something about the connection to a network making it worse than it usually was? Ah, Aaliyah didn¡¯t really give a shit about that. The elf didn¡¯t seem to be dying and he wasn¡¯t whining about it, which was good enough for her. Eresthanon wanted the glaive¡¯s marking placed at the base of his neck, the falcatas on each of his forearms just below the wrists, and the mace near the top of his shoulder, about where it would be if he had his arm cocked back to swing it. Whatever grudging respect the guy was earning, Aaliyah reminded herself that his demonstration with that murderous club had shown he was a bit of an unhinged, scary mother fucker, too, and she didn¡¯t actually know him from Adam yet. She trusted the Vigiles, in theory, and she trusted Khaldun, in fact, so she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt¡­ so long as she could keep an eye on him. With the equipment sorted, Aaliyah sidled over to the door, eager to get away from the lingering stink of magic fumes and fluids. Not all magic was that funky, but this particular bit of enchantment? Nasty. She clapped her hands together. ¡°Alright, you¡¯ve got your kit! Let¡¯s head to the office so we can get to work.¡± Eresthanon had already straightened his sweater out from having the magic marker crud applied to his shoulder, now he finished pulling his jacket back on. He picked up the small box with his standard gear, thanked Stugrond again for his efforts, and fell into step behind her as she took him back upstairs. Next came the fun part: clocking in and hitting the streets. Chapter 25 - Office Politics The office Aaliyah led him to was decorated in the same style as most of the rest of the headquarters ¡ª cliche noir. Eresthanon wondered what the design theme had been before a hard-boiled private investigator with no way out was put in charge of decorating the place. A reception desk with a big green blotter was to the right of the door. Behind it, tall, vertical windows ran nearly floor to ceiling, hung with horizontal blinds for that high contrast noir effect. The office was also strangely green, the walls draped with a dense layer creeping and hanging vines. There was only a second to admire the lush vegetation before Eresthanon¡¯s musing was interrupted by two men who had come striding down the hallway beyond the reception area and stopped just short of them. ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t the affirmative action faction,¡± one of them said in a reedy voice. He was a pale, older man, probably in his sixties. He had a starved, haggard look that was not improved by his dark, rumpled suit. He wore a flat-brimmed hat and aviator sunglasses. A hand-rolled cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. ¡°Dylan,¡± Aaliyah said drily. She turned to the man¡¯s partner. ¡°And West, of course.¡± West, a much younger black man, was dressed in alternating black and white ¡ª black leather jacket over a white hooded sweatshirt, black jeans, white sneakers. He grinned in a way best described as ¡°shit-eating.¡± ¡°Ay, the diversity hires,¡± West jeered, turning his grin on Eresthanon. ¡°You got here just in time to sit around doing nothing.¡± Eresthanon ignored their jabs and whatever dynamic lay behind them, turning to Aaliyah with a politely inquisitive look. ¡°It¡¯s been quiet, that¡¯s for sure,¡± she said, but didn¡¯t elaborate. ¡°I suppose you two got one on the hook?¡± ¡°Some kind of aether bunco getting ran on big wigs,¡± West said, rubbing his hands together before putting on his own sunglasses ¡ª a pair of oversized things with squared white frames. ¡°It¡¯s no time-traveling assassin, but it beats the hell out of getting hired as a mascot to sit around and contribute to a quota,¡± Dylan said. ¡°Uh huh,¡± Aaliyah said with a roll of her eyes. ¡°So, what¡¯s the scam?¡± The other two detectives looked at each other over their sunglasses. They said nothing, just turned their condescending stares back towards Aaliyah. ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± she said, ¡°What am I gonna do? Steal your case?¡± Dylan said nothing, but he shrugged and West gave them another big, toothy smile. ¡°Too soon to say much,¡± West said, ¡°but the con is supposed to be improvement on creating aetherium. They get the mark to put in their own aether and give them back some bogus knock-off and pocket the difference.¡± ¡°Way we hear it so far, this might be a whole new level of aetherium counterfeiting, hard to detect or test for, so it could turn out to be huge,¡± Dylan added. ¡°Real talk, that don¡¯t sound like it¡¯s small fry; could be a big collar,¡± Aaliyah said. Eresthanon glanced at Aaliyah for a moment. He was having trouble figuring out whether she was genuinely interested or not. She didn¡¯t strike him as the type to take snide comments and other abuse from anyone, yet these two were piling it on and she responded with no pushback. From what he¡¯d seen of her so far, he expected any contempt from her to be exaggerated so the mockery was clear; she didn¡¯t hide her derision. Her earnestness, now, didn¡¯t mesh with what he understood of her personality. The other detectives, Dylan and West, didn¡¯t seem to have noticed and were using Aaliyah¡¯s apparent interest as a ladder to climb higher up on their horses to gloat. ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯ll be a charity case for the charity cases soon enough,¡± West said. ¡°Anyways, we¡¯ve got to head Uptown to interview some lux fratty who¡¯s our first potential vic. He wants to talk to us at some exclusive social club, so it¡¯s a good thing you didn¡¯t catch this call, Dean, since they probably wouldn¡¯t even let you in.¡± Dylan wheezed with glee and Aaliyah just offered them a saccharine smile. ¡°Happy hunting,¡± she said with a wave, moving out of the doorway to let them pass. Eresthanon followed her lead, taking a step further into the small lobby of the office. On their way out, Dylan and West made sure to deliver obligatory jack-ass shoulder bumps to Eresthanon and Aaliyah, though it didn¡¯t go as they likely expected ¡ª Eresthanon rolled with the brush-by from Dylan, denying any meaningful contact, but Aaliyah simply stood her ground. The burly West actually came out the worst in that little altercation, bouncing off Aaliyah without budging her in the slightest. When they were gone, Aaliyah snorted. ¡°Serpico and McClane, there, are the biggest douches in the squad, possibly the entirety of the VC. Sorry you had to run into those monuments to homeschooling this early.¡± Eresthanon shrugged. ¡°In any group, you will find a mix of people, both pleasant and less so.¡± Aaliyah shook her head, her long braids swishing across her back. ¡°Assholes everywhere, sure, but those two are the worst sort. They think they¡¯re regular cops and chase after the most penny ante shit imaginable if it even remotely falls under the Four Pillars. Dollars to donuts they pried that case out of some low-level nobody¡¯s hands downstairs just to have something to do, maybe even just to have a reason to gloat when we got here.¡± ¡°What makes you say that?¡± ¡°I know assholes, is what. Besides, they¡¯re the type to go out and buy boots just in the hopes that someone¡¯ll lick ¡®em, the jack-offs.¡± Aaliyah had a way of painting a vivid mental picture with her words and Eresthanon found it quite entertaining. Perhaps she should appreciate a partner who could engage in witticisms with her? He offered her a small smile and asked, ¡°Do you like classic films, Quaesitor Dean? Particularly police and detective stories?¡± Aaliyah squinted at him. ¡°I¡¯m not a big movie buff, no. What¡¯s it to you?¡± If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°There¡¯s this bit of slang they used in some older movies ¡ª usually as a pejorative ¡ª when referring to private investigators or detectives.¡± ¡°Pejori-what?¡± ¡°Pejorative, an insult. Private detectives were often called ¡®private dicks¡¯ in those old films. I¡¯m not sure if the term ¡®dick¡¯ was ever used to mean detectives employed by recognized law enforcement, but that¡¯s somewhat irrelevant to the point.¡± Aaliyah crossed her arms. ¡°And the point would be¡­¡± ¡°It seems to me, adopting such slang for our own devices, that our two colleagues could be aptly described as a pair of ¡®dickish dicks.¡¯¡± He put a button on the joke with a saucy wink. Aaliyah snorted a laugh and even the plants in the office seemed to rustle with laughter. ¡°You¡¯re fucking with me,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°They didn¡¯t used to say ¡®dick¡¯ in old movies, did they? Get outta here. What about all the censorship or whatever?¡± ¡°Indeed they did. Even the Hays Code couldn¡¯t easily target homonyms if they weren¡¯t being used for single or double entendres.¡± ¡°Alright, I don¡¯t know what all of that meant, but I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± she chuckled. ¡°¡®Dickish dicks.¡¯ I like it.¡± Eresthanon looked around the office, examining the lush vegetation more thoroughly. Creepers of ivy crawled up the walls and dangled from the ceiling in such density the wood paneling was barely visible. There was even a potted plant several feet tall placed right behind the reception desk. ¡°I must say, this is a bit more greenery than I would have imagined for a modern office space.¡± ¡°Thank you, I try to stay hydrated,¡± the potted plant said. When he turned to Aaliyah, thinking she must have been the one to speak and was pulling his figurative leg, she only smirked at him. He was missing something. Eresthanon followed his instincts and focused more closely on the potted plant. It was shaped in a most unusual way ¡ªalmost like a seated person. The longer he looked, the more details he noticed that clearly suggested the form of a woman. The plant was, in fact, sitting on a desk chair. ¡°Why, that¡¯s never a kissiae, is it?¡± ¡°You know my people?¡± the potted plant ¡ª a kissiae ¡ª asked. ¡°Of course; I¡¯m familiar with all manner of nymphs. But I¡¯d thought the kissiae either long extinct or largely confined to Greece. Or that they had perhaps grown dormant. As far as my knowledge went, there have been no reported interactions in many centuries.¡± ¡°We do mostly restrict ourselves to our ancestral home, yes, and many of my sisters have dug deep to become torpid, but not all of us. Most folks can¡¯t tell the difference from one nymph to the next if we don¡¯t take on particularly exaggerated forms,¡± the elemental said, gesturing at herself with several independent vines. ¡°Remarkable,¡± Eresthanon breathed. ¡°Despite modern misconceptions about elves being forest-dwelling herbivores ¡ª to which we owe our dastardly cousins, the fae, as much ¡®gratitude¡¯ as we do Tolkien ¡ª I can honestly say it is an unmitigated pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± Eresthanon extended a hand to the plant and it was promptly gripped by a hand composed of bundled branches and wrapped in vines with surprisingly soft leaves. ¡°Charmed, I¡¯m sure,¡± the plant said, squeezing his hand lightly. ¡°I¡¯m called Ivy Hedera and I look forward to working with you, Tribune Eresthanon.¡± Despite his muted elven emotions, Eresthanon couldn¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow. ¡°Ivy Hedera? Your name is ¡®ivy¡¯ ¡®ivy?¡¯¡± Aaliyah heaved a tremendous sigh. ¡°Excited as I¡¯m sure you are to be working with a creature from whom the term ¡®nympho¡¯ was derived, maybe you two can screw later? We have work to do.¡± A trailer of vine descended from the ceiling and patted Aaliyah on the head. ¡°Don¡¯t be gauche, it makes you look jealous,¡± Ivy said. ¡°It¡¯s called being personable and you might find it¡¯s an excellent way to make friends. Besides, if our new Tribune would like to get even more friendly, I¡¯m sure there¡¯ll be ample time for that in the future.¡± With a great scoffing harumph, Aaliyah stomped off down the hallway leading out of the reception area. Ivy tittered at her desk, leaves and vines all around the room rustling with mirth. Eresthanon bowed his head to her as he set off after his partner. The hallway ran along one corner of the building and had doors on either side. Spacious offices lined the exterior wall, with glass walls facing the hallway and tall windows looking out onto a narrow street lined with skyscrapers. They were at least twenty storeys up. The nameplates on the large offices indicated they were all occupied by Quaesitors, like Aaliyah. Assuming, of course, that was what the Q before each name meant. The interior offices, those that had nameplates, were marked with a T, likely indicating they belonged to other Tribunes. Aaliyah gestured at the exterior offices. ¡°On the right are offices for cool people, like me ¡ª Dylan being the sweaty exception ¡ª and on the left are offices for lackeys and hangers-on, like you. You can find more utilitarian rooms on the loser side, for things like storage, filing, toilets, performing minor magic rituals, and so on. You¡¯ll figure it out by opening unlabelled doors and looking inside with those big, spooky peepers.¡± ¡°All the better to see you with,¡± Eresthanon said. Aaliyah puffed some air through her teeth to let him know what she thought of that little joke, then stopped at the door to the second large office in the hallway. Her name was engraved on the plate affixed to the glass wall, which was opaque with some kind of smoky tint. She waved her hand and the glass cleared, revealing the office behind. ¡°This is my office and that¡¯s not an invitation to make yourself at home. Your dungeon is right across the hall so I can throw things at you if my door is open and the mood strikes me.¡± She pushed open the door to the office across from hers. It had a nameplate that read, T.leg Eresthanon, and, under that, (Eric Nathanial). It was about half as large as her office ¡ª which was still a comfortable amount of room ¡ª and very sparsely furnished. There was a broad desk with a comfortable armchair behind it, two chairs for guests, and a filing cabinet. There was no sign of the kissiae in the office, but several vines rustled overhead in the hallway. Ivy¡¯s voice came from above. ¡°I don¡¯t like to decorate any of the offices with myself without permission and a sense of how expansive I¡¯m welcome to be.¡± ¡°Make yourself at home, Ms. Hedera,¡± the elf replied. ¡°You¡¯re too sweet. And I prefer Miss, or Ivy, if you like.¡± ¡°Thank you, Miss Ivy,¡± Eresthanon replied. ¡°Euch. In here, you goon,¡± Aaliyah said, pushing through the door of her own office impatiently. Eresthanon winked vaguely at the walls, knowing Ivy would see it and Aaliyah would not, then followed into her office. Aaliyah¡¯s space was almost as spartan as his and similarly lacked for Ivy¡¯s presence. She shut the door behind him with more force than necessary, not quite slamming it, and waved a hand again. Both interior and exterior windows darkened with the same smoky tint as earlier, sealing the two of them off from the outside world. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s talk shop, elf boy,¡± Aaliyah said. Chapter 26 - Its Quiet... Aaliyah crossed the office to her desk. ¡°Listen, if you want to get moist with the local flora, do it on your time, pal. I¡¯ve got shit to do. I¡¯m obligated to drag you along when I do it, now, but that¡¯s not a pass to waste my time.¡± She sat down in the large chair behind the equally large desk. The desk was richly polished wood and topped with gleaming granite inlays. It would have made her seem ostentatious if Eresthanon hadn¡¯t seen that the desks in the other offices were even more ornate. She gestured for Eresthanon to take a seat in one of the chairs across from her, which he did. ¡°My apologies, Quaesitor Dean. I was only trying to be friendly. I haven''t honestly given much thought to intimacy with anyone, nymph of ivy or otherwise. In fact, I confess myself to be somewhat surprised to find myself with sex or gender, at all, as it¡¯s quite rare among my people.¡± Aaliyah leaned forward in her chair, interest clearing much of the pique from her expression. ¡°For real?¡± The elf nodded. ¡°Oh yes, quite. Elves are generally androgynous and asexual, although we are rarely aromantic or averse to intimacy. It isn¡¯t uncommon, if we choose to live among others, to adopt such things so we may better fit in and experience the world in new ways, but the nature of how we choose these lives leaves us without the chance to form such expectations until we are experiencing them in situ, as it were.¡± ¡°So you don¡¯t know whether you¡¯ll be male, female, masc, femme, or anything relating to it before you wake up a new person, or however that works?¡± ¡°We likely have some idea when we are at the end of a Cycle as such things are generally stable between an individual¡¯s lived experiences,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°It¡¯s when we awaken that we¡¯ll have no frame of reference until we¡¯ve accumulated some sense of ourselves and our perception of the world. So, being just a few hours into this Cycle, I can¡¯t say what, if anything, is sexually appealing to me.¡± Aaliyah leaned back in her chair again, whistling low. ¡°Maybe you should fuck that shrubbery.¡± Eresthanon tilted his head to acknowledge the sentiment. ¡°Perhaps I should and mayhaps I will; I can¡¯t yet say. But I meant what I said: I was only trying to be friendly.¡± ¡°Friendly and five dollars will get you a handjob from someone who gives a shit, buddy. To business.¡± Aaliyah paused for a moment to snicker at her own turn of phrase, then continued. ¡°Diddlin¡¯ and Pest were gloating over that bullshit case because we ain¡¯t had many lately.¡± ¡°Diddling and Pest?¡± Aaliyah flapped her hand at Eresthanon in response. ¡°Shush up; I¡¯m educating. Anyways, there¡¯s four detective pairs in the squad ¡ª five now I¡¯m stuck with you ¡ª and we each work five to ten cases a year. Each case usually takes a couple months and there¡¯s not as much overlap between them as you¡¯d see on the job in a normie agency.¡± The math on that was simple ¡ª each case took a little over a month to resolve one way or another. Considering the severity of the issues Eresthanon believed the squad handled, that was quite a feat. ¡°Six weeks per case on average. That is a commendable turnaround time,¡± he said. ¡°It ain¡¯t nothing,¡± Aaliyah acknowledged. ¡°That¡¯s not all we do, though. One unit is assigned to catastrophe-tracing for six months at a time. That means going out and figuring out how some disaster or another happened or almost happened or happened then un-happened or whatever.¡± That was something of a bombshell, especially once you factored in all the implications. His partner hadn¡¯t been exaggerating when she said they handled major cases if they were tracking catastrophes, both resolved and prevented. It wasn¡¯t common knowledge ¡ª even among the Creaturae ¡ª but it was far from a rare occurrence for some calamity to threaten regions, populations, the planet, or all of time and space. Magical plagues, undead uprisings, potential apocalypses, and the like were a semi-regular danger in the praeternatural world. There were plenty of theories about why world-shaking dooms were commonplace enough they had practically become a nuisance, but the very fact that they were essentially little more than a nuisance meant people didn¡¯t pay them much attention. Being exposed to a world of magic and myth didn¡¯t stop people from growing blas¨¦ or complacent, even about astonishing things. Stopping those threats was usually handled by whomever happened to come across them and whatever help they could enlist. Usually, some hapless farmhand or plucky band of misfits stumbled onto a burgeoning cosmic horror by happenstance, then figured out how to banish the rogue god, cure the incurable curs¨¨d pestilence, or put the square artifact in the round hole ¡ª assuming they didn¡¯t just stick a magic sword in it and call it a day. Such heroic feats of derring-do didn¡¯t often include figuring out how or why the problem arose in the first place, given the tendency of the afore-mentioned intrepid heroes to solve the problem with wanton violence then ransack their surroundings looking for treasure. From what Aaliyah had just said, the Vigiles Creaturae made figuring that out part of their mandate. It also heavily suggested the Vigiles did something about those catastrophes. The Vigiles taking a role in those situations wasn¡¯t something they were known to do and, before Aaliyah had mentioned it, Eresthanon wouldn¡¯t have been able to even call it a rumor. Aaliyah continued. ¡°You¡¯d think that¡¯d be a cush job, but it¡¯s probably the biggest pain in the ass we have to deal with. There¡¯s always some mystic bullshit going on and personally I think it¡¯s a trick the universe plays just to make sure you can¡¯t fix traffic jams. Each pairing catches assignments round-robin. Ya with me so far?¡± Eresthanon nodded. ¡°So, like you said, six weeks to close a case on average and we rarely work more than one case at a time. Can you guess how long ago I closed my last case? Go on, guess. Two months. Vanillin and Armrest have been sitting around almost twice as long waiting on a case. Not for nothing, but I¡¯d rather get a Pap smear from Edward Scissorhands than spend everyday twiddling my thumbs in the same place as those douchers.¡± ¡°That¡¯s, uh, particularly vivid imagery.¡± Aaliyah curled a lip at him, but didn¡¯t interrupt her flow now that she¡¯d gotten going. ¡°As much as any cop will claim they hope for less crime, that¡¯s just something you say so you don¡¯t look like an asshole. We live for the chase, for finding the bad guy and locking him away in a hole. But whether there¡¯s less crime or not isn¡¯t the issue; here¡¯s the issue ¡ª why is there less crime?¡± She paused long enough for Eresthanon to think the question hadn¡¯t been rhetorical, but as soon as he opened his mouth to respond, she plowed right on with her monologue. ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s been some kind of major cultural shift that¡¯s caused crime ¡ª and especially major crime ¡ª to take a nosedive, and I don¡¯t think the VC has suddenly turned incompetent at sniffing that bullshit out. Which means there¡¯s a good chance there¡¯s something specific or nefarious behind it.¡± Eresthanon pursed his lips. It was an interesting theory and Aaliyah had more experience with this kind of thing than he did. Or so he assumed. Their partnership was also brand new and she didn¡¯t seem too pleased about that, which made keeping an open mind a good strategy to ingratiate himself even if she turned out to be way off base. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°Any idea what it could be?¡± he asked. ¡°Listen, I¡¯ve been dealing with dirtbags all my life, personally and professionally. A grand conspiracy or some shadowy overlord might be more likely on this side of weird, but if I had to put money on it? I¡¯d say that rats will sense something¡¯s about to rock the boat before the passengers do. I think something is about to go down ¡ª something big ¡ª and it¡¯s the kind of thing mooks who pay attention to which way the wind¡¯s blowing will smell even if they don¡¯t realize they¡¯re sniffing the breeze. You still with me?¡± The young woman before him was experienced, cunning, and savvy, so Eresthanon gave her theory serious consideration. She was right that their hidden world was more likely to have a shadowy conspiracy behind unseemly doings, but also right that such conspiracies were generally limited in scope. That was due, in no small part, to one of the most effective sweeping conspiracies out there ¡ª the Vigiles Creaturae itself ¡ª actively trying to thwart them. It was also true that those stuck in the muck, desperately struggling to eke out some kind of comfort in a world that offered them no favors, tended to have a strong sense of things that could disrupt or derail their meager plans. Barring divination, oracles, and prophecy, the instincts of those more often at the mercy of fate than others were generally a good measuring stick of oncoming trouble, as long as it was within their element. Perhaps the most compelling factor in support of her idea, however, was Eresthanon¡¯s own feelings of an impending hazard. Whatever the source, his sense of it was of a storm, looming in the distance and rapidly drawing closer. He suspected the purpose of his Renewal and placement in the Vigiles were connected to this sense but couldn¡¯t make a guess beyond that; it was considered extremely poor form to look backwards in a new Cycle. ¡°I am still with you, Quaesitor. What do you plan to do?¡± ¡°Like I said, I been dealing with dirtbags my whole life, personally and professionally. I say we go grab a couple of those bags, shake ¡®em around, and see what kinda dirt falls out.¡± ¡°A shakedown?¡± ¡°More like motivated intelligence gathering,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°I¡¯ve got some contacts I can chat with who might be inclined to give me a head¡¯s up. If they don¡¯t come through, I know some other vermin who will go running if I rattle their bushes and probably lead us where we need to go.¡± Aaliyah stood up, pulled on the windbreaker that had been draped over her chair, and rubbed her hands together eagerly. ¡°First stop is about a mile uptown. Should we walk, drive, or take the train?¡± Eresthanon stood as well, smiling slightly at Aaliyah¡¯s test. Her accent and attitude were already dead giveaways, but nothing outed a New Yorker like a snide little pop quiz to determine how much of a New Yorker someone else was. He would be best served making it clear to her that he knew the city, even if he didn¡¯t know the city because of his Renewal. If he didn¡¯t, he could look forward to an endless barrage of comments about transplants and other nativist jabs, not to mention additional quizzing to put him on the spot. Better yet, he had to make it clear he knew what she was doing. ¡°I could talk about traffic at this time of day or ask about the specific neighborhood of our destination, but that would be overlooking two considerations of much greater significance: would we be using the Byways if we drove and, if not, then my answer would depend on the rest of our itinerary.¡± Aaliyah clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Not really fair grilling you when you¡¯re only like three hours old, huh? Forget about it. We¡¯re going up to Tribeca. After that we¡¯ll have a few hours to break for dinner.¡± ¡°Then we walk.¡± ¡°We walk!¡± Aaliyah said, and opened the door of her office for him. They had to pass through the Vigiles lobby to switch elevators so they could access the ground floor of the main building and, thus, the street. On their way through, the receptionist tried to engage with them in his usual saucy, flamboyant style. Aaliyah told him to shove a part of himself into another part of himself that Eresthanon didn¡¯t think the young human could accomplish without being a most accomplished sorcerer with a most peculiar mystical specialization. The young man laughed the suggestion off, saying he would if he could and bidding them farewell with a wink. Out on the street, their route through the city wasn¡¯t the most direct, but it had several interesting landmarks along the way. They passed by the edge of the World Trade Center, the Woolworth¡¯s building, and City Hall, which required them to double back on themselves for a couple blocks. Eresthanon didn¡¯t make a thing out of it; he half suspected she¡¯d chosen the route as another test, perhaps looking for signs of tourist behavior. Eresthanon made a point not to raise his head even slightly to gaze appreciatively upwards as they strolled among some of the most famous skyscrapers in the world. He wanted to take the city in from his new perspective and he was primed for some sightseeing by his drive down the FDR, but he thought better of it. He had weighed the risks of rubbernecking like an overcooked chicken and simply flicking his chin if Aaliyah gave him any guff and thought it would be unnecessarily provocative. If one does not start anything, then nothing shall come to pass, as the saying goes. Or something like that, he was pretty sure. All told, the walk took about half an hour as they strolled through Downtown, not taking their time to rush. Well, they didn¡¯t rush any more than the average person on the streets of New York who didn¡¯t want to get bulldozed by people who had neither the time nor patience for gawkers and slow walkers. Finally, they crossed Walker Street on 6th Avenue and came right up to the tiny, misshapen island of green that was Tribeca Park. Aaliyah stopped at the center of the park, taking a moment to lean against the lamppost that marked where Walker turned into Beach Street. ¡°The guy we¡¯re going to see is a real scumbag,¡± she said. ¡°I wanted to give you a head¡¯s up about that. When he puts his mind to it he can come off as respectable and even charming, so don¡¯t get suckered by the nice guy act, okay?¡± Before Eresthanon could do more than nod, Aaliyah had pushed off the lamppost and was crossing the street again, down West Broadway, this time. Eresthanon wasn¡¯t sure if she was screwing with him by doing another double-back, but their destination was the second door from the corner, so it seemed she knew what she was about. From the minimalist facade and small tables out front, Eresthanon guessed it was a bar or cafe. A full-service restaurant was a possibility, but he didn¡¯t get that feeling from it. The tables, chairs, and storefront were all made of timber stained so dark it was almost black, including the window frames. The door was a thick slab of wood but lighter and with grain that showed more clearly. It had a porthole window in the center. Even the metal housing for the roll-down security grille had been covered in matching wood panels. Only the hanging sign, jutting out over the door, was made of metal, and that kept to the minimalistic design of the place. It was unadorned by anything but the business¡¯s name and read, simply, ¡°Anywhere.¡± Inside, Eresthanon found himself in a bar with very little light; it reached beyond dim and started to touch on real darkness. The building faced west, but two small trees out front and taller buildings across the street filtered the evening light coming through the windows. Other than a few lamps hanging over a huge chalkboard menu behind the bar, the place was lit only by candles and small oil lamps on the tables. The menu only listed wine and beer, though with a great deal of variety. Eresthanon¡¯s eyes adapted to the light conditions immediately, so he was prepared to wait a few seconds for Aaliyah¡¯s to acclimate. She strode through the murk without a moment¡¯s hesitation, moving through the bar so quickly that Eresthanon barely had time to register the burly orc tending the bar. The orc was leaning on his elbows and quietly ¡ª but obviously ¡ª flirting with one of the customers. Was that a Scottish accent Eresthanon was hearing? As he followed Aaliyah deeper into the bar, he tried to reorient his senses to let him see the orc¡¯s illusory disguise. It was so weak Eresthanon could barely detect it, so weak he couldn¡¯t be sure the orc even was disguised by an enchantment. With the bar so close to the door and the large windows in the front, that was highly unlikely. Even with the dim lighting, there was no way someone would flout the Third Pillar so brazenly. Right? Plus, it was even less likely Aaliyah would let it slide without comment. She might not be an uptight, straight-laced rulemonger, but Eresthanon hadn¡¯t gotten the impression she was the kind to be derelict in her duty. He decided to follow her lead on this; she knew the lay of the land and it was literally his first day on the job. Besides, his suspicion could be colored by the long, ugly history of conflict between his people and orcs. What if he¡¯d been a fierce bigot against the tribal peoples in his last Cycle and that was influencing him? From what he knew of the Rite of Renewal, nothing so overt from his previous personality should be filtering through, but it was always a risk with deeply ingrained, powerful emotions. The pair of detectives continued deeper into the wine bar, passing a few more people sitting at the bar and a handful of small groups in booths along the wall, before finally coming to the booth farthest back in the room. This booth was completely unlit, lacking a lamp or candle on or above the table. Aaliyah flopped unceremoniously onto the bench, leaving Eresthanon to stand beside it, looking down at the booth¡¯s other occupant ¡ª a goblin. Chapter 27 - A Meeting Anywhere Aaliyah thumped the table with the palm of her hand. ¡°How¡¯s it hangin¡¯, Roger?¡± The goblin closed the plain composition notebook he¡¯d been writing in with a sigh and looked each of them over. Eresthanon examined the goblin in kind. Roger was about five feet tall, not huge for a goblin but above average. He had a large head with features that made him look like a furless fruit bat ¡ª pointed, forward-facing ears near the top of this head; a stubby snout ending in a leathery nose with rounded nostrils; and round, solid-colored eyes that took up about a third of his face. Eresthanon knew Roger was no garden-variety goblin; his ancestry came from one of the surface-dwelling tribes. Two things gave Roger¡¯s heritage away: his eyes and his skin. Roger¡¯s eyes were black, instead of red, a trait only found among those who had needed protection from the sun¡¯s light. His skin was green, but it was a deep shade of green, not the pale green or gray of his people who lived in vast warrens dug into the earth. That marked him as likely being from a forest tribe, as the high-altitude tribes had dark gray skin and the rare mountain tribes had brown or red skin. Of course, the times had changed for everyone to some degree or other and the goblin¡¯s roots said very little about who the individual was now. The forest-dwellers, for instance, had once been seen as the most vicious and uncivilized of the goblin tribes. Yet Roger sat in a quiet booth at the rear of a Tribeca wine bar, wearing a suit cut in a British style more than a century out of date, and idly fingering the brim of a bowler hat he had dragged across the table to cover his notebook. ¡°Quaesitor Dean,¡± the goblin said in an effete British accent. ¡°Absolutely corking to see you again. And who, pray tell, is your associate? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve finally settled down with a proper gent! You know I¡¯d be devastated to learn my love shall go forever unrequited.¡± Eresthanon tried to look casual. He didn¡¯t know how this fellow felt about elves and didn¡¯t want to give the impression he was looming as it might make it harder for Aaliyah to convince him to share whatever information he might have. A casual lean only went so far, however, when you were six feet tall and the other person was a foot shorter and seated. ¡°This is Eresthanon, but you can call him Eric if saying elf names will set you on fire and whatnot,¡± she said, gesturing at Eresthanon. The goblin scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re trying to get a rise out of me or your new friend, but it would behoove you to take an approach that doesn¡¯t make it sound as though you¡¯d been snorting Tolkien fanfiction.¡± The goblin turned to look at Eresthanon and raised two fingers to his forehead. ¡°Good evening to you, Eresthanon, and welcome to my humble establishment. You may call me Roger, if you like.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a usual goblin name, I think,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°No more than Eric is an elven one. My given name is Rognur. I take it from your presence that someone has finally accepted the burden of trying to work with Ms. Dean here. I shall salute you for your bravery, rather than presuming ¡ª rather more sensibly, I shouldn¡¯t think ¡ª that it was foolishness which has led you to such a lowly state.¡± ¡°Thank you for the consideration of my character and reputation,¡± Eresthanon said, with a small nod. ¡°I wonder if I might inquire for a moment about your bartender?¡± ¡°Soo?¡± ¡°Sue?¡± ¡°No, Soo. Soo McGoo.¡± ¡°Really? Soo McGoo?¡± ¡°It¡¯s true; a boy named Soo. Soo McGoo.¡± ¡°Thoid base!¡± Eresthanon said with a wink and the shadow of a hint of an exaggerated Bronx accent. The other two just gave him befuddled stares. ¡°Yes, well then, about Soo¡­¡± Rognur didn¡¯t quite roll his eyes. ¡°He has a very low-grade disguise enchantment, bound into a piercing, of all things. He can afford better, but he¡¯s¡­ let us say frugal. Plus, there¡¯s a sexual element involved.¡± ¡°A sexual element?¡± Eresthanon asked. Aaliyah interjected with a sigh. ¡°Soo¡¯s gay as a daisy, but he¡¯s got a taste for normies ¡ª straight normies in particular ¡ª so he disguises himself as women. Not that cis or trans women need that particular baggage added to our already oversized heap of bullshit, but it doesn¡¯t violate any of the Pillars, so kicking the shit out of him would be problematic. It¡¯s gross and I wouldn¡¯t personally call his affairs getting informed consent, but it¡¯s not exactly in our wheelhouse¡­so long as he¡¯s not using prohibited alchemy or breaking the Third.¡± Rognur¡¯s grin was exasperated. ¡°He takes the whole ¡®taste of manflesh¡¯ thing a bit far, in my estimation, but he¡¯s an otherwise upstanding citizen. While I may not personally approve, it seems to be doing little harm.¡± The goblin paused, thoughtfully. ¡°Well, I will confess that the number of lads I¡¯ve seen besotted after a night with a young lady who is ¡ª as far as they can discern ¡ª preposterously out of their league is much higher than one might see in other cosmopolitan establishments such as my own. I imagine, however, Ms. Dean would leave the same trail of broken hearts if she were more cuddlesome.¡± ¡°Please; flattery will get you kicked in the groin,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°We¡¯re not here about Soo, Roger, I wanted to check in on whether I was right about those crystals.¡± ¡°Your suspicion turned out to be all too right,¡± Rognur said. ¡°That aetherium passed every test I could muster, but when I tried to cut or shape a sample, it broke down into aetheron gel with far less capacity than the crystals showed. You did me a great favor, there, and saved me from losing a bundle.¡± The young woman glanced meaningfully at Eresthanon and he titled his head slightly to acknowledge that he caught the reference. Rognur had just described almost the exact case Dylan and West had bragged about less than an hour prior. Aaliyah had apparently known about it well before it had spread far enough to target wealthier, more powerful marks. The con had probably started being run on the seedier side of society and, when it proved effective, moved on to target bigger scores. Why Aaliyah had passed up the case when she had been so bored was a bit of a mystery, until Eresthanon remembered her comment about it being penny ante stuff and barely a violation of the Second Pillar: Thy essentia is thine own. But they needed a united front for dealing with this potential informant, so now wasn¡¯t the time to question her about it. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad I could lend a hand,¡± Aaliyah said, slapping the table again. ¡°One good turn deserves another, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± Rognur groaned. ¡°I owe you for the tip, fair enough; make your pitch so I can figure out whether I want to piss and moan about it. Scratch that, how much I want to piss and moan about it.¡± ¡°First of all, Booger Joe, you owe me for a lot more than just that tip, but I¡¯ll let that little comment slide for the moment.¡± ¡°Booger Joe?¡± the elf and goblin said in unison, interrupting Aaliyah. ¡°Yeah, y¡¯know, on account of he¡¯s all green and slimy? Anyway, whatever. There¡¯s been a real dip in what you might call ¡®nefarious doings¡¯ lately and it¡¯s got my hairs standing on end. I feel like there¡¯s something big going on or about to be going on. You heard anything that might make sense outta something like that?¡± Rognur considered her for a few moments. ¡°Are you saying¡­ it¡¯s too quiet?¡± Aaliyah pursed her lips at the goblin. ¡°Clich¨¦s have roots in truth, you goon, they just get overused so¡¯s people got sick of them.¡± Rognur drummed the long fingers of one hand on the brim of his bowler and the tip of a finger on the other against his lips. ¡°Hmmm. At a moment¡¯s notice, I can¡¯t say that I¡¯m aware of anything that might be of interest to you in that regard. However, I will make some discreet inquiries of my various associates, and get back to you if anything pops out at me.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t ask for more than that,¡± Aaliyah said, scooching to the end of the booth. Eresthanon stepped back to give her room to stand. ¡°I hope to hear from you soon, Roger. If you get something good, that¡¯ll square us on the aether scam.¡± The goblin sketched a deep bow with his large head ¡ª all the more odd because he was still seated, bringing his bat-like snout within inches of the table ¡ª and the two vigilum departed. As they left, Eresthanon overheard Soo McGoo, the orc bartender, telling some guy in a polo shirt his shift ended in a little over an hour. Eresthanon frowned slightly, but ignored it as much as he found doing so distasteful. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Aaliyah was right ¡ª it wasn¡¯t exactly informed consent from Soo¡¯s partners ¡ª but the other side of that stance opened the door to legitimizing arguments for gay and trans panic. Informed consent from Soo¡¯s preferred partners would also require violating the Third Pillar: The secret must be kept. Soo¡¯s seduction of unwitting men was uncomfortable for Eresthanon, but what was the alternative? It would be a far greater miscarriage of justice to forbid him from sleeping with other men or to prohibit miscegenation between mythic and mundane. The orc was lying about who and what he was to his partners, but was it Eresthanon¡¯s or the Vigiles¡¯ place to police that? Eresthanon didn¡¯t think so, especially when he measured it against worse outrages taking place in the world and the terrible things Creaturae were not forbidden from doing to humans. After all, the First Pillar usually only served as a prohibition on the killing of other Creaturae, not mundane people. It was a morally contemptible position and the Vigiles could rightfully be criticized for abrogating a greater responsibility, but they could not ¡ª and should not ¡ª be policing everything that happened in the entire world. A pragmatist might argue that the Third Pillar acted as a check on the killing of humans or that the many various factions policed such things among their own. Eresthanon didn¡¯t think he was qualified to form an opinion one way or the other, yet, in part because elves generally stood aloof and distant from both mundanes and Creaturae, but also because his real, lived experiences in the world extended back only a few hours. On the walk back to the office, the sun was setting in earnest and the sky had begun to darken. Rather than delve too deeply into the morality of the Four Pillars, Eresthanon used the opportunity to ask Aaliyah the questions that had occurred to him during their brief meeting. ¡°You knew about the aetherium scam?¡± Aaliyah shrugged. ¡°A guy I know got ahold of me maybe six weeks back, said he¡¯d bought some aether-infused crystal that was supposed to be a game changer. He broke the crystal doing some goofy shit and it turned into this nasty sludge. A bit of spellwork later and he finds out the sludge was a low-yield aetheron. It had been magicked into a crystalline form that somehow gave off a way stronger reading of aether than it should have. He was wicked pissed and comes asking me to kick down doors to get his plat back.¡± Aaliyah stopped at a food cart to get a churro, putting her story on pause. Warm pastry in hand, she continued. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not just going to go on a rampage, but I figure there might be a violation there. I go talk to Roger on account of he¡¯s one of the most plugged-in dirtbags I know. He don¡¯t know nothing from nothing, but he tells me he¡¯ll keep his pointy ears open seeing as he owes me.¡± She paused and glanced at Eresthanon out of the corner of her eye. ¡°No offense to the pointy ear community.¡± ¡°None taken. So, obviously, he did hear something.¡± ¡°Oh no, yeah. He calls me back a couple weeks later telling me someone was trying to sell him on some new ritual that could create aetherium with almost no loss of aether. They don¡¯t try to get him to invest any juice, right? Just coin. I figure that¡¯s the endgame on the con. He says the whole thing felt hinky, ¡®cause why wouldn¡¯t someone who built a better mousetrap go Downtown to finance that operation instead of letting bums like him in on the ground floor? Not his words, of course, about being a bum, but still accurate.¡± Eresthanon nodded thoughtfully. Aether suffused everything and it could be harvested, for lack of a better term, from just about anywhere. The intangible material was drawn into a corporeal state then refined into one of three physical forms ¡ª a metal called aetherite, crystals called aetherium, and non-solid states called aetheron, which included liquids, gasses, and gels. The rate of accumulation at a random, magically-inert location would make the process essentially pointless ¡ª far more magical power would be spent in gathering aether into a physical form than that aether could store. The best places to create an aether distillation process would be saturated with mystic power, like the nexus of multiple ley lines. ¡°So someone found a way to make aetheron appear to be aetherium and seem as if it had the storage capacity of aetherite? That¡¯s rather impressive magic, actually,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Sure,¡± Aaliyah shrugged, ¡°but all you could really do with it is scam people out of their coin.¡± ¡°And trust no one would break a crystal with such value by accident.¡± Each of the three physical states of refined aether had its own advantages and drawbacks. All three could be used as a kind of catalyst, component, or battery for various applications of magic, but they had more simple properties that set them apart, as well. Aetherite, which Eresthanon had recently learned was often called aethril these days, lost the least aether in the refining process. However, the product was essentially permanent, the infused metal being only useful as a metal once it was made. It could be forged into objects or smelted into alloys, which had certain benefits in the creation of magic items, but the aether inside lost much of the versatility of the other forms. Aetherite was also used in the production of coinage and could be turned into a dust that was very useful for some kinds of enchanting. Aetherium, the crystalline form, wasn¡¯t as efficient to produce, but the aether within could be utilized and drawn from in a variety of ways. Perhaps the most intriguing benefit of aetherium was its ability to slowly replenish its aether reserves as long as it wasn¡¯t completely drained, which would break the crystal. The greatest weakness of the crystals was that shaping or cutting them was very delicate and the entire thing could break apart, losing the stored aether. Aetheron, despite being a catch-all term for a variety of refined products, shared many properties. It was the least efficient to produce and had the lowest capacity to store aether, but it was also the most manipulable form, allowing it to be used in ways the solid couldn¡¯t. A final product of aether harvesting existed ¡ª aether in a pure form, which manifested as something like light or transparent plasma ¡ª though it wasn¡¯t particularly useful. It was an excellent conductor for magic, but it was highly volatile, nearly impossible to contain, and it reacted unpredictably to any active magics in its proximity. Eresthanon hummed thoughtfully. ¡°So you knew the gist of the scam, but it hadn¡¯t breached the Second Pillar, nor had it reached a point of having serious ramifications. I would guess you referred the matter to someone in a lesser office?¡± ¡°You got it. Filed a report with Khaldun and everything. And it¡¯s not like I wasn¡¯t bored outta my gourd, but I¡¯m not trying to scrounge up cases. I¡¯m certainly not strong-arming other vigilum out of their case. Especially not one that could put them on the come-up. Ya with me?¡± Eresthanon was glad to hear his assessment of Aaliyah had been accurate; not only was she diligent in her duty, but she was considerate of her fellows. Both were signs of strong moral fiber. ¡°Sound reasoning, Quaesitor. So, this Rognur fellow. I presume he operates in the underworld in some fashion, but I¡¯m curious why he would be especially connected. He didn¡¯t strike me as a secret broker or anyone of notable influence.¡± Secret brokers and information peddlers were the shadier counterparts to lore masters and other academically-oriented consultants; they traded what they learned for coin, aether, or new information of interest to them. They were exceedingly rare ¡ª especially if they worked independent of a larger faction ¡ª because creatures of myth and magic zealously guarded their secrets. Eresthanon doubted that any broker who¡¯d be likely to have worthwhile information would have ever allowed a relationship like Rognur appeared to have with Aaliyah to form ¡ª they couldn¡¯t afford to be in debt to the Vigiles Creaturae and they certainly couldn¡¯t be so cavalier about it. The lack of any significant security presence at the wine bar also suggested that Rognur wasn¡¯t a powerful figure in a major underworld syndicate or other criminal enterprise. Goblins were cunning and could be terribly vicious, but they were physically and magically weaker than many other Creaturae; any goblin with a potential target on their back would want a strong security presence for protection and as a deterrent. Aaliyah snorted. ¡°That little snotrag runs a number of operations, but they¡¯re all just shy of being problematic. He¡¯s a prolific fence, only he¡¯s real careful not to deal in anything that contains aether, so he ducks violations of the Second. He¡¯s also a loan shark, which is predatory and shady but not a violation. And he runs some kind of pit fights out of a basement arena in his bar. It¡¯s supposed to be non-lethal and no deaths have ever been tied to it, but I¡¯m not sure it doesn¡¯t happen¡­ and maybe on purpose. There¡¯s big money to be made on deathmatches.¡± The conversation had carried them all the way back to the building that housed the Vigiles Creaturae offices. The troll in the brown suit was sitting on the same bench reading the same book in the courtyard next to the garage entrance. Aaliyah raised a hand to the huge man. ¡°Evening, Eugene.¡± The troll looked up at her, grunted, and went back to his book. Aaliyah shrugged and turned to Eresthanon. ¡°We¡¯ve got a few hours to kill before we can see my next contact. That works out in our favor because you¡¯ll need to get changed. Maybe grab some dinner or something, too.¡± Eresthanon lifted an eyebrow slightly. ¡°Changed?¡± ¡°Oh yeah, you gotta look the part where we¡¯re going. They have a very particular style and you¡¯ll want to blend in.¡± ¡°I have clothes ranging from sportswear to formal attire.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t have what you need for this place, I guarantee it. You want something¡­¡± She paused in thought for a moment. ¡°Okay, so imagine Edgar Allan Poe is going to one of those Victorian parties where they take selfies with corpses and have seances or whatever, right? But then it¡¯s also a BDSM club. Put all that together and you¡¯ll be in the ballpark.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure I follow,¡± Eresthanon said, idly rubbing his chin. ¡°Just google ¡®goth boutique near me¡¯ or something like that. They¡¯ll get you sorted, I¡¯m sure. Give me your number so I can text you the time and place later, alright?¡± He provided his number and Aaliyah took her leave, walking back the way they¡¯d come. Eresthanon wondered if this was an unusual amount of free time to have while working at the Vigiles Creaturae. Then again, Aaliyah had told him they basically had nothing to do, hence why she was trying to be proactive in reaching out to contacts. He felt confident making inquiries of her other informants would be a more delicate operation than their visit to Rognur had been. Well, mostly confident. Aaliyah seemed to be a very straightforward person. Nor could he say he was being idle, exactly; he now had to procure some kind of outfit so they could infiltrate a seedy part of the underworld to facilitate their search. He didn¡¯t know if it would be dangerous, but she had made a good point ¡ª it was prudent to take all possible precautions. Thus, he had some clothes shopping to do. Chapter 28 - Playing Dress-Up If he was going to go on his very first shopping trip in this Cycle, it would probably be wise to have some food in his stomach. Eresthanon¡¯s stomach wasn¡¯t rumbling ¡ª he was an elf, after all ¡ª but he had a mighty hankering to fill it nonetheless. What, precisely, he had a hankering for was less clear, so he decided to walk around the neighborhood for a while before he¡¯d go back to his car. After meandering for a few blocks, Eresthanon found himself standing across the street from the rear of the Federal Reserve Bank. The building was unmistakable, with its large sandstone and limestone bricks. The stones were rusticated and pulvinated, their rounded, puffy edges giving them an air of well-weathered sturdiness. Oddly, the fa?ade reminded the elf of the foil packaging some gums came in these days, though the building was much older. Looking at one of the most famous gold depositories in the world, Eresthanon was reminded of humanity¡¯s obsession with precious metals. It was something of a mystery to the elf. Unlike the Creaturae ¡ª who made coinage based on the ratio of aetherite each could be alloyed with ¡ª for most of their history humans had almost no practical use for precious metals. An argument could be made about the value of rarity, purity, and density, but enough to justify the steadfast refusal to find something superior to useless lumps of metal? The bank wasn¡¯t what caught Eresthanon¡¯s attention. Catty-corner to the rear of the Reserve was the entrance to a building done in a Classical style. He had initially taken note of the building because the spaces between the first three floors were trimmed with stone lion¡¯s heads. It reminded him of the Ebabbar in the ancient city of Sippar. Also known as the Shining Temple, it had been adorned by a much larger lion¡¯s head carved in relief on the stone of the building. The temple had been dedicated to Shamash ¡ª the same Shamash whose Seal adorned the tablet he¡¯d sworn his oaths to the Vigiles on earlier that day. Then he had noticed something far more relevant to his immediate needs. A large sign covered most of the rear wall of the foyer, advertising something that he felt certain would satisfy his current craving ¡ª a sushi restaurant. Perhaps craving was the wrong word. Eresthanon had no idea if he would love or hate sushi, as he had no memories of ever eating it, but the chance to experience that discovery appealed to him in a fundamental way. Learning about himself could be just as satisfying as a food that perfectly matched his mood. Although the restaurant was busy, it wasn¡¯t so packed that Eresthanon couldn¡¯t get a seat. He looked over the menu with no idea what might match his tastes. He was in luck; the restaurant offered several chef¡¯s choice platters. One was meant to serve up to four people and Eresthanon nearly ordered it. While such a variety was appealing, he realized that would be far too much food, especially with the added risk that Eresthanon might not care for this style of seafood. Or seafood at all! They had smaller platters, as well, and he settled on a sizable one that provided samples of both sushi and sashimi. It was exciting, in a new Cycle, to explore which foods would resonate with his palate. Sushi, he soon learned, was good (but not amazing), suited his taste buds better than sashimi, and was best with a bit of spice. The time it took to order and eat provided a good opportunity for Eresthanon to use his phone to make sure all his practical needs were attended to. He had several hundred dollars in cash in his wallet, but if he was going clothes shopping he needed to be certain his charge accounts were activated. That meant setting up a pin for his debit card, double-checking and memorizing his billing zip code for the credit cards, and making sure he had smart pay apps sorted out. Cash was still king in New York City, but Eresthanon wanted to make sure all his bases were covered. His accounts suggested he had a significant amount of mundane personal wealth. That lent credence to something he¡¯d noticed on his driver¡¯s license when he first examined his identification documents ¡ª Eric Nathanial, his mundane identity, was rich. Not just a little rich, either, but Manhattan rich. His home address was on Gramercy Park West, a tiny, opulent street in a tiny, opulent neighborhood surrounded by other, similarly-opulent neighborhoods, including Kips Bay, the East Village, and the Flatiron. It was so posh and exclusive, residents had personal access to one of only three private parks in the entire state. He also needed to remember to get some kind of dimensional storage and coinage ¡ª very few Creaturae dealt in mundane currency ¡ª but that would have to wait until tomorrow, at the earliest. Nothing he¡¯d seen on his phone or in his documents indicated how much coin he had, if any. The only non-mundane app he¡¯d installed for himself before this Cycle began was the magic-integrated security. He¡¯d have to pay a visit to a proper bank to find out more. Despite the breadth of knowledge he¡¯d discovered he had about New York so far, he hadn¡¯t the slightest idea where he might find a bank; or any other Creaturae-specific merchants, for that matter. It was an odd gap in his knowledge and one his instinct was to explore, but tradition held that it was best not to think too deeply on past Cycles. The evening was pressing onwards and he had a meeting with Aaliyah¡¯s contact to prepare for, so he would have to put off the search for coinage to another time. His partner had suggested searching for goth boutiques to acquire an outfit for the evening. Eresthanon wasn¡¯t sure what that meant, in fashion terms, but he imagined it had to be related to the architectural and artistic movements rather than the guttiuda, the Germanic tribes abused by Rome and subsequently maligned by history. If his conclusion was accurate, he pictured a style that was dark, drastic, and formal, likely with unnecessary, complicated designs and accessories. Her comments about the Victorian aesthetic and fascination with the macabre supported that conclusion, as well. An internet search yielded promising results ¡ª there seemed to be a hotspot of the needed boutiques between the Vigiles building and Midtown, with stores in NoHo, the East Village, and Union Square. He¡¯d have to find parking somewhere between 2nd and 3rd Avenue, but that would give him a good central location to visit the various boutiques and drop off any purchases in between stores. It also put him close enough to Gramercy Park that he could check out his new home, assuming Aaliyah hadn¡¯t called him to the meeting yet. If she did, he¡¯d be in a good position to reach anywhere in the city fairly quickly. Luckily, he found a small parking garage on East 9th between 2nd and 3rd Avenues, the perfect spot to visit each of the three different boutiques he¡¯d decided to visit with just a few minutes of walking. Each store had its own charm, catering not just to a general fashion style but to a wide array subcategories within it, as well. These diverse varieties ranged from unkempt homeless person to something that resembled a high-ranking military officer of a small but extravagant mountainous nation where the sun never rose. Where the stores shared the most common ground was in staffing. At each boutique, Eresthanon was assisted by a different young woman. All three were almost obscenely exuberant about helping him get together an outfit. The fact he had relatively little to go on in terms of what he actually needed didn¡¯t dampen their spirits in the slightest. Although the ladies were probably motivated by the possibility of lucrative sales, at least to some degree, the overall experience left Eresthanon feeling more like a doll in the hands of an excited child than a mark being manhandled by a shrewd merchant. In the end, he managed to put together an ensemble that was supposed to let him blend into any situation where goth was de rigueur without standing out too much. Eresthanon thought he would stand out anywhere that wasn¡¯t a military parade put on in a banana republic run by a vampiric dictator, but the shopgirls were adamant his outfit was tasteful ¡ª even understated ¡ª by goth standards. The outfit itself consisted of a brocade vest over a tight blouse, with a frilled cravat and a tailcoat. The coat had a generic military design that was downright anachronistic, like the dress uniform of some Prussian officer yet to don their aiguillette, epaulettes, or sash. Heavy, combat-style boots had been a must, although he wasn¡¯t sure militaries still issued pairs that reached the knee. To complete the look, he had been talked into buying a low, belled top hat. Other than the white shirt, everything was black, and there was a surfeit of straps, belts, and chains attached to many of the pieces that served no obvious purpose. One of the clerks had insisted they added ¡®personality.¡¯ She had argued more strenuously than the others that he needed more of this so-called personality, but Eresthanon had drawn the line when she began trying to sell him on a variety of goggles and other accessories shaped like coffins, bats, spiders, and skulls. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. By the time he had everything in hand and reached the address of his new home on Gramercy Park West, it was after nine o¡¯clock. There was only street parking near his apartment, but Eresthanon found a spot right in front of his building. He didn¡¯t need to be an elf to be fairly confident the space had been magicked so it would always be available for him; he also didn¡¯t have the time to investigate the specific nature of the enchantment. What he could be certain of, however, was that he¡¯d been very thorough in his previous Cycle to prepare for this one. The building itself was distantly familiar to Eresthanon. He knew a lot of things about this house ¡ª like how the lampposts on either side of the wrought iron gate had been installed to signify it was the Mayor¡¯s residence more than a hundred years earlier ¡ª but it all registered in a distant, detached way, like trivia you might pick up from reading an encyclopedia. He brushed those thoughts aside as he entered the floor on the garden level; it was best not to dwell too long on how you might know things in a new Cycle. He went through the gate and entered the building from the garden ¡ª or street ¡ª level, under the broad front stairs. His apartment was at least two storeys judging from the staircase on the right side of the foyer. A small nook beyond the staircase held a washer and dryer and Eresthanon lamented that he wouldn¡¯t have time to wash his new outfit. Aaliyah hadn¡¯t given him a specific time frame for the meeting beyond telling him it would be ¡°in a few hours;¡± she could contact him any minute or it could still be hours away. In either case, he didn¡¯t want to risk laundering his new clothes and wind up needing to use magic to dry them ¡ª soap would still be clinging to the fabric and that could be uncomfortable ¡ª so he had to prepare everything now and wait. A quick exploration of the home revealed it was just as he had expected from the seeing address earlier: conspicuously luxurious. The floors were hardwood parquet, ornate chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and fireplaces stood in several rooms. The rear opened into a private, walled yard which was overlooked by a balcony on the parlor floor above. Aside from brand new major appliances, there was almost no other furniture. A few rooms had very basic, utilitarian pieces, like beds in the bedrooms or a plain table with dull chairs in the dining room. The place felt incomplete. Eresthanon was going to have to find time to deal with that, otherwise he¡¯d probably avoid spending time in his own home. It had a hollow, soulless feeling to it due to the sparseness. That was, again, an issue for a later date; he had more pressing matters to attend to. After he¡¯d dressed, Eresthanon looked himself over in a mirror in one of the bathrooms. The completed ensemble was, in Eresthanon¡¯s opinion, laughably anachronistic and bordering on the absurd. He could only trust that Aaliyah knew what she was about; he certainly didn¡¯t know enough about the criminal underworld or the world of contemporary fashion to have an informed opinion. The problem with this so-called gothic style, in the elf¡¯s opinion, wasn¡¯t the clothes themselves. Eresthanon actually thought the style could be rather fetching, even if it was somewhat ostentatious. What bothered him was that it was the sort of getup a burgeoning magi would adopt if they really, really, really wanted to impress upon anyone who saw them that they were delving into necromancy or hellcraft. It didn¡¯t express who the individual was, but how they wanted others to see them. Eresthanon spent a few minutes having a fierce-but-silent argument with himself as he looked in the mirror. The girl at the boutique had been right ¡ª some jewelry would provide a nice accent to all the black clothing ¡ª but he really didn¡¯t want to admit it. Every accessory she¡¯d shown him had been ludicrously ornate and he thought the clothes needed the contrast of something that was understated and simple but still caught the light. He stood by his conviction that goggles would have been ridiculous. His phone buzzed on the counter; it was a text from Aaliyah. She wanted him to meet her in the Meatpacking District at ten o¡¯clock and provided an address. That gave him half an hour to make a ten minute drive, assuming traffic didn¡¯t turn into a snarl. He sent back an acknowledgement and returned to his car. He was, in that moment, extremely grateful for his car and the magically-eased parking situation. He didn¡¯t think he would have enjoyed riding the train dressed as he was. The elf was no shaman, so he made no offerings or invocations to the often capricious, sometimes pernicious spirits of chaos and misery that influenced the traffic in New York City. He was fortunate and didn¡¯t attract their attention or ire, making it across the island from Gramercy to the Meatpacking District in a quarter of an hour. Very little of the businesses in the Meatpacking District still conducted the business of packing meat; much of the real estate had been given over to designer clothing stores and nightclubs. The address Aaliyah had given him was an exception ¡ª it was a parking lot situated between several plants and warehouses that obviously still conducted the traditional business of the neighborhood. Aaliyah was leaning against a large motorcycle when Eresthanon pulled into the lot. She hadn¡¯t bothered to change her clothes except to add a simple leather overcoat that hung down to her hips. That was¡­ it was something. He¡¯d clearly been good and bamboozled by his new partner. Eresthanon considered trying to craft an illusion on the fly to modify his clothes, but that kind of enchantment didn¡¯t appear to be in his wheelhouse and that meant it was a good way to wind up with one leg shorter than the other. That left him pretty well screwed and stuck with his garish costume. The best he could do was try to own it. He stepped out of his car, the tails of his flamboyant coat swishing around his legs, and set a top hat dark as a winter¡¯s tomb on his head. Aaliyah had to brace herself against the motorcycle to stop from falling over as she was wracked with silent laughter. ¡°You- you- you should have got a sword cane and a monocle!¡± she wheezed. ¡°How much did that end up costing you?¡± ¡°A thousand dollars, give or take,¡± he replied drily. ¡°I¡¯ll treat it as the cost of learning that you consider yourself something of a prankster. Perhaps I can view it as an initial investment in my revenge.¡± ¡°Yeah no, this will actually help you blend in where we¡¯re going. I just, I can¡¯t say I expected you to take my advice so literally,¡± she said, still chuckling. ¡°The clerks at the shops I visited were quite enthusiastic in helping me put together this ensemble. If they¡¯d had their way, I¡¯d be wearing three to five pounds of silver-plated pewter, as well.¡± ¡°Goths do love their accessories,¡± Aaliyah said, turning to walk towards a pair of warehouses further into the parking lot. She led Eresthanon to an alley in the industrial complex and stopped at a plain, steel security door. She knocked twice, slowly, then again in a rapid pairing of staccato knocks, and ended with a single knock. The whole thing had a rhythmic quality, but it was no song Eresthanon knew. A panel in the door slid open and Eresthanon couldn¡¯t help but reflect, once more, on how trite Creaturae could be. Part of it was tradition ¡ª praeternatural races and organizations had been doing the secret club thing long before there was a popular culture to run these tropes into the ground; arguably, in some cases, before there was even a regular culture. The other part was ego ¡ª many Creaturae exulted in trappings that made them seem mysterious and otherworldly. There were more than a few notable personalities through the ages who had created spells and enchantments that did nothing more than enhance ambiance nor would there ever be a shortage of wizard towers perpetually shrouded in a strange, ominous, and (generally) pointless mist. Not counting the wholly separate and fairly insular races ¡ª of which the elves were only one ¡ª most informed estimates placed the number of Creaturae in the world between one half of one percent and two percent of the human population. Even being a part of that very exclusive number wasn¡¯t rare and special enough for some, so they had to set themselves apart even further with gimmicks and nonsense. Some argued that the psychological aspects of magic were at least suggestive, if not proof, that magic itself played a direct role in altering the personalities of those attuned to it. Why that would specifically create a bunch of preening narcissists no one could say. Whatever the case, Eresthanon found the two eyes peering at him from the darkness behind the hidden sliding panel mildly amusing and nothing more. Aaliyah took it in stride, as well, because she uttered a passphrase ¡ª ¡°Ciao, bella¡± ¡ª without a hint of irony. The panel slid shut with a dull clang and the door opened. Behind it was a small, dark room. The walls were covered in graffiti that glowed under ultraviolet light coming from purple fluorescent tubes along the ceiling. One wall was free of this pell-mell graffiti, however, and was instead decorated with a fanged skull done in spray paint. The frontal bone, where the forehead would be if there were flesh, was adorned with an ancient symbol painted in a light silver that nearly matched the white of the skull. The symbol was an ankh with a scarab beetle set into the loop at the top. Eresthanon didn¡¯t roll his eyes or sigh, but he winced inwardly when he realized how he¡¯d overlooked the obvious. A get-up like the one he was wearing and a meeting in the Meatpacking District, who else could they be meeting other than vampires? Awesome. Chapter 29 - Maras Crypt Standing behind the door to the dark room with its glowing graffiti was a pale, emaciated man dressed in a style similar to Eresthanon, though his outfit was fairly more subdued. The elf winced inwardly. He¡¯d gone more extravagant and over-the-top than the door man, who was the most vampiric vampire who¡¯d ever vampired vampirefully. The guard bowed deeply and said, ¡°Welcome to Mara¡¯s Crypt.¡± At a gesture from the guard, a hidden door opened in the wall painted with the immense skull. The door was placed under and between the fangs, revealing a long, dark hallway lit with the same blacklight as the foyer. Rather than graffiti, the walls were decorated with paint designed to look like blood splatters. Probably paint, anyways. It was a vampire-owned and themed club, but even they wouldn''t be that tacky in the 21st century. As soon as the door was open, the faint pulsing of dance music could be heard reverberating in the walls. Another pair of doors stood at the far end of the hallway. These were neither nondescript nor hidden. The doors were tall and thin, topped by a high, pointed arch and decorated with intricate panels, filigree, and railing. The vibrant pale green color of the doors ¡ª which glowed almost neon in the blacklight ¡ª suggested the things were either made of bronze or with a material meant to imitate it. Eresthanon thought they looked distinctly out of place, even surreal. He had a strong impression that they should be set into heavy granite masonry, not the plain, black walls of this nightclub hallway. Then Eresthanon realized why ¡ª they had been modeled in the same style as old mausoleum doors. Given the nature of the nightclub, it was quite possible they actually were doors to some family crypt. Beyond the doors, the wide, open space of a warehouse had been converted into a nightclub. That wasn¡¯t especially unusual in New York, but the layout of this one was. The roof was fifty feet overhead, criss-crossed by massive steel girders with powerful industrial theatre lights hung from them. The interior was like an inverted step pyramid, divided into three tiers with each more recessed than the last. The floors were clearly separated into ground, mezzanine, and balcony levels. The lowest point was the central floor, occupying at least half the space of the warehouse, and it was full of people dancing. Several small raised platforms were spread around the area, some with decorative cages and others with poles set atop them; whether they were intended for employees or enthusiastic patrons was unclear, but many were occupied by one or two dancers. The mezzanine, where Eresthanon and Aaliyah had entered, had several bars and the rest of the floor was dotted with small sofa lounges and cocktail tables. A guardrail ran around the edge of the floor, with regular breaks allowing access to broad, steep staircases descending to the dance floor. The balcony, above, was bordered by walls at waist- and chest-height, making it impossible for Eresthanon to see what was up there from his vantage point. If someone were standing right against one of the walls, he would be able to see them, but nothing past that due to the steep angle. ¡°Follow me,¡± Aaliyah said, striding away from the crypt doors. Her voice was clear even over the heavy pulse of the music. She went to one of the corners of the mezzanine, where a wrought iron spiral staircase ascended to the balcony level. A velvet rope was hung across the base of it between the metal banisters. A man stood beside it, likely security personnel. The guard stepped forward as they approached, pulling up a clipboard and partially blocking the staircase. Before he could say anything, Aaliyah flashed her badge at him. The man glanced at it, then pulled one end of the velvet rope off the metal rail and stepped aside. Either the guard was in the know or he was terrible at his job ¡ª there was no reason to let a random law enforcement agent go wherever they wanted in a private business without a warrant. If he was a bystander and couldn¡¯t see the Vigiles badge beneath the illusion, he probably wouldn¡¯t have his job much longer. On the balcony level, a hallway ran along the exterior wall of the building, granting access to private balconies and booths overlooking the floors below. They offered varying degrees of privacy, with some having full walls and doors to close them off from the passage while most were separated from the hallway only by low walls or simple curtains. This allowed Eresthanon to peek into many of them. After walking almost the entire perimeter of the building, the hallway came to a deadend. All three walls were hung with heavy drapes and a fourth set was hung, open, across the path, revealing a semi-private seating area furnished with plush couches. Half a dozen people were in repose on the couches, their bearing eminently relaxed. They wore dark clothes in fashionable modern styles ¡ª nothing like the frippery Eresthanon had been snookered into donning ¡ª and three of the six were disguised by illusions. Eresthanon was able to pierce the disguises fairly easily, revealing hideous corpses behind the fa?ades. Their flesh was a blue or purple so dark it was practically black. They had milky white eyes, wicked claws tipped the ends of their fingers, and the skin around their faces was desiccated and taut, the lips pulled back to create a rictus grin that revealed extremely pronounced canines. Eresthanon leaned in to whisper to Aaliyah. ¡°Draugar?¡± She nodded and continued forward. The draugar were a particularly powerful and vicious breed of vampire, originating from Scandinavia. They were interesting not just for their potency or rarity, but because they didn¡¯t steal life energy from others but siphoning their luck instead. They could steal the fair fortunes of others directly and immediately or they could level curses that would wreak havoc later. A draugr didn¡¯t gain the benefit themselves, but turned the stolen luck into whatever it was they needed to fuel themselves. These draugar were old, by the look of them. Quite old. It was easy for Eresthanon to conceal trepidation thanks to his elven physiology, but three old draugar? That could be a challenging battle. It was likely the other three people in the lounge were vampires, as well, because a draugr rarely tolerated the company of anything else for long without turning to violence. Even other Creaturae were not exempt from their temperament. Many vampires could pass for human, though, so that seemed the most likely scenario. Whatever the case, this Mara person had very potent patrons at their nightclub. A draugr stood and positioned himself between the couches, back against the hanging drape on the rear wall. ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t Little Miss Goes-Her-Own-Way,¡± the vampire said. One of the others, a Hispanic woman with round sunglasses, pointed at Eresthanon. ¡°Check out this guy. Are they having open auditions for What We Do in the Shadows or something?¡± Eresthanon smiled politely through the ensuing hilarity, the vampires (and Aaliyah) rocking with mirth. Wiping pretend tears from her eyes when the chuckles subsided, Aaliyah said, ¡°We¡¯re here to see her; it shouldn¡¯t take long.¡± The three vampires and three probably-vampires sobered immediately, exchanging glances with one another. Aaliyah sighed and pulled out her badge wallet and tapped it against her chin. ¡°It¡¯s not official, but it can be if you make a fuss.¡± The gathered vampires grumbled and growled, the two seated draugar slowly rising to their feet in the face of the implied threat. There was an almost-synchronized chorus of stretching and flexing from the collected undead. Eresthanon carefully avoided adjusting his stance or body language. He didn¡¯t want to appear provocative to the vampires, but he was no fool so he readied himself to call his falcatas to hand. His shield charm would be of little use as vampires were rarely skilled with direct magical attacks ¡ª other than mental manipulations, which almost no other race of Creaturae could reliably perform. Aaliyah took a different approach, smirking in the face of their hostility. ¡°My partner¡¯s new ¡ª so new you wouldn¡¯t believe it ¡ª so you don¡¯t know him or what he¡¯s capable of.¡± She paused for a moment, looking at each of the six vampires in turn. ¡°But you know who ¡ª and what ¡ª I am. If you feel you absolutely have to front, I¡¯ll be taking souvenirs. I¡¯ll start with arms and then, if you keep making a fuss, I¡¯ll move on to yanking ivory.¡± She leered around at the vampires, completely at ease as far as Eresthanon could tell. It made him wonder what, exactly, she was. He didn¡¯t get the impression she was referring to her position as a Quaesitor when she brought it up, but to her nature as a Creaturae. Probably not a magi, then. That curiosity intensified when two of the draugar eased back down into their seats, slowly, as if to avoid any sudden movements. The draugr standing against the wall, however, stepped towards them. He crossed the small lounge until he was right in front of Aaliyah, looming over her. She looked up into his desiccated face with something akin to boredom. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Are you going to be a problem, buddy?¡± she asked the draugr. ¡°This is not your place, sentinel, nor am I your ¡®buddy,¡¯¡± the vampire hissed. ¡°I will take no command from some kvenngandr who bats her eyes at me like a common h¨®ra.¡± ¡°Man, I don¡¯t know what the fuck you just said, little kid, but you special, man,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°I¡¯m gonna call you Special Ed.¡± Then she reached up with one index finger and booped the draugr on the tip of his nose. The vampire snarled and lunged for her. Eresthanon took a step back, turning slightly, and pulled the falcata into his hands. He kept the blades behind him, where they would be hidden from the undead until he needed to bring them to bear, but he was ready. He needn¡¯t have bothered. Aaliyah waited for the vampire¡¯s clawed hands to grasp her, then her own hands shot forward. She placed one hand flat against one of the undead¡¯s shoulders and grabbed his wrist with the other. Then she yanked. It was almost casual the way she pulled her clenched hand down and away from the vampire, like she was doing some light tricep exercises on one of those weight machines with the cables and pulleys. The result was not light and casual. The draugr¡¯s arm came off, ripped free of his torso at the shoulder. There was no great spurt of blood; instead, black ichor oozed from the ragged wound. As Eresthanon and the other five vampires watched, Aaliyah knocked her disarmed foe¡¯s legs out from under him with an almost contemptuous sweep of one leg. After he crashed to the ground, she put a foot down on his neck and lightly smacked him in the face with his own disembodied hand. ¡°You done?¡± she asked. ¡°You fucked around, you found out, and now you can brag to all your little Thor-wannabe buddies you weren¡¯t no pussy, but I need to know if you¡¯re done.¡± She pulled something off her belt with her free hand and, with a flick of her wrist, brought out the pliers head of a multi-tool. She leaned over and held it in front of the draugr, clicking the jaws against each other. ¡°Because if not¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯ll send word,¡± the vampire growled through gritted teeth. ¡°She should be along shortly.¡± ¡°Excellent,¡± Aaliyah said, stepping back from the draugr and dropping his severed arm on top of him. One of the other vampires ¡ª not one of the two remaining draugar ¡ª rose from the couches and went to the rear wall. She pulled aside the drapes that were hung there, revealing a dark passage hidden behind it. Aaliyah crossed the lounge and into the passage, As Eresthanon followed her into the passage, he heard a number of calls from the vampires behind him, including things like, ¡°See ya later, Barnabas Collins!¡± and ¡°Give my love to Nadja!¡± accompanied by a new round of laughter. Vampires recovered from seeing a friend maimed pretty quickly, it seemed. The passage was less of a passage and more of a small landing at the foot of a short flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs was a plain door. Aaliyah opened it and led Eresthanon into a large room that was a mix of office, study, and den. The furnishings in the room gave it a very Old World feel, lots of leather and intricately carved mahogany. Wide, squat bookcases lined the room; taller shelving would have obstructed the view through the tall windows that surrounded the room, providing a view down on all three floors of the nightclub below. From this vantage point, Eresthanon could tell the room hung at the center of the building and was perhaps a third of the size of the dance floor. He most likely hadn¡¯t been able to see it from below because all the lighting was hung right below. After a few minutes, a young woman entered the office; she appeared to be in her early twenties and was not at all what Eresthanon had been expecting. She was shorter than Aaliyah by a couple inches ¡ª probably not much more than five feet tall ¡ª with wavy blonde hair and pale blue eyes. What caught him most off guard was her clothes ¡ª she had on black leggings, but that was the closest she came to abiding by the fashion conventions of the nightclub. Except for a pair of those puffy tan boots Eresthanon couldn¡¯t remember the name of, everything else was pink. A fluffy sweater hanging off one shoulder, a frilly hair tie around her wrist, even her lips and eyelids were a light shade of pink. And, unless his elf eyes failed him, they sparked with some kind of cosmetic glitter. Eresthanon wasn¡¯t perfectly versed in modern and pop culture, but he knew the term for this kind of woman at first glance ¡ª a basic bitch. When she spoke, her voice was high-pitched and full of what could only be described as pep. ¡°O-M-G! It¡¯s Aaliyah Dean!¡± the woman exclaimed. The woman practically bounced across the office to give Aaliyah a hug. The Quaesitor grudgingly relented to the exuberant greeting with a rueful smile. ¡°Gabbie, this is Eresthanon¡­ my new partner. Eresthanon, this is Gabbie, leader of the vampires.¡± ¡°I¡¯m guessing he didn¡¯t rip the arm off one of my dudes,¡± Gabbie said in a sing-song voice. ¡°Good guess,¡± Aaliyah replied. ¡°None of them said stupid shit to him in Viking-talk or whatever. Three guesses as to why.¡± The petite vampire sighed. ¡°They say boys will be boys, but when they¡¯re dead kicking them in the rizzler isn¡¯t as useful a teaching tool.¡± She turned to Eresthanon and offered him one of her dainty hands. Eresthanon took the small, perky woman¡¯s hand in his, thankful she hadn¡¯t gone for another hug. ¡°Which vampires are you the leader of, if I may ask?¡± ¡°Most of them,¡± she said, with a flick of her hair. ¡°Around these parts, anyways. I¡¯m basically the Queen of the Night or whatever. Gosh, I love your outfit. Most people go for trad-, emo-, or cyber-goth these nights, but your look is just so¡­ classic!¡± ¡°Quaesitor Dean advised it would be helpful to blend in at your establishment. I, however, feel like I¡¯ve drawn every eye in the place.¡± ¡°No doubt, fam. It¡¯s high-key boujee, but we stan,¡± the most powerful ¡ª and out of place ¡ª vampire in an unknown radius said, beaming. Most, if not all, of those words had been in English, yet Eresthanon understood little of it. He thought, from context, that ¡®high-key boujee¡¯ was bad and, thus, ¡®stan¡¯ was good, but it could easily have been the opposite. Eresthanon blinked; three times. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t follow.¡± Gabbie flapped a hand in his direction. ¡°Well, it¡¯s so extra it¡¯s practically arch, but I think your drip is snatched. Real main character energy.¡± Eresthanon blinked¡­ more. He turned to Aaliyah in hopes she might offer something in the way of clarification, but the young woman had braced herself against the back of a couch, once more in the grip of silent fits of laughter. Gabbie winked, patted him on the shoulder, and flounced across the room to take a seat in a big leather chair set behind a broad desk. ¡°So why are you here, Aaliyah? I know you¡¯re not just bragging that you snagged a tasty elf,¡± she asked. Aaliyah moved to stand in front of the desk and Eresthanon stepped up beside her. ¡°To business, then.¡± The Quaesitor was still suppressing small chuckles as she spoke. ¡°There¡¯s been a major lull in serious violations of the Pillars; I have a hunch it¡¯s a sign something big is happening or about to happen.¡± Gabbie looked at the pair of them for a few seconds, tapping her desk softly with one glimmering fingernail. ¡°You might be onto something, Aaliyah. For real, for real.¡± Aaliyah¡¯s brow furrowed at that, but she said nothing. Gabbie continued, her tone a little less bouncy (but only a little). ¡°I¡¯ve been hearing a lot of scuttlebutt about people looking to hire muscle. Not just for some light rough stuff, either, but real mercenary work.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s the buyer?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°Magi,¡± Gabbie said. There were several seconds of silence, then Aaliyah glanced at Eresthanon. ¡°You know what magi are, right?¡± Gabbie leaned forward, the smallest hint of a predatory glint in her eyes. ¡°Oh my, you¡¯re that fresh into a new Cycle?¡± Eresthanon knew better than to show weakness or hesitation and trying to lie to a powerful vampire over something so minor was a good way to earn a grudge or even start a feud, depending on their background. He merely nodded to both women. ¡°Very fresh, yes. Magi is a generic phrase referring to sorcerers, wizards, warlocks, and various other categories of magic users who are otherwise mundane humans,¡± he said. ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s used to refer to the various orders, cults, schools, and the like, but usually it just means a person who can perform magic.¡± Aaliyah turned back to Gabbie. ¡°Any specific magi?¡± ¡°Like, totally for sure,¡± Gabbie said, leaning back in her chair again. ¡°That¡¯s what makes me think you¡¯re onto something. It¡¯s, like, dozens of factions are suddenly all looking to hire goons.¡± Eresthanon was beginning to see the shape of the storm he¡¯d sensed upon his awakening to this new Cycle. It had hung at the back of his mind since that first moment of consciousness, a heaviness he couldn¡¯t see the shape of that pressed down on him nonetheless. Now, It was a dark smudge blanketing the horizon. He couldn¡¯t see details, but he knew that would change. ¡°The magi are the largest population of Creaturae, so any widespread activity among their numbers would be a significant occurrence, and likely have ripple effects,¡± he mused. ¡°Yeah, no shit,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°Those wiggly-fingered bastards are never on the same page about anything, so what¡¯s got all of them expecting they¡¯ll have to have a knockdown, drag-out in the near future? You got any idea who they¡¯re looking to tussle with, Gabbie?¡± Gabbie was no longer smiling. ¡°As it happens, I do.¡± Aaliyah put her hands on her hips. ¡°Well? You gonna make us buy tickets to the afternoon show or you gonna tell us?¡± Gabbie brought her hands together in front of her, fingers interlocked. ¡°I heard they¡¯re anticipating conflict with the dragons.¡± There was a long silence in the room. ¡°Shit,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°Shit,¡± Eresthanon agreed. Chapter 30 - The Past Informs the Present Like so many other people in the United States and, indeed, around the world, Aaron had always wanted to visit and live in New York City. It was a dream both born and borne of idealized representations of the place in television shows, movies, books, and music; a dream built on aggrandized lies that everyone knew were lies but still couldn¡¯t shake. It was a dream that grabbed you, held you, and refused to let you let go of it. The old saying ¡ª ¡°If you could make it there, you could make it anywhere!¡± ¡ª was about as much bullshit as the two bedroom apartment any two waitresses could afford in New York as long as they lived in a sitcom. There were plenty of places far, far worse to try existing as a living human being, but getting by in New York was a benchmark in Aaron¡¯s mind and in the popular imagination. It represented economic success and emotional fortitude. But no one had said whether they were going to New York City or New York state, Barrett had just said New York and left it at that. Given the apparently ludicrous wealth the Drakon had demonstrated in his brief time interacting with them, Aaron was inclined to think New York City was the most likely. He didn¡¯t want to get his hopes up, though, because what if the Drakon were super bourgeoisie and based themselves in some resort in the Catskills or a posh suburb like Nassau and Westchester counties? What if they operated ¡ª *shudder* ¡ª upstate? Definitely best not to get my hopes up, he thought. Once Aaron was out of the lake, the helicopters swiftly carried them back to the airport. Barely half an hour after Aaron had emerged from the water, they were back on the jets, in the air, and flying east. Probably. Aaron had no way to tell for sure since the sky was still dark and dawn was hours away. A few minutes after taking off, a man in slacks and a vest emerged from the door at the rear of the plane¡¯s cabin carrying a stack of small binders. Aaron hadn¡¯t seen the man among the personnel the Drakon had with them, but he got that same vaguely familiar sensation other drakus could evoke. It was weak, but it was there. Will that feeling always be there, or will it fade into the background? he wondered. The small binders contained menus, not unlike those you¡¯d get at a higher-end restaurant, and they were absurd. It included standard fare like soups, salads, and sandwiches, but also ridiculous extravagances like Kobe steak, lobster, and caviar. Aaron didn¡¯t know how the jet, even as large as it was, could accommodate a kitchen that could serve so many different foods and he couldn¡¯t begin to calculate the sheer cost. ¡°Just how much money does the Drakon have?¡± Aaron asked incredulously. ¡°About half,¡± Tia replied with a smirk. That got a chuckle from Barrett, but Mallory chastised the young woman. ¡°Hyperbole is quite unnecessary, Miss Kellogg,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m barely exaggerating,¡± she replied, unfazed. Whatever the economic reality of the secret society¡¯s finances might be, Aaron couldn¡¯t pass up an opportunity to try Kobe beef. He¡¯d never spent more than fifty dollars on a meal, so a little indulgence wouldn¡¯t damn him to capitalist hell. Still, he ordered the expensive steak with a twinge of guilt at the excess of it. Everyone¡¯s order came out improbably fast, even considering almost everyone but Aaron had gone for a salad, sandwich, or something equally light. Nobody else seemed weirded out by it so there must have been some kind of magic at work. The beef was unlike anything Aaron had ever tasted. He¡¯d never been one of those guys who obsessed over steak or whiskey or cars ¡ª steak was just okay in his experience, not something to build your personality around ¡ª but the tenderness and flavor of the Kobe beef was quite excellent. It wasn¡¯t anything he would tweet about, though. Maybe I just have really plain taste buds? Aaron wondered. He preferred mayo to mustard on his sandwiches, vanilla ice cream suited him just as well as, if not better than, the richest dark cacao gelato, and he wasn¡¯t especially fond of spicy food. The number of arguments he¡¯d had with people over not being impressed by whatever particular dish they happened to love was¡­ well, it was a big number. ¡°So is the whole dragon thing like being a salesman in the 50s or 60s, just jetting across the country all the time, maybe reminiscing about the past over a glass or five of scotch?¡± Aaron asked. Tia answered before anyone else, gesturing at the two old men. ¡°These two are basically stay-at-home dads and Alice and I are the rowdy kids they¡¯re looking after.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that travel is out of the question,¡± Barrett said, ¡°but Alice is less militarily-oriented than my usual prot¨¦g¨¦s and Tia is in college.¡± Mallory took a sip of tea. ¡°I would add that finding a candidate for Primus Draconis are very special circumstances that do not often come up.¡± ¡°Barrett said it¡¯s been two hundred years since the last one disappeared and you¡¯ve only managed to find a few candidates since. Can you tell me more about that? I¡¯d like to know about the other Tribulations, too.¡± ¡°I was called to the Drakon two years after the last Primus Draconis disappeared, so I can tell you a fair bit about what transpired and Barrett, who makes a hobby of studying history, can fill in any major gaps,¡± Mallory said. Then the old two gave Aaron an overview of what had transpired to the best of their understanding. The last Primus Draconis had been an Englishman named Oliver Milton. Born in the early 17th century to a nominally wealthy family, Milton parlayed his family¡¯s modest means into a lucrative corporation, dealing largely in textiles. In 1637, just before his thirtieth birthday, he was located by the Animus Draonis of the time, another Englishman named Edmund Stewart, and was installed at the head of the Triumvirate of Flame soon after. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of Englishmen,¡± Aaron noted. Barrett nodded. ¡°The essences of the Triumvirate seem to gravitate towards citizens of powerful nations and empires. Over time, we started springing up in more tightly packed geographic regions as new global powers emerged.¡± Once confirmed as the Primus Draconis, Milton proved himself powerfully insightful with an eye towards the future. He pushed the Drakon to invest resources into novel technologies ¡ª telescopes, adding machines, steam power, and clockworks, among others ¡ª as well as other commercial interests. Initially, there was fierce resistance among the Drakon. Changing from a model of insular self-interest towards collective endeavors was practically unknown to the drakus, but the critics became converts when the Industrial Revolution began less than a century later. The dividends came quickly and were astronomical. Investment and mercantilism weren¡¯t the extent of Milton¡¯s foresight ¡ª he was one of those rare few eidolons possessing a degree of real oracular talent. Although many drakus were capable of developing access to memories inherited from the essence that had carried through their previous lives, premonitions and prophecy were exceedingly rare among them. Even more so than other Creaturae. ¡°Inherited memories?¡± Aaron asked, hearing something that sounded very much like what he¡¯d experienced in the lake. ¡°It¡¯s not uncommon for drakus, after having lived through so many distinct lives, to learn to plumb the depths of knowledge and experience they gained in previous incarnations,¡± Mallory said. ¡°It¡¯s usually not direct knowledge like the way you can look back on the day you got your first car, but more like remembering something you heard about before, or even a feeling of inspiration or intuition,¡± Barrett added. ¡°Some particularly gifted drakus develop ways to actually explore the inherited memories more thoroughly.¡± That last part sounded very much like what Aaron had gone through in the lake, although he had experienced the memories almost like he was living them firsthand. If each past life or whatever hadn¡¯t been doing basically the same thing in the same place, though, it would have been an indecipherable mush. Milton, as far as Barrett or Mallory knew, had very little ability to draw on inherited memory, especially compared to his predecessors. It was thought to be something of a trade-off for his prescience. He used his gift of foresight to prepare the Drakon for a future only he could see; one that, according to the messages he left behind, would contain a great deal of upheaval and strife and had the potential to end in calamity. His disappearance and the steps he¡¯d taken prior to them were, according to those same messages, meant to prepare the Drakon for that turmoil. The most contentious of those preparations was relocating the Drakon¡¯s base of operations from Europe to North America ¡ª New York, specifically ¡ª which he enacted the year after The Sleeping Dragon had been stolen from a stronghold in the Sudeten Mountains. Even centuries later, this decision was a source of great disruption among the Drakon, with many drakus in Europe and the so-called Old World pushing for more independence from the Triumvirate in the absence of a new Primus Draconis. ¡°I found the Drakon two years after Milton began his abrupt pilgrimage,¡± Mallory said. ¡°Although I never met him, I believed in his vision and have striven to see it followed.¡± For Mallory, that meant convincing Barrett ¡ª and four other predecessors to the position of Cordus Draconis ¡ª to stay true to what they knew of Milton¡¯s vision. This kept the Drakon from fracturing entirely, but the schism with the Old World continued to be an obstacle they couldn¡¯t fully overcome. The relationship was cordial and mostly cooperative, but the drakus across the Atlantic were eternally resistant to following the directives of only two of the triumviri. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯ve been trying so hard and put so much focus on finding a new candidate for Primus Draconis,¡± Barrett said. ¡°On both sides of the ocean.¡± Although it was completely unknown when, exactly, Milton had finally died, the Drakon first began seeing signs of new candidates half a century after his departure. In the years since, at least a dozen candidates had emerged; the Drakon had only managed to make any sort of contact with five and only one had made it into their protection. That individual had failed the first Tribulation. That brought a few pressing questions Aaron had to the forefront of his thoughts and he hoped Barrett and Mallory could offer some insight on the subject. It wasn¡¯t that he was nervous about the Tribulations, exactly, because he had taken to the idea that he was the new Primus Draconis surprisingly quickly. That didn¡¯t mean he was entirely without doubt and the usual, constant background noise of a more general kind of anxiety. A little insight, even reassurance, could go a long way in the face of the unknown. ¡°That¡¯s something about a vault, right? How did they fail? What happened to them?¡± A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Escaping the vault,¡± Mallory said. ¡°It is a task ostensibly as simple as the Tribulation you just faced, entering the depths. A prospective Primus need only enter a vault, after which it is sealed, and then must escape from it.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± Aaron asked. There were two catches, as it turned out. Much like the Tribulation in the lake, the details of what had to be done to succeed were known only to the Primus Draconis, who had never shared them with others. There was, however, a general understanding that the candidate would have to face some form of obstacle or challenge in the vault, likely one of great personal significance. ¡°Although we don¡¯t know the details, many of our predecessors have left records of Tribulations they had witnessed,¡± Barret said, then softened his tone. ¡°The testimony and reports are fairly consistent, suggesting it may be a traumatic experience.¡± Mallory nodded. ¡°It is understood to be a test of mental fortitude, one that can only be overcome by the willpower innate to the individual. It is thought not to rely on the essence of the Primus Draconis as much as it does your personal mettle. The vault is, however, locked to that specific essence; anyone else attempting the Tribulation would have no hope of success.¡± ¡°My own little Dagobah, I guess,¡± Aaron muttered, mostly to himself. ¡°So what happens if someone fails?¡± Mallory, in his usual charming and reassuring manner, had the answer. ¡°Failure would mean death and we will be forced to resume our search.¡± Barrett, being both more personable as well as an amateur historian, had more insight to offer on the subject that wasn¡¯t so dreary. Until recently, it had been assumed that failure in the vault meant death for the individual attempting it. It had only been an assumption because no one had ever failed the Tribulation ¡ª until the single candidate the Drakon had made contact with in the early 90s. They had gone into the vault and never emerged. According to Mallory, when the vault opened again, they discovered the candidate hadn¡¯t just died, they had disappeared completely, leaving behind no remains. The theory that arose from this grim discovery was that the vault had absorbed their physical body then released the essence of the Primus to seek out a new bond. ¡°It was really significant because, prior to that, the only Tribulation we know a candidate ever failed was entering the depths,¡± Barrett added. Mallory nodded. ¡°Quite so; the Tribulation of the vault has other requirements, as well. The Drakon is to have provided no training in magic or mental defenses to the candidate. As we understand it, this is so that the challenge remains a test of the candidate¡¯s own personal mastery and self-possession rather than the resources of our society.¡± Aaron was ahead of the curve there ¡ª he had only just learned that magic and such existed, so he was completely untrained and unaware of how all of that worked. Except he spotted a potential problem in what Mallory had just said, one that could lead to his untimely death. ¡°What happens if a candidate goes into this vault thing and they have already learned how to perform some magic on their own?¡± he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. ¡°Ah, you must be thinking of an example like our young Miss Carroll,¡± Mallory said. Aaron¡¯s eyes darted to the beautiful woman gazing out dreamily at the night sky. Alice had been one of the examples that occurred to him. Her glamour left Aaron spending so much attention on not paying attention to her that she was never entirely quite gone from it. Her use of magic before she learned she was a drakus had jumped straight into his mind. But that wasn¡¯t the only one. Haven¡¯t I been doing my own kinds of unintentional magic? he wondered. Maybe enhancing my strength doesn¡¯t count, but Alice suggested I might be subconsciously doing some kind of dream warding to protect myself. Will that cause this vault to liquify me or something? ¡°It did come to mind, since I¡¯m told she had some kind of natural magic before she ¡®awakened to her power,¡¯¡± he said. ¡°It is not a common occurrence, but it does happen on occasion. My own prot¨¦g¨¦, Miss Kellogg, was one such individual, as was Miss Carroll, as you know,¡± Mallory said, gesturing to Tia and Alice in turn. ¡°Why do you ask?¡± Aaron took a short breath. ¡°It might be nothing, but Alice said there was a chance I had been shielding or hiding myself in my dreams. I don¡¯t know if that will be a problem with this vault, but it seems like a good question to ask.¡± ¡°That would be irrelevant to the trial,¡± Mallory said, after some thought. When the elderly man wasn¡¯t forthcoming with any more details, Aaron made a circular gesture with one hand to indicate he should continue and asked, ¡°Why?¡± Mallory grumbled and sighed a little, as if unused to being asked to explain himself. ¡°There are two reasons any potential dream warding you have done by instinct would be irrelevant. The first and most important is that oneiromancy is a defense not of the mind but of the dream. The second is that draconic magic is tied to the draconic essence, which is sufficiently different from more general magical efforts as to require significant adaptation by the practitioner, as both Miss Kellogg and Carroll could attest.¡± ¡°I¡¯m starting to feel like I¡¯m going to have to balance a tack hammer on my head,¡± Aaron sighed. No one seemed to get the reference, which was a bummer for Aaron. Granted, it was a pretty obscure reference to a movie he saw when he was very young, but it had become a cult classic. Or so he¡¯d heard. As he looked around the cabin for his people ¡ª his nerdy, obscure reference people ¡ª Aaron was disappointed. Barrett and Mallory clearly didn¡¯t know the quote, Alice hadn¡¯t been distracted from gazing out into the rapidly lightening sky, and Tia was being snarky at her tablet. Tia saw him looking for signs of recognition in the cabin and gave him a smirk and a wink. She dressed the part of a 90s girl who would have seen Mystery Men ¡ª very Janeane Garofalo ¡ª but she was a few years younger than Aaron, so it was possible she was just humoring him. Humoring me is better than pitying me and my random references, he thought. At least it sounds like I won¡¯t dissolve into nothing in this vault, so that¡¯s a good sign at least. ¡°What comes after the vault? Something about a sceptre, right?¡± he asked. Barrett, once again, had the low-down and offered Aaron his insight. Retrieving the sceptre, the third and final Tribulation, was more complicated than just picking up some fancy gold stick from a velvet-lined chest made of mahogany and gold. While the sceptre was a symbol of office and had all the ceremonial significance attached to it one might expect of such an ancient organization, the Tribulation was meant to prove the same thing each of the others was ¡ª that the incoming Primus Draconis was the true and rightful successor because they already had been the outgoing Primus Draconis in a previous life. ¡°So all three of these tests accomplish basically the same thing?¡± Aaron asked, bewildered at the redundancy. ¡°Retrieving the sceptre is unique among them as it cannot be accomplished without calling on your inherited memories,¡± Mallory said. ¡°That one gave old Oliver Milton quite a bit of grief, way I read about it,¡± Barrett said with a chuckle. ¡°Because he was bad at accessing inherited memories, right?¡± Barrett tapped his nose with a finger. ¡°Right in one.¡± The sceptre, which Aaron was surprised to learn didn¡¯t have a fancy name with a dragon motif, was meant to be carried by the Primus Draconis at all times. When they died, the sceptre would be magically transported to a specific place chosen by the Primus beforehand ¡ª a place known only to them. Their successor had to dredge up the memory of where to find the sceptre, then go get it. The retrieval would further bolster the legitimacy of the latest scion of the Primus Draconis and provide them with a symbol of office. If the memories are anything like they were in the lake, Aaron thought, then I¡¯m screwed if this stupid stick doesn¡¯t go to the same place every time. The overwhelming m¨¦lange of memories he¡¯d experienced during his most recent Tribulation would have been all but impossible to derive details from if every memory hadn¡¯t been basically identical. He kept that concern to himself, for now, because a practical problem presented itself in light of this new information and he couldn¡¯t stop himself from asking about it. ¡°How the hell am I supposed to carry around a big gaudy mace all the time? We don¡¯t exactly live in an age of sword belts and cloaks, anymore. Do I have to, like, permanently camp out at some year-round Ren Faire?¡± ¡°That is easily remedied,¡± Mallory said. ¡°Should you succeed and acquire the sceptre, we will perform a simple rite that bonds it to you as a talisman. Once bonded, you¡¯ll be able to transform the sceptre into a small marking on your body at will.¡± ¡°...can I do that with a giant mallet?¡± Mallory¡¯s face scrunched up with bewilderment at the question, but Tia laughed. ¡°It¡¯s not a hammerspace,¡± she said, ¡°but dimensional storage is a thing.¡± ¡°Like bags of holding?¡± ¡°Yeah, but adapted to the times to be more discreet. There¡¯s purses, backpacks, messenger bags, fanny packs, and all kinds of stuff. Enchanters are always trying to make newer, better versions, too.¡± A world of possibilities opened up in Aaron¡¯s mind. Magic items! He wanted to know more ¡ª he had to know more; it was his nerdly duty ¡ª but now might not be the best time to ask for a Sharper Magic Image catalog. Still¡­ could there be a ring of protection in his future? Or invisibility? Perhaps boots of striding or ¡ª be still, his nerdsome heart ¡ª a wand? Set aside the nerd boner, suck up the drool, and focus on the task at hand, he told himself. Of course, Aaron had no earthly idea how to do that ¡ª the Tribulation he was jetting towards was a literal mystery box. From what had been said so far, he had to go into some big vault, confront his own figurative Darth Vader, and overcome it through sheer pluck. He couldn¡¯t really think of any way to focus on overcoming the Tribulation without more information. He¡¯d already exhausted the questions that occurred to him he thought Barrett and Mallory could, or would, answer. As if the upcoming Tribulation in the vault weren¡¯t enough to worry about, Aaron was starting to fret over what it might be like to experience a flood of dissimilar inherited memories for the Tribulation that came after. He had experienced a deeper connection with those memories of the past than most drakus, so it stood to reason he would need to gain greater control over that connection to filter through the information. Again, though, that was a train of thought that was putting the cart before the proverbial horse and something to think about after he survived the day. Aaron sat back in his chair, trying not to think about all the things that could go wrong and doing a piss-poor job of it. It was a strange thing ¡ª knowing you were the person everyone thought you were, with empirical evidence and everything, and struggling with impostor syndrome anyways. Then again, that was exactly how impostor syndrome worked, so maybe it wasn¡¯t all that strange. The vague and mysterious nature of each Tribulation added to the problem, since each was made up of more unknowns than knowns. They were all couched in a kind of generically poetic language, the kind of riddle-talking that would turn out to be accurate but with insight that would only seem obvious in hindsight. Aaron liked explicit, hard information; he liked to see the edges of things so he could know the shape of them. What does it say about this hidden world of magic, Aaron wondered, that dragon-souled sorcerers use the same shapeless, pseudo-mystic gobbledygook that science fiction and fantasy writers do when they can¡¯t explain how shit in their world is supposed to work? Aaron¡¯s thoughts were chasing each other in circles, but they shuddered when a small hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up and the thoughts crashed into each other completely, becoming less of a circle and more of a jumbled wreck of incoherence when he found Tia standing over his shoulder, looking down at him. Tia was gorgeous and finding her so close threw Aaron¡¯s brain into the disarray that only the perennially awkward and lonely ever truly experience. Tia probably wasn¡¯t dripping with a magic love-me whammy like Alice, so her proximity wasn¡¯t quite as disruptive to coherent thought, but it was still jarring. Magic or not, try to be cool, idiot, he scolded himself. ¡°Uh, what¡¯s up?¡± Aaron said, the very model of urbane eloquence and sophistication. Inwardly, Aaron was wincing. Outwardly, he tried to project cool confidence. Tia was beautiful, but she was also funny and filled to the brim with snark. He wanted to impress her almost as much as he didn¡¯t want her to make fun of him. He appreciated her sense of humor ¡ª from what little he¡¯d seen of it ¡ª but that didn¡¯t mean he wanted to be the focus of it. Not until we know each other better at least, he corrected. ¡°You should grab a seat at one of the windows on the left,¡± she said. ¡°You might enjoy the view.¡± Chapter 31 - Manhattan Aaron stood and moved to a seat on the left side of the plane, as Tia had suggested. He¡¯d been so in his head about everything ¡ª the Tribulations, altered memories, vorpal swords, and not ogling Alice ¡ª he¡¯d momentarily forgotten they were flying into New York. As he settled into a new seat by a window, he felt excitement beginning to build in his chest. Tia wouldn¡¯t have drawn his attention to the window if they were flying into Albany or Buffalo, right? Their destination pretty much had to be New York City, otherwise what was there to even see? Behold! A portion of the Great Lakes! Bits of Canada! Not exactly exciting vistas someone wouldn¡¯t want to miss out on. And if Tia isn¡¯t a New Yorker, nobody is, he thought. Then again, maybe Aaron was being unfair to both Canada and upstate New York. The Great Lakes were among the largest lakes in the world and it might be interesting to see them in the light of the morning sun. Plus, Toronto or Montreal were somewhere in that vicinity and they might have interesting skylines. Still¡­ would Tia have got his attention just for that? It seemed unlikely and that left him cautiously hopeful they were flying into one of the most famous cities in the world. It was a city Aaron had always wanted to live in. As he got older that dream grew faded and distant. Never quite dead, but tempered with pragmatism. He¡¯d started to wonder lately if it was even possible for him to find a career that would allow him to afford to live even a modest life in New York. He was lacking all the bells and whistles of genetic and academic pedigree, which meant he only had talent and drive to go on. His talent had never seemed to manifest in a way that was particularly profitable which had shaken his confidence and led to his drive fading. Eventually, he¡¯d settled into his little rut and basically given up on himself. Maybe if he¡¯d been born decades earlier, he could have gotten by in the squalid pit that was New York of the 70s and 80s ¡ª the place where you couldn¡¯t have an episode of Friends because they¡¯d have been killed in a mugging by the cast of Death Wish or The Warriors. Hard pass. Of course, it was just as possible the gritty open sore of criminality portrayed in all that old media was the inverse of the stuff that came out in the 90s and naughties. Instead of the murder and rape highlighted in the television and film of earlier decades, Sex and the City and the like presented an equally improbable world of weirdly clean streets where no one ever vomited from the ever-present stench of urine. Aaron had seen dozens ¡ª maybe hundreds ¡ª of videos about New York that disabused him of the notion that the place was a carbon copy of the whimsical fairy tale land of You¡¯ve Got Mail. Learning to face and accept reality as it was rather than as you wanted it to be was supposed to be a part of growing up, becoming an adult; it also required you to stifle some of your dreams, leaving people stuck in places they hated, slowly filling with bitterness and regret if they couldn¡¯t come to terms with their limits. This whole dragon thing could be my lottery ticket, he thought. A way to get the leg up I didn¡¯t luck into at birth. But¡­ what the hell would I even do with that leg up at this point? Assuming he survived and passed the Tribulations, Aaron had no idea what kind of things he¡¯d have to do as the Primus Draconis. He understood it was a leadership role in the Drakon, but had no idea what that would entail. Would he be as busy as the owner of some small business struggling to keep their head above water? Or was it more of a do-nothing job like being a corporate executive or politician in Congress? If he had a fair amount of time to himself, Aaron would want to do something with it. Maybe. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d get much satisfaction out of life if he just sat around reading, watching videos, and playing games. Then again, that also sounded kind of awesome. So, probably. Or perhaps he¡¯d find a healthy balance between loafing and pursuing his dreams. The jet had flown so far into the sunrise it was now mid morning, having crossed two time zones. Judging by how close they were to the urban sprawl below, it had also begun its descent quite a while before Tia had grabbed Aaron¡¯s attention and he simply hadn¡¯t noticed. The city passing beneath them didn¡¯t look like New York ¡ª it was neither dense nor tall enough ¡ª so, maybe New Jersey? Or they could be coming in over one of the outer boroughs, which would mean Aaron had been oblivious to the plane banking over the ocean, as well. Then they angled left, the wing outside Aaron¡¯s window dipping lower, and he was looking down at the southern end of the island of Manhattan. The morning sun glittered on the glass and steel of the city and sparkled on the rivers flowing on either side of the island. The cluster of skyscrapers was unmistakable, especially to someone who¡¯d been drawn to New York their entire life. Anyone who had access to photos, films, or television in the modern era would probably recognize that particular skyline, as well. The immense buildings were so densely packed it was like looking at an old cemetery made of glass and steel, filled with dreams of the future instead of memorials to the past. The buildings looked so close Aaron felt like he could have reached out and touched them if the window weren¡¯t in the way. The jet couldn¡¯t have been more than a couple thousand feet away, maybe quite a bit less. Beyond the sleek, modern monoliths of Downtown, miles away by Aaron¡¯s estimate, two bridges crossed the East River. Aaron wasn¡¯t sure which bridges they were specifically, but the closest one had tall, thin stone towers with high arches. He thought that one was the Brooklyn Bridge, but wasn¡¯t confident he was right. The one further on was too indistinct and Aaron didn¡¯t know the layout of the city well enough to even guess. An idea entered Aaron¡¯s mind, one so absurd he had to stop himself from smiling like a goon. I wonder if the Drakon owns the Brooklyn Bridge, he thought. He remembered there was a very old joke about selling the bridge ¡ª even Bugs Bunny had gotten in on the gag at least once ¡ª and for a moment he considered the possibility that the ultra-wealthy secret society might actually own the thing. Of course, that was preposterous. The Brooklyn Bridge wasn¡¯t just an iconic landmark, it was a friggin¡¯ bridge! That meant it was almost certainly owned by the city or state government. It seemed prudent to keep that little flight of fancy to his damned self; he didn¡¯t want to seem like a rube in a cabin full of New Yorkers. Still, for a moment Aaron¡¯s lack of familiarity caused a pang of regret. He chastised himself for not spending more time learning about the landmarks and neighborhoods of New York. He¡¯d considered doing exactly that from time to time ¡ª particularly when he was feeling wistful ¡ª because it could have made him feel like he was closer to the city, more a part of it, and thus closer to his dream. But that had struck him as a level of obsession that seemed unhealthy, even parasocial (if you could be parasocial for something that wasn¡¯t a person). Indulging his fantasy by wandering around an online map in Street View would have been a fixation bordering on delusion. Only now Aaron¡¯s fantasy was very real and very close. The plane continued to bank into a turn and the entirety of Manhattan crawled away to the north below him. From the air, the borough looked like it was two separate cities whose suburbs had grown into each other. A dense assembly of smaller buildings stretched between the cluster of skyscrapers Downtown and another line of monoliths that spread from one side of the island to the other further north. Small, in this case, was likely only due to perspective and the forced comparison with the massive towers. Many of those seemingly tiny buildings were almost certainly larger than anything Aaron had seen in Sacramento. The northern row of glittering towers was most likely Midtown, Aaron thought, because even at that distance he could spot certain iconic structures, like the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings. He even thought he could see Central Park beyond that second line of towers ¡ª a broad, flat expense stretching farther into the distance. The plane coasted around the southern tip of Manhattan and crossed the East River. If Aaron¡¯s guess about the bridge was right, they had started flying over Brooklyn, still heading mostly east with the turn starting to take them north. Their path ran roughly parallel to the East River and presented a panoramic view of Manhattan from its southern tip to the tapered finger in the north where a river split Harlem from the Bronx. The jet¡¯s pass along the island only lasted a few minutes, then the terrain turned more industrial and less interesting. Shortly after this change, they were landing, taxiing into a hangar filled with private jets, and disembarking from the plane. Aaron¡¯s few pieces of luggage were already loaded onto a rolling cart as he walked down the steps of the plane. He turned to Barrett. ¡°Are we taking helicopters, again?¡± The older man shook his head. ¡°Too easy to spot, too easy to track, too vulnerable to attack, and too much risk of collateral damage. We generally try to stay low profile when we¡¯re in town.¡± The entire group ¡ª Aaron, Alice, Barrett, Mallory, Tia, and the cadre of security personnel accompanying them ¡ª exited the hangar through a small pedestrian door, where a line of nondescript sedans were parked and waiting for them. Seven people were waiting at the line of cars for them, all in dark business attire. This new group was apparently replacing the security detail, because they got into the vehicles as they split off into separate cars and the group from the plane stayed behind. Barrett and Alice rode in one with a pair of guards, Mallory and Tia another, and Aaron rode with three people he¡¯d never met before. A vague sense of familiarity tingled in the back of his thoughts. which meant at least one of the three had been a drakus in a previous life and he might have met them in the past. A short woman with dark red hair was in the backseat with Aaron. ¡°I¡¯m Kiara Levign¨¦, spelled like Avril but with a cool E on the end; that¡¯s why it¡¯s pronounced properly. We¡¯re your primary security detail,¡± she said. Her voice had a mild rasp that Aaron thought might be described as smoky. ¡°The big fella driving is Griffin Smythe and the rat-looking shit-bastard riding shotgun is Albert Lang. Our job is to keep you alive, at least until you finish the ascension or whatever.¡± She had said all this before the car had even gotten moving. It wasn¡¯t that she spoke fast, it was more that she didn¡¯t waste time on impracticalities like breathing. It was like she had prepared a speech in advance and worked hard to remove all the natural pauses people put in when they were talking. Kiara pulled out a balisong and began adroitly twirling it, the handle and blade clicking and clacking as it swung around her hand. ¡°We aren¡¯t your servants or assistants, so we won¡¯t be fetching dry cleaning or scheduling appointments with your therapist, and we don¡¯t do sex stuff, so get any ideas like that outta your head.¡± ¡°Not for free, anyways,¡± Griffin, the burly blond at the driver¡¯s wheel, said. He didn¡¯t have a mullet, but with his thick sideburns and horseshoe mustache he sure looked like he ought to. Albert, almost as short as Kiara and the scruffiest looking of the bunch with his five o¡¯clock shadow and sunken eyes, emitted a wheezy laugh from the front seat. Kiara shot a glare at her two companions, then continued her explanation to Aaron. ¡°We¡¯ll be with you or close-at-hand pretty much all the time, but there are two other details assigned to you so we can have something resembling a life. We use a rotating schedule to make it harder to notice patterns of who you¡¯re with and when. First things first, though; take this.¡± She produced a dark rectangle that was slightly smaller than a credit card, but much thicker. It was made of either dark plastic or glass but hardly reflected light at all. One corner had a tab cut away to about half the depth of the entire block with a concave edge. ¡°Grab the notched corner with your thumb and index finger and shake it once, like a packet of Ramen seasoning, only gentler,¡± she said. Aaron gripped the thinner corner of the thing between his two fingers, the edge of his thumb fitting comfortably in the cut-out. When he flicked his wrist, the rectangle unfolded smoothly and snapped into place, doubling its length and halving its thickness. Kiara gestured to indicate he should do it again and this time the width doubled instead. A third time and the length increased again, leaving him with a smooth, black piece of plastic or glass about the size of a smartphone. Fully unfolded, it was thinner than a pocket lighter. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°That¡¯s your new phone. Every surface is a touchscreen. It orients itself to your face when you take it out of standby, but you can turn it to face any direction after, like if you wanted to show other people your stupid memes, cat videos, and what-have-you.¡± Aaron felt along the edges of the phone, finding small sections that felt more like rubber than plastic along one edge. The display lit up when he touched them and he quickly marveled at how sleek this phone¡¯s power and volume controls were. ¡°This thing is incredible,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯re really just a few years ahead of the curve, but we incorporate magic to get over some practical hurdles in the engineering,¡± Albert explained from the front. He had a rich, resonant voice that belied his wheezy laugh and rodent-like features. ¡°But don¡¯t drop it in the toilet,¡± Griffin said. ¡°The phone¡¯ll be fine, but your hand won¡¯t!¡± ¡°You need to keep it on you or very close by at all times; it¡¯s waterproof so you can even take it in the shower and set it on a shelf or something,¡± Kiara continued, gritting her teeth at the others¡¯ antics. ¡°We¡¯ll have more security procedures to go over after you finish this next Tribulation.¡± ¡°If you survive,¡± Griffin added with a melodramatic warble to his tone. ¡°Mwuhaha! And then thunder crashes.¡± ¡°And assuming you don¡¯t turn into some kind of Blade-style ravenous blood god. We¡¯re not really sure how likely that is, but we probably won¡¯t be your security if you go all Deacon Frost on us,¡± Albert said. Albert and Griffin both laughed in the front seat as Kiara shouted at them to shut the hell up; Aaron couldn¡¯t help but smile. He usually enjoyed a bit of flippancy and irreverence as long as it wasn¡¯t cruel and, apparently, a joke about the very real possibility of his imminent death didn¡¯t strike Aaron as particularly cruel. For a moment, he wondered if it should and what it said about him that it didn¡¯t, but he brushed that aside. He was who he was and he was allowed to find comfort about the dangers he faced wherever he could. They settled into silence after that and Aaron turned his attention to the world outside their sedan. He could have played with the crazy new half-magic phone, but he wanted to try to be in the moment for his first trip to New York. As he looked out the tinted window, he found there was nothing particularly interesting just yet. They were driving through a narrow, two-lane tunnel. The walls were white tile, but thick bands of blue tile ran along the top and bottom and three thinner lines of yellow tile were spaced along the wall between those. The car slowed as they ran into a bit of traffic congestion near the end of the tunnel and they had practically slowed to walking speed when they finally emerged into the sunlight. A high wall made of large, mismatched stone bricks rose on either side of the road. As they came out of the mouth of the tunnel, Aaron got a close-up look at a huge metal plate standing beside it. The plate looked like a massive plaque, made of a rich burnished bronze and framed in a darker, matte black metal. The New York State Steal was embossed on the center of the plaque, as were several words both above and below the Seal. The top read Excelsior and the bottom Ever Upward. A little corny, Aaron thought, but not a bad sentiment. He was sitting there, looking at the great metal plate, for a couple minutes, traffic resolutely refusing to budge. He noticed that there were boxes placed around and behind the plaque, and each looked like it housed some kind of mechanism. It begged the question of what the plate was even there for, but the sheer size of the thing was what gave it away for Aaron. It¡¯s a gate, or a cap, he realized. It can swing shut and seal the tunnel. Probably great for when it floods. Once traffic finally let up a bit and they were able to move out of the tunnel, they emerged on a street that was somewhere in the heart of the city itself. Should that be capitalized? Aaron wondered. I always hated when people from the Bay Area called San Francisco ¡®The City,¡¯ but maybe that was a ¡®me¡¯ thing. The roads in Manhattan were much narrower than Aaron was used to back in Sacramento. The buildings were also larger and, obviously, quite a bit taller, stacked right up against each other with little to no space between. The prevalence of awnings was almost as interesting as the density of the structures, the cloth and metal covers reaching out of buildings and extending all the way to the edge of the sidewalk. Less than a quarter of the buildings had one, but they were still so common it was noticeable. Aaron gazed at the city as they passed through it, his eyes roving over the buildings, the people, the sidewalks, even the traditional stoops that fronted some of the smaller buildings. Then, as quickly as they had gone from the tunnel to the streets, they left the residential buildings behind and began to travel through businesses ¡ª much taller, wider buildings that were no less impressive despite being more modern (and somewhat bland) in design. While they were at a stop at one intersection, Aaron saw a street sign telling him they were on Madison Avenue. That street was famous for some reason or other, but the only thing Aaron could think of was that it was a pretty nice property in Monopoly. They turned down a smaller street and passed Berkeley College, which was not to be confused with UC Berkeley in California, where Aaron¡¯s most cantankerous ex-girlfriend had gone to school. What a magnificent turd of a thought to pop into my head when I¡¯m literally experiencing one of my life¡¯s ambitions, Aaron thought, then forced his attention firmly back to the scenery. The most incongruous thing about the journey, in Aaron¡¯s perspective, was all the signs for parking garages. It really shouldn¡¯t have been if he¡¯d put any thought into it, but he was still a bit out of sorts so it caught him off guard. New York City was famous for public transit and, even more than that, for people walking. But it enjoyed that fame, at least in part, because the traffic in the city was infamously atrocious. Obviously, for there to be traffic there had to be a lot of cars and, just as obviously, they had to go somewhere when they weren¡¯t on the road. Despite living in metropolitan areas his entire life, that simple aspect of city living had never seemed like a thing you¡¯d find in New York ¡ª or at least in Manhattan ¡ª to Aaron. He felt a little embarrassed about that, because it was so obvious in hindsight and he liked to think of himself as both fairly attentive and a realist. Aaron was still looking out the window when he heard a brief snort of laughter beside him. From the front seat, Albert turned around to grin at Kiara. ¡°Cut him some slack,¡± Griffin said. ¡°It¡¯s his first time in The City and there¡¯s no place like it on Earth.¡± Aaron shuddered to hear the capitalization there and turned his attention back to the car for a moment. He decided not to comment, though, because he wasn¡¯t really sure what he would even say and he certainly didn¡¯t have the New York cred to do anything other than talk out of his ass. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll be there soon,¡± Kiara said, smirking. ¡°You¡¯ll love the place, by the way. Coolest place in town.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Times Square,¡± Albert said, grinning widely. Aaron gave the rat bastard a look he hoped conveyed all the biting sarcasm he was bottling up. He might have never been to New York, but he knew enough to know that New Yorkers avoided Times Square like the plague. It was, essentially, a fully-commodified tourist trap. Albert didn¡¯t seem to be picking up on the withering sarcasm being silently directed his way or, more likely, didn¡¯t care. If he did, he¡¯d be recoiling in pain, no doubt. Instead, he gave Aaron two thumbs up and turned back to face the front. Barely a minute later, their nondescript sedan was crawling through one of the most famous, most visited, and most annoying places on the planet ¡ª a billboard-infested plaza that saw more than a quarter of a million people pass through it on any given day. It was one thing to pass nearby if you were going to a theatre for a show ¡ª something Aaron hadn¡¯t allowed himself to think about for more than a few seconds at a time to avoid getting overexcited ¡ª and another thing entirely to be going to the place itself. What kind of magic shit can we do in Times Square, the most banal place in the world? Aaron wondered. Is the green M&M secretly a dragon and the M&M Store is her lair? Is getting a handjob from a knockoff cartoon mascot part of an ancient ritual? Maybe we have to break bread at the fucking Olive Garden to honor Fast Food Jesus or something. Aaron settled back in his seat, swallowing his frustration and pointedly not paying attention to the outside world. He didn¡¯t know if this was some kind of hazing since his protectors seemed to be prone to jokes, but he was determined not to gawk at Times fucking Square. It was something of a challenge when they passed by a strange, squat glass building with a flat blue roof and some kind of art deco sign atop it that read New York Police Department. Aaron hadn¡¯t even known there was a weird little police station in Times Square. It¡¯s just so¡­ visible, he thought. It¡¯s like the TARDIS in reverse. It made sense when he took a second to think about it ¡ª why wouldn¡¯t you want a highly visible police station or substation in a place jam-packed with tourists? ¡ª but having it just jump out at him like that had rung the bell on some kind of cognitive dissonance. After several more minutes crawling through mid-morning traffic ¡ª covering an entire block and a half! ¡ª they pulled into one of those parking garages Aaron had never realized existed. As soon as they were off the road, the demeanor of the three protectors changed completely, growing intensely watchful. Griffin circled them around the subterranean structure several times and finally parked next to an unobtrusive security door. While he and Albert stepped out of the car to check their surroundings, Kiara held Aaron in the backseat. After a scan of their surroundings, Albert punched a code into an easily-overlooked keypad next to the door, opened it, and held it ajar. Only then did Kiara usher Aaron out of the vehicle, quickly guiding him to, then through, the metal door. They traveled on foot for five minutes, passing through two long hallways and three more security doors, until they finally emerged into a small office waiting room. The sudden change from concrete tunnels to a musty reception area left Aaron blinking. One of the walls was entirely made of tall windows, revealing they were on the ground floor looking out at Times Square. The building had to be right in the plaza, but Aaron had no idea which building it was. None of the flocks of people passing by outside gave so much as a glance at the windows. ¡°Welcome to the Crossroads of the World,¡± Griffin said with a smile. Everything in the small reception area was as bland as it could possibly be, including the man sitting behind the small reception desk. He was reading a magazine and looking tremendously bored but Aaron didn¡¯t fail to notice that the humdrum receptionist had one hand hidden under the desk, where it could be doing anything ¡ª like pointing a gun at them. Or maybe it¡¯s not a gun, but a wand of disintegration or something awesome like that, he realized. They were only in the excruciatingly dull room long enough for Albert, Griffin, and Kiara to take turns prodding some kind of decorative metal tchotchke on the reception desk with their index fingers. The little metal object must have been more than it appeared; the receptionist¡¯s humdrum demeanor didn¡¯t change, but Aaron saw his eyes focus intently on the decoration each time it was touched. It was possible the ornament carried some kind of enchantment for identification or detection. It was equally possible his three security guards made a habit of poking the receptionist¡¯s bric-¨¤-brac and this was the latest maneuver in some kind of cold war between them. Beyond the waiting room were yet more doors and hallways, though not nearly as long as the tunnels that had brought them from the garage and not made of unadorned concrete. After a short walk, they came to an unassuming door that opened onto a set of wooden stairs. The staircase had a look of great age to it, the kind of sturdiness you saw in old growth lumber but very well worn. After walking down about a flight¡¯s worth of steps, the walls and stairs turned from wood to cut stone. As they delved deeper, the light sources grew more and more archaic. At first, they were modern overhead lamps then were replaced by old yellow bulbs with hazy covers in steel cages, then thick iron lamps, and finally to something that resembled gas lanterns from the turn of the previous century. These last lanterns produced a light with a faint blue tinge and had no visible flame. All told, they climbed down the stairs for what Aaron guessed was three or four storeys worth of steps. Two solid wood doors stood at the bottom, opening on their own at their approach and revealing a wide room cut from the natural stone. Across the room was another pair of doors, broader than the last, and made from great, carved slabs of stone banded with bronze. They remained closed. A dragon was carved in relief on each of the doors, done in a heraldic style, as if they should adorn a banner or be holding a coat of arms between them. The dragons were standing upright and facing each other. Are they dragons rampant? Or is that only for lions? Aaron wondered. Albert, Griffin, and Kiara all settled into the room ¡ª milling about or leaning against the walls ¡ª so it seemed like they would be waiting for everyone else to arrive. Aaron kept his attention on the carved doors. He had no way to learn or discover anything about them and knew next to nothing about heraldry, but it beat stewing in his juices about the life-or-death mystery task he was about to face. Fixating on that was a good way to start catastrophizing, so he decided a little low-grade anxiety in the background was far more preferable to letting it ramp up until he felt like he had to do something. Whatever might come, he wouldn¡¯t have to wait very long. Chapter 32 - Escaping the Vault They did, however, have to wait long enough for everyone else to show up that Griffin tried to get everyone to play hacky sack with him. Unsuccessfully. Kiara barely had time to get a full head of steam going in berating Griffin for unprofessionalism before the wooden doors from the staircase opened and Mallory and Tia arrived in the antechamber. Less than a minute later, Barrett and Alice, also without their guards, came in through the heavy doors. I guess I¡¯m the only one who needs guards with them at all times, Aaron observed. Feels kinda nice and also kinda terrifying. ¡°All are now gathered,¡± Mallory pronounced. ¡°It is time.¡± Mallory and Barrett approached the pair of stone doors carved with vaguely heraldic dragons. Although the doors had stayed resolutely closed when everyone arrived, they swung open of their own accord when the two older men were within arm¡¯s reach. Behind them was another room, smaller and with walls made of similarly cut stone. Three plain, unadorned doors were set into each of the walls, making nine in total. They were larger than a standard door, evenly spaced around the room, and made of metal that could have been dull gold or brass. Mallory walked into the room, followed by Alice and Tia, and Barrett gestured to indicate Aaron should step inside. When he did, Barrett came in last and the stone doors swung silently shut, sealing the room and leaving Aaron¡¯s security detail outside. I guess they don¡¯t get to sit with the cool kids for the mystery ritual stuff, he thought. Mallory made a small gesture around the room. ¡°This is one of our more secure storage facilities. We house various rare and powerful artifacts here.¡± Aaron looked around at the nine metal doors. ¡°And I have to escape from this room somehow?¡± Barrett chuckled. ¡°No, son, this is a vault, but not the one you¡¯ll have to escape. It¡¯s just stored here.¡± ¡°Times Square seems like a pretty shitty location for a super secret storage vault,¡± Aaron said. ¡°To get in here, someone would have to go extremely loud. We have several very effective passive deterrents to that kind of assault,¡± Barrett said, then began counting them off on his fingers. ¡°Even on the quietest winter¡¯s night, at any given moment, dozens of people will have their eyes on or near this building. Most of those folks will be taking pictures and videos, or be ready to at a moment¡¯s notice. Then there¡¯s all the webcams showing a live feed of the square and our building, all day every day. On top of that, there¡¯s a highly-visible, always-active police substation practically attached to the building.¡± ¡°So you built a bunker you¡¯d need a bomb to get into, then put the bunker somewhere nobody could miss a bomb going off,¡± Aaron said. Barrett tapped his nose with a finger. ¡°It was riskier years back when Times Square was the focal point for skeevy and weird in the entire damn universe, but not so much now that it¡¯s become Walt Disney Presents Times Square (in Glorious Technicolor).¡± Mallory cleared his throat and gave Barrett a severe look. ¡°Gentlemen, our task awaits.¡± The two old men approached the middle door on the far wall and this one did not open for them on its own. They each placed a hand flat against the metal and a seam appeared, splitting the metal plate vertically. The door pressed forward, extending out of the wall, then split, the two halves sliding open to either side. Inside was a simple chamber, completely featureless and unadorned save for one thing ¡ª a rectangular, stone monolith lay on its side in the otherwise empty space. Without any apparent mechanism, the stone slid out of its housing and came to rest in the midst of the central chamber. Up close, Aaron was able to get a better look at the monolith ¡ª it was a solid slab of pale gray stone, flecked and veined erratically by some glossy, off-white material. The slab was about the width of a full-size bed, but longer, and it came up to Aaron¡¯s waist. A sheen ran over the stone with no apparent light source to cause it, and when Aaron looked closer he saw torrents of pale red light racing along the white veins in the stone. It was like the light was somehow behind the mineral deposits. ¡°This is the Vault of Revelation,¡± Mallory said. ¡°Within its confines, you shall face adversity of an unknown nature, which you must overcome through self-possession in order to emerge.¡± ¡°I get it, I get it; master my fear or my fear will become my master,¡± Aaron said, earning a laugh from Tia. Maybe she does know the movie, he thought. Barrett put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°You ready?¡± Aaron shrugged. There was no way to be ready for something like this, you either had to do it or walk away. Mallory beckoned Tia to join him and she took up a position along the opposite side of the massive block. They both closed their eyes and raised their arms above their heads, forming a V. He began to chant quietly in a language Aaron couldn¡¯t identify. The incantations lasted several minutes, Mallory intoning monotonously until the pitch began to rise ever so slightly. Finally, the elderly man concluded whatever ritual he¡¯d been performing and a thin, glowing red line appeared on the monolith. It ran along every edge of the Vault, about two-thirds of the way up the stone. When the light faded a couple seconds later, a seam had appeared in the smooth stone. This new upper section slid open, smooth and silent, revealing an empty space inside the stone. The walls of the box were six inches thick, the interior matching the outside. The lid continued to glide open until its edge was hanging almost entirely in the air, suspended by contact along just one of the longer walls. ¡°It¡¯s the world¡¯s most boring sarcophagus,¡± Aaron said. ¡°It is the Vault of Revelation, I assure you,¡± Mallory replied. ¡°All you must do is lay down within. The Vault will seal itself, then you must escape.¡± Aaron exhaled through his nostrils, reminding himself that he had managed the first Tribulation relatively easily. All he had needed to do then was overcome some perfectly rational mortal fears and discover that his physiology was now inhuman in a way that didn¡¯t exactly match the legends he knew about dragons. Unless you count sea serpents and eastern dragons, I guess, he thought. So really, this Tribulation should be a piece of cake. He just had to keep telling himself that, even if he didn¡¯t quite believe. Besides, there was really nothing for it except to get in the box. ¡°I guess it¡¯s a good thing I¡¯m not claustrophobic,¡± he said, stepping into the sarcophagus. ¡°If you were, it would simply be another obstacle you must overcome,¡± Mallory said. Aaron rolled his eyes and lay back in the chamber. As soon as he did, the lid closed above him. Just before it sealed him in completely, he heard Tia call out, ¡°See you in a few minutes!¡± Then he was alone, on a hard slab of stone in complete darkness. For some time, nothing happened. How long, exactly, Aaron couldn¡¯t be sure, but he was pretty sure he¡¯d been laying in the dark for several minutes before he started to get antsy. ¡°This is pretty fucking boring!¡± he called out. ¡°I was expecting a little more Vader and a lot less Godot!¡± More time passed. Probably not a great deal of it, but enough for Aaron to start feeling like this whole thing was a bit silly. ¡°Can anyone even hear me?¡± he shouted. Is this all there is to this? Just sitting here while a timer counts down? he wondered. Was this Tribulation, like the lake, a do-nothing enterprise where all he had to do was exist? It surely had to be something more complicated than that, yet the longer he sat in that cold, dark, uncomfortable stone box, the more he was forced to question the nature of the Tribulations and what that would imply for the Drakon. Perhaps their nature was such that they would kill anyone who lacked the proper essence, or soul, or whatever. He¡¯d definitely been told that in no unclear terms a few times. That meant the Tribulations weren¡¯t without risks, but were they without merit? If being the right person was something he inherited ¡ª however that worked ¡ª and not about the quality of his character, then they weren¡¯t really challenges at all, were they? If it were true and each of the Tribulations was little more than a bit of skullduggery that worked only for the proper successor and killed anyone else, that suggested the whole Tribulation thing was a scam. They would not only serve to convince the drakus that a new leader had overcome grueling obstacles and deeply personal challenges to ¡°prove¡± they were the right person to take command, but that they were the best person for the job. That would be a pretty awful indictment of the leadership of this entire secret society going back centuries or millennia. It smacked of snowing the plebeians with some ¡°right to rule¡± bullshit and a lack of accountability. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Have I learned anything to suggest the Tribulations are easy mode? Aaron wondered. Anything concrete I can piece together through all the shrouded-in-mystery stuff? As he sat in the darkness, waiting, Aaron thought there had been things to suggest there were risks involved, even for someone who had actually inherited the essence of the Primus Draconis. According to Barrett and Mallory, only one person had ever failed the Tribulation he was currently attempting, escaping the vault. But that had been a relatively recent candidate, or at least one of the ones since Oliver Milton, that last Primus, had disappeared. Given that finding candidates for the position involved weird dream mojo, it was unlikely that person had just been some random person. There¡¯s a good chance they just felt a little too shaky about the whole thing, which I can empathize with, Aaron thought. Aaron had come to terms with the idea that he was the latest scion in a long line of super dragon whatevers easily enough ¡ª perhaps too easily, which might say something about his ego ¡ª but he could still understand how hard accepting it would be. All the more in the modern age, when folklore and superstition were dwindling more and more. Raz¡¯ale, the actual, literal dragon who lived under Yellowstone had said he¡¯d stopped people from succeeding in the Tribulation, only doing so when he found them particularly odious. They couldn¡¯t have even found or entered Wyrmhold Cavern without the essence of the Primus, so they had at least been a valid potential successor. Aaron had also been told that the lake was the only Tribulation anyone had ever failed before and, if he was remembering correctly, Raz¡¯ale had suggested he¡¯d done it more than once. If Aaron was being fair with himself, the challenge in the lake had required a good deal of bravery to get to the easy part. There had been no way for him to know he wouldn¡¯t drown in the water and he was about as far from an experienced diver with strong lungs as you could be. Yet he¡¯d plunged into the lightless depths anyway, intent on discovering more of this strange path he¡¯d found himself on even if it meant a gruesome death in an icy lake where his body might never have been found. So it¡¯s not really a dog and pony show to hoodwink the rubes into subservience to some kind of divine dragon mandate, Aaron concluded. That¡¯s reassuring, at least. But what the hell am I supposed to be doing in this fucking box? Whatever challenge the Vault of Revelation was meant to pose, Aaron wondered if they couldn¡¯t have stuck some cushions in the thing. It was not a particularly comfortable tomb to chill and relax in. Maybe I¡¯ll do that when this is over for the next time I¡¯m in here, he thought. Spruce the ancient stone coffin up a bit, make it a bit more homey. Uncomfortable as the vault might be, the only way Aaron would have that chance was to get through the Tribulation. Since the stupid box didn¡¯t seem keen on getting the show started, he decided he would try to figure something out on his own. Aaron could move his arms away from his body a little, but not enough to raise them up to his shoulders even if he bent his elbows. There was less than two feet clearance above him, so he couldn¡¯t lift his arms straight in front of him, either. There was maybe a foot or more combined past his head and feet. He could do a partial sit-up, lifting his torso to about a forty five degree angle, but no more. He might be able to roll over and get onto his hands and knees if he kept his arms bent, but what would be the point of that? He felt around the walls and along the corners as thoroughly as he could ¡ª the surface was as smooth as it had appeared from the outside. He was in a position that gave him decent leverage to try to get the lid off. That seemed too obvious, but there was no harm in trying so he pressed the palms of his hands against it and pushed. It didn¡¯t budge. He tried moving it sideways instead of lifting it off the Vault, but there was no give in that direction, either. He took a deep breath and tried to move the stone again, this time recalling what he¡¯d learned about using his unnatural strength and relying on his intent to provide the power instead of muscles, tendons, and ligaments. No luck there. This thing sure is taking its sweet time, Aaron griped. As if responding to his internal criticism, several small holes opened in the lining of the box. There was a pair at each corner, facing each other, at both the top and bottom of the Vault, making a total of sixteen holes. By the faint light filtering in through them, Aaron could see that they were each about an inch across. He stuck a finger into one of the holes above his head and found the bore as smooth and featureless as the walls. ¡°Anyone out there seeing this?¡± he called. The light coming through the holes started to flicker and shift, like something was obstructing the passage or fluttering over it. Aaron tried contorting himself to get a better view, but he couldn¡¯t see much ¡ª something was coming down the holes, but it was too dark to make out any details. At first, he thought it might have been a liquid from the way it seemed to flow, but it was highly viscous if so as it was moving quite slowly. Plus, he could see angular edges at the top of the silhouette of whatever it was. When the mass finally reached the end of the short tube Aaron was looking at, he was briefly able to make out enough details in the silhouette to get an idea what, exactly, was pouring into the sarcophagus ¡ª bugs. The vermin poured into the empty chamber, falling onto Aaron and the floor of the vault. There was the faint click of chitin, repeated many times over, as they slapped against the smooth stone. Aaron instinctively tried to recoil away from them, but there was nowhere to go; they were coming from every direction and he had no room. His back and head banged into the stone walls and his limbs scrabbled against the rock, crushing many of the foul creatures as he thrashed. It had little effect; they were streaming in in droves. He could feel them writhing ¡ª around him, under him, on him. The wretched things were everywhere. Aaron was aware, in a detached sort of way, that he was starting to panic; a distant, not-entirely-irrational part of his brain knew the panic made him better able to respond to threats. The rest of his brain was screaming at him that he had to get away. Except there was nowhere to go; the bugs had already filled the Vault as high as he would if he were lying flat. His thoughts could barely form around the electric edges of fear and disgust. His first instinct was to keep the things away from his face, but there were limited options to keep the crawling, clinging, grasping things away. There were just so many of them and so little room to move. Using his feet, Aaron pushed himself back until his head was pressed against the high edge of the box behind him, sitting up as high as he could. It did little good; the bugs were pouring in near his shoulders from the highest corners and kept filling the space. The writhing mass had already risen as high as his chest, even partly sitting up. Many crawled up his body and the walls. He wanted to scream, even if it would do him no good; worse, it would open his mouth to the roiling filth. There was a burning sensation in his abdomen and chest; he knew it was a sign his body wanted to vomit, another way his mouth could be forced open and allow the vermin access. That would be unacceptable and he bit down on the urge, refusing it. I might die in this box, his mind shrieked, the thought barely coherent through the delirium of horror. Some of the more enterprising specimens among the unnatural, alien swarm were already crawling on his head and face. No matter how often he brushed them away or shook his head to dislodge them, more replaced them. He could feel their legs as they explored his flesh, reaching into his ears and nostrils, traipsing across his eyelids and lips. The sound in the confined chamber was nearly as maddening as the sensation of being mostly submerged in insects ¡ª a rasping, whispery hiss caused by thousands of tiny, chitinous bodies scraping against each other in a small space. Deep in his mind ¡ª buried far beneath the horror, revulsion, and outrage ¡ª Aaron was thinking. This nightmare had to be the test, which meant he had to face and overcome it by mastering himself. He wasn¡¯t sure what he had to do to accomplish that, exactly. Was it an issue of remaining calm in the face of two primal, visceral fears ¡ª bugs and suffocation? Given enough time, the mass of bugs might act as an extreme form of exposure therapy and Aaron would resolve his phobias. The major problem with that idea was that he already had a decent grip on his fears. He didn¡¯t freak out at being exposed to the vile things and could even pick up their corpses with just a bit of toilet paper. The problem here was one of scale ¡ª there were so many of the nasty little fuckers ¡ª and proximity. Waiting for some kind of breakthrough, enduring this nightmare until his brain rewired itself, was not at all appealing. An even smaller voice, more rational ¡ª and thus less welcome at that moment ¡ª reminded him that how you reacted to emotions was something you had control over, not the feelings themselves. Maybe I can guide them, he mused. Aaron seized on that idea. He swatted as many bugs off his face as he could to help him focus and took a deep breath ¡ª in through the nose, then back out ¡ª forcing his body to be still for a moment. The swarm seethed around him, but they were inconsequential; what mattered were the feelings they evoked. Those feelings imbrued his entire being with vulnerability, with weakness and shame. He wanted to harness those liabilities and redirect them, turning his volatile emotions into a spear pointed at the very things causing them. Ha visualized his emotions as a mass of chaotic wires, in a variety of colors, twining throughout his body. He brought his hands up in front of him, palms facing each other, and pictured a tiny point of gravity between them. This pulsing core pulled the teeming emotional currents into itself, condensing them into a tiny space. Closer and closer, drawn inexorably together, growing more dense with each passing second. He ignored the swarm crawling over him and the burning urge in his guts to vomit ¡ª for the moment at least ¡ª and concentrated only on that collapsing mass. It was compressed too tightly. The bundle wanted to expand and release the energy generated by being forced in on itself, but Aaron refused. The well of gravity he pictured compacted the frailty of emotions into something molten and volatile, unstable and chaotic. He squeezed them in even harder, applying pressure until an entire sea of emotion could fit in the palm of his hand. He closed his fingers around that pulsing center, grasping it, and knew he held something there ¡ª something that was tangible and real. It felt hot, but solid. He couldn¡¯t say what it was, but it felt powerful. Powerful¡­ and dangerous. He pressed himself back into the wall as hard as he could and pulled his left arm tight against his stomach. The heap of crawling horror crunched and crackled as he moved, some of their bodies breaking, but he ignored that, too. With his right arm ¡ª the one that held the whatever-it-was ¡ª he swung in a tight circle around himself. He tried to move at the elbow, swinging just his forearm, and was careful to keep whatever he was holding angled away from himself. Nothing happened, so he swung again. Then again, and again, each swing driven by growing desperation as his control began to fray and splinter. On the fourth swing, Aaron accidentally rammed a fist into a wall of stone. The entire chamber fell open around him. Light blossomed from every direction, temporarily blinding him, but he managed to roll over and clamber to his feet. He hadn¡¯t stood fully before he was half-crawling away from the box and the heaving swarm of bugs and insects. Before he¡¯d gone more than a few steps, he spun back towards the Vault, ready to lash out with whatever he was holding, but was brought up short by what lay before him. The Vault of Revelation was strewn across the floor, split into several large pieces. The stone had been carved apart in great, sweeping curves. There were no bugs, living or dead, just the other four drakus who had been there when he went in, all of them staring at him in various states of surprise. ¡°What the hell is that?¡± Barrett asked, pointing at Aaron. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I hate it,¡± Tia replied. Chapter 33 - The Sundered Vault Aaron looked down at his hand and discovered he was holding a thin rod, about two feet long and made of black energy. Although Aaron¡¯s perception said the thing should be ¡ª or maybe that it was ¡ª glowing, it emitted no light of its own. Ripples and pulses coursed fitfully along its length in dark shades of blue and purple. He continued backing away from the sundered Vault, slower now, until he bumped into a wall. He stayed there a moment, staring at the broken stone chunks laying on the floor. Alice had a hand over her mouth and Tia knelt beside the pieces of the broken Vault; Barrett and Mallory both approached, their eyes on the rod Aaron had conjured. ¡°Mr. Freeman, would you conjure your most effective shield or barrier?¡± Mallory asked quietly, not taking his eyes off the weapon. Barrett nodded mutely, then brought his hands together and pulled them, slowly and laboriously, apart. As he did, he made small changes to the shape of his hand, moved his fingers into complex shapes, or included small gestures and movements. A small point of red light formed between his palms, near his sternum, as they drew away from each other and expanded outwards into a translucent plane to match his motions. It even continued to grow after Barrett stopped his movement, rapidly expanding until it was as tall as a door and twice as wide. Mallory gestured to the shimmering mystic barrier. ¡°Mr. Abrams, would you be so good as to attempt to penetrate or cut through this with your summoned implement?¡± Aaron nodded mutely and swung the rod at the pane half-heartedly; it broke apart on impact and Barrett sucked in a breath. ¡°Can you feel that, Mallory?¡± Barrett asked. Mallory nodded. ¡°Indeed. A tangible manifestation of ardor. Quite deadly and equally dangerous. Can you tell us how you summoned this weapon, Mr. Abrams?¡± Aaron swallowed, his heart still pounding so hard he thought it might sprain his ribs. ¡°I was- I was feeling overwhelmed¡­ I couldn¡¯t think straight. I imagined all those feelings as, like, as a physical thing, then I imagined forcing them into this tiny bundle. I was surprised when I felt like I actually had something in my hand¡­ or maybe that I was about to have something in my hand. I could tell it was, uh, unstable, I guess, so I grabbed it before it could unravel and then¡­ then the thing was in my hand.¡± ¡°Is your temperament still in a state of agitation akin to what you were experiencing when you coerced it into this form?¡± Mallory asked. After a second to figure out what the hell Mallory meant, Aaron looked inward, trying to practice his mindfulness and get a gauge on his emotional state. Now that he was out of the box, the adrenaline was fading and his heart rate and breathing were slowing down to normal, but he found the feelings were still there. Anxiety and fear ¡ª terror, really ¡ª but there was more than that. Deep, buried so deep Aaron almost didn¡¯t notice it, was something more dangerous than his perfectly reasonable fear. Rage. A smoldering core of incandescent fury, writhing and pulsing, trying to gnaw its way out of his unconscious and into his mind, where it could drive his flesh to lash out. Lash out at what, exactly, Aaron didn¡¯t know, but he recoiled from the emotion. He¡­ he didn¡¯t get angry. Not anymore. It was surprisingly easy to ignore, and not just because it was buried so deep or he was so used to it. The anger, like the fear and anxiety, wasn¡¯t exactly close to him at that moment. It felt distant, even muted, and even in a state of wired hypervigilance he could detach himself from those emotions with almost startling ease. Aaron nodded. ¡°Not fully; it¡¯s almost like I¡¯m dissociating, but only from the emotions instead of the world or my sense of self.¡± ¡°Curious, indeed,¡± Mallory said, one wispy eyebrow rising slightly. ¡°The way you manifested this object ¡ª the path of magic by which you accomplished it ¡ª can have deleterious effects. Such magic will either sustain the catalyst to a heightened degree or, conversely, isolate them from your psyche. Said ramifications will generally only last so long as the magic is maintained, but I should think it obvious one¡¯s judgment risks impairment for the duration.¡± ¡°Uh, sure. Okay. So, what do I do with it?¡± ¡°They are your emotions, Mr. Abrams, given a most destructive form. I might suggest making the figurative literal.¡± Mallory paused for a moment, then gestured to the rod. ¡°Id est, letting go.¡± Aaron looked down at his hand, wielding that vicious and ethereal implement, and tried to relax his fingers. A strong urge of protest rose up in him ¡ª there were imminent dangers, it argued, and he needed a weapon ¡ª but Aaron forced himself to release his grasp. As soon as his hand started to open, the rod dissipated, streamers of its not-light flooding into Aaron¡¯s hand and arm. Exhaustion swept over him, a flood of vitality pouring out of him like he had the worst case of vertigo. Aaron managed to keep himself from swaying where he stood¡­ much. It was like the aftermath of an adrenaline rush, only not ¡ª his thoughts weren¡¯t chasing themselves in circles like a yappy little dog. Breathe, Aaron, he told himself. Suffocate the nightmare with oxygen. He balled his hands back into fists, closed his eyes, then relaxed his fingers again. He repeated the process a few times and the sensation passed quickly, though the memory of it lingered. Perhaps worse than the echo of his unchecked emotions, Aaron knew he would be imagining he felt bugs on him until he took a shower and changed his clothes. A relatively small price to pay for completing another Tribulation, but Aaron might not have been able to agree to it if he¡¯d known the details up front. ¡°So what the hell was that thing?¡± Barrett asked. ¡°I¡¯m not crazy to think it can¡¯t be what you¡¯re implying, am I?¡± ¡°As a rule, I should think not. However, it does seem that Mr. Abrams effected a spontaneous magical effect by manifesting and shaping his rancor and used it to destroy the Vault of Revelation.¡± Barrett shook his head like he had a fly on his nose. ¡°Now hold on a minute, Mallory. That was a continuous effect and, best as I could tell, a stabilized aether matrix. An ongoing enchantment would be one thing, but a hard construct made with wild magic? That¡¯s another thing altogether.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± Mallory agreed. ¡°It was a most rare and volatile act of spontaneous magic, one that would likely be difficult to replicate. We must be thankful it didn¡¯t lead to catastrophe.¡± The old man paused, thoughtfully. ¡°Perhaps it would be more accurate to say a greater catastrophe.¡± ¡°I think you¡¯re all missing the most important part of all this,¡± Tia added, stone-faced. ¡°And what would that be, Miss Kellogg?¡± Mallory asked. The young woman strode over and clapped Aaron on the back. ¡°Our guy made an Emo Blade. That¡¯s both super goth and metal as fuck.¡± Despite still feeling a bit out of sorts, Aaron couldn¡¯t help but snort a laugh. ¡°Just get me to a Hot Topic and I¡¯ll be the most powerful wiz-rawrd eksdee,¡± he said. Alice stifled a laugh, but Tia snickered unabashedly. Neither of the older men seemed to get the reference, which was quickly becoming a theme Aaron knew was going to annoy the crap out of him. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. But the girls laughed, Aaron thought. And that¡¯s what really matters. Mallory turned to speak to the room at large. ¡°Yes, well, aside from the risks Mr. Abrams brought on himself and all of us in conjuring that weapon, the methodology he employed creates a unique quandary insofar as I¡¯m unsure if he satisfied the criteria for the Tribulation.¡± Aaron blinked. What did he just say? ¡°He escaped the Vault, didn¡¯t he? That¡¯s the Tribulation,¡± Barrett said, giving voice to Aaron¡¯s own scattered thoughts in a form more eloquent than a muted ¡®buh?¡¯ ¡°Mr. Abrams used wild magic in a state of panic and destroyed the Vault. I¡¯m not confident that qualifies as mastering himself or overcoming the challenge he was posed.¡± It had taken a moment for Aaron¡¯s brain to catch up with the conversation, but now he looked at Mallory and couldn¡¯t stop his frustration from mounting. Was he really talking about calling that a failure? After what he had just endured? And what the hell would that mean for me? he wondered. Are they going to try to kill me so my essence can find a new body? Aaron wasn¡¯t willing to go quietly, if that was the case. He probably didn¡¯t stand a chance against just the people in the room ¡ª let alone if Albert, Griffin, and Kiara came to help ¡ª but he was sure as shit going to try. He was grateful Tia had gone back to the Vault to continue examining the pieces; she¡¯d probably be less likely to notice as he began trying to collect his feelings the same way he had in the Vault. It wasn¡¯t going well, but Aaron was determined to get there. He¡¯d already seen how effective that¡­ thing¡­ was as a weapon and he¡¯d use it if it was the difference between life and death. The fear was proving to be a lot harder to wrangle this time, though, and it wasn¡¯t made any easier when he realized he might not be alone in this. ¡°That¡¯s bullcrap, Ezekiel,¡± Barrett said, his voice more fervent than Aaron had heard from the folksy old man so far. ¡°He conjured a tool that fit the situation despite the stress he was under and used it to get out of the box. Mission successful, in my opinion.¡± Mallory nodded, considering the argument. ¡°That may be true if looked at from a remove; however, there is a great deal at stake to wager on an opinion. You know as well as any how poor our records have fared. If one of us ¡ª any of us ¡ª could access a relevant memory of our legacies, that would be ideal.¡± Barrett threw up his hands in frustration. ¡°So, what, we¡¯re just up the creek for eternity? Neither of us are good at inherited memories, Tia might have barely more past experience than a first-time drakus, and Alice is almost certainly on her first rodeo, so now what? We can never confirm another Primus again and our best shot in more than two hundred years is out because you¡¯re feeling extra prissy about what¡¯s permissible? Should we go to the desert and bend our knees there, old man?¡± Mallory opened his mouth to respond, but Barrett cut him off. ¡°He went into the Vault, it didn¡¯t kill him, and he came out of it under his own power. That is an escape.¡± ¡°Hey, the old and the restful,¡± Tia called out from beside the broken sarcophagus. ¡°What if breaking the Vault was something all those mysterious old snakes anticipated and planned for? Would that shut you two up?¡± The tiny, weak snarl of emotions Aaron felt like he was starting to pull into some kind of core slipped from his grasp and wriggled away. Not only did it seem like Tia and Barrett might be on his side, but it sounded like Tia had some kind of theory to tilt the scales in Aaron¡¯s favor. It was hard to hold onto fear when hope blossomed. Mallory¡¯s head whipped around to his apprentice. ¡°What do you mean, girl? Have you called up a memory?¡± ¡°Okay, first of all,¡± Tia snapped, ¡°I don¡¯t love your tone, Zeke. Second of all, don¡¯t call me ¡®girl¡¯ like I¡¯m your dog. And third of all, no, I suck at that memory shit hardcore. But I think the Vault getting damaged or destroyed was something its makers thought was highly possible and they took steps to deal with it.¡± ¡°What kind of steps?¡± Barrett asked. The symphony of emotions Aaron had been feeling ¡ª a melody of fear, a rhythm of what was obviously not anger, but frustration ¡ª warbled as Tia injected another, more optimistic note. The scale of the thing began to shift and it took on a different tone. That put a smile on Aaron¡¯s face, or it would have, if he weren¡¯t resolutely clamping down on his emotions as they continued to siphon back into his consciousness from¡­ wherever the hell they¡¯d been after he made that magic stick thing. My Emo Blade, he thought blithely. I thought I outgrew the black nail polish in high school, but maybe not. Tia picked up one of the chunks of broken stone. There were several perfectly straight edges of the piece, suggesting it was from a corner of Vault, and its other edges were smooth where it had been severed from the whole. She tilted the broken edges towards them, revealing the stone was actually a bit more coarse, even grainy, compared to the walls. Except the texture was an illusion created by the latticework of white crystal veins, which were far thicker and more dense than they seemed from the exterior of the stone. The same faint red light Aaron had seen in those small deposits was much more pronounced on the uneven edges, running freely along the curves and no longer confined to the crystals. Tia set the corner piece down on a flat side and lifted another nearby chunk from the floor. The same red light swept along its uneven edges, as well, and Tia moved it close to the corner piece, showing that the irregular lines matched up like a giant jigsaw puzzle. ¡°Watch this,¡± Tia said with a wink Aaron thought was meant for him. She moved the piece closer, until there was less than an inch between them, and the red light of the two pieces started to rise from the surface. Tendrils almost like smoke flowed between the pieces and reached out towards each other. When the light from both pieces came into contact, it flared for a moment, then quickly faded. When Tia lifted the corner chunk off the ground again, the other piece came with it, a single, reunified piece. Everyone in the room had slowly ambled closer to watch Tia¡¯s demonstration, but it was Barrett who spoke first. ¡°There¡¯s not even a sign it was ever damaged,¡± he breathed. ¡°I think it was designed to repair itself,¡± Tia said. ¡°Since this box was only ever meant to do one thing¡­¡± Mallory was nodding slowly. ¡°...that means the possibility the Vault would be damaged or destroyed in the Tribulation was anticipated. Well-spotted and well-reasoned, Miss Kellogg.¡± Barrett clapped his hands together. ¡°Hot diggity dog! Well, let¡¯s not sit around marveling over the thing. Let¡¯s put the whole shebang back together!¡± As Alice, Barrett, and Tia fell to the task of assembling the shattered Vault, Mallory moved to Aaron¡¯s side and laid a hand on his shoulder, holding him back from lending a hand. ¡°While you reassemble the Vault and determine whether we can call this Tribulation a success, I would like to take a moment to discuss the perils of magic with Mr. Abrams,¡± the old man said. ¡°Can¡¯t we sort this out first?¡± Barrett asked. Mallory shook his head. ¡°I am confident Miss Kellogg¡¯s assessment will bear out, but given the threats we may yet face and what has transpired here this morning, I do not believe we can spare even a moment.¡± Barrett agreed with a silent nod and went back to working with Alice and Tia to reassemble the box. Aaron had a concern of his own. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t teaching me about magic disqualify me if I have to do this again?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°If the Vault can reconstitute itself, as Tia suggested, I see no alternative but to treat this as a success,¡± Mallory said. ¡°If it cannot, then there may be no way to complete this particular Tribulation ever again, which would render that an unnecessary consideration.¡± Aaron was conflicted. He wanted to learn about magic ¡ª who wouldn¡¯t? ¡ª but he also wanted to brush Mallory off. The old man had basically just argued to deprive Aaron of his success in the Tribulation, so he wasn¡¯t exactly Aaron¡¯s favorite ag¨¦d sorcerer at the moment. He knew that might not be a fair characterization of Mallory¡¯s motivations, but it was better than letting the idea that Mallory was afraid to push the envelope become ingrained in his understanding of the old man. Petty, perhaps, but it would keep him from looking down on Mallory with complete disdain in the future. In the end, Aaron decided he could make the effort to reevaluate his opinion of Mallory if he found himself thinking of the drakus as too hide-bound and inflexible. Besides, he really did want to learn about magic. ¡°I would love to know more about magic,¡± he said, keeping his eyes on the other three scrabbling among the broken pieces of the sarcophagus. ¡°Magic seems awesome, but I don¡¯t want to be a toddler playing with a hand grenade.¡± Chapter 34 - Quinta Essentia ¡°Magic is, as you said, quite awesome,¡± Mallory said, his inflection of the word giving it a more profound meaning. ¡°Are you by any chance familiar with the concepts of dark matter, dark energy, or quintessence?¡± Aaron had to think about that for a second. He knew he knew what it was, but it was somewhere in the back of his mind. Being a nerd was one thing, but there were so many different flavors of nerd. Aaron appreciated science, but he was more of a fantasy and gaming nerd than a hard science nerd. And he was years away from the last time he¡¯d had a serious interest in philosophy. ¡°Dark matter is supposed to be an unknown type of matter that exists in the empty spaces in the universe. Quintessence in the sense I think you mean is Latin, if I remember right, and has something to do with philosophy.¡± ¡°Are you a student of classical philosophy?¡± Mallory asked. ¡°I was a smug, angsty teenager at one point so, y¡¯know, obviously at least a little bit.¡± Mallory smiled at that. ¡°Well, adolescence is much changed of late if reading the great thinkers of antiquity is part of the rebellious phase. As it¡¯s been some time since you were a teenager, perhaps you¡¯ll forgive me for retreading old ground.¡± According to Mallory, quintessence ¡ª or quinta essentia as he sometimes called it with unnecessary pretension ¡ª was a Latin term attached to an even older concept, which the Greeks had called aether. It was considered the fifth of the more well-known four classical elements ¡ª fire, water, earth, and air. The concept was not exclusive to the western world and could be found in other cultures, such as akasha in India or ku in Japan. ¡°Aether is so pervasive, so omnipresent, that it ceases to be a substance in a way we could understand and, instead, becomes a concept. It is in, around, and between all things on all planes and through all dimensions,¡± Mallory said. ¡°So it¡¯s like the Force without the bugs in your blood?¡± Mallory¡¯s eyebrows furrowed. ¡°That is startlingly close to something Miss Kellogg told me I should be prepared to say, though I¡¯m unfamiliar with the context. It is conceptually similar, I believe.¡± Quintessence, or aether, was the medium in which magic was worked. It could be manipulated in a way that changed or altered the rest of reality around it. While a few cultures had gleaned that aether was a fundamental element of the universe, more had understood it in a more practical way, recognizing that it could be manipulated by the individual. Concepts like ashe, mana, prana, qi, and many more were manifestations of the varied understandings aether ¡ª even if they were not the thing itself ¡ª translated through the lenses of various cultures.. ¡°Aether makes magic possible,¡± Mallory explained. ¡°We must consider not only how magic happens, but how it is performed. There are two fundamental qualities that define how magic is crafted ¡ª the expertise of the caster and the engine by which they cast.¡± ¡°When you say engine, I take that to mean the mechanics of casting. Like, how the sorcerer does their sorcery.¡± ¡°Well reasoned,¡± Mallory said. ¡°Expertise is relatively straightforward, although there are many instances in which no skill or knowledge is required yet the magic is performed expertly. Exempli gratia ¡ª the heightened endurance and resilience most drakus enjoy is a magical effect requiring neither knowledge nor training, yet it should be viewed as an expertly-crafted magic.¡± ¡°Exempli gratia¡­¡± Aaron mumbled to himself, though Mallory took no notice. ¡°The engine of a mystic endeavor, on the other hand, is generally less malleable. Although it could be charted on an axis just as expertise can, the two extremes are so broad as to make differentiating them effectively binary or, perhaps, trinary, rather than the gradient of expertise.¡± Aaron held up a hand so Mallory would pause his explanation. He was trying to decipher what the ancient sorcerer had just said and failing spectacularly. Things had been making sense, but then they had veered into the weeds, hard, and Aaron completely lost the thread. He sounds like the worst written RPG ever, Aaron thought. He didn¡¯t want to seem stupid, but he needed clarity if he was going to understand this stuff and he very much wanted to. ¡°Okay, I get that expertise is how much skill a person has or applies when they perform magic, but what do you mean when you talk about an axis and binaries for the engine? Do you mean like the axes on a graph?¡± Tia stepped up next to Mallory. Aaron glanced behind her and saw that the sarcophagus wasn¡¯t finished being reassembled, but it had been compiled into a dozen or so large pieces that could be put together quickly. ¡°Zeke is very old and talks like he¡¯s writing the Declaration of Independence sometimes,¡± she said. ¡°The engine of sorcery is the specific way the magic is enacted, which only really has two methods ¡ª structured and spontaneous.¡± ¡°What does that mean, in practical terms?¡± ¡°When we were at the lake, I drew all those runes and sigils in the ground and Zeke performed an incantation; that¡¯s structured casting. When you were in the Vault, you basically just used visualization and sheer willpower to change reality; that¡¯s spontaneous.¡± ¡°An apt synopsis, Miss Kellogg. Well spoken,¡± Mallory said. ¡°That makes sense, thank you. If the engine of magic is either spontaneous or structured, how could it be a trinary?¡± ¡°When it¡¯s neither,¡± Tia said with a smile. ¡°It¡¯s usually magic that is innate to the various mythics, like how we¡¯re strong and tough. The engine is unconscious or passive, so it¡¯s not structured or spontaneous; it just is.¡± Aaron thought he had a grasp of what Tia was describing, but he was hung up on semantics. As much as he hated to keep asking them to simplify things, he needed to know how a thing could be both spontaneous and non-spontaneous. Isn¡¯t that one of Aristotle¡¯s basic laws of logic? he thought. A thing can¡¯t be true and also not true. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be spontaneous, then?¡± he asked, then answered himself. ¡°Wait, no, because it¡¯s not both, it¡¯s neither.¡± Tia beamed at him and Mallory gave him a respectful nod of his head. It was like the concept had been locked in a box in Aaron¡¯s mind, but it had flown open mid-sentence and understanding had popped out. It was a rudimentary understanding of a deep and complex subject, but it was a good start. Tia held out a fist and Aaron tapped it with his own, then she went back to work on the Vault with Alice and Barrett. Aaron watched her go, his eyes involuntarily straying down to check out her ass and legs then flitting over to Alice, as well. He dragged them back to Mallory, cursing inwardly. I don¡¯t want to be that guy, he told himself. But if women like those two are going to be around, I am one hundred percent for sure going to make an awkward jackass out of myself in the very near future. Limiting the damage from his inevitable stupidity was probably going to be a far greater challenge than either of the Tribulations had been. Aaron was very good at making an ass of himself and equally bad at fixing the mess in the aftermath. ¡°It¡¯s most heartening to see Miss Kellogg has a way of communicating that¡¯s conducive to your education,¡± Mallory said. ¡°Thankfully, the final factor in the casting of magic is more straightforward, for all that it is vastly more inscrutable.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a third thing? I thought you said there were two, uh, two ¡®fundamental qualities¡¯ or something like that.¡± ¡°Indeed so. In addition to the expertise of the practitioner and the engine of their practice, a third component exists that is not necessarily part of the caster¡¯s craft. It is both internal and external to the sorcerer and vastly more difficult to quantify and measure ¡ª that factor is emotion.¡± ¡°Emotion?¡± ¡°Magic is rooted in emotion, Mister Abrams,¡± Mallory said. ¡°It is the primary catalyst for the conducting of magic and, thus, quite necessary. Moreover ¡ª and more complicated ¡ª any conscious efforts to produce magic evoke an emotional response which requires redress if the casting is to succeed.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Again, Mallory had a tendency to communicate with language that was as stilted as it could possibly be, but Aaron thought he got the gist of it. However, what Mallory was describing didn¡¯t entirely match up with what Aaron had witnessed so far, so he had to ask about it. ¡°If you need strong emotions to do magic, how are you and Tia able to do it so easily?¡± Mallory¡¯s brow furrowed slightly, the white tufts of his brows knitting together. ¡°Forgive me, I may have provided an inadequate explanation. While emotions are central to the production of magic, they need not be tumultuous or overwhelming. In those instances when they are not, however, magic will often inflict an emotional state on the practitioner, attempting to subvert, distract, or undermine their efforts to manipulate the aether.¡± ¡°Magic attacks you with emotions for trying to do magic?¡± The old man nodded. ¡°An accurate assessment. In both cases ¡ª whether you are invoking emotion or it is being evoked against you ¡ª you must find some way to resolve the conflict introduced by this emotional element lest the energies involved go awry.¡± ¡°I imagine those energies aren¡¯t only a threat to the spell or whatever,¡± Aaron mused. ¡°Quite so. The consequences of losing control are unpredictable and indiscriminate. The magic you performed in the Vault was performed with low expertise, no structure, and while in the grips of great emotional turmoil. The results could have been calamitous.¡± So Aaron had risked some kind of magical blowout by conjuring up that weapon to escape the Vault. Looking back, he was pretty sure he would do it again even if he¡¯d known the risks. An involuntary shiver ran up his spine as he recalled the sensation of all those disgusting things swarming over him. ¡°I cannot place enough emphasis on how careful you must be to avoid such unstructured manipulations of aether,¡± Mallory said. ¡°While it may come to pass that you find yourself in the unusual position of having a greater aptitude for spontaneous workings than structured magic or rituals, making such attempts without any proper training can have calamitous results.¡± Behind Mallory, the last few bits of the Vault were being compared against the gaps to find their rightful place. Mallory¡¯s lecture seemed to have ended, so both men turned their attention to the process, where Alice, Barrett, and Tia traded around the remaining fragments and fit them in their proper places. When the last piece was set, the faint red glow returned, limning the curved edges where each of the broken pieces met. Mallory walked up to the Vault and bent down, his face barely an inch from the smooth stone surface. He ran his hand over the faintly illuminated remnants of Aaron¡¯s frantic slashes, fingers splayed wide. The light faded after a few more seconds, leaving no sign of the damage behind. Finally, Mallory seemed satisfied with his inspection of the Vault and rose. ¡°Your hypothesis appears to have been correct, Miss Kellogg, and the Vault is capable of repairing itself. I cannot estimate when it will be ready for use again, but it is mending.¡± ¡°Guess you better stay alive for a while, then, eh?¡± Tia remarked to Aaron. ¡°Sounds like congratulations are in order,¡± Barrett said. ¡°Well done, Aaron!¡± There was a general clamor of agreement and Aaron felt a surge of satisfaction. The moment was short-lived as he felt like something was crawling along his neck and he brushed at it impatiently, knowing it was just a phantom sensation. Even knowing that, he was no more able to ignore the sensation than if it had been the real thing. He had the same problem any time he saw an ant within arm¡¯s reach and knew it wouldn¡¯t stop until he did something to convince himself he was clean. ¡°Thanks, everyone,¡± Aaron said. ¡°It was a pretty fucked up thing, but I¡¯m glad to have gotten through it. I¡¯d very much like a shower, though. Soon.¡± Barrett clapped his hands together enthusiastically. ¡°An excellent idea. You will need rest after that Tribulation and you¡¯re going to want to have a large dinner.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll ride home with him and make sure he eats enough,¡± Tia offered, drumming her hands on the stone lid of the reconstituted Vault. ¡°Ah yes, Mr. Abrams'' accommodations are in the same building as yours, as I recall.¡± Mallory said. ¡°That should make things rather convenient.¡± ¡°What kind of things?¡± Aaron asked, unsure where this was going and unwilling to trust himself to make any guesses. ¡°Miss Kellogg, as my assistant, is well-suited to helping you gain a greater understanding about our world, which is, of course, now your world, as well. As she demonstrated earlier, she is also quite adept at explaining intricate concepts in a manner that seems digestible for you, which I hope will prove to be a great boon to your development.¡± Aaron shot Tia a look, hoping she could explain, as Mallory had put it, this intricate concept in a way that was easily digestible for him. ¡°I¡¯m the TA for Magic and Weird Shit 101, which means I¡¯ll be teaching all the actual classes while Zeke writes a book or something,¡± Tia said. The awkward bomb is definitely imminent, he thought ruefully, as intrigued as he was anxious at the idea of Tia teaching him about magic and all this secret world stuff. That doesn¡¯t mean I have to start shaking the box and yanking at wires. Just try your best to be a normal human who can say normal human shit. ¡°Cool,¡± Aaron said, trying to act like he, personally, was also cool. At least it¡¯s not Alice; that would be too difficult, he told himself. Tia was beautiful, smart, and had a great sense of humor, but Alice was so beautiful it was practically clich¨¦. Add her glamour into the mix and Aaron would be sure to make an ass out of himself in record-shattering time. In either case, finding women like that suddenly in his social orbit was surreal. It was awesome and terrifying in a way that was not entirely different from meeting Raz¡¯ale, the dragon residing in a lake of magma under Yellowstone. Tia sauntered over to the stone doors with an air of exaggerated braggadocio, her head and shoulders thrown back as she strutted across the stone chamber. She beckoned for Aaron to join her and he started to, but Mallory offered a bit of parting advice before they left. ¡°Before you sleep tonight, Mr. Abrams, try to clear your mind. You may experience some unusual sensations as your nature awakens to new heights; if you can maintain your composure, they should pass quickly.¡± Unsure of what he was supposed to say to something like that, Aaron simply nodded his head once, then joined Tia at the wide doors, which swung open for them. Albert, Griffin, and Kiara were in the midst of a heated argument which had been completely blocked when the chamber was sealed. ¡°What the hell do you care, you contentious shrew? It¡¯s not like it¡¯s hurting anyone,¡± Griffin said, jabbing an accusatory finger in Kiara¡¯s direction. ¡°Listen, dickless, it doesn¡¯t matter if there¡¯s no specific victim, it¡¯s still utterly disgusting,¡± she replied. ¡°And if you keep pointing that finger at me, you¡¯re going to fucking lose it.¡± ¡°Okay, but-¡± Albert tried to interject, but they both turned to look at him with furious glares and his mouth snapped shut again with an audible click of his teeth. Before they could start back up, Tia practically skipped up to them. ¡°Whatcha talkin¡¯ about?¡± she asked coquettishly. All three of the security detail turned to her, saw Aaron a few steps behind, and grew quiet. ¡°Nothing,¡± Griffin said, a bit sheepishly. ¡°It looks like you made it,¡± Kiara said to Aaron. ¡°Congrats,¡± Albert added, clapping Aaron on the shoulder. ¡°We should get on the road,¡± Griffin said. The other two nodded in agreement, acting as if they hadn¡¯t just been at each other¡¯s throats. Aaron was not an expert on protecting people, but it seemed obvious that kind of bad blood in a situation like this could be dangerous. Plus, it sounded like Griffin might be into something that Aaron wouldn¡¯t want around him, either, so he felt like he needed clarification. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was in a position where he could actually expect to get it. ¡°Hold on a second,¡± he said. ¡°What was that argument about?¡± ¡°It was nothing,¡± Albert said. ¡°Really. Just pissing about.¡± Aaron shook his head. ¡°It didn¡¯t sound like nothing. You guys are supposed to be keeping me safe, so I need to know what¡¯s going on if there¡¯s a problem.¡± The trio exchanged a look that made their reluctance clear, but Kiara shrugged, flapped a hand at Griffin, and said, ¡°It¡¯s your nasty ass thing; you tell him.¡± Griffin sighed. ¡°Albert suggested we split a Pile o¡¯ Nuggets for dinner. I said we should make sure to get plates or bowls or something so our skins don¡¯t get all mixed together. Kiara asked what I meant by ¡®skins¡¯ and I said I liked to peel the breading off and eat it separate from the meat. Then she said my, uh, parents were obviously lacking and I was poorly raised. It sorta got rolling from there.¡± Aaron blinked at them a few times while Tia snickered quietly. That told him a lot about the dynamic of the friendship between the three of them and it was something he was familiar with, even if it had been a while since he¡¯d really engaged with his friends. ¡°But right in the middle of it, we came in, so nobody won, I guess. Sorry to interrupt,¡± Aaron said. Albert, Griffin, and Kiara were quiet for a moment, then they shared smiles with him and each other. Aaron felt mildly confident they appreciated that he appreciated the nature of their relationship and how they had fun with each other. ¡°Well, it looks like we¡¯re back on the clock, boys,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Let¡¯s get the package safely to its destination, alright?¡± ¡°I¡¯m in the same building, so you have the honor of giving me a lift, too,¡± Tia said. Kiara shrugged. ¡°It¡¯ll be a bit cramped, but I don¡¯t mind having some extra magic muscle tossed in the mix, just in case. I need you to follow my orders if things go sideways, though. No questions, no backtalk. Okay?¡± Tia straightened her posture and offered a mocking salute. ¡°Whatever you say, captain lady! Let¡¯s move out,¡± she said, and began to trot in place, solemnly intoning a marching chant of, ¡°Hup hup hup hup.¡± Kiara rolled her eyes and her two compatriots snickered, but nobody made a thing out of it. Moments later, they were back in the tunnels. Aaron was curious to find out what his new home was like and he was looking forward to seeing more of the city. As exciting as everything going on was, he was most eager to get in a shower. He was still suffering the erratic sensation of something ¡ª or somethings ¡ª crawling on him, causing him to swipe, rub, or scratch at himself. They really couldn¡¯t get to that shower soon enough for him. Chapter 35 - The Scenic Route Getting to Aaron¡¯s new home wasn¡¯t entirely without incident, though, starting when they got back to the car in the parking garage. When they reached the sedan in the parking lot, Kiara wanted Aaron to sit in the middle of the backseat. He didn¡¯t have a problem with that, but it seemed like that would be the least comfortable seating arrangement since he was much larger than either of the women who¡¯d be sitting with him. He objected out of principle, or maybe a desire to seem chivalrous. Or maybe I just don¡¯t want to ride ¡®bitch,¡¯ he thought. I wonder if there¡¯s a better term for that these days. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if we¡¯re shorter than you are or how comfortable it will be; it¡¯s about protocol,¡± Kiara replied to his concern. ¡°We might not be great human shields, but it¡¯s best if we can see what¡¯s coming.¡± On the ride over the airport, Aaron had enjoyed the window seat and he was looking forward to seeing more of the city as they went¡­ wherever it was they were going. That was going to be a lot more difficult if he was sitting in the middle of the backseat. Kiara¡¯s security concerns were understandable, but perhaps an overabundance of caution. He wasn¡¯t sure how much of a difference it would make to have Tia by the window. She was, as far as Aaron knew, a college student who was mostly focused on magic as Mallory¡¯s apprentice, not a steely-eyed, streetsmart sentinel. If Kiara¡¯s stuck on protocol, though, a rational approach might not be the best play, he thought. Maybe a little hyperbole and humor can crack the problem. ¡°Listen, I¡¯m like two-thirds Lizard Jesus, right?¡± he said. ¡°So shouldn¡¯t I get my way approximately 66.6% of the time? Repeating, of course.¡± Of the little gaggle they¡¯d formed around the sedan, Kiara was the only one who didn¡¯t crack a smile ¡ª Albert actually gave Aaron two thumbs up, like he was the oldest extra in the history of cheesy teen movies ¡ª and she looked like she was gearing up to get loud. Aaron brushed a phantom bug off his neck and tried to play it cool; he didn¡¯t know how he¡¯d respond if she did start shouting at him. Tia forestalled any escalation by stepping between them and holding up a small figurine in the palm of her hand; it was an eastern dragon, carved out of a pale green stone that could have been jade. ¡°How about we do this ¡ª I lend Aaron this relic of protection for the ride and the ancient, powerful magic contained within will compensate for the less-than-optimal seating arrangement?¡± Kiara eyed the small token, running a hand through her thick, red hair and considering it with a frown. Aaron thought the small woman was going to argue some more, possibly just for the sake of being ornery or bossy. Kiara, however, surprised him. ¡°Fine, but she sits behind Griffin so his big, fat, blond head might soak up some bullets if shit goes sideways.¡± ¡°Just try to get it on video so I can be a meme posthumously,¡± Griffin said after barking out a laugh. Tia placed the charm in Aaron¡¯s hand and closed his fingers around, giving his fist a couple of soft pats. Then she hit him with her trademark ¡ª a wink and a smirk. Aaron looked at his closed hand, where the little jade dragon sat. Is this thing just a trinket she pulled out to stop the argument? he wondered. Or¡­ is it possible she¡¯s flirting with me? Years of embarrassing experience suggested the former was far more likely than the latter, especially considering he was the hottest of messes. Actually, after a year of letting himself go pretty much completely, Aaron was more like a cold, moldy mess. Some kind of mess, anyways. Whatever the case, he was glad to have her on his side in this instance. A few minutes later, they were back on the road. Aaron continued taking in the city, glad he¡¯d managed to finagle a window seat with Tia¡¯s help. They were really in New York City, with its abundance of unique character, represented as much in the presence of small and artisan businesses in the immediate vicinity of Times Square as anything else. There was a Hampton Inn & Suites on the left! And a 7-11 on the right! Places with real character. Aaron knew they were in the chintzy, gaudy, and eminently tacky heart of global tourism, so he tried not to let the string of multinationals bother him, but he was doing a piss-poor job of it. Next thing you know, it¡¯ll be a McDonald¡¯s or a Taco Bell, he grumbled to himself. As it turned out, he was only half right. A bit further down the road, they didn¡¯t pass a Taco Bell and McDonald¡¯s, but instead drove by a Wendy¡¯s and a McDonald¡¯s. They were just a couple doors apart, with a CVS right across the street from both. Character! It made perfect sense that, in a densely populated world capital and one of the most visited places on Earth, you could find plenty of the biggest, most saturated chains, but it was weird nonetheless. At least the buildings are still fairly cool and interesting, Aaron thought. The street they were traveling down was a long urban canyon with skyscrapers rushed away towards the horizon on either side of them. Still, something of Aaron¡¯s disappointment with all the mega-chains must have shown in his demeanor, because Kiara reached across Tia in the middle seat and tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s a rough stretch of town to get that New York feel, but we¡¯re coming up on some interesting stuff,¡± she said. ¡°Where are we going, anyways?¡± he asked. Everyone in the car suddenly had the same enigmatic smile on their faces, probably even Griffin in the driver¡¯s seat, who Aaron couldn¡¯t see. None of them offered an answer to his question. ¡°All right, then, keep your secrets,¡± he said, settling back to city-gazing. Albert wheezed a laugh from the passenger seat. ¡°Nice.¡± Not long after this exchange, their wide, one-way street emptied into a huge traffic circle. It was hundreds of feet across with a park sitting at the heart of the circle, bordered by trees. A monument rose from the center of the park ¡ª a white pillar at least fifty feet tall on a huge stone base. The pillar was topped with a statue that Aaron could only discern from the street by its different shade. Although Aaron couldn¡¯t make out the figure of the statue on top, he figured out what it was after a few seconds ¡ª it had to be Christopher Columbus ¡ª which meant they were pulling onto Columbus Circle. Whatever Aaron thought of Columbus or his legacy ¡ª and he didn¡¯t think much of either ¡ª Columbus Circle was a tremendously famous landmark in New York. It was also at one of the corners of an even more famous landmark ¡ª Central Park. Griffin pulled their sedan onto the street that ran along the western edge of the park, which was aptly named Central Park West. They drove past block after block of beautiful buildings that, Aaron was pretty sure, were some of the most expensive residences in Manhattan. ¡°Am I staying in one of these?¡± Aaron asked, another reminder that the Drakon Society seemed to have an exorbitant amount of wealth. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to dislodge a bug that didn¡¯t exist. ¡°We¡¯re going almost all the way up to the end of the park,¡± Albert said, earning a smack on the head from Kiara behind him. ¡°Maybe eventually you could move into something here,¡± Tia said. ¡°If you wanted to be all la-di-da, I mean. We own quite a few of them.¡± ¡°It¡¯s so weird how many of these buildings look familiar,¡± Aaron remarked. He wasn¡¯t sure how to talk about owning multiple buildings around Central Park, so something more familiar seemed like the safe bet. ¡°Lots of places around here get used for establishing shots in film and television,¡± Albert said, turning around in his seat to face the back. ¡°Plenty of other neighborhoods, too, but CPW doesn¡¯t change much on account of being all historical. For instance, we just passed the Ghostbusters Building.¡± ¡°Bullshit! I¡¯d have noticed that little fire station. It¡¯s iconic.¡± ¡°That building is in Tribeca,¡± Albert said. ¡°The building we just passed is where Zuul was living in the fridge in Dana¡¯s apartment. Interesting fact-¡± Everyone else in the car groaned and Griffin tapped on the brakes, giving everyone a solid jolt forward. ¡°Don¡¯t let him get going about movies, especially nerdy ones, or he¡¯ll never shut up,¡± the big man said. ¡°He barely shuts up as it is,¡± Kiara said. ¡°I only shut up when Kiara¡¯s shouting at me or my mouth is, ahem, otherwise occupied,¡± Albert said, waggling his eyebrows. ¡°Gross,¡± Tia said, pushing on his forehead with two fingers until he turned back around, snickering. Although many of the buildings that lined Central Park West were interesting and even beautiful, two stood out to Aaron in particular. One was the American Museum of Natural History, with its high-arched entrance and four distinctive columns. Aaron almost didn¡¯t recognize it when they passed; the statue of Theodore Roosevelt on horseback had apparently been removed since the most recent pictures he¡¯d seen. The second building caught his attention because it was almost outlandishly out of place. It also happened to be where they stopped to turn away from the park, which gave Aaron a good minute to examine the strange building as they waited for the light. That can¡¯t be where we¡¯re going, can it? he wondered. The structure looked like a castle, except that it was red, squat, far too tiny to be a proper castle. It had several fat, round towers with intricately decorated, arched windows on the highest floor and each was topped with a conical roof in a material that looked like silver or tin. There was a surreal quality, or maybe it was absurd, that made it seem even more out of place than the centuries-old churches that sometimes sat between massive ultra-modern skyscrapers in the city. ¡°Surely not,¡± Aaron said, pointing at the weird, squat, maroon castle. Albert, Griffin, and Tia all laughed, but Kiara was all business, as usual. ¡°Not a chance. Too obvious.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a quirky old building,¡± Griffin said. ¡°You just know some magi are operating out of one or more of those towers.¡± ¡°Get a witch a tower; witches love towers,¡± Albert agreed. ¡°It¡¯s because it matches their hats,¡± Tia said, to more laughter. Aaron scratched and swiped at his shoulder, having felt like something was crawling on him there. He needed a shower badly. ¡°That was the old New York Cancer Hospital before the institution got too big and they moved over to Sloan-Kettering,¡± Tia said. ¡°My mom always says she wished she could work in a hospital with a cool building like that. It was derelict for years, but someone turned it into what every empty building in New York eventually turns into ¡ª luxury condos.¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Ah, progress,¡± Griffin said. The street they turned onto at the old hospital was a narrow, one-way road with very different buildings from the grand structures of Central Park West. They were, predominantly, townhouses made of brick, limestone, and granite cut in a variety of sizes, each ranging from three to five storeys tall and with no space between them. Do they build two sets of walls in the middle, or share one? Aaron wondered. They probably have to share; at that width three to six inches would add up to eat a lot of space. At the next intersection, Griffin turned them onto a two lane road lined with trees. Despite the height and architectural style, all the trees reminded Aaron of his neighborhood back in Sacramento. Hopefully the local flora wouldn¡¯t smell like dried semen every spring. That was something from home Aaron could definitely do without. Griffin pulled the sedan to park at the curb in front of a row of townhouses. The spot was right in front of a fire hydrant. That seemed like a risky move, but maybe parking enforcement wasn¡¯t as on-the-ball in Manhattan as Aaron had been led to believe by media portrayals. The big man could be counting on luck to keep him from getting ticketed. Or maybe it¡¯s not luck; maybe they have a magic parking spot, Aaron thought. That would be almost as dope as it is petty. ¡°Stay here a minute,¡± Kiara said, as Griffin and Albert got out of the car. What followed was a bit of theatre that earned the two men a great deal of esteem in Aaron¡¯s eyes, not least of all because it was all part of their efforts to keep him from getting murdered. Albert and Griffin emerged from the car like anyone might, seemingly already in the midst of a genuine but completely inane discussion about a TV show. From his seat in the back of the car, Aaron could see Griffin¡¯s eyes clearly and knew the burly man wasn¡¯t just shooting the shit with his little buddy; he was also surreptitiously checking the surroundings for threats. Albert was probably doing the same thing on the passenger side. Anyone not close enough would just see two guys having an innocuous argument over something that was breathtakingly pointless to anyone but them. Griffin punctuated some point he¡¯d made by slapping the roof of the car with his hand. ¡°That¡¯s the ¡®all clear,¡¯¡± Kiara said, opening her door. When Aaron stepped out of the car, Griffin was still standing by his door, but Albert had already made his way to the trunk and was pulling Aaron¡¯s few pieces of luggage out. ¡°I can take all that,¡± Aaron said, and Albert gladly handed the baggage over. The building they¡¯d parked in front of was three storeys tall, like every other building on the block, and narrow. The lower half was made of large reddish-orange blocks, and the top half in much smaller, normal looking brick. The window frames and front door were painted black and a bay window overlooked the street from the top floor. Griffin took the lead going up the narrow stoop, which was made of the same large bricks as the lower part of the building, with Aaron and Tia being herded up behind him. Albert and Kiara stayed at the foot of the stoop, a bit conspicuous as they kept an eye on the street behind them. Rather than a key ¡ª or even a keycard ¡ª Griffin pulled out a smooth, flat, stone disk about three inches across and pressed it into the doorknob before turning it, then stepped into the building. Before he followed Griffin inside, Aaron stopped just outside the door and leaned over the stoop. He looked down into the small, fenced-in area beside it. He¡¯d always been curious what was down there when he saw similar spaces in pictures and movies. The buildings on either side of theirs had windows at that level, which supported Aaron¡¯s guess that it was a basement, but their building was just more of the plain brick. Given the premium on space in New York, Aaron figured there were probably apartments down there. Wasn¡¯t there a show where someone lived in an apartment like that? A sitcom with a red haired woman, he mused. He knew he was right, but he couldn¡¯t think of any other details from the show. Wasn¡¯t the building a tugboat or something like that? Weird. He felt something wriggling around on his head. Despite knowing it was a phantom sensation, had to run his hands through his hair to convince himself he¡¯d dislodged the nothing that wasn¡¯t actually there. Finally, he followed Griffin into the building. There were mailboxes on the wall right by the door and a hallway extended down the length of the building ahead of them. It ran for at least fifty feet and ended at a left turn. Aaron wasn¡¯t sure where the hallway could go given how narrow the building was. Following Griffin down the hall past two apartments, he learned the turn was a staircase that led up and down. They went up the stairs to the second floor, then all the way back to the front of the building, where Griffin used another stone to open the door, which was marked 2A. ¡°Lucy, I¡¯m home,¡± the big man said, stepping inside. Aaron experienced a moment of almost physically palpable cognitive dissonance when he stepped into the apartment ¡ª it was simultaneously exactly what he¡¯d been expecting yet not. When they¡¯d driven up Central Park West, he¡¯d been imagining a sprawling six-room home with oak-paneled walls and ornate mahogany furniture. After they¡¯d turned at the old cancer castle and started passing townhouses, he¡¯d been picturing something from the Gilded Age, all brass and marble. But as they¡¯d walked through the building and he¡¯d seen there were two apartments per floor, he had envisioned something more modest and probably on the small side by the standards he¡¯d grown used to in California. If his estimates were right, each apartment would have been less than twenty feet by twenty five feet, meaning four or five hundred square feet ¡ª small even for a studio back home. That would have been very on-brand for New York. At first glance, the room Aaron stepped into could have been a studio apartment. The front door opened right into the kitchen, with a dinette beyond and a larger living space to the right. The space had an open floor plan except for the counter separating the kitchen and living room. Except the dinette extended several feet beyond the wall of the living room, suggesting more space. Aaron would have assumed the bathroom was in the space behind that wall, except for the empty doorframe in the middle of the far wall of the living room. That revealed the space was actually a hallway that led farther than the living room. He strolled across the room as everyone filed in behind him and dropped his luggage in the dinette area, taking a look down the hallway. It went back much farther than the end of the living room. A second door that opened into the hallway past the living room and the hallway itself continued past another five or six feet then turned right. He couldn¡¯t see what was around that corner, but there had to be more rooms back there. If the open area at the front of the apartment were roughly square, Aaron estimated it would be right around twenty feet by twenty feet, so almost all of the space. The hallway suggested the entire apartment was significantly longer. ¡°Is this apartment bigger on the inside?¡± he asked, incredulous. That reference earned him an amused, wheezy snicker from Albert, but Tia answered seriously. ¡°We could do that, but it¡¯s a lot easier to knock out a wall and make each floor a single apartment.¡± ¡°So¡­ the other front door in the hallway is fake, a decoy,¡± Aaron mused. ¡°Which makes the property seem like it¡¯s filled with rinky-dink studios instead of two and three bedroom condos. A good security feature if you want a nice place that doesn¡¯t draw a lot of attention from the real estate fiends on StreetEasy or Trulia,¡± Albert said. ¡°Your unit has two bedrooms and two bathrooms. You can explore after we get everything sorted on our end,¡± Kiara said, walking over to the dinette table and sitting in one of the chairs. ¡°Take a seat.¡± Aaron sat across from her, Albert and Tia joined them, and Griffin leaned against the counter in the kitchen. Albert produced several keys on a keyring and a stone like the one Griffin had used on the front door. He laid them out on the table with some space between them. ¡°These,¡± he indicated the keys, ¡°are bullshit. They don¡¯t do anything, not even open the mail. This magic rock is all you need for the building. We¡¯ll need to bind it to you and you¡¯ll be all set.¡± Tia sat forward in her chair. ¡°Do you mind if I do it? I haven¡¯t had many opportunities to practice binding talismans.¡± ¡°Knock yourself out, kid,¡± Kiara said. Albert pulled out a small leather case and unfolded it on the table. There were an assortment of odd items stored within ¡ª thin metal tools, bits of different fabrics, chalks, tiny, stoppered glass vials filled with powders and liquids, even a small sheaf of thick paper tightly rolled together ¡ª and, after he checked over everything, slid the case over to Tia. ¡°Very nice kit, Albert,¡± Tia said, also examining the various components. ¡°What does that mean ¡ª ¡®bind¡¯ it to me?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a simple bit of magic that makes an item super convenient ¡ª you can¡¯t lose it, it doesn¡¯t take up pocket space, all sorts of good stuff,¡± Albert said. Tia conducted what seemed to be a very simple ritual, though Aaron¡¯s only frame of reference was the complicated business at the lake in Yellowstone and whatever Tia and Mallory had done with the Vault. She placed the stone in Aaron¡¯s hand, wrapped them together loosely with a length of silk, then sprinkled various dusts and fluids over the whole thing. While she worked her magic, Kiara explained the security procedures she wanted Aaron to be aware of and follow. Aaron didn¡¯t catch all of it ¡ª he was distracted by occasional twinges of imaginary bugs on him and keeping his cool whenever Tia touched his hand ¡ª but he got the gist of it. There were several small teams assigned to his security and they worked in shifts. Whichever team was currently on duty would either be with him or, if he was at the apartment, in the building. A backup team would usually be nearby but out of sight or in the building, as well. The entire building was occupied by drakus ¡ª the active security team on the third floor, Aaron on the second, Tia on the ground, and the backup in the basement. Griffin made a point to make sure Aaron knew the basement also had a laundry room and some other nice amenities. He didn¡¯t know how much they could fit down there, but he wanted to remember to go check it out when he got the chance. Kiara also showed him that several numbers had been programmed into the speed dials on his new folding phone, told him to never go outside the building ¡ª not even to the stoop, the roof, or the fire escape ¡ª without making sure security knew and had given him the go-ahead, and that his computer should be delivered in the next day or two. When Kiara had said her piece and the binding ritual was done, Tia took over the task of explaining basic shit to the noob (as Aaron was starting to think of it). Her tone was conversational and felt significantly less like a lecture than if, say, Mallory were the one doing it. ¡°Conjuring and dismissing a talisman is as easy as wanting to,¡± she said, removing the silk wrapping from Aaron¡¯s hand. ¡°It¡¯s literally at-will, but it takes a little getting used to. Try dismissing it.¡± Aaron looked at the small, flat stone in his hand and wanted it to go away. The stone, being a stone, simply sat there. He tried asking it, he tried imagining it disappearing in a poof, and he tried concentrating really hard on wanting the rock to be gone. Nothing worked. He didn¡¯t take his eyes off the stupid rock sitting in the palm of his hand, but he was aware of the four people sitting around the table, all of them smiling at him expectantly. Maybe there¡¯s a trick to it, like with using my strength, he thought. When Aaron had learned how to utilize the immense strength that came with being a drakus, it had been a blending of intent with action, a more conscious use of his body than the way that came naturally. Bearing that in mind, he tried to dismiss the talisman again and found himself flexing in a way that wasn¡¯t exactly physical. It was almost like he was trying to put something away in a pocket but his arm wouldn¡¯t move. The others in the apartment all clapped for him when the flat stone vanished. ¡°Quicker than most people figure it out,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Figure out what?¡± Aaron asked. Tia patted Aaron¡¯s wrist. ¡°The way we interact with bound talismans is similar to how we do magic ¡ª it¡¯s a very personal experience and the mental constructs and processes are as varied as the individual. There are some generalities we can talk about, but it¡¯s basically up to each of us to figure out what works best for us.¡± Aaron summoned and dismissed the stone a few more times to get used to it. ¡°It¡¯s definitely weird. Where does it go when it¡¯s not, y¡¯know, here?¡± ¡°It goes in your butt,¡± Griffin said, scoring a wheezy laugh from Albert and a glare from Kiara. ¡°That¡¯s not untrue, exactly,¡± Tia said. ¡°It discorporates into a static matrix of quintessence and that matrix attaches itself to your body. So it kinda does go up your butt, but it also goes everywhere else.¡± Kiara stood up. ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s everything we needed to go over, so we¡¯ll head upstairs. Remember to call or message if you¡¯re even thinking about going outside the building.¡± After Aaron gave his assurances to Kiara¡¯s satisfaction, the three security personnel left the apartment. MY apartment! he thought. Kiara shook his hand, her expression so serious it was almost comical, but the other two were more relaxed in their farewells, leaving with little more than waves and up-nods. That left Aaron and Tia alone. Aaron smacked himself in the chest, irked by another phantom fucking bug. ¡°You wanna hang out for a while?¡± Tia asked. ¡°I figure you¡¯ve had a pretty wild weekend and some time to decompress will do you good.¡± ¡°I¡¯d love to, but I really need to take a shower.¡± Tia nodded. ¡°Go ahead. I¡¯ll make sure your TV is set up and order some dinner.¡± That was very much not what Aaron expected and he didn¡¯t know what to make of it. He generally wouldn¡¯t be comfortable with someone in his home when he was sleeping or bathing unless he knew them extremely well and trusted them ¡ª it just felt too vulnerable. At the same time, Tia was so god damned hot he was willing to make an exception. Probably a lot of exceptions. Enough exceptions he might have to question whether he was the principled person he thought of himself as. Surely he wasn¡¯t that much of a stooge, right? More practically, Aaron realized he was getting quite hungry, so someone who knew the local restaurants would help him avoid eating McDonald¡¯s on his first day in New York. Aaron just signaled his agreement with a nod to Tia, not trusting himself to say anything more; anything he might think to say would almost certainly be weird and make things awkward. Instead of sticking his foot in his mouth, he gathered up his luggage and wandered down the hallway to discover the rest of the apartment. His apartment! Chapter 36 - A New Friend Aaron walked down the hallway of his new apartment somewhere in Upper Manhattan ¡ª where exactly, he wasn¡¯t sure; he didn¡¯t know the city well enough. The first doorway in the hall didn¡¯t actually have a door, but was an opening between the living room to the hall. The second door in the hallway opened into a small bedroom. Past the bedroom, the hall turned right. A door at the end of the hall led to a guest bathroom and, unless this place was wildly bigger than Aaron thought, the door on the left opened to the master bedroom. It turned out he was right, only the design of the master suite tricked him into thinking he wasn¡¯t. Rather than opening right onto the bedroom, the door from the hallway opened onto another, smaller hallway. This small passage was about six feet long and led into the master bedroom. A door on the right led to the master bath and Aaron learned that the mini hall had been created by the wall of a large closet that was at least six feet by six feet. The closet had a vertical double rod arrangement, a shelf above the upper rod, and several sets of wide, low drawers built against the walls. Is this big enough to qualify as a walk-in? Aaron wondered. It¡¯s pretty big, even if not. The bedroom itself was twice as long as it was wide, which provided enough room for a queen-size bed in one corner with a couple feet of space on the side and even more beyond the foot of the bed. A window above the bed took up half the rear wall and looked out on an alley and a larger space between the row of townhouses and two other, larger buildings on the block. Aaron set his luggage down in the closet and went back to the hallway door. He quietly closed and locked it, then returned to the closet. Setting the small black suitcase ¡ª the one that had occupied his thoughts so often recently ¡ª on top of one of the stacks of drawers, he slowly unzipped and opened it. After pulling out the hodge podge of old, faded t-shirts he¡¯d haphazardly tossed in, he placed them in a pile next to the suitcase. Finally, he removed his most precious possession from the suitcase, laying it on the impromptu cushion of t-shirts. Gently, he laid a hand on it and closed his eyes for a second. Only for a second, though. After the last few harrowing days, Aaron had decided he would comfort himself with the contents of the suitcase. But that was for later, when he went to bed. He opened the topmost drawer and gently placed the bundle inside, sliding it closed with a whisper, then went to the ensuite bathroom. It was time for a much-needed shower; the lingering feeling of vermin crawling all over him was making each passing minute a little less bearable. The bathroom was spacious and luxuriously equipped. A soaking tub made of glossy black stone rested against the wall to the left of the door and a large shower filled the other end of the room. Towel racks, with several rods lined up vertically, hung on either side of the door near the tub and shower. A long counter with a double sink ran most of the length of the rear wall, stopped from running the full length by a toilet next to the tub. The room was ten feet wide, at least, though not as deep. The most impressive thing about the opulent bathroom, however, was that the building had an amazing water heater. The shower was warm as soon as Aaron turned it on and hot in seconds. After checking the towels to make sure they were fresh and fluffy, Aaron tossed his clothes on the floor by the door and stepped into the shower to wash away the echo of tiny, chitinous feet. I¡¯ll need to get a laundry hamper, he thought. I guess no one thought of that when they were furnishing this place with bland Swedish placeholder stuff. Half an hour later, Aaron was bathed, wearing clean clothes, and standing in the empty door frame between the hallway and living room. Tia was sitting on the couch, opening one app after another on the television. ¡°Whatcha up to?¡± he asked. ¡°The DS provides us with secure accounts that can¡¯t be tracked back to the individual user or address,¡± she said. ¡°I was just making sure each of them loads.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the DS?¡± ¡°Drakon Society. Oh, and the accounts won¡¯t know your preferences yet, so you might get some weird suggestions.¡± Aaron sighed, leaning heavily into the door frame. ¡°A new account? So I¡¯ll have to subscribe to all Murky Ort¡¯s channels, again?¡± Tia shot him a dirty look. ¡°You watch that dipshit? I thought you were cool, man.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong with Ort? He tells it like it is,¡± Aaron said, lifting his chin slightly. ¡°He- you- that piece of human fucking shit is-¡± Tia didn¡¯t get farther into her tirade than that before Aaron couldn¡¯t keep a straight face anymore and started laughing. She looked like she was in shock for a moment, or maybe she was getting her brain in gear to really let him have it, but Aaron held his hands up in a sign of peace. ¡°I never watched that dillbag, even before he got outed as an asshole. It¡¯s nice to know you think I¡¯m cool, though.¡± Before Tia could finish chewing on that ¡ª and Aaron suspected she was deciding whether to continue lambasting the controversial internet celebrity or start a whole new thread putting him on blast ¡ª a chime sounded from the front door. Looking over, Aaron saw there was some kind of high-end video intercom panel he hadn¡¯t noticed before. Someone in a ball cap was standing on the stoop outside, holding several big plastic bags. Tia hopped to her feet. ¡°That¡¯ll be the food.¡± She jogged around the counter that separated the kitchen and living room and pressed a button on the intercom. The delivery person opened the front door, picked up even more plastic bags from the stoop, and went inside. Aaron tried to remember if Kiara had said anything about having things delivered, but if she had Aaron had lost track of it while he was dedicating all his attention to not dedicating all his attention to how soft Tia¡¯s hands were while she¡¯d performed the ritual to bind that magic rock to him. ¡°Is that, uh, are we okay to let delivery people in? Couldn¡¯t they be assassins or something?¡± Tia waved a hand at him dismissively. ¡°Pfft. It¡¯s fine. This building has more safeguards than you¡¯d think and the security people will make sure to check them out, too.¡± ¡°How do they manage that without making the building look suspicious?¡± ¡°Simple stuff. Someone pretends to be checking their mail, another carries a load of laundry, stuff like that.¡± When the delivery guy got to the door, Aaron saw that Tia had ordered a lot of food. Like, a lot a lot. Aaron had to ferry several bags with at least twenty big cartons and containers from the door to the kitchen counters while Tia paid. She had just handed the delivery person a $20 tip and closed the door when the intercom buzzed again. The video showed a different person on the stoop, this time with one of those big heated bags for carrying pizza. She had, Aaron learned when this delivery person got to their door, also ordered three extra large pizzas, a large order of bread knots, and six different big bottles of soda. Aaron hauled all over that over to the table in the dinette, where there was more room. Tia tipped the pizza guy $20 and closed the door. ¡°I can eat, but this seems like way too much. Are we going to invite the security folks over for a dinner party or something? Barrett might have a fit about fraternizing with the help or however he put it.¡± She laughed. ¡°Nah. Drakus can literally eat more than a horse. I also didn¡¯t know what you¡¯d like. And you¡¯ll need the energy after doing two Tribulations in less than twelve hours. Which is insane, by the way.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll definitely need to give my secretary an earful for overbooking.¡± Tia wagged a finger at Aaron. ¡°Don¡¯t you be sassin¡¯ me, ¡®Lizard Jesus.¡¯¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Aaron held up his hand, the thumb and forefinger just millimeters apart. ¡°It¡¯s just a little sass.¡± ¡°Well, as long as it¡¯s only a little,¡± Tia graciously allowed. They unpacked everything she¡¯d ordered ¡ª Chinese food and pizza, how quintessentially New York of her ¡ª and sat down to eat, having a nice conversation and getting to know each other. Tia didn¡¯t push talk about magic or any of the dragon stuff for the most part, which was good. Aaron was curious, but he wanted to get his mind off it for the moment. Instead, they learned about each other as people. He¡¯d never admit it, but it was nice in another way ¡ª it almost felt a date. With the added benefit that Tia was someone way, way, way out of his league. He learned that she was a student at Columbia University, which was less than a mile from the apartment building. Tia was a step (or two) above your average genius. She wasn¡¯t at the point of intuiting higher mathematics before she could form full sentences, but she wasn¡¯t far from it either. She¡¯d skipped a bunch of grades and attended some elite private school in the city. After she graduated, she started at Columbia and received undergraduate degrees in physics and psychology. ¡°Now I¡¯m working on a double doctorate, but I switched over to anthropology and philosophy,¡± she said. ¡°You can switch like that?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Well, it¡¯s amazing, anyhow, even if you¡¯re kinda all over the place.¡± Tia ostentatiously brushed some imaginary lint off her shoulder. ¡°You can do anything with a brilliant mind.¡± She leaned over the table and whispered conspiratorially. ¡°And with basically unlimited money.¡± ¡°Did you choose each field of study because they¡¯re all about how people perceive and interact with the world?¡± Tia¡¯s eyes widened slightly. ¡°I did! It¡¯s cool that you got that. Most people don¡¯t see the connection. Do you know where the physics fits into it?¡± Aaron shook his head, uncertain, but he was thinking and might have had the start of an idea. ¡°I could see it if you were studying the bleeding edge of quantum mechanics, which has something to do with perception changing the state of the universe¡­ but that doesn¡¯t seem like the kind of thing you¡¯d be doing as an undergrad.¡± ¡°You¡¯re on the right track, but coming from the wrong angle; it¡¯s all about magic,¡± she said, waving a pair of chopsticks like a magic wand. ¡°Zeke gave me that spiel about dark matter and dark energy when I joined the Drakon, so I thought I should understand physics to understand magic.¡± It was only a matter of time until the talk turned to dragons and magic, Aaron figured, and he was curious about, well, everything. ¡°How old were you when you, uh, ¡®awakened to your power¡¯ as a dragon? I mean, as a drakus.¡± ¡°Seven, I think. Maybe six,¡± she said with a shrug. ¡°What the hell? Am I some kind of late bloomer?¡± ¡°I¡¯m the youngest we have a record of, maybe ever, but it happens at all ages,¡± Tia said. ¡°Anyway, I knew a lot about magic by the time I finished high school and I realized magic has rules governing it, just like the universe has physical laws.¡± The fundamental laws of magic didn¡¯t sound like something that was taught at universities ¡ª even in the Ivy League ¡ª but what the hell did Aaron know about magic or the Ivy League? Moreover, he was fascinated by Tia¡¯s perspective and approach, trying to bridge the gap by using mundane knowledge. It¡¯s like a meta-analysis of the metaphysical, he realized. Looking at everything and trying to synthesize it into a coherent whole. He was impressed. More than impressed, actually. He might have even been a little intimidated. Maybe. Who could really say? Aaron definitely couldn¡¯t have commented with any certainty. ¡°Magic works through intent, emotion, and can be influenced by our perception, but there¡¯s an external force that we barely understand,¡± she continued. ¡°I hoped learning more about physical reality would help me understand the metaphysical one.¡± ¡°Has it?¡± Tia made a waffling gesture with one hand. ¡°Magic is pretty inscrutable. It¡¯s next to impossible to measure the variables involved, so I bailed on the hard sciences for post-grad and decided to look at the development of culture and thought, which also affect magic.¡± Aaron¡¯s eyebrows rose at that. ¡°Really? How?¡± ¡°What people think is possible is what¡¯s possible, more or less,¡± she said. ¡°Magic can do the impossible, but it¡¯s harder to do the impossible the less possible people think it is.¡± At face value, that was an absurd statement and it took Aaron a moment to parse through it. Magic doing the impossible? Okay, he could get behind that. But the impossible being made, somehow, less impossible? Impossibility was basically a binary ¡ª a thing was either possible or it wasn¡¯t. They were back in Law of Contradictions territory. Except¡­ ¡°So, something like the four-minute mile,¡± Aaron muttered. Not so long ago, it had been widely accepted that a human couldn¡¯t run a mile in four minutes or less. For years, athletes, trainers, and scientists had said it was a hard, physical limit that prevented a human being running a mile that fast. Like much of popular science, the existence of greater nuance in the science didn¡¯t really matter ¡ª most people accepted it as an impossible feat. Until someone ran a mile a little more than half a second under the four minute mark in the 50s. Aaron couldn¡¯t remember all the details, but he did remember a rough timeline. After someone broke the four minute mile, they held the previously-unbreakable world record for something like two months. And that record had only lasted a couple of years. Could that have been a real biological limitation of human beings until someone did it and the belief changed? he wondered. Or maybe the first person to break the record used magic and that opened the door for everyone. It might seem preposterous that people thinking a thing could be done was what made it possible, but Tia was suggesting that was exactly how magic worked ¡ª and why some things were harder than others. ¡°Anyways, I had to get at least one doctorate in something and I figured two would be better at getting my parents off my back,¡± Tia said. ¡°They were already salty I wasn¡¯t going into medicine, so I had to give them something. Plus, you know the old saying ¡ª ¡®Asian without the As is just sin.¡¯¡± Aaron hadn¡¯t actually heard that saying before, but he had to laugh. He¡¯d grown up around a very different Asian community than the model minority stereotype Tia was describing, so that probably played a role. Tia, as it turned out, wasn¡¯t just a nerd when it came to academics and magic; she was a pop culture nerd, too. She and Aaron shared a lot of interests ¡ª comic books and superhero movies, manga and anime, video games and streamers ¡ª although Tia seemed much more passionate about them. Probably a sign that I¡¯m getting old, he thought ruefully. Where they really connected was fondness for retro media and the much more trend of Korean pop music. ¡°I¡¯m obligated to be into k-pop and k-dramas, though,¡± Tia explained, ¡°since I¡¯m a honyol. Generally, I prefer calling myself a double quarter-blood, but there¡¯s no great translation for that.¡± ¡°Double quarter? Does that mean both your parents are half-Korean?¡± Tia tapped her nose with her index finger. ¡°Right in one.¡± ¡°Okay, Barrett,¡± Aaron said with a roll of his eyes. She laughed at that and they continued to eat, chatting amiably with each other for several hours until the light coming in the windows had dimmed with early twilight. Tia hadn¡¯t been kidding ¡ª it was truly impressive how much each of them could eat. He hadn¡¯t realized how much food they went through as they were eating, slowly accumulating empty cartons and pizza boxes. He didn¡¯t even feel full, when he should be in stomach-rending agony after stuffing that much matter down his gullet. She ate as much as he did, which should have been physically impossible given she was half a foot shorter and weighed probably less than half of what he did. Finally, she stood up from the table. ¡°I¡¯d love to keep hanging out, but I¡¯ve got homework and you should probably get to sleep soon,¡± she said. With only a few hours of sleep over the past three days, Aaron should have been completely exhausted and out of it. Instead, he only felt mildly fatigued. Still, a good night¡¯s sleep sounded amazing. Plus, he had some comfort waiting for him back in his closet. He yawned lightly at the thought of laying down. ¡°You¡¯re probably right; I¡¯ve only slept a few hours since Friday.¡± ¡°Well, you are awakening to your power, after all,¡± Tia said, punching him on the arm lightly. ¡°Once again, I say, ¡®Okay, Barrett.¡¯¡± They both chuckled again and Aaron walked her to the door. When she was gone, Aaron moved the leftovers to the refrigerator. Despite how much they¡¯d eaten, there was most of a pizza left and quite a bit of Chinese food. It had been a long time since Aaron had company in his apartment back in California and almost as long since he¡¯d gone to visit anyone socially. Even though he¡¯d never had roommates and was used to solitude, the apartment suddenly felt empty with no one else in it. At the very least, he could explore his new home a bit more fully and then, finally, go to bed. Chapter 37 - A Very Old Friend Aaron wasn¡¯t exactly knowledgeable when it came to architecture or interior design, but even he could tell his new apartment had what would be called ¡°good bones¡± for something amazing. High ceilings, hardwood floors, beautiful crown moulding, and recessed bookshelves built right into the walls of the living room. The place even had iconic cast iron radiators. The plumbing fixtures were newer but just as nice, made of a sleek black metal or stone that matched the soaking tub in the master bath. Where it was lacking was furniture. The apartment wasn¡¯t empty ¡ª it was, in fact, fully furnished ¡ª but everything was just¡­ bland. Even the area rugs were drab and boring. It was like the interior designer used by cheap hotels had done the place and been told to avoid too much color or personality. Some people might have found the dull furnishings annoying, but Aaron was excited. To him, it was just stuff someone else had jammed into an empty space as placeholders and it meant he was going to be able to decorate the apartment basically from the ground up. He¡¯d never had new furniture that wasn¡¯t from a cheap box store but, more importantly, he¡¯d never had a large budget. From everything he¡¯d seen of the Drakon, he would probably have an effectively unlimited budget. Even the sky might not be the limit of their casual wealth and he intended to use it to finally have a space that was truly and fully his. Holy shit, I am really in my thirties, he thought with a smile. The existential dread of realizing he was enamored with the pedestrian delights of the ag¨¨d aside, Aaron was still pretty stoked. Furniture, bedding, plates, flatware, even all new clothes¡­ It might have been banal or shallow to be thrilled at the idea of buying clothes, but it was intoxicating nonetheless. Aaron¡¯s purchasing power and history with clothes ¡ª and pretty much everything else ¡ª was about the same as it was with furniture. He would buy clothes piece by piece and rarely anything that cost more than a hundred bucks, if that. A shirt here, a pair of pants there, or some off-brand or discount shoes, but mostly he just wore the same few things over and over until they wore out. His computer was the only real expectation and it had taken a long time to scrape the money together for that. It, too, was years old at this point and badly in need of an upgrade. So yeah, he was pretty damn jazzed to do some shopping where he didn¡¯t have to worry about which bills he might not be able to pay from the indulgence of it. A deep yawn clawed its way out of Aaron. He still wasn¡¯t feeling the kind of exhaustion he would expect after three days with almost no sleep, but he was definitely starting to feel a bit worn down. The improbable amount of food he¡¯d just eaten was probably contributing to his loginess, too. Worse, now that Aaron¡¯s mind wasn¡¯t actively engaged with anything, anxiety was starting to wriggle its way in. Thoughts about the weekend¡¯s events ¡ª both wondrous and terrible, with all the unknowable ramifications that would arise from them ¡ª crept into the edges of his consciousness. If he didn¡¯t find something to distract himself, they¡¯d start chasing themselves around his head for hours. Watching or reading something were decent distractions, and a video game would work if his computer were set up, but none of them would do him any good if he wanted to sleep. And he very much wanted to sleep. As it happened, he had the very best thing to help soothe his worries tucked away in a drawer in the bedroom closet. There was something else that could alleviate a bit of the stress, too, but he¡¯d need to at least open a window. That turned out to be trickier than he imagined, as the latch in his bedroom resolutely refused to budge even the slightest bit when he tried to unlock it. After a couple minutes fumbling with it, he shook open his new phone and called Kiara. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± she asked. ¡°Are my windows magicked shut or something?¡± ¡°Are you trying to sneak out?¡± Kiara inquired, the suspicion and disapproval clear in her tone. ¡°Just wanted a bit of fresh air before bed; I¡¯m not trying to take off or anything.¡± ¡°Ah right, first day in the city, you have to get the authentic New York experience of hanging out on the fire escape. I get it.¡± Aaron hadn¡¯t considered that. In fact, he barely even noticed there was a fire escape on the rear wall of the building when he¡¯d glanced out briefly earlier. ¡°It¡¯s no problem, we can make this work,¡± Kiara said, ¡°We¡¯ll come hang out on our floor and keep an eye on things and you can soak up all the Uptown ambiance.¡± ¡°Sounds great,¡± Aaron replied. ¡°So¡­ the lock?¡± Kiara laughed. ¡°Right, I forgot. Use the keystone. That magic rock we gave you.¡± ¡°Alright, thanks.¡± Aaron hung up, flipped the phone back down to its smallest size, then conjured the keystone from wherever it went, at least partly up his butt according to both Griffin and Tia. Sure enough, all he had to do was hold the flat stone against the window for a second and the lock slid open. He clambered out onto the fire escape and found it reassuringly sturdy ¡ª no creaks, no squeaks, no swaying. He glanced up and saw Albert, Griffin, and Kiara, his three protectors, idly hanging out on the landing above, seeming as natural as could be as they leaned and sat around the metal enclosure. When Aaron pulled out a cigarette and lit it, he heard the slightest creek above him. He glanced up to see the three guards had moved to the steps leading down. ¡°Hey, neighbor,¡± Griffin said affably. ¡°Uh¡­ hi,¡± Aaron said. Then he noticed that all three of his defenders had unlit cigarettes in one hand and lighters in the other. He was pretty sure those hadn¡¯t been there a moment ago. ¡°All three of you? I thought only me and old people still smoked.¡± ¡°We¡¯re older than we look,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Sorta.¡± ¡°Okay, but you usually don¡¯t see smokers under forty.¡± ¡°We¡¯re all around there or older,¡± Albert said with his wheezy laugh. ¡°Besides, no incentive to quit after becoming drakus.¡± Aaron took a drag ¡ª his first since before the hospital if he was remembering right ¡ª and held it a moment. ¡°What do you mean there¡¯s no incentive to quit?¡± Griffin ticked off his fingers. ¡°Cost isn¡¯t an issue, health isn¡¯t an issue, and even the smell isn¡¯t an issue with some simple magic.¡± ¡°Health isn¡¯t an issue?¡± Kiara shook her head. ¡°Most physical ailments, sicknesses, and diseases can¡¯t overcome our constitution, so we won¡¯t get cancer, emphysema, COPD, or any of that.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t even stain our teeth,¡± Albert added, grinning widely. ¡°Holy shit.¡± Aaron felt a little dizzy. ¡°Holy shit! What about, uh, what about neurological stuff?¡± This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Kiara shared a look with the other two men with her on the landing and sighed heavily. ¡°Psychiatric conditions are still a problem, although neurodegenerative stuff like Alzheimer¡¯s or dementia are almost unheard of.¡± ¡°That¡¯s possibly the most awesome thing I¡¯ve heard about this whole thing, so far,¡± Aaron said, hoping his smile would seem genuine. It was amazing news, if not exactly what he might have hoped for. ¡°There are a lot of perks,¡± Griffin said, ¡°but it¡¯s not without its dangers. There¡¯s plenty of people out there trying to take us out, even if only to say they bagged a dragon. It¡¯s going to be worse for you, especially early on.¡± That wasn¡¯t surprising to hear. Barrett had told Aaron that the Drakon had plenty of enemies and he had survived one ¡ª probably two ¡ª assassination attempts before he¡¯d had any idea about all this drakus stuff. Although spending time having a smoke was a nice way to bond and the four of them had an otherwise pleasant conversation ¡ª read: mostly childish and stupid joking around ¡ª the experience was somewhat diminished because the three took their job seriously even when they seemed to be relaxing. On a personal level, Aaron was accustomed to monitoring his surroundings. He had a semi-conscious tendency to scan and analyze everything around him, looking for threats ¡ª it was just a way his anxiety manifested itself. But seeing other people doing the same thing in a way that was both more subtle and more controlled, was a little jarring. The trio was still pretty good company and easy to have a laugh with, so Aaron stayed out on the fire escape until he¡¯d smoked several more cigarettes than the one he¡¯d been planning on. Finally, he said his goodnights and went back inside to get ready for bed. The sun had fully set, even though it was still relatively early in the evening. Back in the apartment, with the window closed, locked, and the curtains drawn, Aaron changed out of his clothes for a pair of loose, comfortable shorts. The clean clothes he¡¯d put on after his shower went into the small pile in the bathroom. They¡¯re still technically clean, but wearing them two days in a row is a little too close to depression territory, he thought. There was no shame in mental illness ¡ª well, certain kinds of mental illness; society still felt others were perfectly acceptable targets for mockery, disdain, and ridicule ¡ª but it wasn¡¯t something Aaron wanted to advertise. Most people would assume laziness or dirtiness, not disability, so it was easier to just keep that stuff as hidden as possible. That was much the same reason he wasn¡¯t about to tell anyone about what he was keeping in a drawer in the closet. Before that bit of comfort, though, he had to get ready for bed. He turned on the big flatscreen anchored to the closet wall where he¡¯d be able to watch it from bed. His account wasn¡¯t on this television yet, so he didn¡¯t have any of his sleep playlists, but he could just go to one of his preferred channels and they¡¯d have one. Lately, it had been videos about ancient civilizations and how they fell or disappeared from history. He started a video playing then went to prep the bed. After pulling back the covers, Aaron discovered the sheets on his new bed were deceptively plain. At first glance, they were simple and unpatterned, but when he ran a hand over them, he found they were exquisite ¡ª soft, smooth, and cool to the touch. Beige, though, so they¡¯d have to go. Aaron used the restroom, washed his hands, and then, finally, he was ready to go get some comfort. Except¡­ He made sure to double check the door to the bedroom was closed and locked and the curtains on the window fully drawn. When he was confident in his privacy, he went into the closet and pulled open the uppermost drawer, which held his most treasured possession. It was an unusual thing, Aaron¡¯s secret, precious possession. It wasn¡¯t because it was a battered old teddy bear or even because a fully-grown adult human man owned it, but because it was built so differently from any other teddy bear Aaron had ever seen. There must have been more out there in the world, though he assumed it had been a briefly-lived design that never really caught on. Most stuffed bears were built around two sections ¡ª the head and a larger body ¡ª then things were attached to each section: ears, eyes and muzzle for head; arms, legs, and sometimes a tail for the torso. Aaron¡¯s bear had been made of only one section, a long tube-like structure nearly two feet tall. Wide, floppy ears had been put at one end for the head and nubby little legs attached on the underside, closer to the front so the bear could be made to sit and have its feet sticking out. It had long, flat, arms rounded at the ends ¡ª almost like fuzzy flippers ¡ª that were attached slightly above the middle of the tube and a very small tail in the back. That was how his bear had been built, not how it had remained. Years of rough-and-tumble playing with the bear ¡ª including taking it with him everywhere until he was far too old ¡ª and using it as a makeshift pillow had deformed the stuffed animal¡¯s structure, so that the bear was now effectively three distincts sections: a round, almost football-shaped head; a similarly plump lower body; and a flattened middle that was thinner than both ends, filled with holes, and completely lacking stuffing. When the bear was manufactured, you could have set it on its rear and it would have stood upright without much, if any, support. Now, the body would bend in the middle and the head would flop over. That was something Aaron tried to avoid because he felt like it risked smooshing his bear¡¯s head if he fell on it or something. There were a lot of lingering half-reasoned, little superstitious things around the bear he¡¯d developed since he was a child. Those weren¡¯t the only changes to the poor old bear ¡ª the eyes had fallen off and new ones sewn on at least twice that Aaron could remember and the hard plastic nose had been lost before he could read or write, with only a small bundle of black fibers left to serve in its place. Aaron lifted the careworn teddy bear out of the drawer and held it in front of his face. ¡°Hello, Baby Bear. How¡¯s the cutest pillow?¡± ¡°I¡¯m very cute and very fuzzy,¡± Baby Bear said, nuzzling Aaron¡¯s face with a stubby snout. ¡°Snuggly, too.¡± Except Baby Bear didn¡¯t say anything and didn¡¯t move; Baby Bear was a teddy bear and teddy bears couldn¡¯t do those things. Instead, Aaron talked for Baby Bear, moving the bear¡¯s head around with one hand, almost like a puppet. He even provided a cutesy voice for the bear, higher in pitch than his own and with an ¡®adorable¡¯ lisp that turned many Ls and Rs into Ws, so that his own name was pronounced something like ¡®eh-wun ay-bwums.¡¯ It was a voice he¡¯d used as long as he could remember; possibly longer, since he¡¯d been given the bear the day he was born. ¡°That¡¯s very true, Bear,¡± Aaron said, walking to the bed and setting the bear next to his pillows. Once he was under the covers, Aaron picked the bear up and set it on his chest, lowering its head until the fuzzy snout was resting along one side of his own nose. He used a hand to manipulate one of the bear¡¯s floppy arms, softly patting himself on the side of the head. ¡°So what¡¯s been going on?¡± Baby Bear asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been in the box a while.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been a year, at least, and a few more before that. I¡¯m sorry I don¡¯t spend as much time with you these days.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay, Aaron,¡± Baby Bear said. ¡°I got more time than almost any other stuffy bear ever got. We¡¯re usually forgotten after our kids is four or five, but you and me were bestest friends waaay longer. And I¡¯m still around, getting snuggles!¡± ¡°That¡¯s a good point, Bear,¡± Aaron said. Aaron hadn¡¯t had many other kids around growing up, so Baby Bear had been one of his only friends. He¡¯d clung to the stuffed animal far longer than most children would have. Or so he thought. He had no idea when, if ever, other kids had actually outgrown their stuffed toys. What he did know is that he had made the mistake of talking about his bear for far too long. While his family had given him a small amount of grief for playing with his bear as he got older, it was nothing to the flak he caught from other kids at some point after kindergarten. He had learned that his bear was a secret that had to be kept at home. It wasn¡¯t until he was much, much older that Aaron even started to realize what a load of bullshit that was. By then, the damage was pretty well and truly done and keeping his bear a secret was a deeply ingrained habit. Baby Bear, as much as he was a reflection of Aaron, didn¡¯t give a crap about any of that. ¡°And you¡¯re some kinda dragon, now!¡± the bear exclaimed. ¡°That¡¯s so cool. Like, you¡¯re made of an S and a more different S. With consummate Vs! I¡¯m very proud of you.¡± The bear, manipulated by Aaron, stood and backed away from Aaron¡¯s face a few inches. ¡°But¡­ maybe don¡¯t breathe fire on me? Please? Because I¡¯m a stuffy bear. And it wouldn¡¯t be very good for my fuzz.¡± A small, gentle smile formed on Aaron¡¯s lips. It was a dumb joke ¡ª honestly, a very dumb joke ¡ª but it still amused him. Sometimes, he had no idea what he was going to make Baby Bear say before he was saying it; the bear¡¯s personality was so well-practiced it was almost like having a second train of thought. ¡°Good point,¡± Aaron agreed. ¡°Bears might be tough, but stuffy bears are pretty much the most flammable kind.¡± ¡°Yeah, but we can talk about that dragon stuff any time, though. I¡¯d rather hear what I¡¯ve missed in superhero movies, so let¡¯s do that while we have some sleepytime snuggles. Start with the basics: how many new Batmans have there been?¡± Aaron draped the teddy bear across the top of his face, covering his eyes and forehead with the middle, flatter section, so that the bear¡¯s head and stomach pressed gently against the sides of his head. His head had grown too large to safely use the bear as a pillow and this was an alternative that reminded him of that childhood practice. He could settle down with his bear across the top of his face, doze off, and wake up to set the bear aside after a couple hours of sleep without worrying about damaging the stuffed animal. As he lay there, Aaron continued to play out a mental conversation with Baby Bear, sharing inane details about pop culture and his own life. With the video playing in the background and his bear in his thoughts, it didn¡¯t take long for Aaron to slip into a deep sleep. Chapter 38 - Emergence Aaron found himself in a park. It was not unlike the one he¡¯d played softball in just a few days earlier or when he¡¯d met Alice and Barrett in their car parked across the pitcher¡¯s mound. As it had been in that dream, the park was surrounded by stone walls, like those of a castle, but with several notable differences. Aaron could actually see the tops of the walls this time, a hundred feet high or more, and they were topped with crenellations that faced away from the park, towards whatever was outside. There were no towers or guards, but it was an improvement to know those walls were keeping things out rather than keeping him in. After scanning the walls thoroughly, Aaron saw there were still a few passages in the walls, but each was barred by sturdy oak doors banded in iron and held fast by heavy beams for crossbars. If anything was moving outside those walls, Aaron couldn¡¯t hear it. From his previous experiences, Aaron fully expected something strange to happen in the dream. It didn¡¯t take long for him to find out what it was as he felt an impact against one of his legs. It wasn¡¯t a strong impact and whatever hit him wasn¡¯t hard. When he looked down, he saw Baby Bear ¡ª his childhood teddy bear! ¡ª bouncing from side to side on his nubby legs. ¡°Let¡¯s play,¡± the bear exclaimed, speaking in the voice Aaron had given him but with no input from Aaron. It was like the imaginings of his childhood had come to life and his one reliable friend from a lonely youth had become something more than just a stuffed animal. What child didn¡¯t wish their favorite toy would come to life? The stuffed animal bounded away, moving awkwardly on tiny legs, then stopped and turned back to Aaron. Baby Bear beckoned him with one of his paws, calling him to play. Then the bear gamboled across the park, making his way to the playground. The stuffed animal bounded away, awkwardly moving on tiny legs, then stopped and turned back to Aaron. Baby Bear beckoned him with one of his flipper-like paws, calling him to join in and play. Then the bear continued to gambole about the park, quickly making his way to the playground. Although he knew this was a dream, Aaron decided to take advantage of it. When would he have a chance to play with his bear like this again? He ran over to the playground and the two old friends began to play. They ran around the park, wrestled playfully with each other, and laughed so much Aaron felt a little punch-drunk. He didn¡¯t have to worry about what anyone would think, didn¡¯t have to be ashamed of his bear, and didn¡¯t have to force himself to pretend he didn¡¯t care about either of those things. At one point, while being chased by Aaron threatening to tickle him, Baby Bear ran face into one of the massive walls. He bounced off and flopped onto his furry butt. Before Aaron could even start to worry ¡ª or take another two steps ¡ª the bear bounced up onto his little legs, gave an indignant harrumph, and flicked his chin at the masonry. Well, the stuffed animal didn¡¯t really have a chin ¡ª or fingers ¡ª to do the rude gesture justice, but the rounded end of a paw placed just under his muzzle worked well enough. Then the bear ran back to Aaron, giggling like mad once more.
When Aaron woke in the morning, he was a bit surprised at how quiet it was in his bedroom. While he usually had no problem sleeping with city noise, Manhattan was supposed to be a whole different beast. Yet his room was almost eerily quiet. It could be the neighborhood, since we¡¯re up at the very northern edge of the Upper West Side, he mused. Or it could be really good sound-proofing, of the mundane or magic variety. The morning hadn¡¯t been completely silent, however. At some point, a chime had started ringing and lightly penetrated Aaron¡¯s sleep. It had been faint and not especially unpleasant, but it had come from outside his dreams and had plucked at his attention. Although his half-conscious mind had ignored it for a while, eventually the chimes started coming faster and it grew more difficult to stay fully asleep. Finally, he¡¯d decided he might as well just wake up. Upon opening his eyes, Aaron found the room wasn¡¯t just quiet, it was surprisingly dark. And much warmer than expected. It only took him a second to realize both problems had the same source ¡ª his teddy bear was still draped across his face, covering his eyes and practically clinging to his head. I was definitely exhausted, he realized. It¡¯s been years since I could sleep on my back with Baby Bear like that for so long. He pulled the bear off his face and set him down next to the pillow ¡ª earning a soft, indignant smack from a fuzzy paw ¡ª then swung his legs out of bed. It took a moment to get oriented in his new room, but Aaron got his bearings quick enough and found his phone. Even with his brain slowly waking up, he knew there was zero chance that annoying chime hadn¡¯t been notifications from the damned phone, which he hadn¡¯t thought to put on silent. Sure enough, as he was reaching for it on the nightstand, the phone chimed again. Aaron managed to pick it up without too much fumbling and, when he held up the small plastic rectangle the panel facing him, the screen lit up, showing he had a couple text messages. No wait, that¡¯s not a two, Aaron realized. That¡¯s¡­ I have twenty messages? Most text messages Aaron had received over the last year were either bank alerts or spam, so he struggled to think of a good reason he¡¯d get almost two dozen the first morning he had a new phone. In fact, he struggled to think of any reason for so many messages. He wasn¡¯t going to find out without reading them, so he flicked the phone twice, unfolding it to its normal width and half its full height. All of the messages were from Tia. Tia: < wyd? > Tia: < u up? > Tia: < what¡¯s going on? > Tia: < u ok? > Tia: < Text me back, please. > Tia: < Aaron? > Tia: < u there? > Tia: < {confused Travolta.gif} > Tia: < hey > Tia: < Aaron > Tia: < hey > Tia: Tia: Tia: Tia: Tia: Tia: Tia: Tia: Tia: The messages had started about two hours earlier and there wasn¡¯t more than ten minutes between any of them. The messages picked up speed the longer Tia kept sending them, then slowed down again about half an hour ago for the last three. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. That was¡­ a lot of messages. The first couple had Aaron thinking Tia might have been coming on to him ¡ª which would have been surprising but awesome ¡ª but the tone quickly turned serious. He didn¡¯t know what had gotten Tia worried enough to blow up his phone like this and it set his nerves on edge. Did they find me? Am I in danger? he wondered. If there was a problem, surely the security people would be coming through the walls shouting about Kool-Aid. Right? Aaron made his way around the bed to peek out through the drapes on the back window. He didn¡¯t really expect to see ninjas and necromancers swarming over the alley, but it didn¡¯t hurt to take a look. Everything was quiet back there, as far as he could tell. Yet Tia had been adamant that Aaron call her as soon as he could, so he hit the call button. It didn¡¯t even ring once before she was on the line. ¡°I¡¯m coming up,¡± Tia said. ¡°Did you miss me that much?¡± Aaron asked, trying to seem suave and immediately regretting it. Tia had, mercifully, already hung up. He barely had time to throw on a t-shirt before there was chime from the front door. He pulled the bedroom door most of the way closed on his way out, and half-jogged across the apartment. As soon as he opened the door, Tia pushed past him into the apartment. She didn¡¯t say anything, but went to the three windows overlooking the street, opening and closing the blinds on each in turn. Aaron followed behind her. He was still too groggy to be completely infected with her frantic energy but he was definitely feeling on edge. She turned back to Aaron, her mouth open to speak, but she said nothing. Her mouth closed and she looked him over, slowly. ¡°What is it? What¡¯s wrong?¡± Aaron asked. She didn¡¯t answer for a second, then shook her head slightly, like she was clearing away a daze. ¡°What the hell happened last night?¡± Aaron scratched behind his ear. ¡°I ate an implausibly huge dinner with this hot Asian girl I met recently, then I went to bed. Don¡¯t you remember?¡± ¡°You¡¯re sure that¡¯s all? Nothing strange happened?¡± Aaron¡¯s brain was finally waking up for real and he was starting to pick up Tia¡¯s nervous energy. ¡°Yes. Why? What the hell is going on?¡± ¡°This building is warded to shit to prevent emanations from being detected, but there was a ton of magic in this apartment last night. A big spike is expected whenever someone goes through the Emergence, but I¡¯m pretty sure this was on a whole other level.¡± ¡°What ¡®emergence¡¯?¡± Tia went to the dinette table and sat down, gesturing for Aaron to join her. He took a seat next to her. It didn¡¯t seem like the world was in imminent danger of ending, so he was curious to learn what surprising, wondrous, horrifying new thing was in store for him today. ¡°The Emergence is a kind of physical transformation drakus go through when the amalgamation of their current and legacy essences is completed,¡± Tia said. ¡°It can cause some pretty dramatic changes.¡± Aaron¡¯s mouth compressed into a thin line. ¡°I don¡¯t have any dramatic physical changes. I mean, I¡¯m a bit more alert than I usually am so soon after waking up, but that¡¯s not that weird considering how long I slept last night.¡± ¡°You sure about that?¡± Tia asked, tilting her head forward so she was looking slightly up at him. She leaned over and patted Aaron firmly on the chest. It had been a long while since he¡¯d had any real physical contact with an attractive woman and he fought against the shiver that ran down his spine. He didn¡¯t want to look like some kind of colossal fucking weirdo ¡ª Nevermind that I am some kind of colossal fucking weirdo, he thought ¡ª but he wasn¡¯t so distracted he didn¡¯t notice how odd it felt where she¡¯d patted him. Odd like¡­ he wasn¡¯t really sure what it was like, exactly. ¡°I think you turned out okay,¡± she said with a shrug. ¡°I thought the frumpy, nerdy look suited you well, but at least Alice¡¯ll be into it.¡± Aaron rubbed his hand over his mouth, feeling particularly lost. ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡± ¡°Go look in the mirror, dude,¡± Tia snorted. ¡°I¡¯ll wait.¡± She got up and went to the fridge in the kitchen, where she began rummaging through the leftovers. Aaron ¡ª left with little choice but to take her advice or argue with her over¡­ something ¡ª got up and turned to go back to his bedroom. He hadn¡¯t gotten more than two steps down the hall when Tia called out to him. ¡°I forgot to get my figurine back from you yesterday; bring that back out with you, please.¡± Back in his room, he went to the bathroom and rummaged in the small pile of laundry by the door. He fished the small figure of an eastern dragon out of one of the pockets. It was a finely crafted thing, all graceful lines and the lovely sheen of polished jade. When he stood up and saw his reflection in the mirror, he nearly dropped the stone ornament. A stranger was staring back at him from the mirror. For a fraction of a second, Aaron thought it must be another assassin and his eyes darted around the room, searching for the dagger the stranger would surely have and a weapon of his own. Except¡­ the stranger looked familiar. Very familiar. As familiar as his own face, in fact, because it was. Or very close to it. Aaron stepped closer to the counter, lifting a hand to his face and seeing the act reflected in the mirror. It was him, only¡­ only he looked amazing. It was like he¡¯d lost more than a hundred pounds, then put most of that weight back on as muscle. The sinuous curves of his chest, arms, and shoulders were visible beneath his t-shirt, but sleek and wiry instead of the ungainly bulk he tended to gain when he dedicated himself to lifting. If he hadn¡¯t been able to feel the changes to his body with his own hands, he might not have believed what he saw in the mirror. Aaron walked back to the living room in a daze. Before he could think to say anything, he felt a sudden, powerful urge that he simply couldn¡¯t ignore. He hurriedly set the jade figurine on the table, muttered ¡°back in a minute¡± to Tia, then rushed back to the bedroom, closing the door behind him ¡ª he¡¯d only been awake a few minutes and hadn¡¯t had a chance to empty his bladder. Good thing I wasn¡¯t sporting a Sunrise Surprise or seeing Tia first thing in the morning would have been even more awkward, he thought. When he¡¯d finished, Aaron stood at the toilet, forgetting to shake for more than a minute. He was holding up the front of his t-shirt with his free hand and just¡­ staring at his abdomen in the mirror. He didn¡¯t have the absurd, ultra-chiseled abs of a movie star on a dehydration diet, but there was noticeable definition there. It wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d thought his body capable of ¡ª even at the most driven and healthiest times in his life ¡ª because he had a large frame and could never seem to entirely get rid of his gut. Finally, he snapped out of it and finished up, washing his hands and concentrating on schooling his face into some kind of passive state. Far better to lose blas¨¦ than revealing the absurd giddiness of going to sleep a chubby slob and waking up with a fucking Adonis belt. ¡°Am I taller?¡± he asked Tia, when he was back in the living area. Tia eyes him up and down again, even standing up so she could gauge their relative heights. ¡°Looks like you gained an inch or two. Did you gain inches anywhere else?¡± she asked, waggling her eyebrows. Processing that question took Aaron a moment, during which he just blinked stupidly at the young woman. Was there an answer here that didn¡¯t make him seem like either an idiot or creep? Bonus points if he could be funny, for crying out loud. ¡°Umm, no?¡± was the best he could come up with. ¡°Before and after pics or it didn¡¯t happen,¡± Tia said, digging back into the carton of leftovers on the table. ¡°That¡¯s an old meme, but it checks out,¡± Aaron said, his mouth doing its own thing before his brain could weigh in. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll just have to wonder; the only people who get to see my junk are doctors and people I¡¯m about to use it with.¡± He paused for a second, then added, ¡°Medical doctors.¡± ¡°No one has any respect for the Humanities anymore,¡± Tia said with a laugh. ¡°What was your Emergence like? Surely you didn¡¯t get any taller.¡± He winced at himself. You couldn¡¯t have stopped after the question, Aaron? Tia shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ve had one, yet. I was really young when I became a drakus, so if I did it was kind of a rip-off. I¡¯m still miserably fucking short and I sure as hell don¡¯t have tits like Alice.¡± ¡°You were like six or seven, right?¡± Tia tapped her nose with a finger and they both chuckled at what had quickly become an in-joke between them. ¡°Back on topic ¡ª did anything weird happen last night?¡± Tia asked, the levity mostly gone from her voice. Aaron shook his head. ¡°Not as far as I know. I put away the leftovers, walked around the apartment a bit, chatted with the security guys, then went to bed.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t forget about the snuggles,¡± a small voice said from nearby. Aaron and Tia both jumped out of their seats, scanning the room for the source of the third voice. Aaron¡¯s hands were up in a guard position and Tia had conjured a small orb or roiling red energy in one of hers. Neither of them saw anyone else in the room as they whirled around searching for the intruder. When they turned back to the table, however, they found the intruder standing on it, sticking a fuzzy snout into Tia¡¯s carton of leftover Chinese food. ¡°What the hell?¡± Tia said, jumping back from the table. Aaron¡¯s reaction was quite different ¡ª his knees practically gave out and he sat down on his chair, hard. ¡°This smells yummy, but it¡¯s cold,¡± the teddy bear said, then he waved one of his paws at them. ¡°Hello! I¡¯m the Baby Bear!¡± Chapter 39 - Autonomous and Adorable A teddy bear stood on the dinette table in front of Aaron and Tia, waving up at them with a round, featureless paw. It wasn¡¯t just any teddy bear, either, but the teddy bear Aaron had had his entire life. Except it wasn¡¯t. The holes and worn patches were gone, the shabby fur replaced with something that looked close to actual fur but wasn¡¯t quite the same. Perhaps the oddest thing was how the bear had not returned to its original tube-like state when damage done over decades had been repaired, but remained closer to an hourglass with a long, flat middle section. No, Aaron thought. That¡¯s the second oddest thing. The oddest thing was that the stuffed animal appeared to be capable of speaking and moving entirely on its own. The bear even blinked and moved its mouth when talking. ¡°No fucking way,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Baby Bear?¡± ¡°That¡¯s me!¡± the bear said, sticking a furry, fingerless paw back into the carton of leftovers and pulling out a piece of breaded meat. Tia turned to Aaron. ¡°You know this creature?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a creature, I¡¯m a bear. A stuffy bear!¡± the bear said, plopping the piece of chicken into its mouth and beginning to chew despite having no visible teeth. Aaron couldn¡¯t help but smile at that. As outrageously weird as the situation was, that was the kind of borderline trolling he¡¯d have imagined making Baby Bear say for his own amusement. ¡°He¡¯s my teddy bear; I¡¯ve had him since I was born. Except my teddy bear is just a teddy bear. He can¡¯t walk or talk or eat a chunk of orange chicken.¡± ¡°Why does it talk like that?¡± Tia asked, eyeing the bear. ¡°Y¡¯know, with the little kiddy lisp?¡± Aaron squeezed his eyes shut a moment before answering. Now they were going to start getting into questions he wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable answering but didn¡¯t see any way around it. He knew next to nothing about this new secret world of magic and had no idea what dangers might be out there. Tia was an expert so he felt like he had to be honest, even if it was painfully embarrassing. ¡°It¡¯s just the voice I use for him. I know it¡¯s cutesy, but I¡¯ve been doing it forever. I, uh¡­ I was a pretty lonely kid.¡± Tia turned back to the dinette table and leaned down for a closer look. The bear¡¯s arms shot out wide and it waddled over until it fwumped right against her face and grabbed her head with its little arms. ¡°Snuggles! Yaay!¡± Tia pulled the bear away from her face, not ungently but still firmly. ¡°Please don¡¯t do that while I examine you or without my permission,¡± she said. ¡°Okay,¡± the bear said, ¡°But I only went to school with Aaron until the 1st or 2nd grade, so I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d do good on an examination.¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± Tia muttered, then she brightened up. ¡°Actually, let me run downstairs; there¡¯s something that will get us off on the right foot.¡± Without waiting for a response, Tia was out of her chair and making her way across the apartment. Baby Bear crossed the table on those stubby little legs and stopped in front of Aaron. The teddy bear looked up at him, then threw both arms out wide. Although he hesitated for a moment, Aaron scooped the bear up into a hug, receiving many soft pats on his face from a pair of fuzzy paws. It was, after all, his bear. ¡°This is so weird,¡± Aaron said. ¡°How are you not freaking out, Bear?¡± ¡°You¡¯re here, I¡¯m here, and snuggles! If you¡¯re freaking out, I can give you even more snuggles. Problem solved.¡± Aaron smiled at that, too ¡ª Baby Bear had a way of making him smile no matter what he was going through ¡ª but there was so much to unpack in what was going on that his amusement was a fleeting thing. Is this some kind of Toy Story rules thing and I¡¯m getting to see the truth because I¡¯m veering into the weird? Aaron wondered. No, that didn''t make sense. Tia seemed just as surprised as he was and she had been a part of this secret world of eidolons or mythics or whatever since she was a little kid. Her toys would have talked to her if this were the norm, so that ruled out that possibility. Tia came back into the apartment before Aaron could get much more wrapped up in his thoughts, this time carrying a large purse. She set it on the table as she sat back down and pulled something out of it. ¡°Can I show you a picture of my teddy bear?¡± she asked. ¡°Ooh, yes please!¡± Baby Bear said, and hopped down from hugging Aaron¡¯s head to the table. Lacking lips or a prominent brow, the teddy bear¡¯s face wasn¡¯t nearly as expressive as a human¡¯s. Yet Aaron was pretty sure the bear was curious to see someone else¡¯s teddy bear. Tia held up a round, plastic disc and opened it, then turned it so it faced the bear. Several emotions flitted across the bear¡¯s face ¡ª none of which Aaron was able to decipher ¡ª but then the bear placed a paw on Tia¡¯s hand and spoke to her in a tone that could only be described as consoling. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, miss,¡± the bear said. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re lots of fun and we can be friends, but I¡¯m Aaron¡¯s bear.¡± Tia blinked at the bear several times. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t blame you for being jealous on account of I¡¯m very cute and very snuggly, but I¡¯m Aaron¡¯s bear. You should get your own stuffy bear if you don¡¯t already have one. It doesn¡¯t even have to be a bear ¡ª it can be a kitty or a puppy or a fishy or all kinds of things!¡± ¡°I still don¡¯t follow,¡± Tia said. The bear tapped the plastic disc Tia had shown him. ¡°That¡¯s a mirror, not a picture.¡± ¡°Holy shit,¡± Tia breathed. She put the compact back in her purse and pulled out a wooden case instead, setting it on the table and opening it. The interior was lined in white satin or silk and held a number of peculiar objects, which she removed and set on the table one after another. ¡°I¡¯m going to do some tests on you; is that okay?¡± Tia asked. The bear held a paw up to its mouth, then turned to Aaron. It was clear ¡ª to Aaron, at least ¡ª that the bear wasn¡¯t sure what to do. ¡°Go ahead, Bear, she won¡¯t hurt you,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Okay!¡± the bear said, then plopped down on its butt in front of Tia. The first thing Tia pulled out of her case was, of all things, a pair of brass opera glasses. She held them up to her eyes by their long handle and gave the teddy bear the once over. Then she traded that for a small ornament made of bone and twine and softly tapped the stuffed animal on the head several times. After that, she withdrew and unstoppered a small bottle filled with some clear liquid, which she poured onto her fingers and flicked at the bear. ¡°Mneh,¡± the bear said, muzzle wiggling slightly as the liquid spattered into its face. It was a particularly odd sound because the stuffed animal didn¡¯t appear to have a tongue. While the bear rubbed at its face with one flat paw, Tia traded the small bottle for a long, broad feather. She held it over the bear¡¯s head then released it; the feather drifted slowly downward, swaying slightly in a non-existent breeze, until it landed between the plushy¡¯s wide, floppy ears. ¡°Holy shit,¡± she said again. ¡°Holy shit what?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°What¡¯s holy shit?¡± ¡°Holy shit!¡± the bear cried cheerfully. Tia ignored Aaron¡¯s questions, addressing Baby Bear. ¡°I¡¯m going to ask you some questions now. I¡¯d like you to answer them honestly and as best as you can. It¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t know the answer or you¡¯re unsure, just tell me that instead of trying to invent an answer. Okay?¡± Baby Bear nodded. ¡°Okie-dokie!¡± Tia began to fire off questions, which the bear answered just as quickly. ¡°Do you know where you are?¡± ¡°Aaron¡¯s new apartment.¡± ¡°Do you know where that is?¡± ¡°Some big city.¡± ¡°Do you know which one?¡± ¡°Nope. I was in the suitcase and there were a buncha different flights.¡± ¡°Do you know who the current President is?¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s boring.¡± ¡°Could you move on your own before last night?¡± The bear paused to think about that one, gently rubbing the side of its head with one paw. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I remember lotsa things from before last night, but never moving or talking on my own. Aaron always had to help me.¡± ¡°How does that make you feel?¡± There was a moment as the bear hummed thoughtfully, considering how to answer. As far as Aaron knew, if his bear had really come to life, this might be the first time it had ever examined its own feelings. Hell, today would be the first time Baby Bear had ever even had feelings that could be examined. ¡°Uhmm, grateful to have such a good boy for my person. Sad at all the snuggles I missed out on. Curious about how come it changed.¡± Tia stopped and took a breath. ¡°Everything looks good so far, but I¡¯d like to ask some last questions to make sure you really are Aaron¡¯s bear.¡± ¡°Of course I¡¯m Aaron¡¯s bear,¡± the teddy bear said, indignant. Although the stuffed animal didn¡¯t get any larger, its body language suggested it was puffed up in outrage even as it sat there. ¡°I¡¯m the Baby Bear! The ¡®the¡¯ is because there¡¯s no other Baby Bear who is as Baby Bear as me ¡ª the Baby Bear.¡± Aaron stifled a laugh at that. It was very true to the ¡°personality¡± he¡¯d developed for Baby Bear over the years ¡ª an adorable, snuggle-obsessed bear who was a little arrogant and a bit of a troll. It was wild to see his teddy bear giving Tia, of all people, so much sass. Tia, for her part, nodded solemnly, as if this were the most serious conversation in the world and not the completely absurd interrogation of a stuffed animal come to life. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re lying,¡± she said soothingly, ¡°but Aaron¡¯s entering into a world of magic and it comes with a lot of danger. There are people who would gladly create a copy of his bear to get close to him, so I want to be certain that you¡¯re really you.¡± The bear considered that, rubbing at its chin with a paw, then nodded. ¡°He¡¯s some kinda dragon-man, now, so I can see why you¡¯d be worried I¡¯m some kinda pod person. Uh¡­ pod bear.¡± ¡°Great; I just need to confer with Aaron for a few minutes to make sure we have everything in order. Is that okay?¡± ¡°Yeah. I can go jump on the bed; it¡¯s very bouncy.¡± No sooner had he said that than the bear got to its feet and hopped down from the table with a soft fwump and tottered down the hallway. After a minute, Tia turned her attention to Aaron and leaned in, speaking at barely more than a whisper. ¡°I¡¯ve ruled out the things most likely to have possessed or manifested as your teddy bear, so I think that really is your bear. On its own, that¡¯s a ¡®holy shit¡¯ enough of a situation, but there¡¯s one more thing that has to be checked.¡± She pulled out a small, plastic rectangle with a notch in one corner ¡ª the same kind of advanced phone Kiara had given him the day before ¡ª and flicked it three times, unfolding it to full size. She typed on it for several seconds, then turned the phone to Aaron, showing him a notepad app. < I want you to ask the bear two questions, then give an order. The first question should be something only both of you would know, the second something the bear shouldn¡¯t know, and the order something the bear would never ever do. > Aaron read the message then held out a hand to Tia. She passed the phone over to him. < What kind of order? This might be the weirdest thing that¡¯s ever happened to me, all this dragon shit very much included, but he¡¯s still my bear. I don¡¯t want him to get hurt. > Tia smiled when she read that and added another reply. < It doesn¡¯t have to be dangerous and you can cancel it before it¡¯s done. I just need to see if the bear can disobey your orders. This is VITALLY important. > After Aaron agreed to Tia¡¯s plan, it took him a couple minutes to figure out what he would ask and tell his bear to do. When he had his ideas sorted, he called for Baby Bear. The stuffed animal came bustling down the hallway a few seconds later. Near the end of the hall, the bear tripped and fell on its face with another soft fwump. Aaron and Tia made eye contact and he could tell she was stifling a laugh as much as he was. The bear, for its part, just hopped back up on its feet, threw its arms up, and said, ¡°Tada!¡± It covered the last few feet to the table a bit more slowly and proceeded to climb up Aaron¡¯s leg in a terrifically clumsy and ineffectual manner. Aaron picked the bear up and set it on the table. ¡°Are you ready for the last questions so we know you¡¯re safe and not here to hurt Aaron?¡± Tia asked. Baby Bear nodded, so Tia gestured for Aaron to proceed. Aaron took a breath before starting his own questions. ¡°What movie did I watch every day over summer break between 6th and 7th grade?¡± Bear¡¯s face scrunched up in thought for a moment. ¡°Love Actually!¡± Tia¡¯s eyes darted in Aaron¡¯s direction without moving her head, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly. He suddenly felt a little warm under the collar of his t-shirt. He coughed into a fist to give himself a second to recover. ¡°I, uh, never watched Love Actually everyday,¡± he said, more to Tia than to the bear. ¡°Oh! Oh!¡± The bear jumped up to his feet and started bouncing up and down. ¡°You mean before you started middle school? That was the one cousin Dillon loaned you and it had the guy from Austin Powers and Shrek but it wasn¡¯t either one of those. It had that one song from, uh¡­ from Highlander¡­ or from the band that did Highlander or something like that? And they did headbanging in the car and it had the lady with a giant snake and the ¡®stop pooping¡¯ guy from Parks and Rec.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Ann Perkins!¡± the bear said in an especially chipper tone. ¡°You watched Wayne¡¯s World every day for an entire summer?¡± Tia asked, then she took on a more teasing tone. ¡°How often did you watch Love Actually, exactly, even if it wasn¡¯t everyday? And you do know that movie is kinda problematic, right?¡± Aaron shrugged. ¡°Most rom-coms are, but I wasn¡¯t really aware of it at the time. Even now, though, I¡¯m a sucker for them sometimes.¡± ¡°My favorite rom-com is Ted,¡± Baby Bear said, smiling up at them. ¡°Next question,¡± Tia said, rolling her eyes. ¡°How much do I get paid at my job?¡± Aaron asked. The bear put a paw on its chin and hummed in thought. ¡°I don¡¯t think you ever told me and that¡¯s also really boring, but I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s not very much. Do I have to guess on these questions because that doesn¡¯t seem very fair? A hundred?¡± ¡°No, Baby Bear, that¡¯s a great answer,¡± Aaron said. ¡°One last thing ¡ª I want you to tell me that you hate snuggles.¡± The bear stared at Aaron for several seconds, then said, ¡°Ummm, is this another trick question?¡± Aaron looked to Tia. She shook her head and gestured to indicate he should keep trying. ¡°No, Bear,¡± he said. ¡°I need you to tell me you hate snuggles.¡± ¡°Oh yeah, I totally haaate snuggles,¡± the bear said, rolling its eyes. Again, Tia indicated the answer wasn¡¯t enough to meet her criteria, so Aaron cleared his throat and adopted a more firm, serious tone. ¡°Baby Bear, without being facetious or at all disingenuous, tell me that you hate snuggles.¡± The bear crossed its arms and stared at Aaron again, its mouth working like it was chewing on something. Despite knowing the Baby Bear personality about as well as possible, he wasn¡¯t sure what the stuffed animal was thinking. Snuggles are practically sacrosanct to Baby Bear, but he doesn¡¯t mind making shit up if he thinks it¡¯ll be funny, Aaron reflected. It¡¯s almost weirder not knowing what he¡¯s thinking than the fact that he seems to actually be thinking. Finally, the bear answered with a harrumph. ¡°Hmph. No, I don¡¯t wanna say that. Snuggles are great and we both know it.¡± ¡°Holy shit,¡± Tia said. ¡°You keep saying that,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Explain, please.¡± ¡°Maybe it doesn¡¯t mean what she thinks it means?¡± Baby Bear offered. Without a word, Tia stood up from the table, went to the front door, and locked it. Aaron was so out of sorts over this Emergence and Baby Bear stuff that he was only just registering she had left his door unlocked ¡ª twice! ¡ª but he pushed those thoughts away as she began to perform some kind of complicated magic. Or maybe it wasn¡¯t all that complicated, Aaron couldn¡¯t say. She seemed to be doing a whole lot of gesturing and muttering, though, so it seemed pretty complicated. Baby Bear didn¡¯t seem particularly interested in someone performing actual magic or finding out why she kept saying, ¡°Holy shit.¡± The carton of leftovers had been dragged close again and a fuzzy paw was busy fishing out another chunk of meat. ¡°This is pretty good,¡± the bear said, mouth full of partially chewed chicken. Was it even chewing if you didn¡¯t have teeth? ¡°I¡¯d prefer fishies, on account of I¡¯m a bear. Or cookies, on account of I¡¯m adorable.¡± Tia finally returned to the table and took her seat with a sigh. ¡°Tell me exactly what happened with your bear last night.¡± Aaron had already resolved to be honest with Tia, even if it was embarrassing, so as much as he might hate it, he decided to tell her the full story. What he understood of it, at least. ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯ve had Bear my whole life. Literally my whole life, he was given to me the day I was born. I was attached to him a lot longer than most kids are with their toys. Even when I got older and finally put him away, sometimes I¡¯d take him out and spend time with him. He¡¯s been less of a toy and more like a pet or best friend who will never go away.¡± Might as well say I¡¯m a bed-wetter who¡¯s still a-scared of the dark, Aaron thought, fuming. But this seems important, so you need to come clean about what a fucking weirdo you are and just accept whatever she thinks of you. ¡°Last night when I went to bed, I took him out and cuddled with him. It¡¯s been a rough weekend and I was rattled; I wanted something to comfort and distract me. Sometimes it¡¯s nice to have these dumb, pointless conversations¡­ I guess they¡¯re technically with myself¡­ or they were¡­ because Baby Bear doesn¡¯t push and he doesn¡¯t judge.¡± ¡°Plus sleepytime snuggles, too,¡± Bear added with a tone of great wisdom and insight. Aaron sighed, his suffering with no limits to its depths. ¡°What Bear calls ¡®schmeepytime snuggles¡¯ is when I drape him across my face, so he¡¯s covering my eyes and forehead, as I¡¯m going to sleep.¡± The bear in question raised its arm and cheered, ¡°Sleepytime snuggles!¡± ¡°Personality is consistent with what you¡¯d expect?¡± Tia asked, apparently unfazed by, well, all of whatever this was. ¡°He seems to be just like I imagined ¡ª snuggle-crazed, a bit of a troll, does silly, slapstick-y things,¡± Aaron replied. Tia turned her attention back to the teddy bear, who had retrieved and was chomping on another piece of the glazed chicken. Aaron wondered where the food went after Bear ate it. Did his teddy bear have intestines, now? ¡°Why are you so interested in eating chicken?¡± she asked. Baby Bear swallowed the chunk of meat. ¡°I was more curious than hungry. I only ever had cookies when Aaron was very young and learning how to share.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember that,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I think I have an idea of what happened here and¡­ it¡¯s a potential problem,¡± Tia said. ¡°I think you turned your teddy bear into an autonomous construct or even an autonomous lifeform. It¡¯s not the most absurd outcome of wild magic I¡¯ve ever heard of, but it¡¯s probably in the top five.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not anonymous; I¡¯m the Baby Bear. I said that already,¡± Baby Bear complained. Aaron patted the bear on the head. ¡°No, Bear, she said, ¡®autonomous.¡¯ That means you can act on your own accord, that you have free will.¡± ¡°Cool. I love free stuff!¡± Aaron smiled at Bear¡¯s joke, but something Tia had said stuck with him. ¡°What kind of problem are we looking at?¡± ¡°A lot of factions, including the Drakon, object to autonomous constructs and lifeforms,¡± Tia said. ¡°Back in the 12th century, this big order of magi made incredible advances in golemancy and creating simulacra. It wasn¡¯t long before they were using them for foot soldiers and assassins against their rivals, us included.¡± ¡°From what I¡¯ve seen of this magical world so far, making useful assassins doesn¡¯t seem like enough to justify the kind of widespread concern you¡¯re describing.¡± ¡°I¡¯m laying the groundwork. Be cool, baby, damn,¡± Tia said, getting a laugh from Aaron. ¡°About five hundred years later, autonomous constructs started showing up. They were way more effective and deadly than the older golems. Even worse, they could be difficult to distinguish from a mundane person. After some nastiness, it led to one of the few accords between the Drakon and the magi community at large, prohibiting their creation. It¡¯s not technically illegal, but nobody wants to face a dragon-wizard team up.¡± ¡°So what kinds of things are illegal?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°There are only four laws widely accepted as governing all mythics, but I don¡¯t want to undersell them so we¡¯ll talk about those in more detail later. For now, the most important thing to remember is that we need to keep your bear secret, even from other drakus.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a secret snuggle bear,¡± Baby Bear said, seemingly unbothered by his illicit nature. Aaron nodded. ¡°Keep him secret; got it. I don¡¯t understand how this happened, though. I¡¯m not some ancient archmage in a spooky tower with a goofy hat.¡± ¡°The Emergence is powerful magic, even if it usually only causes a physical transformation,¡± Tia said. ¡°If I had to guess, the combination of close physical contact and it being so long since a Primus Emerged provided extra oomph to the process.¡± ¡°The snuggles probably helped,¡± Baby Bear offered. ¡°Snuggles make everything better!¡± Tia patted Baby Bear on the head. ¡°I¡¯d like to try to learn more about Baby Bear¡¯s condition, if that¡¯s alright, but I have to get going to class, so it¡¯ll have to wait.¡± ¡°I¡¯m okay with tests if Bear is,¡± Aaron said, then added, ¡°As long as they won¡¯t hurt him.¡± Baby Bear leapt from the table, his arms spread wide, and splatted into Aaron¡¯s stomach, hugging firmly after a pillowy soft impact. ¡°That¡¯s my Aaron, always worrying about me,¡± Bear said. ¡°Hey¡­ you¡¯re all skinny and lumpy now.¡± ¡°He sure is,¡± Tia said, winking at Aaron. ¡°I¡¯ll come back this afternoon or evening. I¡¯m supposed to help prepare you for the final Tribulation anyways, so we can see about doing double duty. You got any plans for the day?¡± ¡°Shopping, as long as the security people say it¡¯s okay and I can figure out what kind of budget I¡¯d be working with.¡± Tia stood, softly flicking one of Baby Bear¡¯s floppy ears ¡ª prompting him to look up from the orange chicken container he had his snout in ¡ª and told Aaron she¡¯d text later in the day to meet again. Then their goodbyes were said and Tia was gone, leaving Aaron alone in his new and improved apartment with his new and improved teddy bear. ¡°Let¡¯s do some snuggles,¡± Bear suggested around a mouthful of chicken. Chapter 40 - A Lazy Morning Aaron stood up from the dinette table, lifting the old teddy bear from his lap and holding him out in front of him. Baby Bear kicked his feet happily and laughed as he hung in the air. Aaron marveled at the bear for a moment. If Tia¡¯s theory was right, Aaron had accomplished something most children dream of ¡ª bringing their favorite toy to life ¡ª without even meaning to. There were implications and consequences a child wouldn¡¯t understand, but Aaron felt much the same way a child would at that moment; he didn¡¯t really care about all that. Baby Bear, his bear, had come to life. ¡°I know you have stuff to do,¡± Baby Bear said, ¡°but we should start the day off right with snuggles.¡± Maybe it was juvenile, but Aaron decided the idea had merit. He was awake and aware early ¡ª it was barely past seven o¡¯clock ¡ª and he felt both rested and refreshed. It was the first time he hadn¡¯t been completely out of it for at least half an hour after waking up that he could remember. There were other massive improvements he was discovering in this strange new life, too. Having access to an absurd amount of money and no set schedule were both pretty sweet perks. There would probably be trade-offs later ¡ª assassins and bug boxes being no exception ¡ª but luxuriating like a trust fund kid would be glorious, at least for a little while. ¡°How about this, Bear ¡ª we can hang out on the couch and watch some videos while I have something to eat, then snuggle for a little bit. Sound like a plan?¡± Although Baby Bear wanted to haggle over what would qualify as ¡®a little bit¡¯ of snuggling, he eventually acquiesced. Aaron reheated some of the leftovers in the microwave ¡ª which was a harrowing experience on its own; would the brand new, high-end, ultra lux microwave work well with the times he¡¯d figured out on his own cheap box back home? ¡ª then took the plates into the living room. After an hour of distracting himself with videos ¡ª all while Baby Bear lay flopped atop his head ¡ª Aaron took out his new phone and sent a message to the security detail, which turned into a group chat. Aaron: < Hey, hoping to go shopping today, need clothes and maybe stuff for apartment > Albert: < i no a guy, can get viet shame wheel > Kiara: < My apologies for Albert. > Kiara: < Not excusing him. There is no excuse for him. > Kiara: < When did you want to go? > Aaron: < 30-60 minutes? If you¡¯re all free. > Aaron: < And if anyone can give me an idea of what kind of budget I have¡­ > Griffin: < Your phone can do smartpay and bank cards also arrived last night. We can set up with you > Kiara: < We can be ready to roll in 5. Text when ready. > Aaron: < Will be closer to 60 minutes, need to shower and dress. > Albert: < {thumbs up} > Aaron shook his head. Telling my ¡®staff¡¯ I want to go shopping might be the most hoity-toity shit I¡¯ve ever done. Having money is nice, but that just feels weird. After a nice, long shower, Aaron threw on the last of his clean clothes and sat down on the bed with Baby Bear. He needed to make sure his bases were covered and that the bear would be kept secret and safe. The rules he laid out were simple ¡ª don¡¯t leave the apartment, don¡¯t open the curtains on the windows, and don¡¯t answer the door. The last one was the most important: if anyone but Aaron or Tia were in the apartment, Baby Bear had to hide in a drawer or cabinet in the master suite and pretend he was a regular stuffed animal. Baby Bear took it all in stride and in good humor; he was excited to be able to run around and watch any TV or videos he wanted, not to mention all the leftovers in the fridge he could try. There was no way to guarantee the living plushy would take any of it seriously, but the best Aaron could do right now was to be honest with his bear and hope for the best. A few minutes after that conversation, Baby Bear was hunkered down in the bedroom closet with Aaron¡¯s cheap tablet and Aaron himself was opening the front door to let Albert, Griffin, and Kiara in. There were two mostly-closed doors between them and Baby Bear, but on the off chance his security had enhanced sensory powers, he¡¯d left a playlist running on the television in the bedroom to cover any sounds Bear might make as he munched on leftovers and surfed the internet for the first time ever. His security detail reminded Aaron that his body had changed drastically in his sleep ¡ª which he¡¯d somehow forgotten in the hour he¡¯d spent with Baby Bear since Tia left for class. Each of them sized him up in a way he wasn¡¯t really used to and he experienced a strange mix of embarrassment and pride in his new physique. Albert ruined the moment by swearing and handing each of his two compatriots a small stack of money. ¡°What¡¯s that about?¡± Aaron asked, letting them into the apartment. ¡°I bet them you¡¯d gain at least six inches,¡± Albert replied sullenly. ¡°That seems pretty extreme,¡± Aaron said. Albert shrugged and Griffin chuckled. ¡°Albert has this theory about the Emergence. Most folks think the changes reflect a person¡¯s aptitudes, assuming they aren¡¯t random,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Albert thinks it¡¯s influenced more by a person¡¯s self-image.¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°He reached that conclusion because he actually got shorter,¡± Griffin said, grinning. ¡°I didn¡¯t get shorter,¡± Albert complained. ¡°I made an exchange that was three-to-one in my favor.¡± ¡°A three-to-one exchange?¡± Aaron asked before Kiara could stop him. Albert¡¯s frown turned to a smirk that went beyond mischievous and bordered on malevolent. ¡°One inch in height for two in length and one in girth.¡± Kiara smacked Albert on the back of the head hard enough to be heard over Griffin¡¯s laughter. Both men continued to snicker while she gave Aaron some bank cards and shot them dirty looks while he set up his access credentials. There were debit cards from three different major banks and half a dozen credit cards so it took a few minutes. According to the various apps that gave him access to his new accounts ¡ª including a custom app Kiara showed him that incorporated magic and let him access all of them at once ¡ª he had access to more money at the moment than he would have made in his entire life. It was almost overwhelming to suddenly see those large numbers, but Aaron reined his excitement in quick enough. Once the shock of suddenly being absurdly rich passed, the feeling that lingered was a sense of relief. Even if he never made another cent, he¡¯d never have to worry about bills ¡ª or much of anything ¡ª ever again. It wasn¡¯t just money; it was yacht money. Aaron didn¡¯t even bother trying to add up all the individual balances, just ballparking the numbers in front of the first comma. Griffin drew his attention back to the present. ¡°So what kind of clothes do you want to go shopping for?¡± ¡°With this kind of money, I feel like I should get a coat made of Dalmatians. You know, something equal parts cruel and ostentatious.¡± That got a laugh around the table, even from Kiara. ¡°Well, comrade,¡± Albert said, ¡°I know what my account looks like, so I can only imagine how ridiculous yours might be. The question is ¡ª is that going to be what defines you?¡± That was an intriguing question and warranted consideration. Stories abound of how money changed people, but was it something that had to happen or something that people allowed to happen? Was money the root of all evil, as they said, or did it simply enable the uglier side of human nature? There had to be research on the subject, but Aaron couldn¡¯t remember a lick of it after so many years out of school. It¡¯s almost certain wealth influences perception if not personality, but does it have to? Aaron wondered. Maybe the best answer to Albert¡¯s question was that it would if Aaron let it. This kind of money would influence anyone, especially if they¡¯d never had much of it; that was inevitable. It didn¡¯t mean Aaron had to accept it. That meant he had to be himself, but better. It meant being honest about who he was rather than putting on airs to fit some concept of who he thought he was supposed to be just because he had access to money, now. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll find out,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Anyways, I¡¯m not exactly fashion savvy, but I¡¯ve heard a few things over the years that probably encapsulate my sense of style fairly well.¡± When he paused for a moment, Kiara asked, ¡°Well? Like what?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been told a, uh, a few times that I dress like either a telenovela adaptation of The Sopranos or a Bostonian,¡± Aaron said, avoiding eye contact with the others. Griffin barked out a laugh. ¡°Los Sopranos. Ha!¡± After a fair bit of discussion ¡ª which involved narrowing down what the hell Aaron even meant ¡ª they reached a consensus. It was agreed that Aaron preferred comfortable pants, whether track pants or slacks, and loose, button-down, short-sleeved shirts, like bowling shirts, Havanas, and guayaberas. Although Aaron said he generally found suits uncomfortable, Albert told him they¡¯d go to a tailor he knew to try some stuff that wasn¡¯t off the rack. Most of what Aaron was looking for otherwise could be found at a department store. ¡°Might have to shop around a bit if you want designer brands,¡± Kiara said. Aaron scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t really pay attention to the label; I¡¯m more about comfort and affordability.¡± ¡°Yeah, but you never had money,¡± Albert said. ¡°Designer brands are often much better quality, so you get a better fit that lasts longer. You can figure out what you like with time.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll take an hour to get through Midtown this time of day, but I know a great scenic route. We¡¯ll go across 97th, then down 5th avenue,¡± Griffin said. Albert rolled his eyes. ¡°With all that stop-and-go? We¡¯d be sitting ducks.¡± ¡°We could take the Byways; there¡¯s an access point at 100th and Columbus,¡± Griffin offered. ¡°It¡¯ll get us across town in fifteen minutes at most, but nothing opens down there until ten.¡± ¡°We can grab breakfast,¡± Albert suggested. ¡°Oh, we can take Aaron to that singing diner!¡± That suggestion led to a brief argument on a number of topics: whether the diner where they sang show tunes was lame; whether show tunes, themselves, were lame; whether the diner was kitschy or campy; and whether that somehow saved the whole thing from being lame. There was searing acrimony and bitter recriminations over whether irony even existed anymore. Aaron interrupted the argument. ¡°Didn¡¯t Monica work there on Friends?¡± ¡°The Moondance Diner was the place Monica had to sing and dance, but the singing diner is actually the Stardust Diner,¡± Albert said. ¡°She was also a chef at the Iridium in the first two seasons, which is a jazz-themed place next door to the Stardust. Oh, and another fun fact ¡ª you might also know the Moondance Diner because that¡¯s where Jonathon Larson worked. You may have seen it recreated in Tick Tick¡­Boom! Oh, and it¡¯s also where Mary Jane worked in the first Spider-Man movie.¡± ¡°Wow,¡± Aaron said. ¡°That all sounds corny as hell and I am one hundred percent down to go.¡± With the argument settled, they left the apartment and went down to the car. Aaron hadn¡¯t wanted to ask what the Byways were because he thought he had a pretty good guess from context and he turned out to be right. A few blocks from the apartment, Griffin pulled them into a parking garage sandwiched between a TJ Maxx and an apartment building made of red brick. Parking garages seem to be the primary gateway to the hidden world, Aaron mused. They stopped at the swing arm, where Albert focused intently on a small, round rod made of a light pink crystal for a few seconds. After a nod from the small man, Griffin pressed the button and took a ticket. As unusual as that seemed to Aaron, it was far more unusual when they parked in a shadowy corner and the wall in front of them disappeared, revealing a narrow tunnel with a steep downward slope. ¡°Welcome to the Byways,¡± Albert said with a smirk back at Aaron as Griffin pulled the car into the dim tunnel. Chapter 41 - Breakfast at Ellens The tunnel leading down was wide enough for their car, but only just, and unmistakably old. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all cut stone. The paving stones were small, ruddy brown bricks smoothed to a glossy sheen closer to tile than brick; the rest of the structure was large, dark gray stone. The construction of the passage suggested it predated cars. They crawled along through several turns of the tunnel before it opened onto a much broader passage. The passage here was the width of a two-lane road with a middle turn lane and elevated sidewalks ran along either side. A single light glowed green against the wall beside them. Apparently a green light meant the same thing in the secret magic people tunnels as it did on regular streets, because Griffin sped up and pulled onto the road. ¡°So these are the Byways, huh?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Yes, secret paths accessible only to eidolons,¡± Kiara replied. ¡°You can find them just about everywhere, but they¡¯re only extensive in very large or very old places.¡± ¡°The Byways in New York were rebuilt in the 19th century to move them deeper underground,¡± Griffin said. ¡°The average depth is just over five hundred feet below street level and they follow most of the major thoroughfares.¡± As they drove, Griffin pointed out various intersections, sharing interesting tidbits about the geography of the city or some snippet of hidden history. They made their way through the Byway running under Columbus Avenue back to Columbus Circle, where it met Broadway. As with the landmark above, the intersection was a massive roundabout, though this one was built into a domed cavern. The center of the space was occupied by a rotunda at least fifty feet high and much larger than the monument park above, owing to the narrower lanes. The walls of the structure were made of nearly-opaque glass that seemed to shimmer and glow faintly, which Aaron took to be an indication of enchantment. Stone bridges traveled from the cavern walls to the building overhead like the spokes of a particularly irregular wheel. The perimeter of the roundabout alternated between branching roads leading away from the circle and indentations carved into the walls which housed small parking areas. ¡°What is this?¡± Aaron asked, craning his neck to look upwards. Albert snorted. ¡°They call it the Gate to the Underworld, but that¡¯s just something some marketing gremlin came up with.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a way station and outpost, one of the major entrances to the city below,¡± Griffin added. ¡°There¡¯s another city under New York?¡± Griffin made a waffling gesture with one hand. ¡°Sorta. It¡¯s probably not what you¡¯re picturing, but the hidden borough is fairly expansive.¡± Before Aaron could ask any of the dozen questions that popped into his head, they were out of the circle and Griffin was pointing out more intersections and talking about weird and funny stories from the secret history of New York. A few minutes after leaving Columbus Circle, he pulled off the broader road and up another spiraling tunnel. Rather than pulling through a disappearing wall into a parking garage, Griffin parked the car at a small parking area right in the Byways, not unlike those that lined the walls of Columbus Circle. There was room for half a dozen cars, but only three spots were taken, including theirs. ¡°Attached parking,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Very nice.¡± ¡°It¡¯s only at the really big access points, but this one is right off Broadway,¡± Kiara explained. Although they didn¡¯t park in a garage, the exit from the Byways was still attached to one. A short tunnel led them to a security door that opened onto a stairway right near the street entrance. It was an interesting corner ¡ª a 50s-themed diner, their destination, was across from them on one corner, a McDonald¡¯s sat on another, and a massive black skyscraper on a third. The corner they exited the garage from had some kind of gift shop, but a huge vertical sign affixed to the corner of the building announced it as the Manhattan Hotel. It really says something about mixed-use development that you can have a hotel that¡¯s very swanky in most of the building and a janky ass gift shop right on the street where everyone can see it, Aaron thought. At the corner, they waited for the light to cross and Aaron got a better sense of where they were. ¡ª the street signs announced they were at Broadway and W 51st. Behind the almost garishly blue awning of the diner, a large white sign announced NEIL PATRICK HARRIS and GATEN MATARAZZO, providing no other information. It was almost certainly a side view of the marquee, but Aaron didn¡¯t know which theatre nor what the show could possibly be. ¡°What theatre is that?¡± Aaron mumbled, almost to himself. ¡°Which one?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®which one?¡¯¡± Aaron asked, pointing at the marquee. ¡°That one, obviously.¡± Albert chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s the Winter Garden just past the Stardust, but the Gershwin and Circle in the Square are both in Paramount Plaza, that big skyscraper across the street.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard all those names, but I can¡¯t think of anything more specific than that.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve definitely seen the Winter Garden, even if you didn¡¯t realize it at the time,¡± Griffin said. ¡°The billboard above the marquee is annoying as balls for how often you come across it.¡± ¡°For sure,¡± Albert agreed. ¡°Cats ran there for almost twenty years and Mamma Mia! for more than a decade. If you¡¯ve seen the logo for either, it was probably a photo of the Winter Garden¡¯s marquee.¡± ¡°Beetlejuice premiered there, too,¡± Kiara added. That a musical adaptation of Beetlejuice had been on Broadway was news to Aaron. He marveled a bit to find himself within line of sight of places that were part of theatre history as the quartet crossed the street. According to Albert, they were lucky there wasn¡¯t a line for the diner; they were able to get in and get seated quickly. After they were situated at a table, Kiara fiddled with a small stone cube for a few seconds then set it on the table, right up against the wall. There were intricate lines etched into each of the cube¡¯s surfaces, so faint that Aaron wasn¡¯t sure if he was imagining them or not. ¡°It garbles what we¡¯re saying so we sound like we¡¯re speaking an indistinct foreign language to anyone more than a few inches away from the edges of the booth,¡± Kiara explained. Menus were brought and drinks ordered. After their server left, Aaron opened his menu and winced as he looked at the prices. They were definitely New York prices, with everything that wasn¡¯t an a la carte side costing at least twenty bucks. Aaron was worrying about the damage splurging on this breakfast was going to do until he remembered the account balances he¡¯d seen earlier that morning. ¡°I¡¯ll pick up the tab,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°That reminds me,¡± Albert said, retrieving a small envelope from his pocket. ¡°I forgot to give you this back at the apartment.¡± He slid the small envelope across the table to Aaron, who opened it to find another small paper sleeve. Inside was a bank card made of metal rather than plastic. The face of the card was blank save for an image of an ancient soldier embossed in gold. The card itself was, of course, black. Was it the Greeks or Romans who had the helmets with the bristle brush tops? he wondered. ¡°No PINs, no passwords, only your ID and signature,¡± Albert said. ¡°They¡¯re still deciding whether to set you up with a Q-card or wait until after you¡¯ve been confirmed.¡± Aaron slipped the metal card into his wallet. ¡°What¡¯s a Q-card?¡± The conversation paused before anyone could answer as their waitress returned and they placed their orders. Everyone got something different: Aaron went for a breakfast burger; Albert the chicken and waffles; Griffin wanted eggs Benedict; and Kiara went for peanut butter cup pancakes. Each of the guys ordered an additional serving of a different form of pork on the side ¡ª ham, bacon, or sausage. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Ballparking the math as they ordered, Aaron realized the bill was going to be well over a hundred dollars. He couldn¡¯t stop himself from smiling again; he was going to be able to leave a nice tip ¡ª why not do fifty percent? ¡ª without feeling like he was cutting his own hands off for the rest of the month. A loud, pitchy shout suddenly erupted from one corner of the restaurant. Aaron was halfway out of his seat looking for the threat before he realized Griffin had a hand on his shoulder, urging him to stay seated. The unexpected cry came to an end and was followed by what sounded like several people stomping on the floor or banging on counters and tables. There was something rhythmic ¡ª familiar, even ¡ª to all the noise. Looking around, Aaron didn¡¯t see anyone actually making the noise. ¡°Be easy,¡± Griffin said. ¡°It¡¯s a singing diner, remember?¡± It took a few more repetitions of the shouting and banging for Aaron to piece it together ¡ª it was a song. A song from The Greatest Showman, specifically, maybe even the title song. It¡¯s the one with all the mumbling, Aaron realized. It¡¯s a buh, it¡¯s a duh, it¡¯s a budda dudda¡­something like that. Aaron was never very good at remembering lyrics, not without a lot of practice, and he¡¯d only seen that movie a couple of times. He relaxed back into the bench, feeling sheepish but relieved. He hoped his companions wouldn¡¯t think less of him for being a little on edge given he¡¯d faced one ¡ª probably two ¡ª attempts to assassinate him over the past few days. A guy dressed like Billy Idol was standing near the swinging door into the kitchen and was the one singing the lead part of the song. The customers were smiling and quietly cheering as the man crossed the diner and stepped up onto a table to continue his performance. He started the first real lyrics in a carrying stage whisper, winking at his audience. The song was getting into full swing and Aaron decided it was time to try salvaging some of his own dignity. ¡°So, uh, Q-cards?¡± Aaron asked the table. ¡°Money is great for buying boring shit, but we don¡¯t live in a boring world,¡± Albert said. ¡°For everything else, MasterCard just won¡¯t cut it. American Express isn¡¯t anywhere you want to be.¡± Kiara rolled her eyes at Albert. ¡°They¡¯re magic debit cards, basically. Do you know what aether is?¡± ¡°Aether is like the Force but without the bugs in our blood,¡± Aaron said, recalling his answer to the same question from Mallory. That got some laughs from around the table ¡ª a much better response than Aaron had got from the old sorcerer ¡ª and Kiara confirmed that his understanding was basically correct. The Q in Q-cards stood for quintessence. The cards were issued by banks that dealt mostly or solely in aether, which was used as currency by eidolons to trade between themselves for things that weren¡¯t mundane in nature. Aaron was obviously lacking information because he couldn¡¯t figure out how that would even work. ¡°How do you have an account of a material that is intangible? For that matter, how does something that¡¯s basically omnipresent and infinite have value?¡± ¡°Water is pretty much everywhere, so why do people pay for it?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°Same goes for oxygen, nitrogen, dirt ¡ª a whole host of other things that are abundant.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s about purity?¡± ¡°It¡¯s more accurate to say it¡¯s about density,¡± Kiara said. ¡°You¡¯re right that aether, in its base state, is both intangible and everywhere, but it can be harvested or refined, for want of a better term, into a material form.¡± ¡°Aethril is the metal form and the most concentrated by mass,¡± Albert explained. ¡°But there are alloys with other precious metals that are also used for currency. Copper, silver, electrum, gold, and platinum.¡± ¡°You can remember it like this ¡ª Cautious Serpents Earn Glimmering Piles of Aethril,¡± Griffin offered. ¡°Collectively, the different forms of aether currency are called lux and the individual unit of measurement for value is called lumens. Lux would be money and lumens would be a specific dollar amount,¡± Kiara said. According to his companions, some unknown mechanism of magic in the universe limited the density of aether that could be refined into each metal or alloy. Moreover, it was an almost direct linear progression. Each coin was worth one-ninth of the next in value, so nine coppers were worth a silver, nine silvers a gold, and so on. The exception was electrum, a natural alloy of silver and gold, which was worth three silver and one-third the value of a gold. ¡°It¡¯s like you guys took this shit straight out of D&D,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Do these coins glow?¡± ¡°No, why?¡± Kiara asked. ¡°Because lux means ¡®light¡¯ in Latin and a lumen is a unit of measurement for how much light something emits.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know that, but no, it doesn¡¯t glow,¡± Kiara said. Griffin picked up the explanation. ¡°Anyways, lux doesn¡¯t get made in a single, generic denomination. The scaling we mentioned is actually based on minimum and maximum densities for a given alloy to form.¡± As Griffin explained it, that value scaling was actually more complicated than it had first seemed. Each alloy could be created with distilled or refined aether on a scale of purity with roughly nine steps. The last place on that scale, the absolute maximum for a given bit of metal, contained as much aether as the minimum needed to create an alloy of the next most valuable metal. It was all surprisingly specific and quantitative, which Aaron would not have expected from some kind of mana-infused fantasy coin system. As he listened to them try to explain what was known and unknown about creating aether alloys, he was reminded of modern scientific understanding of some celestial phenomena, like black holes. Scientists didn¡¯t necessarily know how or why certain interstellar marvels existed, but they could observe and measure them in fairly finite detail. Albert finally broke into the increasingly detailed explanation of forging magic coinage. ¡°You get the idea. The important thing to know is that if a piece of lux has a lumen value of five or less, it will be a coin, and above that it will be a small ingot.¡± ¡°Sounds a little like chips and plaques at a casino,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Or round coins and rectangular bills?¡± Albert suggested, snickering. Aaron rubbed a hand across his eyes; he brain really wasn¡¯t operating at peak performance lately. While he doubted these metal ingots were flimsy, paper-thin sheets, it was still a poor reflection on how well he was processing associations that he didn¡¯t think of regular money when they were talking about magic¡­ well, money. ¡°Sorry, you¡¯re right,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s probably a much better comparison, but my brain isn¡¯t brain-ing at its brain-est, right now.¡± ¡°Q-cards make it so we don¡¯t have to carry around pouches full of loose change,¡± Albert said. Griffin dangled a small, plain leather pouch above the table. ¡°Plenty of eidolons do still carry money pouches and coin purses, but it¡¯s usually just spending money; most of their cash will be in a bank.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Albert said, suddenly excited. ¡°Guess who runs the banks?¡± Aaron turned on Albert with a scowl. ¡°The answer to that question better not be what I fucking think it is.¡± The smaller man seemed taken aback by Aaron¡¯s sudden hostility. Albert glanced around the table and saw both Griffin and Kiara had covered their faces with a hand, concealing their own grimaces. It took a few long, awkward seconds, but Albert finally realized how his question might have sounded. ¡°No, no, no,¡± he spat out, chuckling nervously. ¡°No. No way. I mean, I¡¯m sure there are plenty of Jewish people who work in Q-banking, but that¡¯s not what I was trying to get at.¡± Kiara put a hand on Albert¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Shut up, idiot.¡± When Albert stopped babbling, she spoke on his behalf. ¡°He was trying to say that it¡¯s us ¡ª the Drakon is heavily involved in quint banking.¡± ¡°People give dragons their gold? I mean, aren¡¯t dragons famous for, y¡¯know, hoarding gold and treasure?¡± Aaron asked. It turned out Aaron wasn¡¯t completely off-base with his question. His companions told him that, when the Drakon moved to get involved in quint banking in the 14th century, there was a lot of reluctance to trust them with people¡¯s gold. The drakus went to great lengths to prove there was no better group to distinguish between what was and wasn¡¯t theirs ¡ª especially when it came to treasure ¡ª and that they would defend the wealth of others just as ferociously as they did their own hoards. Working with other eidolons through aether banking turned out to be one of the primary ways the Drakon had built and maintained good relations with other groups. Historically, they hadn¡¯t had many stable relationships, but their expansion into quint banking built bridges that had never been possible. ¡°The reason they¡¯re considering holding off on a Q-card is that the Drakon pays each member a kind of stipend,¡± Kiara said. ¡°That stipend is tied to their position and their activity on behalf of the Society.¡± ¡°Why would that be a problem?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Because you¡¯d probably be getting more than anyone except, maybe, Freeman and Mallory,¡± Albert said. ¡°We have a lot of control in several Q-banks, but it¡¯s not total control; someone might notice one of the largest stipends the Drakon has given out in more than two centuries.¡± ¡°Being in banking, it wouldn¡¯t be too hard for them to put two and two together,¡± Kiara added. ¡°At least one faction out there already seems to know, so it¡¯s best to keep it from spreading.¡± Griffin patted Aaron on the arm consolingly. ¡°Once you complete all the doobly-doos and are confirmed it¡¯ll be a different story. Until then, they¡¯d rather not advertise there¡¯s a potential new Primus.¡± ¡°Why not just give me less until then?¡± ¡°Because drakus are almost pathologically miserly,¡± Kiara explained. ¡°One of the most ancient pacts that governs the Drakon is that each member will be given their proper due. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the exact wording, but it¡¯s something like that.¡± ¡°Even if you were cool with it, the powers that be still wouldn¡¯t do it. It would undermine one of the foundations that enable drakus to work together as well as we do,¡± Griffin added. ¡°In any case, we can cover minor expenses, so we¡¯ll stop by the market after the store and the tailor,¡± Kiara said. With a plan in place and breakfast finished, Aaron paid the bill and they left the diner. It was an interesting experience and he was glad they¡¯d gone, but it was definitely a bit over the top for his tastes. Chapter 42 - Shopping Spree After leaving the Stardust Diner, Kiara led the group down the street and then right past the garage ¡ª it was a fine autumn day in New York, so why not walk? Instead of going down Broadway, she took them a block over to 6th Avenue and turned south. They walked past Radio City Music Hall, with its distinct red, blue, and gold marquee, and along one side of Rockefeller Center, but after those brief moments of excitement passed it was all banks. Banks for blocks. Block and blocks of banks. So many banks. They walked for about twenty minutes, Aaron didn¡¯t spend a lot of time staring at the dull, featureless skyscrapers along their path. Instead, he luxuriated in how effortless it was to walk at a brisk pace. It had been over a year since the last time he¡¯d done any real exercise, so the ease of movement of his new and improved body was delightful. He¡¯d been in decent shape a few times in his life, but never like this. He wanted to run, to try to do cartwheels or handstands or any of the ridiculous things people with bodies like his did on the internet. Of course, even if he weren¡¯t trying to keep a low profile to avoid assassins, he probably wouldn¡¯t have been comfortable skipping around on the public sidewalks. Finally, they came to a tiny, picturesque park on a busy corner. The buildings around the intersection were older and shorter than the big bank skyscrapers they¡¯d left behind. The park was surrounded by a knee-high stone wall topped with wrought iron fencing and the space between the sidewalk and street was lined with irregular rough-cut stone blocks about three feet across and two feet high alternating with round stone planters. A narrow clock tower, made of granite and forty or more feet tall, rose above the skinny trees of the park at the corner nearest them. There was even a little green building, barely larger than a glorified closet, with public restrooms on the edge of the park. The trio of guardians stopped to take a seat at a little, round table just outside the gate to the pocket park, taking some time to relax in the shade. There was a yellow sun umbrella over the table, but most of the shade came from the trees in the park and clock tower just inside the gates. There was something odd about the brief rest stop ¡ª it was hardly warm this early in the day and the three of them were probably in even better shape than Aaron ¡ª so why the break? Albert, Griffin, and Kiara had made a bit of a fuss about seating him with his back to the park when they¡¯d sat down. Aaron initially thought it was just another security measure, but after he thought about it he realized it would be easier to hide an attack coming out of the busy park than coming from the open space of the street. So am I supposed to be seeing something here on the corner or across one of the streets? he wondered. After a few seconds of scanning the surroundings, Aaron¡¯s eyes fell on the blue street signs announcing they were sitting at the corner of W 35th Street and Herald Square. ¡°Herald Square,¡± he mumbled. ¡°Where have I heard that before?¡± ¡°Give my regards to Broadway,¡± Kiara sang, quietly but surprisingly well. ¡°Remember me to Herald Square,¡± Aaron finished, much less artfully. ¡°And we¡¯re also just one block up from 34th Street¡­ Are we going to the original Macy¡¯s?¡± ¡°Not the original, but definitely the most famous,¡± Albert said. ¡°Cool,¡± Aaron said. A few minutes later, the group stood and walked through the park, crossing the street to the Macy¡¯s at Herald Square. Aaron hadn¡¯t been able to see it from the direction they came due to the trees in the park, but once they were closer he recognized the famous building from all the Christmas movies based there he¡¯d seen over the years. And here I am, he thought, arriving just in time for the Thanksgiving Day Parade and the lighting of the tree at Rockefeller Center. Aaron spent several hours in the massive department store with Albert, Griffin, and Kiara. He wound up buying much more than a handful of new clothes; in fact, he bought enough clothes that the walk-in closet back at his apartment was going to be at least half full. Trying on clothes reminded Aaron of his childhood, when he¡¯d go into a dressing room and come out so his mother could critique whatever he¡¯d selected. His three protectors were far less biting in their commentary and the whole thing wound up feeling more like some high school movie makeover montage. The trio wasn¡¯t shy about offering their opinions but, thankfully, Aaron¡¯s new and magically-improved body looked good in pretty much everything he put on. Most of their squabbles were over their preferences for flashy and bold patterns coming up against Aaron¡¯s fondness for subdued styles and solid colors. They spent several hours in the department store, buying much more than Aaron¡¯s new wardrobe. The entire thing was more of a hang-out session than a shopping trip, scored by friendly chit-chat and punctuated with trips outside to get drinks and smoke. Without their frequent stops to indulge in their awful habit, they probably would have been out of the store in half the time. Although the four of them had an easy rapport, their time shopping wasn¡¯t entirely lacking friction between them. Most of the tension came from Albert and Kiara trying to convince Aaron not to be so tightfisted with his purchases, which he struggled with. They repeatedly told him off for acting like they were shopping in a dollar store rather than the flagship of one of the most famous department stores in the world. Aaron hadn¡¯t grown up poor, exactly, but had been so firmly in the working class that his dinner was more often made by Kraft, Nissin, or McDonald¡¯s than anything else. He tended to look for the most inexpensive items with the fewest bells and whistles and generally only splurged on things that had immediate value, like getting food from a restaurant. Even Griffin joined in on occasion, cajoling him into getting expensive bed sheets; he swore up and down Aaron would thank him later if he invested in a few sets of Egyptian cotton bedding. Once he agreed to that, Kiara badgered him into getting a bedspread or coverlet. That he only planned to get a couple blankets didn¡¯t go over well. Kiara informed him he was an ¡®idiot man-child¡¯ and asked if he wanted to check if they had race car beds. Albert rehashed Griffin¡¯s arguments from the bedding department when they got to linens and bath towels, arguing as vehemently as the larger man that Aaron would be a fool not to drop some money for Egyptian or Turkish cotton on the stuff he¡¯d be using to dry his ass. The crux of the issue wasn¡¯t that Aaron was reluctant to spend money, not really; it was that he¡¯d never had money to spend and his tastes had adapted to the lack. They ran into the same issue buying dinnerware, flatware, and cutlery. The only area they didn¡¯t have to nudge Aaron to be less miserly was appliances ¡ª he was eager to spend on gadgets, doodads, and other tech. He was satisfied with the televisions installed in the apartment since they were about as big as they could be, but there was a wealth of other nonsense he wanted to fill the apartment with. He got an air fryer ¡ª because who doesn¡¯t want an air fryer? ¡ª a blender/juicer doohickey, a rice cooker, a soda-making contraption, and a few other things he was equally unlikely to get much use out of. The things he picked up that were likely to get actual use were the current generation of game consoles and the particularly extravagant purchase of a wall-mounted tablet case that was waterproof. You could install the thing right in the shower, slip your tablet in, and watch videos or listen to music while you showered. It was, in a word, super dope. Well, two words. When the time came to look at furniture, Aaron was determined not to sell himself short on what he wanted his new home to look like. After all the harassment he¡¯d suffered over his conditioned instinct to settle or skimp, he was going to swing for the fences. After just a single circuit of the various items in the department store, he hadn¡¯t really looked at anything for more than a few seconds. ¡°Not seeing anything you like?¡± Griffin asked. Aaron shrugged. ¡°They have a couple sofas I like and some okay chairs, but it¡¯s not exactly what I¡¯m looking for.¡± ¡°Show us what you had your eye on,¡± Griffin requested. Aaron walked them back through the furniture sections, pointing out the few pieces he¡¯d liked ¨C a Princeton sofa and a Chesterfield living room set of sofa and chairs, all in rich brown leather. He passed over pretty much everything else. It was all either too plain, too metal, or too plastic. He didn¡¯t quite know how to describe what he was looking for, interior design wasn¡¯t a language he knew how to speak. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°Okay, so it seems you¡¯re looking for, like, wingback leather armchairs and two foot wide globes that have cognac-filled decanters hidden in them,¡± Albert said. ¡°Is that about right?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never had cognac, but I bet it¡¯s just as nasty as all the other supposedly fancy booze,¡± Aaron said, the image of the globe bar cementing the image forming in his head. ¡°You¡¯re on the right track, though. It¡¯s like¡­ it¡¯s like the house in the Clue movie. Something like that.¡± Kiara pursed her lips and nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Mid-century with a heavy Colonial influence and a dash of Revival elements. Doing that right is going to take time either visiting antique shops or getting custom pieces.¡± As he tried to picture his apartment, furnished precisely as he wanted it, a new complication occurred to Aaron. It was the kind of issue he¡¯d have usually ignored because¡­ well, because beggars can¡¯t be choosers, as he saw it. He could practically hear his mother snorting derisively and telling him to quit his bitching before he said anything. Still, he had decided not to restrict himself on this furniture thing, so he might as well bring it up. ¡°I¡¯m a little worried that getting exactly the furniture I want will look out of place in my apartment. Maybe even ugly. I feel like I¡¯d need wood paneling on the walls or something.¡± ¡°That¡¯s easy,¡± Griffin said. ¡°We could get that installed in a day. The only thing you¡¯d need to decide is if you want floor-to-ceiling or wainscotting, then pick a pattern.¡± Albert patted Aaron on the shoulder. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯ll be no problem at all, Professor Plum. The Society has craftsmen of all kinds and I¡¯m pretty sure there¡¯s some remodel and refit folks in town.¡± ¡°Craftspeople, you sexist clod,¡± Kiara said, giving Albert¡¯s arm a backhanded smack. Albert gave her a toothy gin. ¡°It¡¯s pronounced sex-iest.¡± The byplay between them largely passed Aaron by; he was a little caught up at how easily they¡¯d heard his concerns and offered their advice. He realized that he¡¯d been bracing to get a lot more flak for talking about what he wanted in anything less than absolute, even aggressive terms. Albert¡¯s friendly teasing didn¡¯t bother him, not when he¡¯d been unconsciously expecting to be told why his feelings and desires were stupid. I guess the inherited dragon soul stuff isn¡¯t the only bullshit I¡¯m finding out about myself this week, he thought ruefully. Now that they had a better idea of what Aaron might be looking for, they revisited several departments in the store, on the hunt for anything that would be a good fit. They ended up picking out two couches and two chairs as well as a number of rugs. Griffin had them swing back to household goods to pick up a number of decanters and other glassware and Albert helped with selecting some light fixtures that would better match the intended decor. Before they¡¯d even finished shopping for clothes, they had more than they could effectively fit in the trunk of their car, let alone carry the fifteen blocks back to where they were parked. When you added in the gadgets, furniture, and various other sundries, transporting it all by hand would have been a truly impossible task. Thankfully, the store had a delivery service, although Aaron noted that the address Kiara had him provide wasn¡¯t the same as the apartment building. He chalked that up to a security measure in much the same way his computer had gone to the Drakon¡¯s people first. I hope they don¡¯t go looking through my browsing history, Aaron thought with a gulp. There wasn¡¯t anything awful to find, but there was plenty of stuff that would make him look like a giant weirdo goob. Tia might understand why he had an entire folder of bookmarks that had images and gifs he could use to reply to comment threads and tweets, but actual grown up adults? It probably wasn¡¯t ideal if he was supposed to be proving himself fit for a role at the pinnacle of the Society¡¯s leadership. With the deliveries squared away, they left the flagship store and stopped to grab lunch at a nearby delicatessen, where another new worry crossed Aaron¡¯s mind. It took him about half his sandwich to work up the nerve to say it out loud. ¡°Hey guys,¡± he said, interrupting a discussion about the artistic value of remakes and reboots. ¡°Am I pompous?¡± ¡°Because of your taste in furniture?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°How¡¯s that pompous?¡± Kiara shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not like you were looking for gilded baroque gaudiness or ultra-sleek contemporary stuff so you can build a personality at home around mentioning how minimalist or postmodernist you are.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not even two full steps removed from being a crusty gutter punk and I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything wrong with having a sense of style,¡± Albert said. ¡°Consumerism is shit and the poison of the masses, but it doesn¡¯t change the fact that most people are at least a little happier if they have some stuff that makes them feel good about themselves.¡± Their reassurances put Aaron¡¯s mind somewhat at ease over whether he was turning into an ostentatious prick, but it was something he meant to watch out for nonetheless. If he truly was going to be the leader of a secret society with the kind of wealth and power the Drakon had, it would be less than ideal if he let a little cash turn him into a douche canoe. ¡°It¡¯s when you fixate on accumulating more stuff, or let your stuff define you, that¡¯s when you turn into a dickhole,¡± Albert finished. When they finished lunch ¡ª Aaron got a pastrami on rye because, y¡¯know, New York and all that ¡ª the quartet took a leisurely stroll a few blocks to the north and east, to the tailor Albert knew. The tailor¡¯s shop was an unusual place, at least in Aaron¡¯s limited experience in Manhattan, and would be easy to miss if you didn¡¯t know what you were looking for. The front of the building was covered in scaffolding, which wasn¡¯t all that unusual in the city, but it was odd because the tailor¡¯s shop wasn¡¯t accessed from the street and its entrance was largely unmarked. A relatively narrow frontage of plate glass sat between a pizzeria and a framing store, marked only by an address above a similar plate glass door. A man was seated at a small desk reading a newspaper in the tiny foyer on the other side of the door and he buzzed them through the door when they knocked. A hallway ran deeper into the building behind the miniscule lobby and that was where the businesses in this building could be found. Albert led them down the plain hall to a plain door with a small, plain sign that read Darren¡¯s Custom Tailoring. Behind the door was a surprisingly elegant sartorial shop. The tailor was staffed by two people ¡ª an older man and a middle-aged woman ¡ª and they wasted no time getting to business. They took Aaron¡¯s measurements swiftly and professionally, then sat with him to go over what kind of suits he preferred. His first inclination was to veer towards older styles ¡ª double breasted suits, pleated pants, and the like ¡ª but he let himself be talked into considering a couple suits in more modern styles, as well. Who knows? he mused. With the changes from the emerging thingy, I might actually like the way I look in other things. Aaron tried on a number of fitting garments to see which fabrics he liked and discover what adjustments could be made to improve the fit. When all was said and done, he had an order for more than a dozen suits in different styles and weights. He hadn¡¯t even known suits came in different weights and they were apparently meant to accommodate for differences in weather between the seasons. The tailor, Darren, bowed them out of his shop with the promise the suits would be ready in no more than a week and Aaron could either take them as they were or return to the shop for a final fitting. A week or less seemed like a remarkably quick turnaround to Aaron, but Albert had sung Darren¡¯s praises as a top notch couturier. Operating out of a surprisingly well-hidden shop also suggested the shop didn¡¯t have ¡ª and didn¡¯t need ¡ª business from foot traffic and passerby. When they were back on the street, Kiara said, ¡°The Market¡¯s in Chinatown. What¡¯s our best route?¡± Griffin thought about it for a second before answering. ¡°The B or F trains from B of A Tower will get us there almost as quickly as it would take just to walk back to the car.¡± ¡°The subway it is, then,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Ah, the subway,¡± Albert said, nudging Aaron with an elbow. ¡°Another classic city experience.¡± They walked down 40th Avenue, bearing west, for several blocks, until they came to a park that doubled as a kind of open air shopping plaza. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a park with this many little businesses in it,¡± Aaron said as they walked through the busy grounds. Kiara stopped on the lawn they were crossing and turned the group around. A broad building made of pale stone ran along the full width of the park. Aaron couldn¡¯t figure out exactly how tall it was, but he guessed it was at least five or six storeys. Columns of thin windows ran two-thirds of the way up the building, alternating with the stone to give the building an almost pin-striped appearance, and above that was a row of massive windows with rounded arches. The entire structure was crowned by an ornate cornice that struck a familiar chord in Aaron¡¯s memory, although he couldn¡¯t place it. ¡°I think I know that building,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s the Main Branch,¡± Kiara said. When Aaron threw a confused look at her, she elaborated. ¡°Of the New York Public Library. You¡¯d definitely recognize it from the front.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not just standing behind it, you¡¯re standing on top of it,¡± Griffin said. ¡°This is Bryant Park and the library extends underground beneath it. Our station is on the other side of the park.¡± During the walk down 40th, Aaron hadn¡¯t been doing as much sightseeing as he had on previous trips. This was the result of three factors: there hadn¡¯t been many landmarks he could see; most of his view had been either scaffolding or awnings on the narrow street; and, he had enjoyed chatting with his three guardians. So to suddenly find himself looking at the ass end of a major landmark took him a little off guard. How many movies and TV shows had he seen with scenes in the impressive halls and galleries of that famous library? It was weird to find himself standing just a hundred or so feet away from it. At the same time, as cool as it was, it was still just a building next to a park. He had shit to do. He turned his back to the landmark and they crossed through the park, emerging at a corner they had crossed earlier that day on their way to Herald Square. Across from him was a tower made of glass and steel and, next to it, their destination ¡ª the entrance to the 42nd Street-Bryant Park subway station. Chapter 43 - The Mall Beneath the Bridge The entrance to the subway station matched the Bank of America tower from the outside ¡ª a narrow tunnel made of large glass plates ¡ª but the station below was quite different. From the sleek and ultramodern building above, the subway was a broad tunnel walled in tile and punctuated with red steel beams. Griffin led them through the halls to the right platform and they were on a train heading Downtown in short order. Ten minutes later they stepped onto a platform in a station with an older, grittier feel. The tiles on the wall were larger, the floors cement, and, as if to distinguish from the station they¡¯d left at Bryant Park, the steel support beams supporting were blue instead of red. They emerged from the underground onto Grand Street from an exit lined by a low, green steel fence. The fencing was more recognizable and iconic to the New York subway system than the glass and steel entrance back in Midtown but somewhat less impressive. Of course, the exits from this station probably weren¡¯t financed by Bank of America, Aaron thought. Chinatown was a far cry from Midtown ¡ª almost like a completely different city ¡ª the buildings older and smaller, and many of their fronts marked by hanzi, the ornate characters used in written Chinese. The changes steadily grew more stark as they walked south. After several blocks on foot, Griffin turned them onto a street running under a huge overpass. Shops lined both sides of the street; in the middle of their side of the road was an arched opening with a recessed glass fa?ade beneath that led further back under the bridge. Several pairs of glass double doors across the width of the building. Beyond the doors was a large, circular space with low ceilings, perhaps only seven or eight feet high. A wide circular opening took up the center of the room, lined by low glass walls, with escalators connecting to floors above and below. The perimeter of the space was filled with businesses, mostly stores, some so small they were little more than particularly deep stalls. ¡°What is this place?¡± Aaron asked. Griffin placed a large hand on his shoulder. ¡°Didn¡¯t you read the sign out front? It¡¯s the East Broadway Mall.¡± They moved around the opening and followed a hallway deeper under the bridge, passing dozens of shop stalls. Clothes, jewelry, and cell phones were the most common items sold, but there was no limit to what was on offer. A not insignificant number of stores offered medical and other professional services. With the exception of the occasional big tax chain, Aaron couldn¡¯t remember seeing those sorts of businesses in a mall since he was very young. After several minutes of feigned browsing as they strolled through the mall, they took a stairway down to the lower level. The stairway, despite being perfectly clean and well lit, had a seedy vibe to it, giving the impression of being dark and grimy. It¡¯s probably the way the fluorescents are placed, Aaron thought, though he didn¡¯t entirely believe himself. The lower level was a labyrinth of narrow hallways and passages, with an even greater variety of businesses and spaces that were less uniform in size than the ground floor. Although the trio accompanying him maintained a casual veneer as they moved through the mall, even stopping to browse at random shops, Aaron believed his guardians were on high alert and staying as vigilant as he had ever seen them. Finally, they stopped at a stall nestled in a dead end deep in the underground warren of stores. The shop was distinct from every other space they¡¯d passed so far because of its product ¡ª books. Two old men sat around a small table just outside the front of the shop, playing checkers and drinking tea. The smell of cigarettes was strong in the air and a can of soda on the floor had ashes around the lip. The pair of old men probably had the same disregard for any rule that inconvenienced them as most old men and Aaron assumed they snuck puffs whenever the halls around them were otherwise empty. The shop was larger than most of the others they¡¯d passed on the lower level, but that extra square footage was so crammed full of shelves brimming with a pell-mell assortment of books it felt smaller. There were shelves along each wall and several more had been placed in the center of the shop, creating a haphazard pillar of secondhand books jammed into the space. The books were in a mix of languages, but Chinese and English were the most common at first glance. A man much younger than the duo loitering outside sat on a rickety wooden chair in one of the rear corners of the overflowing bookstore. A pile of books teetered on a small table beside his chair. He was reading a Chinese newspaper and looked up at their entrance, gave them a nod, but otherwise paid them no mind. Griffin and Kiara quickly spread out ¡ª as much as that was possible, anyways ¡ª examining the shelves on opposite sides of the store. Albert stayed near the entrance, casually browsing piles of books stacked on folding tables around the door. Aaron felt completely out of place, the cramped space of the shop less like a store and more like someone¡¯s private storage, so he stayed near Albert and idly perused books on the central bookshelf facing the door. There didn¡¯t seem to be any rhyme or reason to how the books were shelved; there were no distinct categories, genres, or any other organizational scheme that Aaron could decipher. After a few moments, Aaron noticed isolated clusters of books suggesting there might have once been a plan of some kind, but it had been overwhelmed long ago and succumbed to chaos. After several minutes, Griffin shot them a meaningful glance and the four drakus converged on the proprietor in the back. Griffin and Kiara had a small pile of books and they handed them over to the young man in his chair. It was crowded in the little corner with the four of them bunched up around the shopkeeper, but it did give Aaron a good look at the books Griffin and Kiara had selected. None of the three books they¡¯d selected were in English, but Aaron still recognized them from the art on their covers ¡ª Alice in Wonderland, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and The Wizard of Oz. All classics, but wildly different in tone and story. Except¡­ Aaron thought there was something those three books shared, he just couldn¡¯t put his finger on what it was. They¡¯re all fantasy, he thought, but I think there¡¯s something else, something more central. None of the books were in the best condition, so it was all the more surprising when the shopkeeper asked for fifty bucks for the set. Aaron¡¯s latent cheapskate tendencies howled in outrage, but Griffin agreed immediately ¡ª with one caveat. ¡°Would you be willing to throw in a copy of Moby-Dick?¡± he asked. ¡°You want in Chinese?¡± ¡°I¡¯d prefer a Bavarian translation,¡± Griffin replied. The shopkeeper¡¯s eyes darted to the front of the store briefly as he set the three books down on one of the piles beside him. ¡°Four for four,¡± he said quietly, his thick accent vanishing like a fart in the wind. Griffin pulled out a strange coin and handed it to the shopkeeper. It was ruddy brown and burnished to a fine shine, about twice the size of a quarter and much thicker. The coin seemed plain at first, but when the shopkeeper examined it Aaron saw that several lines had been engraved on one of its faces, forming a simple eight-pointed star. The shopkeeper shoved the coin into a slotted box buried in the pile of books next to him and returned to his newspaper, paying them no more attention than he had while they browsed. Aaron had no idea what was going on. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. When his companions turned to face the bookshelf pillar behind them, Aaron turned with them. A second later, the shelving swung open away from them. A hidden door! That was pretty rad on its own, however what the door revealed was so much more awesome it caused Aaron¡¯s brain to lock up for a moment. The pillar of bookshelves couldn¡¯t have been more than five or six feet across in either direction, so Aaron didn¡¯t know what he expected to see when the secret door finished swinging open. The space was so small, a hole in the floor was about the only thing that would have made sense. Maybe a little one- or two-person elevator or a very cramped spiral staircase could have fit back there. Maybe. Instead, a completely normal staircase lay in front of them, descending to a switchback landing and continuing downwards. It shouldn¡¯t have been possible ¡ª there should have been no more than two or three steps before the staircase ran into the wall on the other side. But it didn¡¯t. It just kept going. Aaron could see the back of the bookshelf across from him, just a few feet away. He could also see the steps leading to a landing ten or more feet away. It was impossible to be seeing both those things at the same time in the same place, yet he was. It was terribly disorienting. His three companions were completely unperturbed; Albert and Kiara were already making their way to the landing and Griffin was standing beside him, waiting. There was nothing for it but to follow, so Aaron began to descend behind them. As soon as he tried to take the first step, vertigo washed over him and he stumbled into the side of the bookshelf, pressing a hand flat against the wall and scrambling to get both feet on the floor so he wouldn¡¯t go reeling down the stairs. Griffin¡¯s hand was on his shoulder immediately, helping to both steady him and anchor his perception. The sensation would best be described as impending motion in several simultaneous directions. Aaron felt like he was about to fall forward (down), and backwards (down), but he was also aware that he was standing (up), and leaning against the wall (up). Each feeling was completely distinct, yet overlapping in a way that was torturously confusing. ¡°Okay, what the hell?¡± Aaron breathed to Griffin as quietly as he could through a jaw clenched shut as tightly as his eyes. Griffin squeezed his arms reassuringly. ¡°Just breathe, bud, it will pass in a second.¡± After several deep breaths, the impossible feeling receded and Aaron felt basically back to himself. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. The too-large stairway in the too-small space was still there, a spatial impossibility, but it didn¡¯t grate against Aaron¡¯s senses the same way. He left out a long breath he hadn¡¯t even realized he was holding. ¡°It¡¯s better now, but that threw me,¡± he said. Griffin clapped him firmly on the shoulder. ¡°Head down, I¡¯m right behind you.¡± When Aaron had taken a few steps down, he heard Griffin at the top of the stairs, likely speaking to the shopkeeper. ¡°His first time coming to the Market.¡± ¡°W¨¤i h¨¢ng,¡± the shopkeeper said dismissively. Aaron bristled; he could practically hear the sarcastic eye roll in that phrase and it was clearly at his expense. The light changed as the bookcase swung closed behind him and Griffin came down the stairs, stopping on the step right behind him. ¡°You okay?¡± the big man asked. What can I say? Aaron wondered. Should I even say anything? He wasn¡¯t sure. He knew the healthy, mature thing would be to explain that he felt like what Griffin had said up there was disrespectful and unkind. Less like he was talking shit to a friend and more like he was talking shit about a stranger. If he didn¡¯t have to be around these people so much ¡ª and if he didn¡¯t like them ¡ª it wouldn¡¯t even be a question; Aaron would be telling Griffin what a dick move it was to commiserate with a complete stranger about what a newbie idiot he was. The truth is, it bothered him more because he actually liked his three protectors and it stung to find out even one of them thought so little of him. He knew he could take the abuse and, more importantly, he didn¡¯t want to create the impression he couldn¡¯t if these people weren¡¯t going to be his friends. Even the appearance of weakness looked like an invitation to poke at it to a certain kind of person. Aaron shook his head and shrugged like it was nothing and continued down the stairs. At the bottom, Albert had stationed himself beside a plain steel door and Kiara was waiting by the last step, a small box in her hand. She looked like she was going to say something, but Griffin came down and interrupted. ¡°Hey, I wanted to clear something,¡± the big man said. ¡°That line with the shopkeep up there, that was just a part of our cover. Pretty much everybody experiences vertigo and disorientation the first time they encounter a place like this.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± Aaron asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of his tone. ¡°Dimensionally-warped spaces,¡± Albert said. ¡°Especially ones where it¡¯s that extreme. What¡¯s going on? What line?¡± ¡°I told the guy in the shop it was Aaron¡¯s first time coming to the Market and he, being a real class act, called Aaron something like an idiot or amateur,¡± Griffin explained. ¡°I¡¯m not sure which; my Mandarin is shit.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Aaron said. Kiara stepped a bit closer and her tone was serious. ¡°It¡¯s not fine; not if you think one of us was mocking you, especially to an outsider. Maybe we¡¯ll have a relationship where that kind of razzing is okay in the future, but right now we can¡¯t protect you if you don¡¯t trust us and you¡¯re less likely to trust us if you think we don¡¯t respect you.¡± ¡°Which means you should probably have an idea of our cover,¡± Griffin said. ¡°A plausible reason you¡¯re a new drakus in town without arousing suspicion that you¡¯re the new drakus in town for the people looking for you.¡± ¡°First things first, put this on,¡± Kiara said, opening the small box to reveal a fine golden chain necklace. ¡°It¡¯s got a disguise illusion enchanted into it, a pretty good one. It¡¯ll make you look a couple inches shorter, a good bit scrawnier, and some other superficial changes that will make it next to impossible to identify you accurately.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Aaron said, slipping the necklace over his head and dropping it down his shirt. ¡°The thing you have to understand about us is that nobody would think we were in town to work security for a V.I.P.,¡± Griffin said. Aaron¡¯s brow furrowed at that. ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°Because we¡¯re competent and dangerous, but our work takes us out of town a lot and nobody would think of us as a good defensive measure,¡± Albert said. ¡°You don¡¯t hire assassins to be bodyguards, totally different skill sets.¡± ¡°Are you guys assassins?¡± Griffin chuckled. ¡°No, but our line of work tends to be more aggressive, proactive rather than reactive.¡± ¡°So our cover is that you¡¯re one of our numbers and analysis people,¡± Kiara said. ¡°And you¡¯re looking to change careers and maybe move into our line of work. That¡¯s why you¡¯re in town, why you¡¯re hanging out with us, and why we¡¯re taking you shopping.¡± ¡°What work do you guys do, exactly?¡± ¡°We¡¯re like Indiana Jones but without the museums or academic respectability,¡± Albert said, grinning. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re treasure hunters?¡± Albert gave him two thumbs up. ¡°Basically.¡± There really wasn¡¯t anything Aaron could think to say to that, so they continued on to the plain steel door. When Albert let them know it was clear and they pushed through, Aaron stepped fully into an entirely new world for the first time. This wasn¡¯t some insane cavern under a national park that no one else had ever set foot in, this was the beating heart of a community of people who were something more than your average human being. It was a world hidden within their world, just as vibrant and active, but alien in so many ways. The hallways were just as narrow as in the mall above, but the shops were something else entirely. Their fa?ades were made of wood and stone instead of plate glass, plywood, and plasterboard. Some of the stalls had open fronts and were lined with draped silks and other cloths in lieu of walls or doors. At first glance, many of the goods didn¡¯t seem to differ much from those above, offering fashion, accessories, and a variety of other knick-knacks. There were even little offices providing professional services. However, it quickly became apparent the goods down here were more magical in nature. Glowing gems, wands, rods, and sceptres of innumerable materials in ornate cases, massive tomes with glimmering runes on their covers, and assortments of melee weaponry and armor adorned many of the displays. The people provided an even greater contrast to the mall upstairs; the halls bustled with activity and many of those wandering the subterranean marketplace were clearly not human. ¡°Welcome to the Goblin Market of Manhattan,¡± Griffin said. Chapter 44 - The Goblin Market Aaron tried to take in the sights of the Goblin Market without staring. It wasn¡¯t just polite, it was prudent. After all, some of the non-human people at the bustling bazaar could come from a culture where duels to the death were the answer to any perceived slight. Getting shanked by Don Quixote de Qo¡¯noS on his first public trip was less than ideal; thankfully Aaron was well-practiced at watching his surroundings without staring. ¡°So what do you think?¡± Griffin asked, leaning in. ¡°It¡¯s pretty cool, but, uh¡­ no candy shops or racing brooms?¡± Kiara rolled her eyes. ¡°There¡¯s an entire section of shops dedicated to kitschy crap, but the world of real eidolons isn¡¯t driven by teenagers with families that have more psychological disorders than members.¡± Albert cleared his throat significantly and Kiara sighed. ¡°It isn¡¯t entirely driven by teenagers with families that have more psychological disorders than members,¡± she admitted. ¡°You can find just about anything here; it¡¯s one of the largest magic bazaars in the world,¡± Griffin said. ¡°We¡¯re going to get you some basic supplies. An EDS, some emergency potions, maybe a holdout wand,¡± Kiara said. ¡°What about magic armor or talking swords?¡± Albert, Griffin, and Kiara shared a small laugh at that. They quietly informed Aaron that there was very little in the way of enchanted armaments that would be as effective as what Aaron¡¯s body was capable of, especially with some training to get the most out of it. Learning a bit of magic would be a significant improvement, as well. Kiara lowered her voice further and Aaron noted that she was fiddling with the small stone cube she¡¯d used to ensure their privacy back at the diner. ¡°When it comes to artifacts and relics, this stuff is like costume jewelry compared to what we have access to,¡± she said. ¡°But they probably won¡¯t kit you out until you¡¯ve been confirmed.¡± Aaron held his hands up. ¡°What are we doing here, then? Window shopping? I¡¯m cool with that, but I feel like I¡¯ll lose my mind if I can¡¯t pick up some kinda magic gizmo I can screw around with later.¡± ¡°Day-to-day stuff for a little extra protection and utility, more out of convenience than because we can¡¯t get the stuff in-house,¡± Griffin said. ¡°I know a couple guys we can talk to down here; good merch and they won¡¯t screw us on prices,¡± Albert said. ¡°It kinda skeeves me out, all the ¡®guys¡¯ you know,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Have I ever steered you wrong?¡± Albert responded, with a leering smile that suggested that question should absolutely end with a ¡®yet.¡¯ With much rolling of eyes, they followed Albert to see the first of his ¡®guys.¡¯ Their destination was a wooden storefront not far from the stairway. A simple sign hung above the door that read Kweeble¡¯s Storage Solutions. When they entered, a small bell hung over the door rang softly. The chime of the bell was strange, the seemingly quiet tone reverberating through the small space with a sound that was almost palpable. It rolled away from the door, filling the space, then flowed back over them at the entrance. Aaron would have thought it was impossible in the small shop, but when he stepped through the door behind Albert he found a room that was far bigger than it should have been. Beside the door, standing at an elevated lectern, was a very small man, no more than four feet tall and quite thin. Aaron had known a couple of little people in his life and was pretty sure this man did not have dwarfism. His limbs were completely proportionate ¡ª which wasn¡¯t unheard of among little people ¡ª but his ears were slightly pointed and his fingers were just a little too long. He almost could have passed for a child, except for the clearly adult facial features, which included a rather dashing mustache. Aaron couldn¡¯t even guess at what the small man might be, taxonomically speaking. A gnome? A halfling? Perhaps a literal dwarf, in the fantasy sense of the word? He¡¯d learned recently that almost every dragon wasn¡¯t really a dragon at all, so he was completely in the dark. ¡°Kweeble!¡± Albert called, waving to the small man. ¡°Ah, Albert,¡± Kweeble said, sounding less than thrilled at their arrival. ¡°And you brought friends. I hope you¡¯re not here to try pawning more old pouches off on me? That last batch had enchantments so faded I hardly turned a profit after restoring them.¡± Albert gestured at Aaron. ¡°My friend here is considering getting into delving, so he¡¯s going to need some kind of basic storage for supplies and gear.¡± ¡°Delvers,¡± Kweeble said, blowing out his mustache. ¡°My people are largely chthonic and plenty of us go gallivanting about the underworld, but I never saw the allure, personally.¡± Albert smirked. ¡°It¡¯s like Dr. Jones said ¡ª fortune and glory, kid. Fortune and glory. Besides, it¡¯s not like you¡¯re an exemplar of gnomish society; most of you are wilder than Amish teens on Rumspringa and you¡¯re practically dwarven in nature.¡± ¡°I¡¯d take offense to that if dwarves weren¡¯t such damned good architects and enchanters,¡± the gnome replied. Then, ¡°And tall¡­ the rat bastards.¡± ¡°Tall being relative, in this case,¡± Griffin stage whispered to Aaron. Albert and Kiara gave the big man the stink eye. The gnome was probably sick of short jokes in general, but both drakus were on the short side, as well. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. ¡°Sorry, Mr. Kweeble, I was teasing my compatriots out of habit and didn¡¯t mean to be disrespectful to you,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t mind the japes and jabs of the awkward, gangly, and unwieldy, as long as you don¡¯t call me a fucking munchkin,¡± Kweeble said. ¡°That¡¯s a good way to volunteer yourself as a test subject on whether my void bags work.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mind Griff; his brain is starved for oxygen at that altitude,¡± Albert said. ¡°It¡¯s the only reasonable explanation,¡± Kiara agreed. ¡°If his parents had dropped him on his head as a baby, the height would¡¯ve surely killed him.¡± After a pause, Griffin said, ¡°Nice one.¡± He offered a round of high fives, but no one other than Aaron could reach that high. ¡°So what kind of storage does your friend need?¡± ¡°Something simple and durable; a hundred pounds should be more than enough,¡± Kiara said. Kweeble gestured to the wall behind them. ¡°That section in the corner has my basic stuff. Let me know if you have any questions.¡± The shop was filled with containers of all sorts ¡ª bags, chests, satchels, crates, chests, and more ¡ª and included a section at the rear that looked almost like an electronics store. Individual tablets were set out, each displaying a kind of slideshow or presentation on some product or other. But the corner Kweeble had directed them to was fairly simple, containing mostly bags and pouches that were plain in appearance. ¡°I¡¯m guessing we aren¡¯t here for a Louis Vuitton,¡± Aaron said. ¡°So what kind of storage are we talking about?¡± ¡°Kweeble can do designer bags if you really want one, but most of his stuff is custom-made; high quality but easy to overlook,¡± Albert replied. There was zero chance the small containers and bags in the display could hold a hundred pounds of anything ¡ª except an incredibly dense metal like tungsten or platinum, maybe, and even that probably wouldn¡¯t be feasible for most of them ¡ª yet many of their tags advertised a capacity as much as five times that. Aaron suspected he knew what he was looking at, but he was in uncharted waters with all this magic-in-the-real-world stuff and wanted to avoid making assumptions. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°I¡¯m obviously missing something about these bags,¡± he said, leaving the question implied. ¡°They¡¯re extra-dimensional storage, or EDSes,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Kind of like a bag of holding from D&D.¡± Kiara smacked Griffin in the arm. ¡°An EDS is a lot more impressive than some stupid burlap sack that just condenses stuff.¡± ¡°You¡¯re thinking of a handy haversack; those are usually made of canvas and are basically just gunnysacks,¡± Albert said. Kiara snorted dismissively. ¡°No I¡¯m not and you¡¯re an ignoramus for thinking so. A handy haversack is a backpack; it even has extra pouches on it. A bag of holding is four feet deep with a two foot opening. It¡¯s basically a sack of potatoes without the potatoes.¡± ¡°I think she¡¯s right,¡± Griffin said, rubbing his chin. ¡°A sack of potatoes with sixty four cubic feet of potatoes in it is still pretty impressive.¡± Kiara snorted. ¡°Do you know how much sixty four cubic feet of potatoes weighs? More than a ton! It¡¯s like twenty five hundred pounds or something. You can only get like twelve cubic feet of potatoes in a bag of holding before hitting the weight limit, which is why D&D bags are dumb as hell.¡± ¡°How the hell do you know that?¡± Albert asked. Kiara flicked her hair with one hand. ¡°I¡¯m Irish; we know potatoes.¡± ¡°Bullshit,¡± Albert said, waving a finger at her. ¡°I call bullshit on that.¡± ¡°Second,¡± Griffin said. Aaron didn¡¯t want to take a side in this argument ¡ª he didn¡¯t know D&D that well and, more importantly, he didn¡¯t want Kiara all riled up at him ¡ª but all three of them pressed him to weigh in on whether Kiara¡¯s claim was, in fact, bullshit. They pretty much backed him into a corner. ¡°I can¡¯t really get behind the idea of inheriting knowledge from ethnicity alone,¡± he said, aiming for diplomacy. ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s an element of biological determinism when it comes to the Irish and knowledge of potatoes.¡± Kiara gave him a scathing look while Albert and Griffin patted him on the back and hooted about a successful ¡®bullshit referendum,¡¯ something they apparently did among themselves somewhat frequently. ¡°Ugh, fine,¡± Kiara said. ¡°I did the math for a campaign I played in high school and it stuck in my brain. Are you happy?¡± Based on the continued gloating and smugness from the other two guardians, Albert and Griffin were, in fact, quite happy. Aaron opted not to join in their celebratory gloating; he still didn¡¯t know Kiara well enough to have established a relationship like the one the trio shared. ¡°If I¡¯m understanding right, these are like bags of holding in premise, but they¡¯re better in practice,¡± Aaron mused, dragging their attention back to the task at hand. ¡°Any advice on which ones are best?¡± A lively discussion ensued about respective benefits of the various forms of storage. Waist packs had great accessibility but weren¡¯t very discreet to access, while most satchels, bags, and pouches were easy to overlook but could be a pain to get into. Boxes of any sort almost never had either benefit to speak for them but had the advantage that they could have a significantly higher capacity because their external dimensions were static. At some point, Kweeble had abandoned his perch at the lectern and come to stand behind them. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯d be interested in my latest design,¡± the gnome said. ¡°They¡¯re a bit pricier, but worth the investment.¡± ¡°Storage rings?¡± Aaron asked. The gnome cocked an eyebrow at him. ¡°Rings? Like you¡¯d wear on your finger? Why would you want something like that?¡± ¡°Because you could wave your hand and put things in or take them out?¡± ¡°Well, no, that would take predictive magic so advanced it would have to either be sentient or tied right into your consciousness, neither of which are practical to accomplish or advisable in the least,¡± Kweeble said. ¡°Besides, the degree of dimensional compression you¡¯d need on the band of a ring would have the potential to cause all kinds of catastrophes.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± Albert asked. Kweeble hummed in thought. ¡°Well¡­ let¡¯s say you¡¯ve been out imbibing some happy beverages with friends and you¡¯ve gone to the restroom to relieve yourself. In your state, you let your thoughts wander and remind yourself you need to pick up your credit card before you leave for the night.¡± The gnome eyed them to make sure they were following. ¡°Now, this fantastical ring ¡ª which is on your finger, remember ¡ª registers your desire to pick something up, so it tries to open the storage. Only it¡¯s not in contact with your credit card, it¡¯s in contact with what you¡¯re currently holding.¡± It took a moment for the male drakus to get the picture Kweeble was painting, but then there were three simultaneous sharp intakes of breath, each of the men wincing as their imagination filled in the blanks. Kiara rolled her eyes and Kweeble chuckled as he finished making his way to a display case at the rear of the store. The display was made of handsome wood and had a hinged glass top that could be lifted up. An assortment of simple cloth packets lay under the glass, lined up in neat columns and partially overlapping each other. ¡°They look like those cheap dice bags you can get at a gaming store,¡± Griffin observed. ¡°All they¡¯re missing is the corded drawstring.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know why anyone would need an entire bag just for dice, but I don¡¯t really go much for gambling,¡± Kweeble replied. Then his tone turned boastful. ¡°I call these Pocket Dimensions. You slide them into any regular pocket, the enchantment secures them in place, and then you have an EDS right there in your pants, jacket, or vest.¡± ¡°So they can¡¯t be closed? Doesn¡¯t that pretty much ruin the security of your storage and give any pickpocket access to all your shit?¡± Albert asked. ¡°For the enchantment to work properly, you have to be attuned to the Pocket, so no one else will be their grubby little mitts in there,¡± Kweeble bragged. What that meant might have been obvious to everyone else, but Aaron had no idea. ¡°What do you mean you have to be ¡®attuned¡¯ to it?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s a lesser version of bonding, not very commonly used,¡± Kiara explained. Albert wheezed a laugh. ¡°Diet bonding, very casual; you don¡¯t even have to go on FetLife.¡± A joke popped into Aaron¡¯s head completely unbidden. How can you tell if someone is vegan, does CrossFit, or uses FetLife? They¡¯ll fucking tell you. Kweeble opened the case and removed one of the small sleeves, giving them a brief demonstration. The pockets had very good weight capacities for their size, ranging from one to five hundred pounds, but the real selling point was as the gnome had said ¡ª you could slide it into any pocket and you had an EDS that was both highly accessible and extremely inconspicuous. Unless you go around pulling giant swords and mallets out of it, at least, Aaron thought. From the quick glances they exchanged, Aaron suspected his companions were more than a little impressed with Kweeble¡¯s new storage innovation. They tried not to let it show for reasons that became quickly apparent as they launched into fierce negotiations with Kweeble over pricing. The gnome was a shrewd ¡ª and often vulgar ¡ª negotiator, so it took nearly half an hour of bickering and dickering for the two parties to settle on a final price. It ended up being a thousand lumens for five of the slim pouches. Aaron initially thought they came out ahead when they talked Kweeble into throwing in the fifth pocket free of charge but when they finally came to terms he changed his mind. I think Kweeble got the better of us, he realized. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the eventual price is two hundred per pocket and we only managed to get the real price before he drops the novelty mark up. ¡°You got that kinda lux on you? Or do you need to use a Q-card?¡± Kweeble asked. ¡°I¡¯ve got it, I¡¯ve got it,¡± Griffin said, fishing around in a waist pouch hidden under his sweatshirt. The most basic unit of lux ¡ª aether-infused metals used for money by the community of mythics, eidolons, and magi ¡ª was a single copper coin, called a lumen. Since each coin, except electrum, was worth one-ninth of the next, the lumens quickly added up. An aethril ¡ª the most valuable coin, which was made of pure aether and alloyed with no other metals ¡ª was worth more than two thousand lumens. A platinum, the next most valuable coin, was worth quite a bit less than a thousand. Aaron had done the math earlier at the diner on his phone and watching Griffin fiddle with coins was threatening to give him the headache all that arithmetic had threatened earlier. Griffin didn¡¯t seem to have the same problem. After just a few seconds, he produced four different coins ¡ª one that looked like silver polished to a high shine, one that was clearly gold, one a paler golden yellow that Aaron guessed was electrum, and one that was unmistakably copper. Kweeble examined each coin briefly, giving Aaron a chance to see that all but one of them had a single line engraved in them. The gold coin was marked differently ¡ª an X with a line running vertically through the center that reminded him of the Dead Kennedys logo. Kweeble jingled the coins for a moment, then tossed the copper back to Griffin. ¡°Friends and family discount,¡± he said with a cackle. Kweeble pulled five slim boxes out of a cupboard under the pocket display case. He opened each to show them they matched the colors and materials they had selected for the pockets, then handed them over. Since the pockets needed to be attuned to be used, they couldn¡¯t use them right out of the store so Albert slipped them into his own waist pack. They exchanged thanks and farewells with Kweeble and left the store. Back out in the mall, Kiara began fiddling with her small stone cube again. ¡°Next, we need to visit an alchemist,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Albert said. ¡°I know a guy.¡± Chapter 45 - Pots! Pots! Pots! Pots Pots Pots! (Everbody!) Albert¡¯s ¡®guy,¡¯ as it turned out, wasn¡¯t a guy at all, but a woman. And she was none-too-pleased when Albert walked into her shop, a gaggle of buddies in tow. The shop in question, called Dire Brew according to the sign over the door, had a glass fa?ade that was taken up entirely by a complicated display of various ampules, bottles, and vials; a small cast iron cauldron even simmered merrily in one display window. When they entered the shop, a small bell tinkled merrily to announce their arrival. The interior was laid out like a headshop, with glass display counters lining the walls and a path behind them for the shop¡¯s employees. A very beautiful woman sat behind a counter at the rear of the shop. She had an olive complexion and long, dark hair that flowed past her shoulders in sweeping waves. Albert raised a hand in greeting as they entered, calling out, ¡°Mary the Apothecary! Great to see you again!¡± ¡°What the hell are you doing in my shop?¡± Mary hissed. She raised an arm with a large bottle in her hand, which held what looked like a roiling black smoke. Griffin surreptitiously pulled Aaron by the arm so that the large man was between him and whatever was in that bottle, just in case the woman decided to throw it at them. Albert held his hands up in front of him and wheezed a quiet laugh, which probably didn¡¯t do much good in the way of de-escalation. Kiara looked like she was ready to pull out a shank, but she also put her hands up. ¡°Let¡¯s everybody keep cool, okay?¡± Kiara said. ¡°We don¡¯t want any trouble,¡± Griffin added. Mary¡¯s eyebrows climbed up her forehead and she fixed Griffin with an incredulous gaze. ¡°Then why are you walking around with him? He¡¯s nothing but trouble!¡± ¡°I might¡¯ve forgot to mention that Mary is an ex,¡± Albert stage whispered sheepishly. ¡°It, uh¡­it didn¡¯t end great.¡± ¡°It didn¡¯t end gr-¡± Mary began, before Kiara cut in. ¡°Listen, I work with this guy so I know he¡¯s a pain in the ass, but we¡¯re not here for a social visit. We¡¯re here to buy.¡± ¡°We can make him wait outside. Y¡¯know, like a dog,¡± Griffin offered. ¡°I¡¯m not going to let this mook slime up my shop ¡ª not even for a minute ¡ª for a few silvers in trade,¡± Mary said. ¡°We¡¯re not here to buy bubblegum, we¡¯re looking to spend gold,¡± Kiara said. Mary rolled her eyes and sighed. She addressed Kiara and tried very hard not to even look at Albert. ¡°What are you looking for?¡± ¡°Healing potions, mostly, but we¡¯d be interested in some utility draughts, as well.¡± ¡°What kind of utility?¡± Mary asked. Griffin stepped in to answer that, pulling Aaron into a one-armed hug. ¡°Our buddy here wants to do some delving with us, so we¡¯re looking to make sure he¡¯s got a couple panic buttons in case things go sideways.¡± ¡°Something that will get him out of trouble for a bit, especially if we¡¯re separated,¡± Kiara added. Mary tapped her lips with her index finger. ¡°A vanishing potion would be the obvious choice. They work best in low light with slow movement.¡± ¡°So like an invisibility potion?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°No, nothing as potent as that. I doubt you or your friends want to spend that kind of lux for a first-time delver,¡± Mary said. ¡°It combines a bit of light diffusion, shadow manipulation, and chameleon effects. It will make you much harder to spot, especially with favorable conditions, but it¡¯s not nearly as powerful as a true potion of invisibility.¡± ¡°That sounds fairly solid, but do you have anything with a little more versatility?¡± Kiara asked. ¡°Like, for instance, if you don¡¯t have time to assess your environment or prepare to maximize the benefits of a vanishing potion?¡± ¡°You could get a shadow body potion. It lasts ten minutes, which is as long as a vanishing potion, but it turns your body into an animated shadow. Costs more, but you get way more utility out of it.¡± ¡°That sounds rad,¡± Griffin said. ¡°How much for each?¡± ¡°You want the prices in gold or lux?¡± Mary asked. Griffin scratched his head. ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± The difference, as it turned out, was that Mary hated doing the math to convert lux into the various coinage as much as Aaron did, so she discounted her products if you had the coin and didn¡¯t force her to make change. The arbitrary differences in the level of discounts proved it was an engine of personal convenience and not an issue of economics. If you paid in coin, Mary cut almost twenty percent off the price of invisibility potions, ten percent off healing, and less than five percent off shadow body. It might have looked like it followed some kind of logic, but invisibility potions were cheapest at one gold each and healing cost five times as much. If it were a ploy to pad her bottom line, Mary would likely only discount the healing potions by five percent and the shadow potions, squarely in the middle price-wise, by ten. She cut into her profit margins slightly just so she could round down to the value of the nearest whole coin. ¡°Let¡¯s get three healing, two invisibility, and one shadow potion,¡± Kiara said. ¡°That should be twenty gold.¡± ¡°Right on the money,¡± Mary said. Albert leaned one elbow on the counter between them, grinning at Mary with a loose approximation of charm. ¡°Would you be willing to apply your ¡®no math¡¯ discount to the total and let us get everything for two plat?¡± Mary closed her eyes for a moment and took a slow, deep breath in through her nose. Then she turned to face Albert, the ex-boyfriend vibes were stronger than ever. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°You¡¯re already getting a discount of two gold and two silver because I can¡¯t be bothered to do a bunch of arithmetic and now you¡¯re asking if I¡¯ll shave another two gold off?¡± ¡°I just wanted them to see that you use the discount as an excuse to cover for your generous nature, not because you can¡¯t do the math,¡± Albert said, winking at the alchemist. ¡°¡®Two gold and two silver,¡¯ she says.¡± Aaron and Kiara studiously arranged their faces so the laughter they were holding in wouldn¡¯t be so obvious. Griffin, meanwhile, ostentatiously ¡ª and noisily ¡ª dug about in his waist pack for the coins, producing much more clinking from his hidden waist pouch than was strictly necessary. One of Mary¡¯s eyes was twitching and it was even odds if she would lunge across the counter or hurl some vial of explosive poison at Albert. Before things could take a turn for the stupid, Griffin stepped up to the counter, looming over Albert and Mary and disrupting their staring contest. He placed four coins on the glass ¡ª two platinum and two gold ¡ª and directed a big smile at Mary. ¡°This is a real bargain,¡± the big man said, beaming. ¡°Albert says you do quality work and for these prices? Yes, ma¡¯am, it¡¯s quite the bargain.¡± Something about the way Griffin was talking had a sinister air; there was a quality to his bearing or tone that set Aaron¡¯s hackles to rise. He didn¡¯t know why, at first, and that made the incongruity with what he knew of Griffin¡¯s personality that much more jarring. Then he realized that Griffin¡¯s smile ¡ª that wide, beaming grin ¡ª didn¡¯t reach the big man¡¯s eyes. It gave Griffin¡¯s height and powerful build a menacing air instead of the ¡®gentle giant¡¯ aura he usually exuded. Mary noticed, too, because she stopped packing the small vials of potions into a little slotted box and gave Griffin her full attention. ¡°I can tell Albert annoys the shit out of you ¡ª and rightly so, since he¡¯s an annoying little rodent ¡ª but,¡± Griffin continued, still grinning that mirthless grin. ¡°I¡¯d hate to think your frustration with him caused a slip up that led to you selling us potions that were, uh, let¡¯s say unreliable.¡± ¡°Griffin,¡± Kiara said, though quietly enough he could pretend not to hear. ¡°If something like that happened and it led to our friend getting hurt, or worse,¡± Griffin said, pausing to let the idea hang in the air. ¡°Well, then I don¡¯t know what.¡± In the wake of Griffin¡¯s implied threat, the shop screamed with silence. No one seemed quite sure how to respond or, barring that, at least move the proceedings along in a way that wasn¡¯t horridly awkward. Aaron neither enjoyed nor appreciated someone making threats on his behalf; he felt like this was a moment where staying quiet would have been no better than making the threat himself. There¡¯s a time for that kind of tactic, he thought, but a friend¡¯s ex selling you stuff from their small business isn¡¯t it. He stepped up to the counter, placed a hand on Griffin¡¯s shoulder, and took a deep breath, not entirely sure what he was going to say until his mouth started moving. ¡°Save it for the longhouse, you gargantuan Swede,¡± he said, before turning to Mary. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for him, he¡¯s being an overprotective, paranoid goon. And I¡¯m sorry for Albert, he¡¯s being¡­ well, he¡¯s being Albert. I could see how that would be trying in these difficult times, but I¡¯m sure your products are great and I have complete faith in them.¡± There was a round of nervous chuckles and Mary resumed placing the vials into the neat little traveling box she used in lieu of shopping bags. She waved one hand in front of her face, as if to brush away the awkwardness of the moment. ¡°I stand by every potion I sell, but even if I didn¡¯t¡­ how can I put this?¡± she said, pausing to choose her next words. ¡°It¡¯s like this ¡ª if Albert were drowning in a river of piss, I¡¯d stop long enough to put on gloves and poke him in the eyes. That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯d ever try pawning off shoddy goods to the fucking dragons. That¡¯s a one-way road to ruin.¡± Aaron frowned. ¡°If we have to be an awful nation-state, I¡¯d rather people think of us like a post-war America rather than a vengeful and vindictive Rome, but I guess that¡¯s picking nits from a wider perspective. Not much difference if you¡¯re the one being stomped on by the big kid in class.¡± ¡°Nobody wants to be the baddies,¡± Albert said. Mary rolled her eyes, closing the lid on the small box with the potions they¡¯d bought inside. ¡°In any case, I hope you won¡¯t need the potions, but they¡¯ll do what it says on the label if you do. And I¡¯ll welcome any future business you might have for me, too.¡± She paused for a moment, then jerked a thumb towards Albert. ¡°Although, maybe you could leave that weasely fuck at home, if at all possible.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t promise that ¡ª he might piss on the carpet, after all ¡ª but we¡¯ll try,¡± Kiara said. When they were outside Mary¡¯s shop, Griffin and Kiara took turns smacking Albert on the back of the head. They gave the smaller man two earfuls of shit about ¡®bad comms¡¯ and ¡®shoddy intel¡¯ for not making them aware of his past relationship with the alchemist, especially since that it had ended so obviously poorly. ¡°So when, exactly, did you date that woman?¡± Kiara asked, her tone icy. ¡°And how did you manage it when she¡¯s so far out of your league?¡± Griffin was nodding vigorously. ¡°I¡¯ve heard a ton of your sketchy hookup stories, but I had no idea you¡¯d ever actually had, like, a relationship.¡± ¡°Well it was ages ago, the world was a completely different place,¡± Albert said. Kiara snorted derisively. ¡°How was it a completely different place? It¡¯s not like any of us are all that old.¡± ¡°I mean, I can prove it,¡± Albert said, pulling out his phone. He scrolled through it for a few seconds, then held it out to them. ¡°Okay, look at this.¡± His phone was open to a Spotify playlist titled My Alchemical Romance. There were groans and much eye rolling from the others, but they went through the playlist. It included quite a few songs Aaron remembered being massive hits back when he was in college, or maybe a little before. Some of them were really famous, like We Are Young by Fun, We Found Love by Rihanna, Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen, and Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye. Those songs had been on the radio for what felt like forever, played in a near endless loop of beating a horse well past death. But there were some really odd, meme-y songs in the mix, too, like Thrift Shop by Macklemore, What Does the Fox Say? by Ylvis, Threw It On the Ground from The Lonely Island, and Gangnam Style by Psy. Aaron didn¡¯t know what the playlist was supposed to be proving except that Albert could make the most erratic playlists in the history of music. ¡°This is the most absurd playlist I¡¯ve ever seen,¡± Aaron said. ¡°That¡¯s the playlist I made while we were dating, from like 2011 to early 2013,¡± Albert said. ¡°You¡¯re going to tell me the world that existed before Gangnam Style is the same as the one that existed after it? Come on, be serious.¡± Aaron, Griffin, Kiara exchanged long looks, each searching for something to say in response to that. These songs weren¡¯t exactly world-shattering or anything, but they were a small heap of cultural touchstones that had all come quickly on each other¡¯s heels. Griffin puffed his cheeks and blew air out of his mouth. ¡°Man, 2012 was a wild year on the internet.¡± ¡°Whatever. Given your screwup, we¡¯re going to go to the wand shop I use instead of some rando you¡¯ll turn out to have a blood feud with,¡± Kiara announced. ¡°That works, since I don¡¯t actually have a wand guy,¡± Albert said. Chapter 46 - Stay Steady Strapped The collective shock at Albert not having a ¡®guy¡¯ for everything passed hard, but it did pass. When they had regained their wits and understood the world once more, Kiara led them back through the Goblin Market. They covered a good deal of ground, including passing through a circular area that served as an open-air bazaar for merchants who lacked a permanent storefront. ¡°You could call this the Goblin Flea Market,¡± Albert said with a wheezy snicker when they passed through. ¡°It¡¯s really helpful for eidolons who are just starting out, especially if they don¡¯t have a support structure helping them out,¡± Griffin added. After a few minutes walking through the warren of tunnels ¡ª allowing Aaron to browse a myriad of stores both strange and exciting ¡ª they found their way to a shop unlike any of the others Aaron had seen so far. The storefront was taken up by a wide window over a counter and there was no visible door to access the shop itself, like an old newsstand built right into a wall only with a storage space behind it. The marquee above the window read Don¡¯t Spare the Rod. ¡°Don¡¯t spare the rod,¡± Aaron read with a snort. ¡°Clever.¡± Hundreds of small boxes were stacked on shelves in the wall behind the counter, which was unoccupied when they arrived. A grinding sound, almost a hiss, came from behind the shelves. Kiara stepped up to the counter and rang an intricately decorated brass call bell sitting atop it. The grinding sound came to an immediate halt. A Japanese woman emerged from behind the shelves. She had an ageless quality and could have been in her twenties or fifties and wore a long sleeved shirt and thin leather apron hung from her neck, both of which were covered with a hint of woodshavings. She smiled brightly when she saw Kiara. ¡°If it isn¡¯t my favorite customer,¡± the woman said. ¡°How are you, Lavign¨¦?¡± ¡°Ooh, she even said it the fancy way,¡± Griffin said, performing a congratulatory golf clap. ¡°Mac, these are some friends of mine - Albert Lang, Griffin Smythe, and Aaron Abrams,¡± Kiara said, gesturing to each of them. There was a chorus of nods and nice-to-meet-yous from the guys as the woman brushed the last remnants of wood shavings off. ¡°Welcome to my shop, I¡¯m Masaki Maki, but you can call me Mac. You here for adjustments and repairs, or something else?¡± ¡°Aaron here is going to try his hand at delving with us, so we wanted to make sure he was properly equipped,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Nothing better for dealing with dwellers than a good wand.¡± Mac clearly agreed with that sentiment ¡ª naturally, since she was a wandmaker ¡ª but Albert and Griffin quietly expressed their objection with the eloquent rejoinder of making fart noises. Aaron had no frame of reference, but getting a wand sounded pretty awesome. Will it choose me or is it more like D&D wands that have an anchored spell? he wondered. ¡°Pay these philistines no mind, they¡¯re all brawn, blades, and bloodlust,¡± Kiara scoffed. ¡°But anytime there¡¯s something up on a ledge or across a chasm, guess who¡¯s suddenly the belle of the fucking ball?¡± Kiara gestured at herself with both thumbs. Mac let out a tremendous guffaw and slapped the counter with one hand. ¡°Well put,¡± she said. ¡°So, what did you have in mind?¡± ¡°Something versatile, good at any range, but without any magic that¡¯s too complicated,¡± Kiara said. ¡°I think I have just the thing,¡± Mac said, turning around to scour the stacks of small boxes lining the wall behind her. ¡°It¡¯s very easy to use so even a novice to magic can wield it, but it¡¯s got a variety of functions.¡± She pulled out a long, narrow box and set it on the counter. There were no markings on the box as far as Aaron could see, but Mac had found it in just a few seconds so obviously she had some kind of organizational system she understood. She pulled the lid off the box, revealing a long rod made of wood so white it almost looked like bone. ¡°This is one of my favorite starter wands,¡± Mac explained. ¡°I call it a wand of the elements, or an elementalist¡¯s wand if you prefer. It can produce beams of heat and cold in a wide range of temperatures, so it¡¯s useful for things other than combat, and it will fire darts made of obsidian, as well.¡± ¡°Fire, water, and earth; nothing for air?¡± Griffin asked. Mac shook her head. ¡°Not on the basic model. I have a greater wand of the elements that does lightning ¡ª bolts and beams ¡ª but it¡¯s much more expensive.¡± Griffin rubbed his chin. ¡°How much more expensive are we talking about here?¡± ¡°Five hundred for the lesser wand, two grand for the greater,¡± Mac said. ¡°Is that reasonable for wands?¡± Aaron asked, then, remembering his cover, elaborated. ¡°I never really did numbers on magic goods, just investments.¡± Kiara nodded. ¡°Yes, I¡¯d say those are reasonable prices. I have five wands and I don¡¯t think I paid less than a thousand for any of them.¡± Mac coughed. ¡°Your wand of wounding was only eight hundred.¡± Aaron couldn¡¯t imagine what that wand might do. Or, rather, he was imagining so many things with no way to rule any out. There was almost certainly no way it was a wand that just slashed or poked people, right? ¡°What does that do?¡± he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. ¡°It creates a small node of gravitic magic up to an inch deep inside the target, then the wand draws it back towards itself,¡± Kiara said. ¡°It¡¯s super effective against particularly tough eidolons if their internals aren¡¯t as hardy as their flesh,¡± Griffin said. ¡°The results can be pretty gruesome, though.¡± ¡°It¡¯s my holdout wand,¡± Kiara said. ¡°I don¡¯t use it unless I have to.¡± ¡°Are those prices firm?¡± Albert asked. ¡°I¡¯d be willing to bargain if you want to pick up both wands, but I¡¯m pretty firm if it¡¯s one or the other.¡± Aaron¡¯s companions took a step away from the store to discuss which option was better. Aaron stayed at the counter to talk to Mac. ¡°So it seems like the wand doesn¡¯t choose the wizard?¡± ¡°That fucking hag,¡± Mac spat, rolling her eyes. ¡°No, even a wand designed to be an unrestricted focus for magic ¡ª and that¡¯s pretty rare these days ¡ª isn¡¯t sentient or anything like that. You might find wands that have a better resonance with your own style and energy, but you can get the same benefit from a set of golf clubs or a bowling ball.¡± ¡°Not a Potterhead, I take it?¡± ¡°That hag ¡ª aside from being a shitty person ¡ª has caused entire generations of people to make my job more of a pain in the ass. They all want to touch every damned stick in my shop until Galadriel whispers in their ear or some stupid thing.¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°But that can¡¯t happen because wands are usually built to perform one or more specific feats of magic,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Plus the terrible person thing really works against her.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s a terrible person?¡± Kiara asked, stepping back to the shopfront with Albert and Griffin. ¡°The Scottish hag,¡± Mac said. Kiara sucked on her teeth. ¡°That shithead is the worst thing to happen to the eidolon community in centuries. Tons of people awakening to magic that wouldn¡¯t have otherwise, but they¡¯re almost all magi and half-convinced the stuff in that pap is how things actually work.¡± ¡°We wanted to get the greater wand,¡± Griffin interjected. ¡°You sure we can¡¯t talk you into coming down a little? I mean, we¡¯re talking two hundred twenty two platinum and two gold. At least knock off the two gold.¡± ¡°Platinum?¡± Mac said incredulously. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you delvers are going to make a purchase this size and use coin instead of aetherium? Don¡¯t get me wrong ¡ª there¡¯s something viscerally awesome about a big heap of coins, but we¡¯re talking several pounds of metal you¡¯d be plunking down on my nice glass counters.¡± Griffin took a sudden interest in the floor, which he began to nudge with the toes of his shoe. Albert slapped him on the back with a laugh. ¡°Griff doesn¡¯t have the tables on gems memorized, so he can¡¯t do the math quickly and worries it makes him look stupid,¡± the smaller man said. ¡°That¡¯s why he handles the metal and I handle the shiny rocks.¡± Albert produced a small leather pouch from somewhere and began to pull out clusters of small gemstones, rolling them onto the counter like the most extravagant marbles in the world. He kept dropping stones until there were ten in total, each a deep, vibrant red that shone in the light of the market. Then he added one more, this one a lustrous blue with a glossy sheen to it. Finally, he pulled out a single gold coin and held it up between two fingers. Aaron saw that it was marked with two lines crossing each other to form an X or a large, lowercase T. All of the coins Aaron had seen so far had been the same size, most with only a single line engraved into them. ¡°Sure you won¡¯t knock off the two gold?¡± Albert asked. The markings are some kind of compounding, uh, ideogram, Aaron realized. To represent numerals, maybe? If one line stood for one, then two lines probably meant two. That meant the more complicated coin with a line carved vertically through an X ¡ª literally three, distinct lines ¡ª was likely meant to represent three. If so, four was most likely a cross over an X, making an eight-pointed star. Aaron had no idea what five, six, or anything higher would be. ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Mac said, setting a flat metal plate on the counter, then scooping the gems into a small bowl made of dark stone. ¡°Besides, the greater wand doesn¡¯t just have added functions, it¡¯s also more durable. That means longer between adjustments or recharging.¡± Mac placed the bowl on the metal plate, the gemstones inside tinkling pleasantly. Runes appeared on the plate and began to glow with a soft white light, the bowl matched suit soon after, then the gems themselves began to glow with the same light. After a few seconds, the glow around each precious stone changed to match the gem¡¯s color. That seemed to satisfy Mac, because she lifted the bowl and poured the gems into a small drawer behind the counter. ¡°Fair enough,¡± Albert said, setting the gold coin on the counter. He slid the wand¡¯s long, thin box into his dimensional storage and smiled at Aaron. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to see how you handle this thing.¡± ¡°Honestly? Same,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Why wait?¡± Kiara asked. ¡°Mac has a very excellent testing chamber and it will give you a chance to get a feel for how to use it. I doubt you¡¯ve had much chance to play with wands working with numbers.¡± ¡°It¡¯s true, I¡¯ve never had the chance to try using a wand,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Sure,¡± Mac said. ¡°Come on back.¡± She turned and walked away from them down the small hallway behind the counter while Kiara led them around the side of her shop. A panel of the wall slid open at their approach and Mac beckoned them inside. For a moment, Aaron felt the same disorientation he¡¯d experienced at the stairs down to the Goblin Market when he glanced towards the front of the shop. They couldn¡¯t have been more than ten feet away, but it was somehow at least twice that. The sensation passed almost before Aaron was even aware of it. The area behind the shop was open but divided into two sections by a wall. The section closest to the front was a workshop ¡ª likely where Mac worked on her trade ¡ª and the one at the rear was a target range. The space had definitely been modified by dimensional magic; the targets went out to a range of fifty feet, which was easily three times the width of Mac¡¯s storefront. ¡°Your wand isn¡¯t restricted so you should be able to use it without needing to attune it, although it will be a little more difficult,¡± Mac explains. ¡°All you have to do is aim and focus on the specific thing you want the wand to do, then it should do it.¡± Albert had removed the box from his pouch and set it on the counter marking the edge of the range. Aaron slid the wand out of the velvet lining of the box; it was nearly as white as ivory, like the lesser wand, but shot through with thin veins of a blue so pale they almost vanished against the brighter wood. The handle was wrapped in bands of soft and supple leather that gave it just enough cushion to be comfortable. Aaron rolled the wand in his fingers and let it rest in his hand, finding a grip on it that would be good for him. ¡°So it does beams of hot, cold, and electricity, bolts of electricity, and, uh, stone darts. Is that right?¡± Aaron asked. Mac nodded. ¡°Basically, yes, although if you want to try the temperature beams, you¡¯ll need to have at least a rough idea how hot or cold you want it.¡± Aaron nodded and held his new wand upright, considering what he wanted the wand to do. This was aiming practice as much as training in how to use a wand, so the best choice would probably be the stone darts since they¡¯d test accuracy and precision best. He could always adjust with a beam, as long as it kept going for a couple seconds. He had decided and so, setting aside his giddiness at his first attempt at using magic ¡ª with an actual magic wand! ¡ª Aaron leveled it at the targets and tried to fire an obsidian dart. Nothing happened. He tried again, but with no more success. It took him several tries to finally fire a shaft of black stone and he was so surprised when he did he missed his target by a mile. There was a lot of well-meaning advice and some good-natured ribbing as Aaron continued making attempts for another fifteen minutes, but he was struggling to get the hang of it and only managed to conjure a dart every fourth or fifth attempt. ¡°It takes some getting used to,¡± Kiara eventually said, ¡°but you¡¯ll figure out what works for you with some more practice.¡± They gave their thanks to the wandmaker and took their leave. With all their necessary purchases taken care of, they decided to meander the market for a bit and do some window shopping. It also gave Aaron a chance to ask a question that had been bugging him for a while. From things the trio had said, Aaron had built the impression his security detail usually did some kind of exploration or treasure hunting. After their brief conversation with Kweeble, the gnome who sold extra-dimensional storage, he also suspected it was something done underground. Even what they called themselves, delvers, fit both those meanings pretty well. But it seemed ludicrous ¡ª even more ludicrous than all the other ludicrous things he¡¯d learned about in the past few days ¡ª that it could mean what he thought it meant. Surely, it was just a brain filled up with wild and fanciful ideas from video games and fantasy novels. Right? Still¡­ if he never asked, he¡¯d never know. ¡°You guys keep saying I¡¯m going to go delving with you. I get that it¡¯s a cover story, but what does ¡®delving¡¯ mean?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what the three of us usually do,¡± Griffin said. ¡°It¡¯s sorta like our job, I guess.¡± Before Aaron could give the big man any guff over what a vaguebooking kind of non-answer that was and ask him to clarify with some god damned specifics, each of his companions took out their phones. Why didn¡¯t I get a message, too? he wondered It didn¡¯t feel great to be left out, but Aaron had only met these people yesterday and he had to remind himself they weren¡¯t his friends, they were his security detail. He might feel like they could be friends, but they were still doing a job and they had lives outside of keeping him safe. It chaffed a bit, nevertheless. Aaron¡¯s fear of missing out evaporated quickly. Albert breathed out a curse and his escorts exchanged serious glances. They scanned their surroundings in a way that was more notable than their usual subtle methods; they were actively looking for threats, no longer bothering to maintain the pretense of being shoppers out to the market. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Maybe nothing, maybe trouble,¡± Griffin said. They fell into a more guarded escort formation and picked up their pace as they moved through the market. Albert was in front of Aaron, Griffin behind, and Kiara to the side. They moved briskly, keeping a wall on Aaron¡¯s other side as often as possible so no angle would be fully exposed. ¡°Our people are detecting a bunch of divinations being thrown at known drakus around the city; some have even spotted people tailing them,¡± Kiara said quietly. ¡°There¡¯s a chance the people who sent the assassins know you¡¯re in town and are on the hunt.¡± Chapter 47 - Pursuit The security detail talked as they moved through the Goblin Market, their tone serious, professional, and lacking much of the flair each of them usually brought to the conversation. That change, as much as anything, told Aaron just how serious the situation was. ¡°We need to get back home,¡± Albert said. ¡°It¡¯s as protected as it can be short of stationing an army outside.¡± ¡°Options?¡± Kiara asked. ¡°Can¡¯t walk back to the car ¡ª we¡¯d be sitting ducks on the street for that long ¡ª but it¡¯s almost half a mile back to Grand Street and a quarter mile from 7th Avenue to the diner,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Alternatives?¡± Griffin shook his head, frowning. ¡°Subway¡¯s the best option. Cabs, ride-shares, and the bus are all too vulnerable, especially if we¡¯re assuming our position can be compromised.¡± Kiara¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°What about a pickup?¡± ¡°Too risky with our current info,¡± Albert said. ¡°A larger force means more chances for the enemy to get eyes on and less mobility from start to finish.¡± ¡°Not to mention we¡¯d have to wait somewhere to rendezvous,¡± Griffin added. ¡°What about less conventional routes or methods?¡± ¡°The underground is the only decent alternative,¡± Albert said. ¡°Without knowing more about who¡¯s on our ass, I wouldn¡¯t trust it. They might be against us on this.¡± ¡°The three of us are rarely in the city since we¡¯re usually out delving. That might work in our favor and get us overlooked,¡± Griffin suggested. Albert disagreed. ¡°Even if they¡¯re taking a shotgun approach trying to track every drakus in town, whoever is behind it is likely to be looking for newcomers.¡± Kiara listened to their thoughts, then let out a long, slow breath. ¡°We¡¯ll take the train back to the car. It¡¯s the most expedient and most adaptable plan. We can adjust on the move as needed.¡± They moved with purpose through the subterranean mall ¡ª fast, but not fast enough to draw attention in a city infamous for its hustle and bustle ¡ª and they reached the staircase leading back up to the public as they finalized their plans. Kiara stopped them before heading up the stairs, where Albert pulled out the case from Mac¡¯s shop. ¡°Take your wand,¡± he said, removing it from the case and passing it to Aaron. ¡°Remember: you only need to focus on the specific thing you want the wand to do. You haven¡¯t got the knack for it yet to rely on it fully, but it¡¯s better to have you armed than not.¡± ¡°It¡¯s about using your intent to influence the aether channeled through the wand, so it¡¯s like a really simplified version of casting magic that takes very little on your part. It¡¯s not hard, but it¡¯s not exactly simple, either,¡± Kiara added. Aaron slipped the wand into the front pocket of his hoodie, cursing that they didn¡¯t have the time to attune the Pocket Dimension Kweeble sold them let alone the wand. The mystic rod was too long to be put anywhere comfortably except the big pocket of his sweatshirt. I¡¯ll have to be mindful of it so it doesn¡¯t fall out, Aaron told himself. ¡°Don¡¯t use it in front of normies unless you absolutely have to or you can do it without them seeing the magic discharge,¡± Griffin concluded. ¡°Let¡¯s roll.¡± With a last bit of advice from Albert to ¡°play it cool,¡± the four drakus took the stairs back to the regular mall and began their first short trek over surface streets to the subway station. Aaron¡¯s old, anxious habit of watching for things that might be a threat served him well on the brief walk along the busy streets, but nothing struck him as out of place or especially threatening. ¡°We¡¯ve got a tail,¡± Albert informed them a couple minutes into the walk, effectively deflating Aaron¡¯s ego. ¡°Can we lose them?¡± Kiara asked. Griffin shook his head. ¡°Not in Chinatown, not well. If we start bobbing and weaving through alleys and side streets here, we¡¯re asking to get boxed in and jumped.¡± ¡°We stay the course,¡± Kiara decided. It only took a few minutes after they spotted the tail to reach the subway station. Rush hour was in full swing and the station was busy with commuters, yet the teeming bulk of humanity largely gave them an ample berth. Occasionally, Aaron noticed, someone would shoot an unfriendly glance their way, though he had no idea why. Their group moved to one end of the platform, where the crowd kept a distance of several feet from them. Albert crowded in close to them and spoke under his breath. ¡°There¡¯s at least one more.¡± ¡°Start thinking about contingencies,¡± Kiara said. Griffin sighed. ¡°I really don¡¯t want to throw down on the train.¡± ¡°Neither do I,¡± Kiara agreed. ¡°I¡¯m inclined to bail, but I want options.¡± Their train arrived a couple minutes later and they boarded through the rearmost doors. Then, for no reason Aaron could discern, they crossed the entire length of the car to the front. People continued to edge away from them, though there was little space in the car to move more than a few inches. This led to them having the small benches at the front to themselves, the people sitting there quickly moving away to give them space. ¡°Okay, what the hell is going on with people avoiding us and shooting us dirty looks?¡± Aaron asked. Albert laughed his wheezy laugh. ¡°A little illusion I threw over us when we got to the station; people will generally give a lot of space to a gaggle of drug-addled hobos who stink to holy hell.¡± ¡°Who are the tails?¡± Kiara asked, all business. ¡°Blue hoodie with a magazine,¡± Albert answered. ¡°And the blonde in the yellow blouse.¡± Aaron scanned the car and spotted them pretty easily, even with all the straphangers. The guy in the blue hoodie was halfway down the train, reading The New Yorker. He looked about as normal and unremarkable as a person could and was paying them absolutely no attention. The blonde was even better at her job. She was further down the train holding a newspaper, but she had the presence of mind to react to the illusion, glancing their way every few seconds with revulsion and a hint of fear ¡ª just like everyone else in the car except the blue hoodie guy. ¡°I don¡¯t know if there are any more on us right now, but I¡¯d put money down that there will be,¡± Albert said. ¡°Soon.¡± A woman¡¯s voice announced something over a speaker in the car. Aaron couldn¡¯t hear it very well over the clattering rumble and screech of the train, but he caught the word ¡®Broadway.¡¯ An animated map made of LED lights near the roof scrolled and Aaron saw that the next station was Broadway-Lafayette. The train coasted to a stop with a final shudder. When the doors slid open, someone at the pair in the middle ¡ª a teenager, Aaron thought ¡ª popped into the train and shouted. ¡°Baba Booey! Baba Booey! Baba Booey!¡± There was a tinkling pop! and the car filled with the foulest stench Aaron had ever encountered. The overwhelming funk of excrement, bile, and other unknown foulness hit his nose and caused him to retch ¡ª and he wasn¡¯t alone. The commuters waiting to board the train were no fools and immediately went looking for other cars after the stink bomb exploded, clearing the way for the passengers already on board to make good their own escape. When the train began to move again, it was mostly empty. But only mostly. Five other people remained in the car with them. Each of them, like Aaron¡¯s protectors, were seemingly unfazed by the reeking cloud filling the enclosed space. ¡°It¡¯s an illusion,¡± Griffin quietly told him. ¡°Focus on your own senses and you should be able to pierce it.¡± That was probably great advice, but Aaron was having a hell of a time following it. He tried to concentrate, but the reek invaded his nostrils and completely disrupted his focus. Was it magic that made it so bad? Or had they found a combination of stenches that were the worst of the worst? He could feel the tingle of the odor¡¯s particulates trying to crawl down his sinuses into his throat and his eyes were itching, threatening to water. He swallowed hard against the feeling, pushing it back and stifling his growing frustration with it. This is life or death, Aaron, so get your shit together, he admonished himself. His companions had risen from their seats when the stink bomb went off, as had Aaron, but where he had reeled from the stench and fallen back onto the hard plastic bench, they now stood, facing the five strangers in the empty subway car. Kiara was a couple steps ahead, less than ten feet between her and the nearest of the strangers. Griffin stood to her left, his bulk shielding Aaron from being an easy target. Albert was on Kiara¡¯s right, but he had his back to the rest of the car and was performing a series of complicated gestures hidden from the strangers¡¯ view by his own body. Kiara took another step forward, stopping short of the doors at their end of the train. She looked over each of the five people still on the train, sizing them up. The height difference alone ¡ª most of the strangers had at least five inches on her ¡ª would have been almost farcical in any other situation. There was nothing comical about this situation. The promise of imminent violence was etched in every line of Kiara¡¯s body. ¡°Why are you riding our asses?¡± she called out, her voice easily filling the mostly-empty train car. ¡°You dicks got a problem with drakus going fucking shopping, now?¡± One of the strangers ¡ª the blonde in the yellow blouse ¡ª approached, stopping a couple feet from Kiara. She raised a hand and ran it through the air between them. Ripples appeared around her fingers, revealing a transparent wall of purple energy standing between them and their pursuers. Aaron squeezed his eyes tightly shut, frustration churning in his gut. Frustration, not anger; Aaron didn¡¯t get angry. But he was effectively hobbled by a stench while Albert, Griffin, and Kiara had stepped up to protect him. Even if the five other people didn¡¯t know for sure that he was their quarry, his three guardians were still sticking their necks out. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I will not be helpless, Aaron told himself. The shame of being overwhelmed swept through Aaron¡¯s mind like a strong breeze, blowing the stench and its distraction out of his conscious awareness. His perception of the world condensed into a pinpoint, a tiny picture of the world around him seen through a long tunnel, and he started to feel cold all over. His senses honed in on so many extraneous details of the scene around him ¡ª his eyes darted over every inch of the cabin, his ears thrummed at every shift of footing or clatter of the train, and his own body suddenly felt too present. His clothes, even the weight and lay of his hair, were an electric presence of sensory input. Each sense was a rapidly-moving radio telescope, taking in every bit of data and processing it into his awareness. He felt far, far away from the scene ¡ª more like an observer than a participant ¡ª which was as unnerving as it was empowering. Until, of course, he realized that the flood of sensory information no longer included that malodorous funk and he could actually think. Only he wasn¡¯t thinking, not really. He was simply assessing each threat in the train car and waiting. In the back of Aaron¡¯s mind ¡ª where rational thought hadn¡¯t been overwhelmed ¡ª a seed of concern began to grow. It had been a long time since he¡¯d been in a situation with the threat of real violence, but he remembered. He knew the kind of response he was prone to when he was truly afraid. He needed to get his thoughts out of that box, to regain conscious control over his decisions instead of letting instincts dictate his actions. ¡°We¡¯re just delvers, dude,¡± Kiara said across the barrier. ¡°We don¡¯t go in for all this intrigue bullshit or whatever the hell it is, so why are you on our asses?¡± She was met with silence from their pursuers, so she turned back to Aaron, Albert, and Griffin, hefting her little magic cube on her palm in front of her so they could see its glowing runes. ¡°Do we throw down or bail?¡± she asked. ¡°I like our odds against five,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Ring the bell after Washington Square and put on the belt at Herald.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t stay five, especially if they think we have whatever they¡¯re after,¡± Albert said. ¡°I say we bail before we¡¯re out of the Village.¡± ¡°Can we get off the train at a station?¡± ¡°We can¡¯t do it clean with so many on our asses,¡± Albert said. ¡°And we risk getting penned in up on the streets.¡± ¡°If we¡¯re forced to use the streets while we still have tails, that means calling in backup, and that means escalation,¡± Griffin said. ¡°I think we probably want to avoid that.¡± Kiara mulled over her options until the train slowed to pull into the station. Once again, Aaron couldn¡¯t decipher more than about a quarter of what was announced through the speakers, but the map in the car showed they were arriving at West 4th Street-Washington Square. There was a minor commotion as commuters waiting to step onto the train recoiled from the fug of illusory stench and went to seek other, less smelly compartments. Three people, however, ignored the smell and boarded, bringing the number of enemies up to eight. ¡°There¡¯ll be more at the next station,¡± Albert guessed. ¡°Once they have us three-to-one, they¡¯ll make their move.¡± ¡°Then we move before the next station,¡± Kiara said. Tension was accumulating in Aaron¡¯s body like ice on a windshield in a blizzard. His jaw and shoulders were tight and a trembling cold sensation spread from his stomach up his spine. None of these were good signs. He didn¡¯t know what the plan to get off the train while it was moving was ¡ª and honestly didn¡¯t want to think about it too hard ¡ª but taking action would be better than sitting there doing nothing. Perhaps worse than even the jangling of Aaron¡¯s nerves was the fact that their pursuers weren¡¯t idle. As soon as the train began to roll, they started performing magic. Some of their efforts must have been directed at the invisible barrier, because it sporadically flared or shimmered but otherwise remained intact. Nothing else they were doing had any visible effect as far as Aaron could tell. His anxiety shot up a few notches and the impulse to lash out ¡ª maybe catch them off guard ¡ª grew. That¡¯s the dumbest idea you¡¯ve had in a while, he told himself. They¡¯re not some schoolyard bullies you can take by surprise; they¡¯re probably hardened killers. Aaron stood up. He had no plan to do anything specific, he just needed to bleed off some nervous energy. His face felt tight ¡ª stiff, and frowning ¡ª but at least it kept his fear from showing. If he was glad of something in that moment, it was that neither friend nor foe could see how scared he was. It was some small solace that, if things turned violent, they wouldn¡¯t know how much his actions were driven by barely-contained terror. Griffin turned to him and spoke quietly ¡ª not a whisper, but softly enough it was somewhat difficult hearing him. The big man paused when he got a look at Aaron¡¯s face, but he didn¡¯t comment on it. ¡°In about thirty seconds, things are going to get hectic. Pay it no mind,¡± he said. ¡°What I need you to do is open that door between the benches, step out onto the gangway, and wait for me. I¡¯ll be right behind you.¡± Aaron had questions, obviously, that could be asked about what came after that, but he was pretty sure he knew the most likely answer and he didn¡¯t particularly want to think about it. Besides, he didn¡¯t trust his voice to work with all the tension in his jaw and neck. He was pretty sure he wouldn¡¯t vomit if he opened his mouth, but not sure enough, so he just nodded. Thankfully, Aaron didn¡¯t get long to ruminate on what they were about to do because Griffin was true to his word and half a minute passed quickly. There was no lead up, no mounting tension. One second everyone in the train was continuing their preparations or glaring at each other across the empty space dividing them, the next pandemonium erupted. Literally. Tendrils of smoke burst out of the ceiling or, more accurately, from the handrails near the ceiling. There were more than a dozen of them ¡ª long strands of darkness as thick as a rope ¡ª reaching out and latching onto the eight people on the other side of the mystic barrier. The fingers of darkness were more solid than they looked and they began yanking and tripping any of the pursuers they could grasp, dragging them into walls or hoisting them into the ceiling. Judging by the resonant clanging of the impacts against the steel of the train car, the shades had some strength behind them, too. Aaron watched as weapons were drawn and spells began to materialize from the eight strangers under assault. Fires blazed, electricity crackled, and still more magic manifested at the other end of the car. It was astonishing. All Aaron could do was stand there, hand on the wand in his pocket and unsure whether he should act. His attention was dragged away from the spectacle when Griffin slapped a big hand on his shoulder. Not hard, but not gently, either. Oh right, the door, Aaron reminded himself. He stood up and stepped over to the door in the wall beside him. It was, to his surprise, unlocked, and slid right open. The sound level jumped significantly and immediately as the thin barrier between him and the tracks was removed. Aaron stepped out onto the gangway. Once, when he was young, Aaron took a train ride with his mother. He had passed between cars a couple times on that trip, but it had been a very different experience. Those had clearly been designed with the movement of passengers in mind; these had clearly not. The gangway was barely large enough for him to stand on and he wouldn¡¯t exactly call the safety railing safe. Another major difference between that trip and this one ¡ª that train ride had been through California¡¯s Central Valley. Aaron had watched the low hills and farmland roll by. This train had walls of concrete and steel rushing past just a few inches away on either side. Leaping from this tiny, swaying platform into that very narrow space, with an entire car still passing by behind him, wasn¡¯t the most enticing of ideas. Fortunately, Aaron didn¡¯t get much time to think about how much he hated this plan. Griffin stepped onto the gangway right after Aaron did, wrapping one of his arms under Aaron¡¯s armpits, and stepping up onto the flimsy safety rail. He did it all in one smooth motion. The big man glanced up the side of the train and then, without warning or preamble, stepped off. Aaron wanted to scream ¡ª a fun and delightful noise where fury and terror contended over the tenor and tone of the very dignified sounds a body could make in the extremities of terror ¡ª but the sound stuck in his throat. The tunnel was dark, but not pitch black; there were signal lights, the light from the train car itself, and dim lamps set into the walls so maintenance people would be able to see. In that gloom, Aaron saw Griffin reach out with his free hand and grab onto a great steel beam standing upright in the tunnel between two sets of tracks. Their momentum came to a jarring halt and their feet hit the ground with surprisingly little impact. Aaron barely noticed ¡ª his heart was hammering in his chest and ears while his breaths were little more than quick, ragged gasps. ¡°Blink a few times and force yourself to take a deep breath,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Try to remind yourself that even if you¡¯d been hit by an oncoming train, it probably wouldn¡¯t have hurt you too seriously.¡± Before Aaron could blurt out any of the myriad of friendly, gentle, and non-vulgar retorts that were springing into his mind like a wall of error messages, Albert spoke up from his other side, causing an entirely new logjam in his thinking process. Aaron hadn¡¯t even noticed Albert and Kiara landing beside him in the handful of seconds since Griffin had carried him off the train. ¡°We need to move,¡± the smaller man said. ¡°Best case scenario: the magic back there lasts another minute until it dissipates to avoid being seen in the station. After that, we¡¯re going to be getting spit roasted by whoever these fucks are.¡± ¡°Gross,¡± Kiara said, but she quickly took the lead heading down the tunnel in the opposite direction of the train they¡¯d left behind. They moved quickly ¡ª but cautiously ¡ª across the tracks to an outer wall of the tunnel. All three of Aaron¡¯s guardians made sure to point out the third rail and advise him not to touch it. That included not stepping on the thin plank covering the top of the metal, which wasn¡¯t meant to support a person¡¯s weight according to Albert. ¡°Electricity might not cause any serious injury thanks to our nature,¡± Albert explained, ¡°but it stings like a bitch and it can make you crap your pants.¡± Threats of immediate, involuntary incontinence aside, their trek through the tunnel was only a few hundred feet. For all its shortness, it was still a slow and harrowing journey. Trains frequently screeched past them in the tunnel. Each time, they had to cram themselves into spaces with enough clearance to avoid getting clipped. There were many nooks and crannies that offered safety, but Aaron quickly learned that some were deceptively shallow. Those were marked with white and red stripes, but they could be a pain to see in the dark. One of those misleading depressions was their destination. There was very little space along the walls on either side of it for at least twenty feet, meaning they¡¯d have to cover the whole distance in one go. They stopped in a relatively larger space so they could go over the plan. ¡°The entrance we¡¯re aiming for is just ahead,¡± Albert said, pointing at the nook several dozen feet away. ¡°We¡¯ll go one at a time. I¡¯ll take the lead so I can open the door, then Aaron, Kiara, and Griffin. Wait for a train and move right on its tail; that¡¯ll give you the most time to make the crossing.¡± Albert started moving almost before the next train finished passing. After his first step over the track rail, he covered the distance in three impressive leaps. The small man was quick as hell and sure-footed, each ¡®step¡¯ falling nearly square in the two or three feet of space between each raised tie. Well holy shit, Aaron thought, I hope they don¡¯t expect me to move like that. Once again, Aaron didn¡¯t have long to worry over the situation. The next train came barely a minute later and he had to psyche himself up to go as soon as it passed. The smell of filth and decay, the metallic rattle of trains, even the scurrying of rats nearby; all of it fell away as Aaron concentrated on what he had to do. He didn¡¯t watch the subway, like he might with a freight train at a railroad crossing. Instead, Aaron focused on the far wall. He hoped it would be a better way to gauge when he should move than watching the train itself and trying to guess when it would end. As the train rattled past, his field of vision was filled with the silver blur of the moving cars. When the end of the train was past and clear of him, his view changed to the dark concrete on the other side of the tracks. Aaron dropped down to the tracks a little awkwardly. He turned towards Albert and began taking uneven strides ¡ª one long step to get to the tie, one short one to step over ¡ª to cover the distance. As much as he was tempted, he didn¡¯t try any fancy jumps using his absurd strength. It took Aaron ten or fifteen seconds to cover the thirty-or-so feet, but it felt like much longer to him. In the depths of the tunnel, the tracks were recessed in shadow and could be hard to see, so each step was as much about feeling as it was about looking. On top of that, trains were passing on other tracks and in other tunnels nearby; each rumble and clank in the passage made his heart skip thinking it could be the one bearing down on him. He grit his teeth and refused to let it stall his progress. When he reached the nook in the wall, he found Albert holding open a door that appeared to be made of stone or, more likely, concrete. ¡°Wait just inside,¡± Albert said. Aaron stepped through, footsteps slapping loudly against a floor that was slightly wet. Behind the door was a narrow tunnel made of mossy brick lit by dingy, yellow, incandescent bulbs in rounded cages made of thick steel grilles. Everything in the passage spoke of age, perhaps being as much as a hundred years old. ¡°What is this place?¡± he asked. ¡°Ekwiyakink, the hidden borough.¡± Chapter 48 - The Hidden Borough Aaron had so many questions about this so-called hidden borough ¡ª not least of which was, ¡°What the hell is up with that name?¡± ¡ª but he trusted he¡¯d get answers soon enough. For now, he waited for Griffin and Kiara to join them in the hidden tunnel. It took another couple minutes for both to traverse the tracks to the secret door, but they arrived soon enough. When the door closed behind them, Kiara gently placed a hand on Aaron¡¯s arm. ¡°Put it away,¡± she said. ¡°You don¡¯t want the gatekeepers any more on edge than they already will be.¡± It took a second for Aaron to register what she was talking about, until he realized he was holding his elemental wand. I must have drawn it without even thinking about it, he realized. Even with how he had struggled using the wand, having a weapon in hand when faced with a threat provided a kind of comfort. It was a false, dangerous kind of comfort, more likely to lull him into making bad decisions than be of any actual use, but a comfort nonetheless. The wand went back into his pocket and they continued on. Griffin took the lead as they started down the sloping tunnel. It was so narrow they had to move single file, with Kiara and Albert taking positions behind Aaron. ¡°So this hidden borough ¡ª Akwinky kwink, I think you called it ¡ª what, uh, what is it?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Ekwiyakink,¡± Albert laughed. ¡°It¡¯s a Lenape phrase; it means under the ground.¡± Griffin snorted. ¡°It¡¯s a heavily anglicized version of a Lenape phrase. The original is pronounced something like ¨¨kwii hakink.¡± ¡°Ekwiyakink is a series of underground settlements connected by an elaborate warren of tunnels. It¡¯s mostly goblins and orcs down here, but there¡¯s a fair number of dwarves, gnomes, and other eidolons,¡± Kiara explained. ¡°Some settlements won¡¯t even interact with topsiders, let alone allow them in, but those are usually on the deeper levels or out near the fringes,¡± Griffin added. ¡°What do they do down here?¡± Griffin shrugged. ¡°They live, like anyone else. There¡¯s a lot of mining and an academy that mostly caters to the locals, but a majority of the industry is based around farming.¡± ¡°Farming?¡± Aaron repeated. ¡°Like mushroom farming? Or something more like hydroponics?¡± Griffin chuckled. ¡°No, no. Although they do keep themselves fed, when I say farming I mean dungeon farming.¡± Aaron knew what it sounded like Griffin was saying but didn¡¯t know if he believed what he was hearing. It fit all of his preconceptions and the hints he¡¯d pieced together from things the trio had said, but he had struggled to bring himself to believe it. ¡°When you say dungeon¡­¡± he said, the question implied. ¡°¡®Dungeon¡¯ is a catch-all term for the many abandoned, ruined, or forgotten places in the world,¡± Kiara explained. ¡°They¡¯re usually full of monsters and shit, but they often hold treasures, as well..¡± ¡°That¡¯s what we usually do ¡ª explore and loot dungeons,¡± Albert added. If someone had forced Aaron to make a list of things he thought were least likely to exist in the secret world of mythical beings, actual dungeons would have been right at the top. Time travel would probably be higher, but even that was in jeopardy with the new knowledge that there was an industry based on dungeon crawling, of all things. It was a popular trope in video games and fantasy novels, an exaggerated form of colonialism¡¯s plundering of other culture¡¯s ancient monuments. Dungeons presented an easy, amoral source of drama, growth, and treasure, so no wonder it had become a staple of the genre. But in the real world? Come on¡­ ¡°Assuming you¡¯re not screwing with me ¡ª who built these dungeons? How the hell do normal people not know about them? Why aren¡¯t there historical documents and all that?¡± ¡°History is longer and more complicated than you think,¡± Griffin said with a shrug. ¡°And they do know about them; some of them, at least,¡± Kiara added. ¡°Stonehenge, a lot of pyramids all over, and many others. Think about it like this: if you read an eyewitness account of a unicorn from the 3rd century, would you assume the person who wrote it ¡ª a homo sapien, like everyone you¡¯ve ever known ¡ª had the same capacity for observation and reason as we do? Or would you assume they were a superstitious rube whose eyes and brain were somehow less developed than our own?¡± Aaron didn¡¯t answer as they walked, giving Kiara¡¯s question serious consideration. Neurologically speaking, the human brain had stopped evolving somewhere between twenty and a hundred millennia before the development of agriculture. In theory, the human being who sowed the first field had roughly the same capacity for reason and learning as anyone in the time since. But do I believe that? he asked himself. The answer was a resounding no; or it would have been, until a few days ago. Now, his perspective was much less certain. Aaron wondered how mankind had devolved to be so ignorant of the world around them. His credulity might not encompass the truly outlandish ¡ª Aliens building the pyramids comes to mind, he thought ¡ª but other phenomena? Sure. People had been writing about supernatural creatures and other occurrences for as long as writing existed. Much of it was written as history or a record of oral traditions. Mythology and religious texts were probably the best known form of records like that, but there were plenty of writings describing similar concepts that would have been contemporaneously treated as secular or academic. Until a few centuries ago, descriptions and accounts of magic or monsters had been written about by scholars and historians as if they were indisputably real. From what Aaron remembered, such works were based on second- and thirdhand accounts more often than not, but that wasn¡¯t universal. Griffin¡¯s comment ¡ª that history was longer than Aaron thought ¡ª presented even more troubling possibilities. How can time be longer than time? he wondered. Before Aaron could think of what he wanted to ask about first, however, their group arrived at a dead end. The tunnel was taller there, fifteen or twenty feet high, and the stone was engraved with an elaborate arch. It¡¯s like the Doors of Durin outside of Moria, except it¡¯s not glowing, Aaron thought. ¡°Fuck off, humies,¡± a disembodied voice said, echoing in the tunnel. Kiara held up a gold coin, turning it so the star engraved on it was facing the arch. ¡°We want to bargain for passage. We¡¯re delvers and are known to the Council.¡± ¡°Passage¡¯ll cost more¡¯n that,¡± the rough, sourceless voice said. ¡°This is just to get in the door,¡± Kiara replied. There was a long pause, then a small square in the center of the stone arch ¡ª about three feet off the floor and barely six inches across ¡ª vanished. A green hand was thrust through the opening, palm up. It had long fingers with too many knuckles and dark nails. Kiara dropped the coin in the open palm, which closed around it, then disappeared back through the opening. A moment later, the stone within the arch ceased to exist, just like the smaller square opening had moments before. Behind it stood a person, though they were unlike any person Aaron had ever seen. Short, green, and with a large, bat-like head, the person in front of them was well under five feet tall, had pale green skin, and solid red eyes. That¡¯s got to be a goblin, right? Aaron thought. Too short for an orc, too bestial ¡ª and green ¡ª for a dwarf or gnome. He ¡ª Aaron guessed the goblin was male based on voice and general appearance, but had no way to be sure and it would have been inappropriate to ask ¡ª was wearing thick leather armor and holding a spear with a metal hook at the base of the pointed blade. ¡°I¡¯ll take you to the town hall,¡± the gatekeeper said. ¡°But I can¡¯t make no promises about a pass.¡± The goblin took a step back and Aaron got his first good look behind the arch; it didn¡¯t offer much in the way of subterranean architectural grandeur. Rather than opening onto a settlement, the stone door admitted them into a long, narrow antechamber ¡ª one obviously built for defensive purposes. There were three other guards in the room, all goblins, one by the arch near them and two on either side of a similar portal at the far end of the room. Tall, thin embrasures in the walls would allow defenders to fire or stab intruders trying to cross the passage with little risk to themselves. The door at the other end of the gatehouse opened onto an avenue carved right into the bedrock. The street had high, gracefully-curving ceilings with elaborate arches crisscrossing above. The street was broad enough that two cars could have driven down it with room to spare on either side. The buildings were unlike anything Aaron had ever heard of. Rather than being distinct structures, each had been carved right into the same stone as the street and roof. It was as if the tunnel that served as a road had been bored into the earth first, then warrens and dens had been burrowed into the stone walls. The structures weren¡¯t distinguished by different materials or separated by space, but by another unorthodox ¡ª to Aaron¡¯s sensibilities ¡ª method. The fa?ades weren¡¯t unadorned, uniform stone surfaces; they had been carved, engraved, embossed, embellished, enhanced, and otherwise decorated in so many ways Aaron didn¡¯t have words for all of them. The designs weren¡¯t limited to stonework, either; many of the surfaces were brightly colored with paints or mosaic tilework. Without vertical separation, the structures were not limited to the same width on each level. As a result, the walls looked like a complicated Tetris game where almost all the pieces were straight. A variety of ladders, lifts, ramps, and stairways granted access to each unit and these, too, were often incorporated into the exterior decorations. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Their goblin escort led them down this broad, chaotic street. They passed a number of lesser streets branching off the main avenue but they stayed on the wider road. Soon, their group arrived at a crossroads with another major boulevard, where a large plaza sat as the hub. Along three sides of the square, the ground floors were recessed about fifteen feet into the stone to make space for arcades supported by colonnades of intricately-worked columns. Along the fourth side, where their road would have continued, a single building spanned the entire width of the square. The design of that broad building was stark and dull compared to the others. It was fronted by a row of pillars and columns, but the only other decoration was a uniform coat of pale red paint. What it lacked in flamboyance, the structure made up in grandeur ¡ª it was the only building Aaron had seen so far that had a discernible roof. In this case, a broad dome that covered a third of the building¡¯s width. The stone had been cut away until there was a hundred feet of empty space above the building to create this unique feature. ¡°Administrative hub, library, barracks, and more, all rolled into one,¡± their guide said with a hint of pride. ¡°Nothing as chaotic and disorganized as you humies have topside.¡± They were led through a pair of large, bronze doors in the center of the building. Although the doors must have weighed hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds, they swung open with quiet ease. From there, they were shown to a small office not far from the entrance. A gleaming brass plaque affixed to the door announced the office¡¯s purpose, but it was in a foreign script Aaron didn¡¯t recognize. The alphabet ¡ª if it was an alphabet ¡ª was made up of slashing lines and diacritical marks, which made Aaron think of a mixture of Korean hangul and the Norse futhark. Inside, a row of teller windows straight out of the 1940s lined one wall. A small chair sat in front of each window and more lined the wall. Of the half-dozen teller windows, three were staffed, two by goblins and one by (Aaron assumed) an orc. Other than the staff and Aaron¡¯s group, there was no one else in the office. Three pairs of eyes turned to the quartet of humans and the guard with them, then two smaller pairs turned to the orc. The orc ¡ª who had long, dark hair in thick braids, thick, stubby tusks, and a powerful build that didn¡¯t match a setting of such bureaucratic banality ¡ª let out a long-suffering sigh at the look from his coworkers that clearly said it was his turn. The orc raised a meaty hand to gesture them over. ¡°Looks like I can take you over here,¡± the orc said in a surprisingly soft voice. Kiara took the seat in front of the window and the other three milled around behind her, trying not to loom awkwardly but also not wanting to be excluded. Their guide leaned against the wall by the door. ¡°We¡¯d like to acquire passage to the northern end of the Theatre District,¡± she said. The orc grunted. ¡°That¡¯s less than three miles¡­ You do know we don¡¯t charge by distance, right? Are you running from trouble topside?¡± ¡°Some jerks were tailing us and tried to start shit on the train,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Is that trouble going to follow you down here?¡± Kiara shrugged. ¡°The troublemakers probably will, but not the trouble. They gave me the impression they didn¡¯t want to draw attention or mess with anyone but us.¡± ¡°What¡¯s to say you won¡¯t decide to start trouble on your own somewhere in the borough and bust up the place?¡± the orc asked. ¡°We¡¯re delvers, dude,¡± Kiara replied. ¡°We pass through Ekwiyakink often enough that causing trouble wouldn¡¯t be in our best interest.¡± The orc sighed and lifted a flat leather panel off the desk until it was standing upright, then set a small, round crystal on the desk in front of Kiara. Without prompting, she placed a hand on the crystal. It glowed softly in response. There had to be a screen of some sort on the other side of the panel because the orc appeared to be reading from it. After a moment, the teller¡¯s eyes widened slightly and his mouth opened the tiniest bit. It was a jaw drop¡¯s baby brother ¡ª not quite as large, but the resemblance was there. ¡°You¡¯re a drakus?¡± the orc asked. ¡°All of you?¡± The two goblin tellers turned to their coworker, their interest hiking from casual office eavesdropping, but other than some whispering between themselves offered no comment. The guard at the door didn¡¯t make any obvious movements, but Aaron saw his grip on the spear tighten. Kiara rolled her eyes. ¡°We¡¯re drakus, but we¡¯re not drakus drakus, y¡¯know? Like I said, we¡¯re delvers; we don¡¯t go in for all that intrigue bullshit.¡± The orc cleared his throat. ¡°My records show that your crew has three members, not four.¡± ¡°This guy¡¯s a fresh fish and wants to try something more exciting than accounting,¡± Albert said with a snort, jerking a thumb at Aaron. ¡°We were at the Goblin Market getting his gear sorted for his first delve. Come to think of it, maybe that¡¯s why these jerks are on our asses ¡ª they¡¯re hoping to jack all the shit we just bought.¡± The orc frowned ¡ª a rather menacing and fearsome sight given his facial features ¡ª but didn¡¯t comment on Albert¡¯s theory. ¡°If your new associate would touch the crystal, we can make sure he¡¯s not a criminal or previously banned from the borough.¡± Aaron leaned forward and touched the crystal like Kiara had, again causing it to emanate a soft glow. ¡°No record,¡± the orc said. ¡°Is this your first time in Ekwiyakink?¡± Aaron nodded. ¡°I¡¯m more of a homebody, but I¡¯m trying to get out of my comfort zone and try new things.¡± ¡°Your name? And are you also a drakus?¡± ¡°Aaron, and I am.¡± The orc tapped the back of the leather panel a few times, then laid it flat on the desk again. There was a long pause where he exchanged a nervous glance with the goblins in the room. ¡°A day pass will cost you one aethril,¡± he finally said. ¡°Each.¡± That was quite a bit more than any of Aaron¡¯s companions expected to pay, apparently, because it provoked an immediate commotion, the other three drakus talking over each other in a torrent of consumer outrage. ¡°An aethril?¡± ¡°That¡¯s nine times the usual cost?¡± ¡°What the hell?¡± ¡°Are you out of your mind?¡± ¡°What kind of racist bullshit is this?¡± His companions didn¡¯t seem to notice ¡ª or didn¡¯t care ¡ª but the guard who had escorted them now had both hands on the haft of his spear. Aaron might have been imagining it, but he thought the guard looked nervous, even a little scared. ¡°Listen, listen, listen,¡± the orc cried, raising his own voice to be heard over the din. ¡°I know it¡¯s a major bump in price, but you¡¯re talking about bringing trouble into the borough!¡± ¡°It¡¯s extortion!¡± Kiara fumed. ¡°You¡¯re ripping us off when you know damned well the only way there¡¯s going to be trouble in the borough is if you hold us up and fast track the assholes trying to jack us.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t ¡ª and can¡¯t ¡ª know that for sure,¡± the orc replied, though he didn¡¯t exactly project confidence. ¡°This is just an¡­ an insurance policy.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll give you insurance-¡± Kiara began. Albert cut her off by quietly putting a hand on her shoulder. He set a glittering blue gemstone down on the desk, holding it in place with one finger. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s a contingency¡­ just in case, right?¡± The residents of Ekwiyakink in the room let out a collective sigh of relief. Aaron didn¡¯t understand why they were so on edge; it wasn¡¯t like they were about to start brawling over a toll or gate fee. ¡°Yes, just in case,¡± the orc said. ¡°I¡¯m glad you understand our position.¡± Albert smiled at the orc in a way that wasn¡¯t particularly friendly. ¡°And ¡ª just in case nothing happens ¡ª I hope Ewkiyakink would show their appreciation for our efforts to keep the borough safe and apply the difference in cost as credit for future visits.¡± Their gatekeeper escort barked a hoarse laugh from near the door. ¡°A dragon and his gold are sorely parted,¡± the goblin said. The gatekeeper¡¯s mirth didn¡¯t match the energy of the rest of the people in the room. Albert was giving the orc clerk a long, hard stare ¡ª still smiling his non-smile ¡ª and Griffin and Kiara were both still pissed, too. The clerks, for their part, were carrying out a silent conversation consisting entirely of loaded glances among themselves. ¡°We could treat the payment as a deposit,¡± the orc clerk said slowly. ¡°It could be held in abeyance until you leave Ekwiyakink. If there¡¯s no incident, the difference could be applied as a credit for future visits.¡± ¡°No incident caused as a result of anyone who might be pursuing us, right?¡± Albert clarified. ¡°Yes, of course,¡± all of the clerks quickly agreed. Aaron cleared his throat. ¡°You said ¡®could.¡¯ I¡¯m sure you could do all those things, but is that what you¡¯re going to do?¡± The clerks exchanged another glance while the gatekeeper began to snicker again in the background. ¡°Of course,¡± the orc replied, clearly unhappy with his own answer. ¡°Great!¡± Albert said, taking his finger off the aether-infused sapphire. There were no contracts to sign, no drops of blood used to bind them in a mystic covenant, not even a handshake to seal the deal. Terms had been offered, negotiated, agreed on, and payment had been rendered. It was real informal, fairy tale shit. Each of the drakus had to touch the small crystal, but that was only so other checkpoints could identify them and confirm their passage, but that was it. With the bureaucracy, or lack thereof, out of the way, the gatekeeper showed them back out to the town square. ¡°Thanks for making those desk jockeys sweat. I¡¯ll be telling that story for months,¡± the goblin said, then left them with one last chuckle to return to his post. Kiara wasted no time and began to lead them to one of the avenues leading away from the square. Aaron followed, but he had questions. Again. It seemed like all he had lately were questions. ¡°What was that back there? I get that they were price-gouging, but that was¡­ tense.¡± ¡°Remember that whole thing about drakus not messing around when it comes to gold?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°Well, it¡¯s like this ¡ª drakus will spend money, give money, even risk money, and be okay with it. But we¡¯re rarely okay with losing money.¡± ¡°He means we¡¯re greedy shits and hold grudges if we think someone took our gold,¡± Albert clarified. ¡°What? Like a racial trait? I don¡¯t really buy into that kind of stuff.¡± Kiara shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s more like a deeply-ingrained perspective we get from our inherited memories; even for those who can¡¯t access them consciously.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re actual gold-hoarding Smaugs?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Lame. Super lame.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not pathological or anything, but it¡¯s a common enough theme with drakus that everyone else is aware of it,¡± Griffin said. As much as Aaron would have liked to discuss this tendency towards selfishness ¡ª and its implications ¡ª there were more pressing matters to attend to. They still needed to cover miles of distance in Ekwiyakink, get back to their car, then make their way to the apartment, all with a cadre of potential assassins of unknown origin and capability on their trail. The first problem ¡ª covering the distance back to the car ¡ª had a relatively easy solution since they were already in the hidden borough and Kiara led them to it at a brisk walk. Chapter 49 - Setting the Table Kiara took them out of the town square through one of the intersecting roads. In just a couple minutes, they arrived at a corner building that was getting quite a bit more foot traffic in and out than others nearby. A bright green awning made of wooden slats and a large sign with a few of those strange glyphs hung over the door. Inside was a local transportation hub, reminding Aaron of a small bus or train station from some little town in the 50s. The interior was simple ¡ª chairs and benches took up most of the space and a small ticket window sat at the rear of the lobby. A large sign hung next to the window in the borough¡¯s strange alphabet and several other languages, including English. It informed him the station offered travel by trolley, gondola, and ¡ª to Aaron¡¯s surprise ¡ª some kind of Futurama-style pneumatic tube system. ¡°Well, I mean¡­ we¡¯ve got to take the tube thing,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Right?¡± ¡°Time is a factor,¡± Kiara said, shaking her head. ¡°The longest tubes are only about a quarter of a mile, so we¡¯d have almost a dozen transfers along the way.¡± Griffin passed a couple silver coins to the gnome behind the counter. ¡°Four for the gondola, express to Paramount Plaza.¡± ¡°Going to see a show?¡± the gnome asked. ¡°Not today.¡± ¡°You know, the Ekwiyakink Hall of Commerce can get same-day tickets to almost any show, on or off Broadway,¡± the gnome offered. There was a long pause as all four drakus exchanged glances. Aaron was delighted to hear about this service ¡ª who wouldn¡¯t want to be able to see Broadway shows without having to plan weeks or months in advance? ¡ª but he was even more delighted to find he wasn¡¯t alone in being delighted. ¡°I actually didn¡¯t know that,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Too bad we¡¯re crunched for time.¡± ¡°We need to remember that,¡± Griffin added. ¡°I mean, you live in the city¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll write it down,¡± Albert said, going for his phone. ¡°No need, guys,¡± Aaron said, grabbing a pamphlet from a stand filled with them beside the ticket window. He held it up to the gnome. ¡°Will this have all the details; prices and schedules and all that?¡± ¡°You bet indeedy,¡± the gnome squeaked. Aaron pocketed the pamphlet while Griffin paid their fares. The clerk had them tap a small crystal on the counter, told them their gondola would be ready shortly, and directed them to Chamber 3. An exit along the rear wall took them out onto a platform unlike anything Aaron had seen before. It almost looked like a platform you might see at any busy subway or light rail station. There were several ¡®tracks,¡¯ each with a strip of pavement on either side for loading and unloading. Each track, however, housed one of the different modes of travel and that¡¯s what made it seem so odd. The first, and closest. track was the totally amazing tube thing Aaron had wanted to try. There were a dozen of them spread across the platform, in various sizes. The tubes weren¡¯t transparent and looked a great deal like the old pneumatic mail tubes Aaron had seen in movies ¡ª all copper and brass with intricate scrollwork ¡ª but scaled up until they were large enough to carry loads as big as a car or small truck. The doors were an ornate, ovoid metal panel that sealed the tube from the exterior. Only ten or twenty feet of the tubes were visible before they disappeared into the ceiling, so they could have passed for particularly ostentatious elevators if Aaron didn¡¯t know what he was looking at. The second track was a stream in a wide stone basin, fifteen or so feet across, that ran through tunnels at both ends of the platform. A twenty foot-long boat sat in the chamber, rising several feet above the waterline. It had high railings and no covering. It would have resembled the famous Venetian canal boats if not for the overlapping, articulated metal plates covering the hull or the assortment of small pipes and tubes creating a maze of connections between them. Several small piers extended about a foot over the water and a number of people ¡ª dwarves, gnomes, goblins, and orcs ¡ª were using these to step onto the gondola. Once they were boarded, the long boat shot off down the tunnel. The final track had to be the trolley. It was empty when they arrived, but not long after the gondola disappeared down its own tunnel, a tram chugged into the station. Although smaller than the famous trolley cars Aaron was familiar with from visits to San Francisco, there were so many blatantly steampunk accessories slapped onto the car that it produced an unwarranted sense of size. The hook line that extended from the top of the car didn¡¯t connect to an electrical cable, but a hazy blue beam of energy that was only visible for a few feet on either side of the connection. Perhaps the most interesting thing about the platform were the foot bridges that ferried passengers over each lane. A convoluted array of wires and tubes formed both framework and railing for the bridges, and panels of green light in ornate brass frames carried people and cargo in delicate filigree tracks through the arc of the bridge like an escalator. There was a series of arches over each passage, allowing multiple of these strange bridges to be in use at the same time. ¡°This is so steampunk,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Gnomes,¡± Albert shrugged, as if nothing more had to be said. They stepped onto one of the larger bridge platforms and were carried to the gondola platform, where a seacraft much smaller than the last one was drifting to a stop in the water. ¡°Express to Paramount Plaza!¡± a gnome sitting on a tiny poop deck in the aft of the vessel called to them. The gondola ride turned out to be a novel experience, but it wasn¡¯t all that exciting in the end. They floated at a decent pace down a series of tunnels, regularly taking small turn-offs meant to bypass the various waystations. The tunnels were lit by mystic lights lining either side of the arched ceiling, but they were no more impressive than neon or LED strips would be. It¡¯s like a giant water-slide that someone tried to discofy, Aaron thought. After ten minutes, the gondola left the isolated tunnels and stopped at a waystation very like the one they¡¯d just left. It coasted to a stop at a platform, where Aaron and his protectors stepped off and made their way to this new settlement of the hidden borough. The settlement didn¡¯t seem as large as the other, but that illusion was dispelled when they reached the town square. Three things stood out to Aaron as they crossed the plaza: the buildings in this settlement were much taller, easily twice as high as the first settlement they passed through; the majority of businesses were bars and restaurants; and, there were quite a few humans among the crowd. ¡°This place is rather lively,¡± Aaron observed. ¡°It¡¯s the Theatre District hub,¡± Albert said. ¡°The only settlement that interacts with the topside more is Wall Street.¡± The trio of protectors knew their way around and before long they were at another one of Ekwiyakin¡¯s gates, although this one was also different from the last. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The area between the internal and external gates was more like the town plaza in miniature than the lethal choke point of the previous gate. It was dozens of feet long and several hundred wide. A good deal of the space had been devoted to the business of Ekwiyakink, with cargo being moved on dollies or carts and people standing in orderly lines to speak with clerks in teller windows. Even more of the space had been taken over for socializing, however. People milled around in little pockets, talking about their favorite shows, restaurants, even which performers were sleeping with which other performers. Or director. Or writer. Or techie. And so on. Rather than fight the blazer-wearing tide of theatre geeks looking to schmooze, the citizens of Ekwiyaking had leaned into it. All the bars and restaurants in the settlement fit the theme, but there were also individual vendors circulating through the crowd hawking a variety of drinks, snacks, and other wares. Aaron was sorely tempted to buy a glossy magazine titled Monsters of the Industry: Celebrated Eidolons of Stage & Screen. Passing through the gate was a straightforward affair and it let them out into a plain concrete tunnel. That then led to a four-way intersection with signs directing them to three different exits; they read: McHale¡¯s; Church; and, Gershwin. ¡°Okay, we didn¡¯t take the silly tubes, but we¡¯ve gotta go to the Gershwin, right?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ well, you¡¯ll see,¡± Griffin said. Kiara sucked on her teeth. ¡°Church is closer to the car.¡± ¡°Gershwin is the best option for our needs,¡± Albert said. ¡°A group of five came out of the gate about a minute behind us and I don¡¯t believe in coincidences.¡± Aaron didn¡¯t know how Albert could possibly know that, but neither Griffin or Kiara gave any indication they doubted his assessment. That settled the matter and they took the tunnel marked for the Gershwin, moving at a quick pace but not quite jogging. ¡°You¡¯re thinking we use the garage?¡± Griffin asked Albert. The small man nodded. ¡°We need to get aggressive and quick or we¡¯ll wind up boxed in.¡± Kiara groaned. ¡°That garage has been trash since they changed management.¡± ¡°Trash with shit employees,¡± Griffin agreed. ¡°That¡¯s our good fortune.¡± The tunnel ended at a plain concrete wall. Albert touched one of those small identification crystals embedded in a simple metal panel, but the wall remained resolutely wall-like. ¡°Are we trapped?¡± Aaron asked, trying to sound untroubled, though not entirely successfully. Albert shook his head. ¡°Nah, the exits just take longer to open; the enchantment checks to make sure there¡¯s no normies around to ask questions.¡± No sooner had Albert finished explaining than the outline of a door appeared, as if graven into the wall itself. The wall still looked solid, save for the deep groove forming the outline, but Albert walked right through it so there had to be some kind of illusory magic involved. The door opened into a hallway that, judging by the cinder block chic and ugly green floor, was reserved for maintenance people and emergency exits. The four drakus emerged near the end of this passage, about fifteen feet from an exterior door covered in various warning signs for the building staff. Griffin went through first. They stepped out onto a narrow, one-way street. The big man¡¯s comment about the exit not quite being the Gershwin made sense immediately; the exit from the hidden borough brought them out of a building made of limestone brick, but next to it ¡ª literally two or three steps from the door ¡ª were the loading doors and stage entrance to the Gershwin Theatre. Beyond this sleek black wall of painted wood, the marquee of the theatre hung over a wide entrance for a parking garage. Griffin wasted no time leading them down that entrance lane, which ran through the entire building. He strolled up to someone wearing a different colored vest from the other valets. This stranger, probably a garage supervisor, regarded the big man coolly ¡ª until Griffin held up a folded hundred dollar bill. ¡°We need to get some stuff before our show,¡± Griffin said in a voice so laden with arrogance and condescension it bordered on caricature. ¡°If memory serves you have some obnoxious one-person-at-a-time policy but I simply don¡¯t care about that and I don¡¯t feel like being everyone¡¯s porter, so¡­¡± He looked down his nose at the valet, wiggling the cash between his fingers. ¡°I rather think my friends and I, as a collective, can manage to find our car and make our way back out in time for our dinner reservation, don¡¯t you?¡± Aaron resisted the (very) strong urge to cringe at Griffin¡¯s ¡®rich guy¡¯ persona. A thought, unbidden but familiar, popped into his head: Shit, man. I believe you¡¯d get your ass kicked saying something like that. Then again, Aaron had a stable office job. It wasn¡¯t like he made big money, but his bills were paid and the only months he worried about cash is when he¡¯d splurged too much on dumb crap. Actually, he thought, at the lowest points in my life, I would¡¯ve probably eaten shit and grinned for a hundred bucks. The valet seemed to be of a similar mind. He took the money with a shrug and pointed to an access door. ¡°Knock yourself out, chief,¡± he said, before going back about his business. And just like that, they were through a door and heading down some stairs into a valet parking garage they hadn¡¯t parked in. ¡°How long?¡± Kiara asked. ¡°I give it about two minutes until they¡¯re on us,¡± Albert answered. ¡°Maybe three.¡± Aaron¡¯s heartbeat was starting to pick up and it wasn¡¯t from the brisk walk through Ekwiyakink. He double-checked that his wand was still in the pocket of his hoodie, finding some reassurance in being armed. It seemed they had failed to fully lose the people who had followed them to the subway or, barring that, picked up another tail somehow. He couldn¡¯t be sure what other secret passages and places were hidden in New York, but he didn¡¯t think they were going into a parking garage with the intent to try shaking this new group. They moved through the garage with purpose. Although Aaron¡¯s guardians kept their heads on swivels for any possible ambush, they were also on the lookout for something specific. At each new level, they stopped just long enough for Albert to poke his head out of the stairwell and scan their immediate surroundings. He didn¡¯t find what he was looking for until the fourth level of the subterranean garage. When he did, their group moved quickly. In seconds, Albert was kneeling in front of a steel door not far from the stairwell. He pulled out a small plastic device that looked like a glue gun with a long metal needle protruding from the tip then slipped an L-shaped piece of metal and the needle into the lock. Each time he pulled the long trigger, the gun made a loud click! After a few of these clicks, the lock turned and Albert pulled the door open. ¡°Snap gun,¡± the small man said with a wink and a wheezy laugh. ¡°Good as magic and just as quick.¡± ¡°Sixty seconds,¡± Griffin said. Kiara pulled Aaron through the newly opened door. He found himself in a maintenance room, barely bigger than a closet. The only thing in the cramped space were pipes in various sizes running up the walls. Albert, missing his characteristic smirk, gave them a grim nod and closed the door on them. ¡°What now?¡± Aaron asked, his voice uncharacteristically hushed. ¡°Now, we turn the tables,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Take out your wand; better to use that than trying some childhood karate against trained killers.¡± Aaron had tried a few martial arts in middle and high school ¡ª thankyouverymuch! ¡ª but Kiara made a good point so he kept his mouth shut. Human bodies were extremely vulnerable to serious injury, so any knock-down, drag-out fight was a crapshoot. Not only could luck beat skill, it could cripple, main, or even kill it. Only this wasn¡¯t a fight between humans; or not regular humans, at any rate. Aaron might possess immense, metal-bending strength and be nearly impervious to normal weapons ¡ª and he hadn¡¯t completely accepted that just yet ¡ª but the people after him might be just as strong. And he knew from experience they didn¡¯t use purely mundane weapons. He drew his wand and waited. Chapter 50 - And Turning It Waiting, that was the hardest part. So far, at least. Danger was rushing towards him, in the hands of people eager to see him dead. He wasn¡¯t thrilled to face it again, but it wouldn¡¯t be the first time and he knew he wouldn¡¯t panic in the moment. The problem was knowing danger was coming yet having the time to worry about what might be different about it this time, what could go wrong. Would Aaron be too slow? Unable to utilize his strength effectively? Or worse, would his protectors get hurt or killed trying to keep him alive? Before Aaron could get too worked up worrying over how the universe might pull the rug out from under him, he heard Griffin¡¯s voice come through the door. He sounded close but not right on top of them, so he was probably still near the stairwell. ¡°Move your asses,¡± the big man called out. ¡°They¡¯re right behind us! Find some cover!¡± Aaron heard the distinctive sound of shoes slapping against concrete rapidly approach, then pass, the maintenance closet. A few seconds later, he heard several more pairs of feet passing, as well. Things were moving quick, now. His thoughts didn¡¯t run together so much as evaporate, leaving a hollowness where his mind was supposed to be. Remember, Aaron ¡ª you are not crazy, he told himself. You¡¯re not imagining this; the danger is real and it¡¯s okay to defend yourself. Kiara slowly put her hand on the door knob but didn¡¯t open it. ¡°Why are you mooks riding my ass?¡± Griffin called. ¡°What the hell do you want?¡± A few seconds of silence met the big man¡¯s question. ¡°Seriously, if you¡¯re going to drag me and my delving crew into a bunch of intrigue, at least have the courtesy to do some god damned monologuing,¡± he complained. ¡°What kind of lazy-ass evil shitheads are you?¡± Again, silence. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to chat,¡± the big man said with a sigh, ¡°I guess we¡¯ll just have to have us a little fight.¡± As soon as Griffin said the word ¡®fight,¡¯ a voice cried out in shock or pain. Maybe both. Aaron didn¡¯t know if it was Griffin or one of the pursuers. His guts writhed with uncertainty, concern, and anger. Well no, not anger. Aaron didn¡¯t get angry. Still, he might have burst out of the tiny maintenance closet if Kiara weren¡¯t already opening the door and dashing through, a wand in hand. Aaron followed behind her, squeezing his own wand tightly to make sure it was actually there, in his hand. The parking garage was a scene of chaos. Griffin stood with his back against two SUVs, practically wedged into the few inches of space between them. A thick stripe of crimson light formed an upright semicircle in front of him that emanated a shield of energy to either side. Three people were trying to attack the big man, but his shield was proving effective at fending them off. None of his assailants were entirely human. One had the talons of a bird instead of hands and what looked like a lion¡¯s tail protruding from under their coat. Another was a woman with the head and tail of a cat, dark fur covering every visible part of her, wielding a smallsword ¡ª a rapier-style weapon with a shorter blade ¡ª and buckler. The last person facing Griffin was twice as broad as the big man, nearly as tall as the ceiling, and had thick leathery skin a light shade of gray. An ogre, or maybe a troll? Aaron wasn¡¯t sure. Albert was nowhere to be seen, but two people were on the ground of the lane between the parked cars. One, a woman, wore a shimmer breastplate and was laying on the ground. Deep gashes had been carved into either side of her neck and a pool of blood was rapidly spreading on the floor beneath her. The other, a man in a cowboy hat and duster, knelt beside her holding what looked like a human femur. He poured a red liquid from a small bottle over her wounds. The liquid flowed smoothly from the bottle despite being thick and viscous, like a semi-transparent gel. It seeped over her grievous wounds. Even in the brief glance Aaron got coming out of the maintenance closet, he saw the wounds were already starting to close, though the woman still looked deathly pale. Kiara fired a bolt of blue energy from her wand into the backs of the trio attacking Griffin¡¯s shield. It hit the ogre without effect. The cowboy looked up and saw her and Aaron coming towards them from the maintenance room. ¡°Behind!¡± he shouted. The birdman, catgirl, and ogre each spared a glance over their shoulders at the cowboy¡¯s warning. With an ease that could only have come from many hours of practice or experience, two of them wordlessly stepped back from Griffin and turned towards Aaron and Kiara. The cowboy set the vial to rest in the hollow of the downed woman¡¯s throat. The thick goop continued to flow onto her neck, forming two distinct rivulets heading to each of her wounds. As the cowboy rose, eyes set on Aaron, a silver mist began to emanate from the bone in his hand. Then, the cowboy¡¯s hat fell to the floor. It was quickly followed by his head. Albert¡¯s upper body had appeared, hanging upside down from the ceiling, and he held a smoky black machete in each hand. In one swift motion, he¡¯d swung his blades into and through the cowboy¡¯s neck. Aaron jerked back, too stunned to even shout. He was expecting a massive spray of blood from the decapitated cowboy, but it never came ¡ª the wounds had been cauterized by the blades. The catwoman leapt onto the roof of a car, positioning herself to flank Aaron and Kiara. The man with the lion¡¯s tail leapt at them, as well, his long coat transforming into the wings of an eagle as they unfurled, carrying him across the distance to them. ¡°Your wand!¡± Kiara shouted. Aaron had forgotten all about the thing. He took aim at the eagle-lion-person ¡ª a gryphon? ¡ª and willed it to fry the sucker with some sweet, sweet Force lightning. Nothing happened. So much for unlimited power¡­ The birdman was getting awfully close awfully quick. Hands covered in the scale-like leather of a bird¡¯s legs and ending in wicked talons thrust forward to rend Aaron¡¯s flesh. Aaron stood his ground and tried to fire the wand again. He thrust the long rod forward, as if to encourage it to fire with movement. Electricitum! Aaron thought frantically. Fry-his-ass-icus! Whatever! Shoot, dammit! ¡°Fuck! My eye!¡± the gryphon-person swore as he landed a couple feet from Aaron, one scaled talon pressed against his face. In his exuberance to get the wand to blast the bird-person with some kind of magic before he was shredded by those talons, Aaron had poked the man in the face. ¡°Damn, that smarts,¡± the gryphon complained. ¡°Sorry!¡± Aaron replied, still wiggling his wand around in hopes it might do some awesome magic attack and save the day. Although he had a very general sense of everything going on around him, Aaron used the gryphon¡¯s momentary distraction to assess the situations of his comrades. Griffin was still occupied with the ogre. His shield was holding against powerful blows from the huge creature, but he didn¡¯t seem able or willing to attack through his own barrier. He was, however, preparing some kind of warhammer, so the shield might not be staying up much longer. His other two companions also had their hands full. The catwoman was holding her own against Albert and Kiara, using her shield to deflect and absorb blasts from Kiara¡¯s wands while her smallsword flashed dangerously as it parried and threatened Albert. It was a matchup that should have favored the two drakus, but it wasn¡¯t working out that way. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Neither Albert nor Kiara were brawlers ¡ª Albert fought like a mongoose, darting in and out to leverage his speed and exploit openings, while Kiara was using her wands to corral her target and create opportunities for Albert. The cat-lady, unsurprisingly, moved like a cat. Albert could cover a fair amount of ground in quick leaps, but the cat could, too, and she was better at readjusting and redirecting her movement. She and Albert were maneuvering wildly, using the parked cars for height and cover. So far, neither side seemed to have the edge, but they were at least keeping the cat from going after Aaron. Leaving Aaron to deal with the gryphon¡­ person. Gryphon-American? The gryphon could cover a lot more ground than Aaron thanks to his wings, which meant running was out of the question. Plus, he didn¡¯t want to get far from his protectors. You don¡¯t split the party, Aaron reminded himself. The difference in mobility was already a disadvantage, but Aaron¡¯s performance issues with his wand meant he had no useful weapons. He only had his body, but that meant doing exactly what Kiara had told him not to do ¡ª brawling with a trained killer, soldier, mercenary, or whatever the hell these people were. If Aaron was going to be forced to fight unarmed, he wanted his dominant hand free, so he switched the wand to his left hand. It turned out to be a happy accident that he¡¯d poked the gryphon in the eye. While his opponent had recovered from the shock and pain, that eye was still closed and starting to swell. That would make it harder for him to see blows coming from that side. The gryphon adopted a fighting stance and sized Aaron up with his good eye. The cold knot in Aaron¡¯s stomach surged and his muscles started trembling. It wasn¡¯t fear, exactly, although Aaron was scared; this was literally do or die, after all. The feeling was something else, something he couldn¡¯t identify or verbalize. He only knew it was pushing him to act. His instincts were telling him to be aggressive, but he didn¡¯t think that was the right move. He needed to wait. Wait and gain the full measure of his opponent. Knowing that and feeling it were two different things; he felt like he had to do something or he might just vomit on the floor. His eyes stung, his upper body was taut, and his legs were tensed so hard they were vibrating. He had to do something. Wait for him, he chastised himself. To vent some of his nervous energy, Aaron struck his fists against each other, knuckle to knuckle. A meaty thunk echoed in the tight confines of the concrete garage. The gryphon lunged. One of the gryphon¡¯s broad wings swept towards Aaron. Rather than backing away ¡ª like a sane person would ¡ª Aaron stepped into the swipe. He raised his arms into a middle guard, hands at shoulder level, to ward against a hidden strike. Sure enough, his forearm made contact with the gryphon¡¯s wrist, intercepting a swipe following the wing¡¯s feathery wake. Aaron tried wrapping his hand around the gryphon¡¯s wrist to get a hold started, but he hadn¡¯t accounted for the wand still in his hand. The gryphon pulled back, raking Aaron¡¯s arms with vicious talons. Aaron lashed out with a jab, turning at the hips to put some power into it, and struck the gryphon in the chest. The gryphon was thrown back several steps by the force of the blow, arms and wings windmilling downward to deflect any further strikes. Aaron used the space to check his arm. It stung a bit, but no more than that. The gryphon¡¯s talons had only left a row of white scratch marks, little more than a cat might do. It would be the height of stupidity to assume that was the worst injury the gryphon could cause. The beastman could have magic that empowered his strikes or a far deadlier weapon ready to be drawn at a moment¡¯s notice. Still, it was a confidence boost helping to keep Aaron¡¯s fear, and thus, aggression, in check. The two of them squared off again, each taking the time to try getting the measure of the other. Although they didn¡¯t circle one another, there was a roundness to the movement of their heads and bodies as they conducted a battle of evaluation. Each motion was preparation and a provocation. Aaron didn¡¯t want to play that game; he didn¡¯t want to wait. He wanted to attack, to thrust and push and grasp and crush the threat in front of him as swiftly and completely as possible. But he held himself back and kept his poise. It wasn¡¯t time for that yet. Hopefully, it never would be. He needed to maintain control, because the alternative¡­ he didn¡¯t want to consider the alternative, not after all the work he had done. The gryphon was hesitant to rush in, as well, so Aaron¡¯s eyes darted around the garage, once more getting a sense of how his companions were doing. Albert and Kiara were still engaged with the cat-lady. Albert had gained a thin cut near his chin and the catgirl¡¯s clothes had been singed in several places. Griffin¡¯s shield of magic finally disappeared in a flash of sparks and then he was fighting the ogre with his hammer. The ogre might have expected to overpower the drakus, because Aaron saw him bum rush Griffin only to be thrown into a wall a dozen feet away. The other gryphon took advantage of Aaron¡¯s momentary distraction and launched himself forwards like a missile, almost parallel with the floor. His talons were held in front of him so that they nearly scraped the ground. When his swoop carried him close to Aaron, he used his wings and feet to redirect himself upwards. His claws rose in a slash, attempting to rake Aaron from pelvis to throat. Unfortunately for the chimera, Aaron was well-practiced at monitoring his environment ¡ª one of the few benefits of being an anxious person constantly on the lookout for threats. Seeing the winged pounce, Aaron avoided the gryphon¡¯s talons by taking a step back. When the fearsome claws had passed, he lunged back in, an elbow rising up into the chimera¡¯s solar plexus. He tried to get the wand to fire, too, but the damn thing still didn¡¯t want to cooperate. The gryphon¡¯s momentum combined with the force of the elbow nearly carried him headfirst into the concrete ceiling. He managed a deft aerial maneuver to avoid a concussion and wound up doing a graceful backflip, ending on his feet close to where he¡¯d started his lunge. ¡°Holy shit, that was wicked,¡± Aaron said. Since he was being complimentary, there was no harm in trying a bit of diplomacy. ¡°We don¡¯t have to do this. I¡¯m just a numbers guy who wants to get away from a desk and try some delving. I don¡¯t have to be your enemy!¡± Instead of replying, the gryphon moved in for another attack. A feint from the left, coming in low, turned into a swipe at Aaron¡¯s eyes, coming from the right. Aaron tried to adjust to avoid the talons but was a hair too slow. He felt the long claws drag across his face and leapt back, swinging wildly to force the gryphon away. His eyes were clenched shut and his thoughts came in a torrent. He was half-certain he¡¯d been blinded, leaving him vulnerable. Someone, Griffin maybe, had the healing potions on them. Could those potions repair damaged eyes? ¡°I guess we¡¯re even, now,¡± a raspy male voice said from somewhere nearby. It took almost a full second ¡ª a second that felt like an eternity ¡ª for Aaron to accurately process his own sensory input through the knee-jerk reaction of his simian brain. The immense pain he expected wasn¡¯t there. But it could have been. Aaron could have been blinded. He very nearly had been. This fucking bird could have gouged out his eyes and Aaron would have never seen another thing. And the bird was here to kill him. That¡­ that was offensive. It was an offense and it could not be allowed. Aaron¡¯s eyes opened. Everything in his field of view was framed in a smoky gray haze. There was no apparent damage to his vision, which was wonderful, but the fuzzing at the edge of his vision represented a far more serious problem. When he was a kid, before high school, Aaron had sworn off fighting. He¡¯d been in several up through middle school and eventually reached a decision ¡ª being seen as some kind of ¡®tough guy¡¯ wasn¡¯t worth going to prison. And if he kept fighting, Aaron would go to prison. Or be killed, but he hadn¡¯t feared that as much at the time. His last few fights had shown him that he had a problem with control. He could get angry, a bit, and scream, shout, or bluster, but once he got hit hard enough, instinct took over and he became a prisoner to his own impulses. And when push came, Aaron¡¯s instincts didn¡¯t shove; he strangled. Every athletic endeavor from his teens onward ¡ª martial arts, weight lifting, his ill-fated foray into playing sports, even dancing ¡ª had all been in service of a singular goal: feeling safe enough, capable enough, that if trouble came, he would not lose control. He knew there would be times when he couldn¡¯t talk his way out of a fight; he was just too awkward and, at times, abrasive. In those situations, he needed to stop the fight before things went too far. The greater his strength and skill, he reasoned, the better chance he could control a fight before it escalated. It worked well through his teens and twenties. The few times he¡¯d been unable to duck a fight, he had managed to avoid or deflect blows, even wrap people up in simple grapples and pin them down before the situation got out of hand. Very few of the people he¡¯d run into trouble with in those years, however, had been trained killers. Probably none of them, actually. There had been few chances for anyone to hurt him, to convince the thing lurking in his subconscious that he was in real danger. Until now. Now, Aaron was staring at some kind of freak-ass bird-man who had proven himself to be a serious threat to him. All the marvel and wonder Aaron would have felt under normal circumstances when encountering a gryphon-person were absent; all he felt was a frigid tingling emanating outwards from his gut and an urge to neutralize the threat. The gryphon held up two of his talons, pointed at his own eyes ¡ª one still swollen shut ¡ª then turned them towards Aaron¡¯s. He smirked. Somewhere, seemingly very far away from his body and the parking garage, Aaron heard his own thoughts. They were tinny and distant, like a very old radio in a metal shed at the other side of the backyard. However dissociated from his situation they were, at least his thoughts were brief and to the point. What a dick. That was Aaron¡¯s thinking brain. His thinking brain wasn¡¯t in charge anymore. Chapter 51 - Well in Hand Aaron¡¯s legs carried him towards the gryphon. They were in no particular hurry. Even if the gryphon didn¡¯t come to him, he¡¯d be within reach soon enough. That was his greatest limiting factor ¡ª the length of his arms. At the end of them were where his hands were and those were his weapons. The gryphon must have sensed something had changed, because he started taking cautious swipes with his wings and claws. He didn¡¯t keep enough distance, though, because Aaron¡¯s legs carried him into and past the blows. Some landed, but they did no real damage and Aaron wouldn¡¯t have noticed if they had. When Aaron was uncomfortably close, the gryphon decided he didn¡¯t want to share his personal space. He folded his wings around himself, bunched up his legs, and tried to leap backwards. It was too little, too late. A hand shot out, latched onto the gryphon¡¯s throat, and began to squeeze. The gryphon raked his talons along Aaron¡¯s forearm as hard as he could. It did little more than the last attempt, leaving the thin white lines of a minor scrape behind. The talons didn¡¯t even draw blood. He spread his wings and pumped them fruitlessly, trying to yank free of Aaron¡¯s grasp. Placing one taloned foot on Aaron¡¯s thigh, the gryphon stepped up and swung his other leg over Aaron¡¯s shoulder. As soon as he was up, the feathered man followed with his other leg, wrapping both around Aaron¡¯s head. A mixed martial arts enthusiast might have been impressed by the swift and precise execution of a hanging triple armbar. For about a second. A second is about how long it would take to notice that Aaron¡¯s arm remained fixed in place, held straight in front of him. It didn¡¯t dip in the slightest, even supporting the gryphon¡¯s entire weight. His arm had twisted at the elbow to maintain the choke, but little more. No matter how the gryphon strived or moved to get leverage, he couldn¡¯t extricate himself from Aaron¡¯s steely grip. His struggles were ineffective, little more than an annoyance to the urges propelling Aaron¡¯s body. Years of action movies, professional wrestling, and footage of police brutality might lead people to think choking someone into unconsciousness takes a while. In truth, ten to fifteen seconds are all that¡¯s needed if the carotid is properly blocked. The gryphon was made of sterner stuff than a human, but he was on the wrong side of half a minute without oxygen to the brain. Still, it was longer than the primal drive at the helm of Aaron¡¯s actions was willing to oblige. Aaron¡¯s legs spread into a wider stance and his body bent slightly at the waist. Slowly, almost casually, he turned, pulling the gryphon farther from the hard cement. Then he snapped back around, driving the beast into the unyielding ground with tremendous force. The gryphon knew to tuck his chin and roll his back to protect his head, but it could only delay the inevitable a few seconds. It helped the first few times he hit the pavement, each impact producing a muffled thump as his back absorbed and dispersed most of the force. Aaron knew what was coming next, even as far from his own body as his thoughts were at that moment. With unnatural strength, Aaron adjusted his arm and changed the angle of descent with relative ease. The next impact of the gryphon¡¯s head on the ground didn¡¯t produce a thump, but a resounding thock! After the back of his skull kissed the cement a few times, he was well and truly dazed. His limbs released from around Aaron¡¯s arm and neck, flailing limply around his body. He tried to scoot away on the ground, but the gryphon¡¯s body was following conscious direction about as well as Aaron¡¯s. Instead of slamming the gryphon again, Aaron left him on the ground and dropped to his knees, straddling the birdman¡¯s chest without releasing his neck. A cloud of white electricity burst into being, spreading like the roots of a tree made of light, and washed over the gryphon¡¯s face. The stink of singed hair and flesh filled the placid air of the parking structure. Although it was little consolation to losing control of his own actions, Aaron still cheered that he¡¯d somehow managed to use the wand. He wondered if he¡¯d be able to replicate the feat when he was fully back in control of his own faculties. Not that this murderous freak isn¡¯t me, which is exactly why I don¡¯t get into fights anymore, he mused. Whatever Aaron¡¯s concerns over his propensity for horrific brutality, his instinctive drive for unfettered violence was effective. The gryphon wasn¡¯t dead, but he sure as hell wasn¡¯t in a position to be a threat anymore, either. His eyes were unfocused and his head was lolling on his neck but there were no spasms, which Aaron took as a good sign. Aaron lifted the gryphon slightly and hit him again. The worst part of coming back to himself, just as it had been before, was the realization that he hadn¡¯t lost control, not really. It wasn¡¯t a berserk rage where he was wildly, recklessly out of control. It was a methodical coldness that was both alien and familiar, a part of himself Aaron knew was there but couldn¡¯t really connect with. As he stood up, the gray haze around the edges of his vision dissipated and the sensation that he was looking at the world through a tunnel faded. His jaw hurt, his stomach was cramping, and his eyes burned and itched with the spectre of tears. That was another thing he hated about losing control like that, how it left him reeling from his emotions. Even if he shrugged off a dozen blows to the head or made a demonstration of terrible strength, in the aftermath he risked advertising weakness and vulnerability. Aaron balled his hands tightly into fists, swallowed hard, and blinked the tears away, forcing his emotions back under his control. When he had a slightly better handle on himself, he looked around to get the measure of the others. The cowboy was still on the ground, head laying about a foot from his rapidly cooling body. The woman in the breastplate also remained laying on the ground and, though her wounds had largely disappeared, she was still extremely pale. Maybe healing potions don¡¯t help with blood loss? Aaron thought. Or maybe they will but only if you drink them? Griffin and the ogre were locked in a brutal game of mercy. Their hands were clasped together, fingers interlocked, and each was trying to overpower the other. The ogre¡¯s size should have been an advantage, but drakus strength was bullshit and Griffin had bent the ogre¡¯s massive hands back almost completely. Unlike the schoolyard game Aaron was familiar with, their version of mercy had no apparent rules. Griffin and the ogre were headbutting, kneeing, kicking, and trying to toss each other. None of this was going the ogre¡¯s way, but it kept Griffin from helping the others. That was unfortunate for the drakus, because the fight with the catwoman wasn¡¯t going nearly as well. Kiara was crouched in the cramped space between a large pickup truck and a wall. The catwoman had just taken a swipe at her from the roof of the cabin and leapt away. Albert was sliding across the roof of the car next to the truck, but arrived too late to take a stab at the cat. All three of them were notably more mussed and disheveled than they had been when Aaron checked a few seconds earlier, but there were no major injuries as far as he could tell. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Aaron dashed across the lane, angling to intercept the leaping catwoman. Two years of high school tackling drills paid off and he crashed into her side at full tilt. He was able to pin the arm with the smallsword against her torso when he barrelled into her. As they crashed to the pavement, his hand scrabbled around until he was able to latch onto the wrist of that arm. Their contact was very brief. The catwoman tried bashing Aaron with her shield to no effect then, living up to her namesake, writhed and twisted until she slipped free of Aaron¡¯s tackle. She even managed to pull her wrist free thanks to the sleek fur under her clothes. She rolled to her feet in a defensive stance, sword at the ready, and took a measuring look around. Three-on-one odds were not to the catwoman¡¯s liking, apparently. She pushed her sword into what was likely a dimensional storage and bounded away on all fours. Kiara fired a couple shots from her wands after her, but the cat was nimble as a, well, as a cat and dodged them all. With the catwoman gone, the fight was effectively over. Aaron took stock of the situation, hopefully for the last time. Griffin was struggling for a decisive end to his battle with the ogre, but was otherwise in control of that situation. The gryphon lay on the ground, occasionally groaning and rolling on his back. The woman in the breastplate was immobilized and hadn¡¯t regained any color from her loss of blood. The cowboy, having been beheaded, remained dead. Albert and Kiara approached the two downed combatants, each taking a small swig of red fluid from a vial ¡ª healing potions to help with their minor injuries, no doubt. Aaron noted that they didn¡¯t drink the entire vial, even though each was no bigger than a small bottle of aspirin, so the magic was likely strong enough it could be rationed based on the severity of injury. Each of the guardians produced a long length of thin, silvery chain. They wrapped these around the wrists of each incapacitated opponent, then looped it around their necks. Though the chain looked like it was loose enough to slip out of, Aaron suspected there was more magic than metal involved. ¡°Give Al a hand with these goons,¡± Kiara said. ¡°I¡¯ll get the ogre sorted.¡± ¡°Take the gryphon,¡± Albert said as Kiara strode off towards Griffin¡¯s struggle with the ogre. The hand Albert needed was with looting their downed foes. He stripped the woman of her breastplate, a graceful short sword with a leaf-style blade, and a red potion. The gryphon was recovering from the beating Aaron had inflicted on him and remained disoriented, so he offered no resistance. A quick pat down revealed nothing of any real interest ¡ª a burner cell phone, a MetroCard, a small revolver. The guy didn¡¯t even have keys on him. ¡°I¡¯ll drag these two,¡± Albert said, kneeling beside their two incapacitated foes. ¡°Can you haul Louis the Sixteenth L¡¯Amour?¡± Aaron looked down at the headless cowboy and swallowed hard. Albert only got a couple steps dragging the other two before he stopped. ¡°Ah, yeah, sorry,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re probably not used to dealing with decapitated bodies. I¡¯ll take the urban cowboy, you haul these other mooks.¡± Albert hoisted the cowboy¡¯s body over one shoulder and tucked the head under the other arm. Aaron followed him back to the maintenance closet, dragging the other two by their collars as Albert had started to. With Aaron¡¯s new strength, they seemed to weigh almost nothing. At the smaller man¡¯s direction, Aaron set his two captives against the rear wall of the maintenance room. Albert set the cowboy and his head down in front of a car parked beside the door, then picked up a small stack of orange hazard cones from the closet. ¡°Keep an eye on them for a sec,¡± he said. After dropping the cones along the floor to block their lane from incoming traffic, Albert returned to the maintenance room. ¡°No fancy illusions?¡± Aaron asked. Albert smirked. ¡°Why bother when a few cones will do the trick?¡± Kiara and Griffin joined them outside a few seconds later. ¡°The biggun settled down when Kiara stuck a wand in her ear and said she¡¯d scramble her thoughts into an omelette if she didn¡¯t ease up,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Okay, but¡­ rude,¡± Albert remarked with a smirk. ¡°She¡¯s cooling her heels ¡ª back to fun size ¡ª on the trunk of an old sedan,¡± Kiara said, gesturing to her left. Aaron glanced that way. The ogre ¡ª or ogress ¡ª was a normal-looking woman sitting on the rear end of a boxy white car. She didn¡¯t look particularly put out by losing the fight or being threatened with lobotomy by magic; in fact, she looked bored. ¡°That was a woman?¡± Aaron asked. Griffin shrugged. ¡°Only way to tell with ogres is when they¡¯re in human form.¡± ¡°Or having sex with you,¡± Albert added. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to these goobers,¡± Kiara sighed. ¡°Ogres are naturally hermaphroditic, that¡¯s why they only have distinctive sex characteristics in their human form.¡± ¡°Neat. Okay, next question ¡ª why did that woman almost bleed out when Albert¡¯s blades cauterize the wounds they make?¡± ¡°Her magic armor is bullshit,¡± Albert said, clearly annoyed. ¡°Stopped the blades before they got far and protected her from the enchanted heat to boot. Pretty decent artifact, actually.¡± ¡°It worked out in the end,¡± Kiara said. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure her and the cowboy are magi and the other three are hired goons.¡± Griffin grunted. ¡°Of course the finger wigglers are farming out to mythics for muscle.¡± ¡°Whatever the case, we¡¯ve got captives we can interrogate. We¡¯ll need to arrange transport, though; I don¡¯t want to sit here longer than I have to on the off chance they sent word back to their bosses,¡± Kiara said. ¡°I sent word to Barrett as soon as our large friend settled down,¡± Griffin said. ¡°An extraction team is en route.¡± ¡°What will happen to the others?¡± Aaron asked. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. As far as Aaron could see, the optimal course of action in this situation was to kill everyone then dispose of the bodies in a way they¡¯d be unlikely to be recovered. Or maybe make it look like they¡¯d run afoul of some other, unrelated problem if they could pull it off. Either would reduce the number of enemy combatants their enemies had access to and deny them useful intelligence. The idea of being party to cold-blooded murder didn¡¯t exactly thrill Aaron, no matter how practical it might be. It would also radically change his opinion of the Drakon. If he understood things correctly ¡ª and that was a big ¡®if¡¯ ¡ª the dragons were closer to an independent nation than a gang or criminal organization, but there was a massive difference between killing an enemy soldier in the heat of battle and executing a prisoner of war. Being part of an organization that went that far that easily would be hard enough, but if he was supposed to be the leader of that organization? Even with the nominal power of a figurehead, Aaron didn¡¯t know how he could adjust to that. So he found himself holding his breath when Kiara answered. ¡°Our people will talk with them to see if they¡¯re willing to flip on whoever hired them, then they¡¯ll most likely be let go,¡± she said, then lowered her voice. Aaron noticed she had pulled out her small illusory conversation cube again. ¡°Besides, it¡¯ll help with the disinformation about you and us. They¡¯ll ask all their usual intrigue questions and try to bribe them, but they¡¯ll also slip in a lot of questions about why so much effort was put into attacking delvers who aren¡¯t involved in eidolon politics.¡± ¡°We have a few minutes,¡± Albert said, cracking his knuckles. ¡°We could ask a few questions of our own.¡± Griffin chuckled and it was somehow ominous. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯d like that. I¡¯d like that very much.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can get some answers of our own.¡± Chapter 52 - The Settling of Dust ¡°We¡¯re not going to torture her or anything, right?¡± Aaron asked. Albert, Griffin, and Kiara exchanged incredulous looks. Aaron wasn¡¯t sure if it was because they thought the answer was obvious or because he¡¯d signaled objection with the question. He was once more reminded of how little he knew about this secret world and tried not to let embarrassment eat at him. Thankfully, Albert put him at ease with his usual candor. ¡°Why the hell would we torture her?¡± ¡°Uh, you know¡­ because it¡¯s enhanced interrogation or whatever they called it?¡± ¡°Even if you set aside the morality of it, torture is next to useless if you hope to get any kind of useful information,¡± Kiara said. Griffin put a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s not the kind of thing the Drakon generally does, as far as I know, and the Order of the Eye probably has more reliable methods, anyways.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the Order of the Eye?¡± ¡°A faction of the Drakon,¡± Griffin replied. Albert knelt down beside the incapacitated woman, giving her a cursory examination. ¡°If we want to question her before the Eye shows up, we¡¯ll need to use a restorative,¡± he said. ¡°A restorative?¡± Griffin complained. ¡°Really?¡± The smaller man shrugged. ¡°It¡¯ll be worth the expense if we can find out who¡¯s after us or how they tracked us. Especially since the Eye will probably take forever to get anything concrete.¡± ¡°It might be better to let the people trained in interrogation and investigation handle it,¡± Griffin replied. ¡°Plus, we¡¯re not likely to get anywhere without getting fed a line of bullshit.¡± ¡°You were all gung ho for this a few seconds ago,¡± Albert pointed out. Kiara considered both men, then said, ¡°I¡¯m with Albert; let¡¯s see if she¡¯s willing to talk.¡± Griffin reached into his dimensional storage, but paused. ¡°Unless you have any objections,¡± he said, turning to Aaron. Aaron was taken aback by the question. He was new to this whole drakus thing, new to a world with magic in it, and relatively new to organized violence and warfare. The trio of protectors had been clear that they wouldn¡¯t defer to his whims when it came to doing their job, so why the hell was Griffin asking for his opinion? It was possible Griffin was really against using this restorative thing ¡ª presumably something like a healing potion that would help with blood loss ¡ª because of the cost. However, since neither Albert nor Kiara raised an issue with Griffin asking for Aaron¡¯s input, they must not have thought it was a way to find someone on his side. Then again, if I¡¯m supposed to be the Glorious Eternal Leader of the Great Democratic Dragon¡¯s Republic, this could be the kind of decision that¡¯ll get foisted off on me? Aaron thought. Like maybe he¡¯d need my approval to write this off as a dragon business expense? As long as Aaron was present in the dingy parking garage when the decision had to be made, anyway. In either case, he knew what he wanted to get out of this interrogation and valued the chance at information more than a handful of coins. ¡°It¡¯s our asses on the line, right? No reason we shouldn¡¯t see if we can get a little information that might help keep us safe,¡± Aaron said. ¡°But let¡¯s, uh, let¡¯s remember we¡¯re not trying to pull a Cheney, okay?¡± That earned a round of smirks from the other drakus, but they were grim and serious for all that. The four of them turned their attention to the pallid woman laying against the rear wall. Griffin retrieved a small metal tube from his storage, no bigger than a battery, and dispensed a single, tiny capsule from it. He sighed as he looked at the miniscule bit of magic. ¡°This will get her up and talking,¡± he said. ¡°Then, we¡¯ll see what we will see.¡± Griffin knelt beside the woman, now devoid of her shining breastplate, and pulled her jaw down with his thumb. He leaned in and placed the small capsule in her mouth. ¡°That¡¯s a restorative?¡± Aaron asked. Griffin nodded. ¡°They used to make potions of restoration but they were risky because it was so easy to take too much. The pills provide a solid form that lets them add detection, monitoring, and limiting enchantments, that way you don¡¯t wind up with too much blood or an extra eye or something.¡± It would be awful enough turning into Violet Beauregarde who was strawberry- instead of blueberry-themed, but an extra eye? Where would it even grow? Aaron shivered at the thought. The woman on the ground stiffened with a gasp, color flooding back into her features, and her eyes shot open. She struggled against the thin chain loosely binding her wrists , but quickly realized it was fruitless and went still. Then she coolly took stock of her situation. ¡°The rest of the team?¡± she asked, giving no indication she was especially concerned. ¡°Alive, except the cowboy,¡± Griffin said. ¡°He saved your life, put a potion on your wounds before doing anything else.¡± Their captive took it in stride, nodding. ¡°More than I¡¯d have expected, honestly. I¡¯m guessing you gave me a restorative in hopes of getting some information out of me?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the idea,¡± the big man said, placing a hand on her shoulder. His body language wasn¡¯t exactly threatening, but it sure as hell was comforting, either. The magus gave no indication she read the contact either way. ¡°I assume there¡¯s a bribe on offer? Drakus have a famous preference for handling this sort of thing with civility instead of violence.¡± The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°We¡¯re not averse to violence when it¡¯s needed,¡± Albert muttered, loudly enough to be heard. Kiara took a step forward. ¡°The intrigue people will want to talk to you in depth and they¡¯ll probably offer significant compensation. We¡¯re not the intrigue people; we¡¯re just delvers, for fuck¡¯s sake. We¡¯ve been accosted twice in one day and we¡¯d like some damned idea of why.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± the magus said, adjusting herself to be more comfortable against the wall. ¡°I can give you the brass tacks version, then, and we¡¯ll call it a sample.¡± ¡°Works for me,¡± Kiara said. Griffin grunted in agreement. The woman shrugged. ¡°The cowboy, as you call him, is some kind of recruiter for one of those proper magi societies. One of the ones with all the traditions and the robes and the Latin? He hired us for muscle. Word is lots of big fancy mage orders have been doing the same.¡± ¡°Why do so many magi need muscle so badly?¡± Kiara asked. ¡°To find some drakus who¡¯s new in town, at least that¡¯s what they told my crew. I have no idea why they have a hard on for one of your people, but you know how the big, traditional magic orders are about dragons.¡± Albert snorted from the door. ¡°So we¡¯re getting jumped because we have a delving trainee? That¡¯s so fucked up.¡± Kiara frowned down at the woman. ¡°So your job was not just to murder this new drakus the magi are after, but any new drakus in town?¡± ¡°Assuming we got the wrong guy here, it looks like that was their plan, yes,¡± the woman blithely replied. ¡°So hit squads ignoring the First Pillar and playing fast and loose with the Third; is that what we can expect in the city until whatever this is about blows over?¡± Albert sneered. The magi shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know how widespread or long-term this whole thing is, but I doubt it¡¯ll go away after a day or two. The orders have a major hair up their asses over this new dragon.¡± ¡°Well, shit,¡± Kiara grunted. ¡°Okay, next question ¡ª how did you track us from the subway?¡± ¡°We didn¡¯t. The cowboy got word you might be traveling through Ekwiyakink so we stationed ourselves at the Theatre District gatehouse. It¡¯s practically a street fair in there, so it was easy to loiter and keep an eye out for people matching the description we had.¡± ¡°Now the big question ¡ª did you pass word along to anyone that you picked up our trail?¡± Kiara was the one who asked the question, but everyone was suddenly intensely focused on the recovering magi on the floor. Even Aaron knew the answer to this question could complicate their day even more. ¡°No,¡± the sorceress said. ¡°Cowboy wanted to, but we convinced him we could handle it.¡± She paused for a moment, considering, then added. ¡°We didn¡¯t want to share the payout.¡± Albert rubbed the stubble on his chin. ¡°How do we know she¡¯s not lying?¡± ¡°Because she has no reason to,¡± Aaron said. When everyone turned their attention to him, he elaborated. ¡°If there¡¯s backup on the way and she says there isn¡¯t, we¡¯re likely to kill her at the first sign of her buddies. If no one¡¯s coming and she says they are, we might kill her so we can move faster and don¡¯t have to worry about being identified or flanked if they get her and the others free.¡± Kiara gave Aaron the side-eye and she wasn¡¯t the only one in that little closet subjecting him to a shrewd appraisal. Still, no one raised an objection to his reasoning, so they turned back to the captive sorceress. Kiara fixed the magus with an earnest stare. ¡°Okay, well¡­ I can¡¯t make any guarantees about what the political types will do with you and your crew, but if they wind up cutting you loose, I¡¯d appreciate it if you spread the word to all the other little murder crews that the four of us are just delvers and not involved in all that bullshit.¡± ¡°I really don¡¯t want to have to go to Connecticut for a dungeon with training wheels,¡± Albert sighed. ¡°Sure,¡± the sorceress agreed. ¡°I mean, you didn¡¯t execute us just for seeing your faces or whatever and I got the impression you dragons would go above and beyond for whoever this new snake is. Seems pretty clear that my crew got the wrong guy. I can¡¯t promise anyone will listen, though.¡± ¡°I hope they do, for their sakes,¡± Griffin said, still kneeling next to the magus with a hand on her shoulder. ¡°We¡¯re delvers, we¡¯re used to dungeons. When shit leaps out of the darkness, our first impulse is to kill it. I¡¯d rather not wind up with the Vigiles sticking their noses up our asses because we responded to a hit squad like they¡¯re monsters.¡± The woman nodded. She bit her lip for a moment then seemed to reach a decision. ¡°I know this is probably pressing my luck, but is there any chance my gear will be returned?¡± Kiara rolled her eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll ask them to offer you a chance to ransom it back if they decide to let you go. I can¡¯t promise anything.¡± ¡°Your stuff is ours by right, but we¡¯re not looking to contribute to grudges or blood feuds or any of that stupid crap,¡± Albert said. ¡°Hopefully the big wigs will see it as a gesture of good will.¡± ¡°If they decide to let you go,¡± Griffin added. The squeal of tires on concrete echoed, announcing the imminent arrival of their extraction team. Two SUVs and a van pulled up seconds later, completely blocking the lane Albert had cordoned off with orange cones. Several people in paramilitary gear stepped out of the vehicles. Well, an archaic and weird paramilitary because they were light on firearms and long on swords, shields, and wands. The three prisoners and their gear were quickly loaded into the vehicles. Albert use the time to gather the cones up and return them to the maintenance closet. A member of the cadre of grim-faced drakus from the extraction team approached Aaron and his guardians after everything was stowed in their sedans and SUVs. Although they¡¯d secured the scene and the captives, she kept her weapon in hand. ¡°We have a vehicle ready to take you four, as well,¡± she said. ¡°We should be okay to get back on our own,¡± Kiara replied. ¡°We had a little chat with the magi you¡¯ve got in there and don¡¯t believe they passed on our location.¡± The drakus woman frowned. ¡°Should be and will be are two very different things. I¡¯d feel more comfortable if you rode with us.¡± ¡°I understand and appreciate your concern, but part of our strategy is passing ourselves ¡ª and our charge ¡ª off as delvers,¡± Kiara said. ¡°If someone happened to spot us, we might face another ambush. If, on the other hand, anyone found out we had been escorted by a strike team from the Order of the Flame, that¡¯d pretty much blow our cover out of the water.¡± For a moment, it looked like the drakus was going to argue further, but she looked over at Aaron and seemed to think better of it. ¡°Fine,¡± she acquiesced, ¡°but I¡¯ve got people from the Star and the Night on the perimeter; I¡¯m going to put a tail on you so you¡¯ll at least have some extra coverage, alright?¡± Kiara nodded and that settled the matter, only leaving the question of what to do with the cowboy¡¯s decapitated body. Again, the extraction team offered to handle it for them, but Albert waved them off with an assurance he had it well in hand. With nothing more to do on their end, the SUVs full of grim-faced drakus drove off, leaving them in the parking garage. ¡°Let¡¯s dispose of a body,¡± Albert said with a malevolent grin. Chapter 53 - Scaled Society Aaron was curious to see how Albert intended to dispose of the decapitated cowboy¡¯s body, gruesome as it might be. Were they going to stuff the head and body in dimensional storage? Turn it into a potted plant or dog toy with magic? It turned out that Albert¡¯s solution was far weirder than Aaron could have imagined. ¡°It¡¯s for the best, really,¡± Albert said, fishing in his dimensional storage for something. ¡°I haven¡¯t had a chance to feed my slime anything substantial since we started this job.¡± When the small man referred to his slime, it wasn¡¯t a euphemism. He pulled out a glass cube nearly a foot across and etched with a web of complex runes. Some kind of greenish-blue substance was slowly roiling within the confines of the cube. ¡°We looted this dude, right?¡± he asked, kneeling beside the cowboy¡¯s body. ¡°I don¡¯t think we did, actually,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I¡¯d remember if one of us had picked up his creepy bone.¡± Albert set the box on the ground beside the body and began to go through the corpse¡¯s pockets. He patted the corpse down and even went back to the garage to fetch the man¡¯s hat. When he returned, he had the hat and the creepy bone. The final haul of the fallen magi was a couple potions, a few coins, and a phone, all of which went into Albert¡¯s dimensional storage. At a tap from Albert¡¯s finger, one side of the cube slid upwards. The murky substance within began to pour out onto the floor. A strange, quivering mass emerged from the container in just a few seconds, forming a cube at least three times larger than its former container. This new cube of slime even had indentations on one side that suggested eyes and a mouth. When Albert uttered a command in a strange, raspy language, the semi-translucent blob began to engulf the deceased cowboy. The slime or ooze or whatever-the-hell wasn¡¯t nearly as opaque as it had seemed at first; Aaron could see the cowboy¡¯s body inside its wobbling form as clearly as if it were behind thick, colored glass. The corpse didn¡¯t fizz or dissolve or anything noticeable, it was just in the slimy mass one moment and gone the next. The cube turned its ¡®face¡¯ to Albert and used its mouth indentation to give Albert what Aaron took to be an honest-to-god smile. ¡°Is that a gelatinous cube?¡± Aaron asked as the cube began to force itself back into the glass box at another command. Albert nodded. ¡°A damned good one, too! I picked him up when he¡¯d just formed five or so years ago and I¡¯ve been training him ever since.¡± Albert patted the glass cube fondly and adopted a tone one might use talking to a dog. ¡°He¡¯s a good boy. Yes, he is.¡± ¡°Setting aside Al¡¯s hyper-weird taste in pets,¡± Griffin said as they made their way back to the stairwell, ¡°it has been dead useful for delving. It makes a decent scout, holds its own in a fight, and can stand watch because it doesn¡¯t need sleep.¡± ¡°Terrible for cuddles, though,¡± Albert said, making a sizzling noise. ¡°Gross,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Anyways, let¡¯s get moving. We¡¯re not out of the woods, yet.¡± Griffin clapped a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder. ¡°On the upside, most of your new stuff should be delivered by now, or will be in the next hour or so, so you¡¯ve got a fun night of laundry and unpacking ahead of you!¡± Aaron groaned. That wasn¡¯t something he was looking forward to, especially considering his fancy rich guy apartment didn¡¯t have an in-unit washer and dryer. Wait a second¡­ I¡¯ve got a fancy rich guy apartment because I¡¯m a fancy rich guy, now! he realized. I could probably remedy that. ¡°Uhm¡­ can any of you recommend a fast and reliable laundry service so I don¡¯t actually have to do my own laundry?¡± he asked. ¡°And what would it take to install a washer and dryer in my apartment?¡± ¡°You might be my spirit animal, Abrams,¡± Albert said. Kiara was less impressed with Aaron¡¯s clearly brilliant plans to shirk as much busy work as possible. ¡°You should do at least one or two loads tonight. There is a laundry place right around the corner from the apartment on Columbus but we won¡¯t be able to take anything over until tomorrow at the earliest.¡± ¡°True,¡± Griffin agreed. ¡°We¡¯ll need to keep a very low profile until we can sort out all these mercs trying to find you.¡± ¡°Won¡¯t all the clothes and furniture for my apartment be something of a tell?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Like, I¡¯m not sure what says ¡®new guy in town with lots of cash¡¯ more than all the crap we just had delivered.¡± ¡°There¡¯s layers of security and shit between our shopping trip today and the stuff actually being delivered,¡± Albert said. When he considered that for a moment, Aaron realized he already had some idea about that. After all, Kiara had given him a different address for everything that got shipped, which meant it was probably going to be delivered by people from the Drakon. Plus, with their involvement in banking, it should be easy to create additional layers of protection in the paper trail from the transactions. It was odd, for Aaron, to be placing so much trust in people he barely knew, but all of this was stuff he barely had passing knowledge of how to accomplish, let alone real practical expertise or the mechanisms to enact them. It was going to take some adjustment before he was used to leaving so many things in the hands of other people. The four drakus emerged from the garage back into the drive that ran under Paramount Plaza. The valet supervisor wasn¡¯t around and nobody else seemed to notice ¡ª or, more likely, cared ¡ª that they didn¡¯t have any packages with them or that there were more than one of them. In moments they stepped back out on the street near the Gershwin¡¯s stage door. Aaron stopped once they were on the street, taking a moment to lean against the shiny black wall of the Gershwin. His three guardians immediately went into hypervigilant mode. They relaxed, marginally, when Aaron pulled out a cigarette and lit it. ¡°I just need a second to get my head right,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s been one helluva day in one helluva week.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Kiara said with a huff. ¡°Albert take point, Griffin the rear, I¡¯ll pass on the cigarette, but you¡¯ll have your smokes while we¡¯re on the move. Got it? And don¡¯t engage with anyone who complains, just keep moving.¡± Albert and Griffin, as if by magic, produced and lit their own cigarettes. Not magic in the sense of wands and translucent shields, but like a street performer doing close-up magic. Aaron didn¡¯t see them pull out packs or cases, the butts simply appeared in their mouths with lighters already halfway to the tips. ¡°That is a well-practiced addiction,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to give the stupid things up off and on for a couple years, so I can¡¯t work that kind of mojo. The best I ever managed was a few Zippo tricks.¡± Griffin chuckled as they set off with a cloud of (very slowly) lethal gas surrounding their group. Albert, on the other hand, had more of his usual words of wisdom to impart. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Quitters never win,¡± the small man said, then laughed his wheezy laugh. Of the four of them, Albert was the only one who smoked filterless cigarettes. Aaron hadn¡¯t noticed when they were on the fire escape the night before. Now that he saw it, he wondered if Albert was just that dedicated to nicotine or, due to the slowed aging of being a drakus, he¡¯d been born to a generation before filters became common. The walk back to the garage across from the Stardust Diner wasn¡¯t even a full block. His protectors were silent, engaged in newly heightened vigilance in the aftermath of the ambush and with rush hour traffic in the heart of the Theatre District. It gave Aaron a little time to look inward. Now that the immediate danger was past, he would have expected to be feeling a greater physical toll. He wasn¡¯t prone to panicking, but adrenaline being purged from his system still should have left him with at least mild discomfort. From his experience, the consequences should have been a good deal worse. Yet outside the lingering emotional disturbance of losing control after so many years ¡ª which he didn¡¯t want to think about ¡ª he felt nearly normal. Maybe it¡¯s another benefit of being a drakus? he mused. Which reminds me that I really need to figure out some of the stuff that comes with the change. They got back to the garage before any of them had even finished their cigarettes, but they weren¡¯t alone. As soon as they turned into the parking structure¡¯s pedestrian walkway, two vehicles pulled into the garage beside them. One was an older moped that looked well-maintained and the other a late model hatchback. Aaron tensed, pushing his free hand back into his hoodie to grasp his wand, while the trio of guardians regarded the occupants of each vehicle. Their evaluation was subtle, done in a way that wouldn¡¯t stand out if you didn¡¯t know what you were looking for. Apparently they recognized the moped rider and both people in the small car, because they stopped briefly to confer with them. ¡°We¡¯re parked in the Byways,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Meet us down there?¡± The moped rider nodded and both vehicles pulled ahead into the garage. When they got down to their sedan, the scooter and hatchback were waiting for them. Handshakes were quickly exchanged and Aaron learned that these were the drakus who¡¯d been set to keep an eye out for them. The moped rider was from something called the Order of the Star and the drakus in the hatchback from the Order of the Night. They formed a caravan with the moped at the point as they took the Byways back uptown. Since they were going to be driving a few minutes, Aaron decided to ask a few questions about these sub-factions in the Drakon. ¡°So what¡¯s all this Order business about?¡± Aaron asked as they pulled onto the stone-tiled, subterranean road. ¡°You said they were like factions in the Drakon?¡± ¡°So you know about the Triumvirate of Flame, right?¡± Kiara asked. ¡°And their roles?¡± Aaron nodded. ¡°That¡¯s me, in theory, Barrett, and Mallory, and we¡¯re the three leaders of the Drakon. Barrett is like the military leader and Mallory the mystic. Not really clear on where I fit in.¡± That provoked a laugh from the guys in the front seat, though Kiara remained straight-faced as she usually did. ¡°Well that¡¯s terribly fitting for the head of Society of the Scale,¡± Griffin said, chuckling. ¡°Whoa, there¡¯s Societies now, too?¡± ¡°There are three ¡ª Scale, Spear, and Tome ¡ª and they¡¯re sort of like fraternities for drakus who want to get more heavily involved with the Drakon, who are committed to working for our collective benefit. Each Society is under the purview of one of the Triumviri,¡± Kiara explained, simultaneously busy tapping away at her phone. ¡°The Spear and Tome are each composed of three Orders. In the Spear¡¯s case, it¡¯s the Orders of the Flame, the Night, and the Stars,¡± Griffin said, picking up the explanation. ¡°The members are more colloquially known as sentinels, spies, and scouts, because those are good general descriptions for the type of shit they mostly do.¡± ¡°Everyone you¡¯ve met since the ambush has been from the Society of the Spear, the overarching organization that answers to Barrett and deals with more martial and militaristic matters,¡± Albert said. ¡°Damn, I need to write this shit down or something,¡± Aaron grumbled. ¡°Okay, so what about the other Orders?¡± Kiara began ticking them off on her fingers. ¡°The Society of the Tome has the Orders of the Eye, Scroll, and Sphere. The whole S-alliteration thing worked well for the militant wing, so it kinda stuck. They¡¯re usually referred to as seers, sorcerers, and sages, respectively.¡± ¡°None of them can use ¡®scholar¡¯ because it turns into this whole big pissing match over which Order is the most scholarly,¡± Griffin said with a laugh. ¡°There¡¯s more complexity to what each Order does than we¡¯re describing, but those are the broad strokes,¡± Kiara added. ¡°But one of them ¡ª the one aligned with me ¡ª doesn¡¯t have any Orders?¡± ¡°The Society of the Scale,¡± Albert said. ¡°It¡¯s more of a catch-all for drakus who want to commit themselves to the Drakon but aren¡¯t great matches for the other two Societies.¡± ¡°They tend to have more versatile talents and interests, so they struggle in more specialized groups,¡± Griffin added. Aaron sighed. ¡°So I get the Hufflepuffs?¡± ¡°If that¡¯s how you want to think of it, sure,¡± Kiara said with a shrug. ¡°But it might be more accurate to think of them as Divergents? Griffin and I would probably be in the Scale.¡± ¡°I might, too, but it would be a close thing,¡± Albert said. ¡°Please,¡± Griffin scoffed. ¡°Your skulking ass is Night all the way.¡± Although he¡¯d only begun to learn about this new secret world, Aaron continued to be surprised by its depth. There were layers to these cultures that he should have expected, yet hadn¡¯t. His expectations had a superficial quality like those you might get in a movie or standalone novel. He had to remember there were entire populations of people with long, long histories and their dynamics could be just as complex as anything a mundane anthropologist, historian, or sociologist might study. Kiara¡¯s continued tapping on her phone reminded Aaron to check his own. He was used to doing things on his PC and rarely got messages these days in any case, so keeping an eye on his phone wasn¡¯t a habit he¡¯d maintained. He had a text from Tia asking him when he¡¯d be free that evening and his stomach fluttered for a moment. They had so many things to go over: the next Tribulation; the alterations to his memory; the dagger he¡¯d taken off the assassin at the hospital; and, of course, Baby Bear. It was shaping up to be a jam-packed day and it didn¡¯t look like it was even close to being done. Despite the serious nature of the things he would likely discuss with her, Aaron couldn¡¯t ignore the slight thrill he felt at the idea of spending time with Tia. They got along well, had several interests in common, and she was unbelievably gorgeous. Plus, hadn¡¯t she said something about thinking he was cute even before the crazy dragon magic had turned him into a hard body himbo hottie? That was promising. Building a friendship with Tia would be wonderful, but if it could turn into something¡­ more? That would be unprecedented, for Aaron. He had dated women out of his league, but always briefly and never quite so far out of his league. There were two important things to remember: that anything more than friendship wasn¡¯t guaranteed; and, that he had to try not to be weird and sour the possibility of any kind of amiable relationship. Well, no, that would be impossible. He had to try not to be too weird. Thank God it¡¯s not Alice I¡¯m going to be working so closely with, he thought. Between the absurdity of her hotness and her magic mind whammy, there¡¯s no chance I wouldn¡¯t be a blubbering doofus. He exchanged a few more texts with Tia and they agreed to meet up in half an hour. She said she¡¯d bring menus for a bunch of places she thought Aaron should try and they could do another smorgasbord for dinner. It wasn¡¯t long before their sedan was pulling out of the TJ Maxx parking garage then pulling into the mysteriously open parking spot in front of the apartment building. The moped and sedan loitered until they were through the front door and then, finally, they were home. And I still have to do laundry, Aaron realized. Ugh. Chapter 54 - Tugging at Threads As he walked upstairs to his apartment, a part of Aaron hoped that none of his new purchases had been delivered yet. Sure, he only had another day or two of clean clothes, but he really wasn¡¯t in the mood to do laundry. Running from ambushes and fighting for his life had left Aaron in the mood to put his brain into rest mode with some videos or games and that was before factoring in a full day of shopping, sightseeing, and suddenly discovering your childhood teddy bear had come to life and was a quasi-legal sentient fuzz golem. As it turned out, both Macy¡¯s and the Drakon were dedicated and implacable foes of his procrastination and laziness; the hallway outside his apartment was filled with bags and boxes of varying sizes. The furniture was absent, but that was perfectly reasonable. After all, Aaron still needed to arrange to have the interior walls modified to fit the theme he was going for. Aaron sighed, but a small smile formed on his face nonetheless. All this expensive new crap was his! This is both the best and worst thing that¡¯s happened to me this week, he thought. Finding out I¡¯m a dragon and assassination attempts very much included. With a few minutes to kill until Tia came up, Aaron started moving things into the apartment. He did the heavy stuff first so he¡¯d be able to cool down a bit ¡ª being all sweaty and gross was not ideal with a woman like Tia coming to visit ¡ª but he¡¯d totally forgotten about his new strength. With the benefit of the changes from his Emergence, it took hardly any effort to move everything. All that was left when Tia arrived were big red bags full of clothes. Tia had brought her own bag, a weathered backpack slung over one shoulder. ¡°You want a hand with all that?¡± she asked as she summited the stairs. ¡°I¡¯m good. I¡¯m going to have to sort through all this later to decide what to throw in the laundry, so I¡¯m trying to get some kind of organization done so it¡¯ll be a bit less of a headache.¡± Tia patted him consolingly on the shoulder as she passed into the apartment. Aaron hauled all the bags in one big heap and set them in the living room. When he came to the dinette, she had a small pile of menus and was spreading them out on the table. ¡°There are so many great restaurants in New York and we have a bunch that are pretty close,¡± Tia said. ¡°Korean, Thai, Ethiopian, Indian, and, of course, plenty of Chinese and Italian. Pretty much anything you could think of, we got.¡± Aaron bit the inside of his lip as he sat down. It looked like Tia was going to ask for his input on what to order this time and that meant he was going to have to make a shameful confession. A confession that always led to acrimony and strife. One that precipitated its own dreaded version of The Talk. Once he made his admission, the conversation that would follow was familiar and annoying. It was basically the same as someone saying they¡¯d never seen Star Wars or The Godfather ¡ª not that Aaron was guilty of such pop cultural sins! ¡ª because some people took it in stride while others¡­ others learned of his foible and immediately discovered a new purpose. A purpose that consumed eclipsed all other concerns and left them insistent Aaron had been living his life incorrectly and that it needed to be rectified. ¡°So this might make me seem weird, but really it¡¯s one of the least weird things about me,¡± he began, pausing to gird himself for the imminent fallout of what came next. ¡°I¡¯m, uh¡­ I¡¯m not really into spicy food.¡± Tia looked up from the collection of menus on the table and gave him her full attention. ¡°Really? Why not?¡± Aaron scratched the back of his neck and stared down at the menus, as if a sudden, intense interest in restaurant names could hide the shame of not liking sriracha on every damned thing. Can I go with the truth here? he wondered. Or will that make this whole thing into A Whole Thing? Sometimes, the truth was enough to get people off his back. It could prevent them from pestering him to try this sauce or that pepper or these chips. Other times, people saw it as little more than an evasion, convincing themselves of Aaron¡¯s cowardly weakness in the face of their oh-so-flavorful ¡®heat¡¯ and taking grievous offense on behalf of all foods. He liked Tia and, more than that, he liked Tia. Not only had she taken the revelations about his teddy bear in stride without teasing him too much, but he didn¡¯t want to start their relationship ¡ª whatever it turned out to be ¡ª with lies. ¡°Spicy food doesn¡¯t have a flavor, it¡¯s just hot,¡± Aaron finally said after a deep breath. ¡°I know people are convinced it does and that¡¯s cool for them, but the only selling point I can see is physical discomfort.¡± Tia sat back in her chair, letting out a low whistle. ¡°I can¡¯t even imagine. Both my parents are Korean, New Yorkers, and foodies, so spicy food was always part of my life.¡± ¡°It was a real pain in the ass growing up. My mom and I have, like, the exact opposite taste buds. She¡¯s dark chocolate, mustard, and pepper and I¡¯m vanilla, mayo, and salt.¡± Tia blinked several times. ¡°You are the whitest of white breads.¡± ¡°Tell me about it,¡± Aaron said. ¡°The true irony is that I get all my Euro-mutt genetics from my mom¡¯s side of the family.¡± Tia shuffled the menus around. ¡°Well, I know all these menus pretty well, so I can order plenty of food that won¡¯t be spicy, but I¡¯m also going to order stuff with some heat. It might not even sting for you anymore now that you¡¯re a drakus.¡± And there it was ¡ª the inexplicable drive of all spicy food lovers to convert you to the Cult of Scovilles. It was almost pathological, like those guys who convinced themselves a woman could only be a lesbian because she had never found the ¡®right dick.¡¯ And isn¡¯t it weird how the ¡®right dick¡¯ is always their dick? Aaron thought. Still¡­ Aaron¡¯s thoughts went back to the Tribulation under Yellowstone. He hadn¡¯t broken a sweat standing a couple feet from a lake of magma, so maybe Tia had a point. If not, it would be disappointing if the mighty Primus Draconis could be defeated by some hot sauce, but it was something Aaron could live with. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Tia ordered an absurd amount of food from several different restaurants, then turned her attention fully to Aaron. ¡°There are several things we need to go over this evening,¡± she said. ¡°Where would you like to start?¡± After a few seconds considering what was most pressing, Aaron decided to tackle things in the reverse order of their severity. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to phrase this without sounding super nerdy, but the first thing I¡¯d like to know more about is what kind of physical changes come with being a drakus. I know about the increases to strength and endurance, and I¡¯m adjusting to the changes from the Emergence, but is there other stuff?¡± Tia smirked and snorted a quick laugh. ¡°You want to know the racials of being a drakus?¡± ¡°Other than that being the exact kind of phrasing I wanted to avoid, yes,¡± he answered. ¡°Like, I¡¯ve noticed some things I seem to be able to do and I¡¯m curious if all of us can do it and, more importantly, what I might be missing.¡± ¡°What kind of things can you do?¡± Tia asked, one eyebrow raised. ¡°Back in Wyoming, when I was in the lake, I could see for a few feet even though there was no light and I also seemed to be able to hold my breath pretty much indefinitely,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Actually, I inhaled a bunch of water on accident and I was fine. ¡°Sensory and respiratory enhancements are fairly common, but there are records of many strange physical abilities,¡± Tia explained. ¡°Most are so specific that they¡¯re almost not useful, but others can be life-changing if they manifest.¡± ¡°So they¡¯re not universal?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Not really, no. Our physical power is pretty much always there, but everything else is sort of individualized. All those kinds of little powers are basically innate magic; all drakus could theoretically develop them, but many don¡¯t.¡± Thinking back to Mallory¡¯s explanation ¡ª and lecture ¡ª about how magic worked the day before, Aaron could dredge up some of what he¡¯d been told, but he knew he was missing pieces. Tia was more than your garden variety genius, but she was also a student who had turned her attention in many directions, so Aaron was willing to trust she wouldn¡¯t think him incompetent for not remembering every specific detail from that brief conversation. ¡°Innate magic is the kind that comes naturally to someone, right?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s the trinary state we talked about where magic is simultaneously on both spectrums and none for performing magic?¡± Tia raised a hand over her head for Aaron to slap, which he did. ¡°Yes, good memory,¡± she said. ¡°Innate magic will usually be spontaneous and structured while also being neither, in the traditional sense. And for extra fun, it is generally performed expertly without the need for personal expertise.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to have to draw actual charts or something until I get this stuff down,¡± Aaron groused. ¡°Is it possible for a drakus to train an innate power they don¡¯t have, uh, innately?¡± ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s not easy,¡± she said. ¡°Improving at something that innately comes to you can be done, but manifesting something that doesn¡¯t is a lot more complicated. Because they¡¯re tied to our nature as drakus, it requires a change in perspective or understanding on a very deep level.¡± Aaron wondered if it would be easier or harder to develop talents he didn¡¯t already possess because he carried the essence of the Primus Draconis, but that was a question he could probably explore later. He only wanted to know one more thing before they moved to the other issues on the table. ¡°What are some of the coolest innate powers?¡± he asked. Tia laughed, brushed her hair out of her face, then began to list them off. ¡°Slowed aging starts at some point in our twenties, which most drakus benefit from, but probably the coolest ones are sleep and bowel regulation.¡± ¡°Come again?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Nothing that affects the refractory period, I¡¯m afraid, and I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s the kind of thing I¡¯d have heard about. Sorry.¡± Her delivery was so deadpan it took Aaron a second to register what Tia had said, then a single bellow of a laugh forced its way out of his throat. She snickered softly, probably more at his laughter than the joke itself. ¡°Okay, but seriously,¡± she said, ¡°some drakus can go almost entirely without sleep or using the restroom. Think about our dinner yesterday. Have you taken the monumental dump necessary to account for all of that food?¡± Keeping close track of his shits wasn¡¯t a habit Aaron was prone to, but now that he thought about it, Tia raised a good point. They had eaten literal pounds of food the night before and Aaron hadn¡¯t experienced even the slightest digestive upset. ¡°A part of me feels like I¡¯ve been deprived of that satisfaction of a truly historic load, but at the same time this is a pretty awesome power to have,¡± he said. Tia laughed softly. ¡°Too true. Is there anything else you wanted to know?¡± ¡°Nothing that can¡¯t wait, considering how heavy some of the other stuff is,¡± Aaron replied. Although burning with curiosity, Aaron was hesitant to move on to the next matter ¡ª his potentially missing or altered memories. That an assassin had come after him, obviously failed, and somehow removed the event from his memory was disturbing enough, but Aaron was more worried about what he had done to survive. That concern was fresh in his mind after the ambush in the parking garage not even an hour earlier. He had lost control of himself for the first time in more than half his life and it was unsettling to consider that it might have actually been the second time. But what truly gave him pause was the knowledge that he had likely faced that assassin entirely alone. He didn¡¯t see how he could have survived and avoided the very thing that had motivated him to swear off fighting in the first place. And depending on how the magic works, Tia will know what I did and so will the others, Aaron realized. What if they think I¡¯m some kind of psychopath and unfit? Will they expel me from the Drakon? Or kill me? If it weren¡¯t for the fact that Aaron¡¯s default mode of existence was constant, low-grade anxiety, he might have been having a lot more difficulty moving ahead with the whole memory thing. As it was, a few seconds of racing thoughts were the worst he had to suffer through. ¡°I think we should probably try to find out about that problem with my memories,¡± he said. ¡°Ooh yes,¡± Tia said, pulling a small, ancient book from her bag and placing it on the table. The title, Aaron noticed, was Arcanum Memoria. ¡°I¡¯ve been stoked to take a look at that.¡± She set more items on the table: a mortar and pestle made a rich orange-brown stone shot through with eddies of black; a gleaming rock, shockingly blue with splashes of gold on every surface; and, a small, pale blue flower with five petals and a thick golden ring at its center. ¡°I don¡¯t usually get to do ceremonial magic or high rituals, so this is going to be very cool for me,¡± she explained, dropping the flower into the stone bowl. ¡°It offers a lot of stability but it¡¯s time-consuming and relies heavily on the work of others, which can interfere with a caster¡¯s intent.¡± She lifted the pestle in one hand and gripped the mortar with the other. ¡°Are you ready to begin?¡± There were secrets locked away in Aaron¡¯s mind and now was the time to unearth some of them. Whether he wanted to know just how far he had gone or not was secondary to the fact that he ¡ª and the Drakon ¡ª needed that information. With one hard swallow, he nodded to the young sorceress sitting across from him. ¡°Let¡¯s see what there is to see,¡± he said. Chapter 55 - Memory Magic Tia lifted the blue stone ¡ª which Aaron suspected was lapis lazuli ¡ª and laid it on top of the flower in the mortar, then she ran the pestle around the rim of the stone bowl. It produced a thrumming sound that was both gentle and coarse. When she had completed three full circuits, she tapped the mortar a single time with the pestle and both rock and flower were magically rendered into a thick powder. ¡°One of the reasons I decided to do this with a ritual devised by someone else is that we¡¯re on a time crunch,¡± Tia said. ¡°But the potential for very powerful magic to be involved made it a strong choice, too.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the difference between ceremonial magic and other kinds of spells?¡± Tia began to flip through Arcanum Memoria, the little, aged tome she had brought out of her bag, as she answered. ¡°It¡¯s a nuanced distinction, since I use structured magic like the vast majority of casters, but if I had to summarize the difference, I¡¯d say that ceremonial magic and high ritual rely more on symbolic elements than a personal mental framework and they tend to have a weight to them that comes from the tradition attached.¡± She finally found the page that she wanted in her book and read through it several times. ¡°Please try to stay calm and quiet while I perform the rite. The grimoire says we should ¡®experience the affected memory,¡¯ but it¡¯s not clear on what that means.¡± Tia moved the mortar to the center of the table and began to make complicated gestures over it, her hands moving to form strange sigils and shapes. Then she began an incantation. ¡°Was genommen wurde, bleibt deins. Dein Geist geh?rt dir allein.¡± Four years of high school German were utterly failing Aaron. He only vaguely recognized a few words after more than a decade without practice. The powdered stone and flower began to gently jostle and shudder in the stone vessel. ¡°Magie wirkt durch Eigentum. Wir lehnen den Anspruch ab.¡± Each sentence was more emphatic than the last, not in volume or even tone, but something obvious yet ineffable. The words gained a kind of weight as they were spoken. The dense powder gleamed like a million tiny gems and began to rise out of the mortar, forming a glittering cloud of vibrant royal blue. ¡°Enth¨¹lle, was dem Geist verborgen bleibt.¡± The last sentence reverberated through the apartment, like the ringing of a great bell. The sound didn¡¯t wash over Aaron, but struck him like a blanket and stopped, engulfing him. The cloud of fine dust wrapped around Aaron¡¯s head in overlapping bands, spinning and shifting on unstable axes.
He¡¯d been looking for a lighter and ashtray. A beer was in his hand, slick with moisture. After all the weird shit at the softball game, he¡¯d quit on quitting, but he couldn¡¯t remember where he¡¯d put anything. He stood just outside the kitchen, in the living room, frozen. He¡¯d just seen¡­ something. Everything was wrong. Not the apartment ¡ª that was exactly as it should be. Except that it was as it should be¡­ as he remembered it. Wasn¡¯t he somewhere else? Only¡­ he had just seen¡­ something. He couldn¡¯t identify what it was, but he could remember it. It was a person ¡ª no, it had been a person ¡ª standing by the door of his apartment. The door he always locked, even if he was just going to check the mail. Aaron needed to know ¡ª was desperate to know ¡ª who it was. He set his beer down on the credenza under the window and tried to see them, to will himself to notice. But the intruder only existed as a hazy impression, visible at the edges of his peripheral vision. He couldn¡¯t see the invader now because he hadn¡¯t then, but he knew they were there because... because when he had tried to see them- A person appeared, garbed in dark, vaguely militaristic gear, lunging at him with a knife. Some kind of modern day ninja, he thought. I remember thinking how absurd that was. Aaron flinched and tried to move away, but he was in a bad position and had no space. The knife struck him in the shoulder. Somehow, it failed to pierce his skin. He was shocked and yet¡­ not. I knew that would happen, he realized. Except he hadn¡¯t known it then. And then was now, not then. This is happening now. Wasn¡¯t it? The disorientation of experiencing a memory as if it were happening was overwhelming. Aaron¡¯s mind was running on two separate tracks. His thoughts were so distant from his consciousness that it was more like reading what someone had written than hearing himself think. It was like the most intense form of d¨¦j¨¤ vu; Aaron was a captive observer to a moment of his own life. He knew what would happen next, but had no agency to change anything. All he could do was experience it. Again. A second knife ¡ª one far more deadly ¡ª came out, just as it had before, and the battle began in earnest. Aaron made a clumsy, half-trained effort to fend off his attacker, who had much more experience. He was propped up entirely by his developing power as a drakus. If he¡¯d known that, then, would things have ended differently? He cheered for himself internally when he delivered a brutal elbow, gasped when he kicked the couch back into the assassin, and cringed when he ran into the closet and crouched down on all fours. After crashing into the assassin from his dark corner of the closet, catching him off guard and crushing him against the bathroom wall, Aaron struck him with desperate strength, sending him careening across the living room. As he walked ¡ª or remembered walking ¡ª carefully through his apartment, approaching the fallen assassin, Aaron prayed for the memory to end. He knew what was coming and didn¡¯t want to relive it. He didn¡¯t want to become a murderer again and for the first time. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. But the memory wouldn¡¯t end. Maybe it couldn¡¯t. Then Aaron was kneeling over the dying man, pinning him down with a knee and shouting questions at him. His feelings in that moment were impossible to turn away from, impossible to ignore. Fear, curiosity, anger, but¡­ no remorse. Shouldn¡¯t he be feeling remorse? Guilt? Shame? Even in a life-or-death situation, shouldn¡¯t he regret the taking of another¡¯s life? Worst of all, he realized that he hadn¡¯t lost control. The fallen assassin spat out some words, pausing for awful, gurgling breaths. Aaron had originally taken it for the word salad of delirium, shock, or a brain shutting down; they held a different significance now. Or they would when now was then again. ¡°I struck at the serpent¡­ before it could strike at me.. but its fangs have left me dead,¡± the assassin spat in that gasping cadence. ¡°For another chance, I¡­ give what¡¯s left of my life... leave no trace¡­ and make you forget.¡± The last sentence, coming as the last dregs of life left the assassin, rang with power. Just like Tia¡¯s incantation had¡­ or would? No, had. Whatever the timing of that spell and this one, Aaron felt the world around him changing. Before it could, ribbons of sparkling blue dust streamed into his vision, forming thick bands that whorled in the space between him and the assassin. The power of the assassin¡¯s words was intercepted by the swirling powder. Aaron couldn¡¯t have said how he knew it, but it seemed to him the blue haze consumed whatever was being carried by the dying man¡¯s words. Magic; it¡¯s devouring the magic and intent behind the spell, he realized. Then the assassin was gone, vanished as if he¡¯d never existed. All traces of the fight had disappeared, as well. Aaron blinked and¡­
Opened his eyes to find Tia sitting across the table from him. Her eyes were still closed, but they slowly opened almost as soon as Aaron was back to his own senses in the present. And this was the present. This was now, now. Truly and really now. The rite had uncovered his memory of that horrible night so completely he¡¯d been experiencing his own thoughts twice ¡ª those of the Aaron sitting in his new apartment in Upper Manhattan, and those of the Aaron fighting for his life in his old apartment in Sacramento ¡ª and it had been disorienting, to say the least. He was trying to process everything when Tia spoke. ¡°A spell of sacrifice,¡± she breathed. ¡°You must be a real pain in the ass to argue with once your mind is set on something.¡± Barrett had said something similar in their earliest meetings and it stung to hear it again, this time coming from Tia. It stung all the more because Aaron couldn¡¯t deny the truth of it. Barrett had called it strength of will, but was it? Aaron had rarely heard it framed in a positive light; Barrett and Tia might have been the first. It had always been a castigation for being stubborn, contrarian, and obstinate. But strong-willed? Hardly. He had trouble sticking to schedules, getting places on time, keeping a rein on his snacking, maintaining a consistent sleep schedule, and a host of other practical little life things that suggested his self-control wasn¡¯t up to snuff. All of that, however, was his own personal bullshit. ¡°What¡¯s a spell of sacrifice?¡± he asked, eager for a change of subject. He had another, more pressing question, but wasn¡¯t ready to ask it yet. ¡°It¡¯s possible to empower a spell by sacrificing some of your life essence to it, but it¡¯s dangerous,¡± she said. ¡°Like, really dangerous. It¡¯s irreversible and hard to limit how much goes into it. Magic is greedy.¡± Aaron thought back to the burning hatred etched into the face of the assassin in his apartment. If you were already dying, why not supercharge a ¡®fuck you¡¯ spell to spite an enemy? Human pettiness and magic is a truly horrible combination, he thought. ¡°The most telling thing,¡± Tia continued, ¡°is that the spell was clearly prepared in advance. That assassin went after you knowing he might die and ready to spend the last of his life to make it easier for the next guy.¡± As grisly as that revelation was, it wasn¡¯t all that surprising. They already knew there were people out there hiring mercenaries to jump people in the streets of New York at the risk of violating whatever secret laws there were. That made a lot more sense if it was the backup plan for the backup plan, more desperation move than deviously-crafted scheme. And there wasn¡¯t shit all Aaron could really do with that information at the moment, so he turned his attention to the next thing that mattered to him, even if he dreaded what he might learn. ¡°I didn¡¯t think ¡®experiencing the memory¡¯ would be quite so literal,¡± Aaron said, trying to sound nonchalant. ¡°I thought maybe it would be more like when you¡¯re reminded of something you¡¯d forgotten and have a vivid recollection of it. Especially something that triggers a powerful sense memory, like a smell from your childhood.¡± ¡°It was definitely more virtual reality than I thought it would be. I can¡¯t imagine how scary that situation was, getting attacked at home without any idea about magic or mythics or anything,¡± Tia said. ¡°I mean, you just lived through it so I¡¯m sure you have a good idea of how I felt,¡± Aaron replied, very casually. She shook her head. ¡°No, why would I?¡± Was it possible Tia¡¯s experience of the memory had been different from his? A knot in Aaron¡¯s guts loosened the slightest bit, but he didn¡¯t know enough about magic to take it for granted. He very much wanted to know If she experienced what he was thinking and feeling in the memory. If he played up his curiosity, Tia might not notice how invested he was in her answers. ¡°Did we experience the spell in different ways? What was it like for you?¡± ¡°It was like I was watching over your shoulder,¡± Tia said. ¡°I could see everything as it happened, but it was an external view. How immersive was it for you?¡± It took a moment for Aaron to decide how he wanted to answer, but he opted for the truth again, even if he was leaving things out. ¡°It was completely immersive; so much so that it was hard to reconcile that it was a memory, not the present.¡± Tia whistled. ¡°That¡¯s crazy! I wonder if it was that intense because of our inherited drakus memories.¡± Some of the tension in Aaron¡¯s shoulders bled away. He was, at different times, both a coward and a cold-blooded murderer in that memory. The thought of anyone peering that deeply into his mind had been more than a little unnerving. Now that the magic concealing his memory of the fight had been removed, Aaron wasn¡¯t even sure that he wanted to have that knowledge for himself. He¡¯d suspected the only way he could have survived was if he¡¯d killed the assassin, but he¡¯d assumed it would have been in a cold, borderline dissociative state like the one he¡¯d experienced in the garage and in those last few childhood fights. Only it hadn¡¯t been. Aaron had been so surprised ¡ª or overwhelmed, or whatever ¡ª that he¡¯d never really gotten angry or lost control, even when he¡¯d almost had his shoulder skewered by the first knife. That familiar and hated cold had been there, the tingle clawing its way up his spine and down his extremities, but it hadn¡¯t passed whatever critical mass was the difference between conscious action and near-fugue. It was the most uncomfortable truth about himself he¡¯d ever had to face: he had killed someone when fully in control of his faculties. He had done the very thing he¡¯d been so afraid of as a child that he¡¯d sworn to accept being called a pussy and a bitch just to avoid the risk of losing control in a fight. That it was unintentional and in self-defense didn¡¯t really matter; or, at least, it shouldn¡¯t have. He had gotten away with it, too, thanks to the very magic that briefly robbed him of his memories of the crime and that felt wrong. And yet Aaron found that it didn¡¯t weigh on him the way he thought it would have, the way he thought it should have. There was plenty of regret, even a degree of remorse, but wasn¡¯t Aaron supposed to be hollow-eyed and vacant, gazing off into the middle distance across the wartorn fields or forests of France? Well whatever, Aaron told himself. You can freak out over your moral turpitude later. Try to stay focused on practical shit, right now. Hoping that Tia wouldn¡¯t notice the change of subject, Aaron decided it was a good time to explore the other lingering mystery of his earliest days as a drakus: the strange knives the assassins kept using to kill him. Chapter 56 - Still More Secrets ¡°I wonder if that was the same knife the assassin at the hospital used,¡± Aaron said. ¡°They were pretty much identical.¡± Tia shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so; remember the spell of sacrifice. The guy in your apartment invoked magic to ¡®leave no trace.¡¯ It wasn¡¯t limited to your memory.¡± ¡°So it also changed physical reality?¡± Aaron asked, amazed at the scope of it. Now that Aaron thought about it, the magic had done a great deal more than just try to cover his memory of the attack. It had restored his apartment right up to the moment before the attack. His beer had even been sitting on the credenza under the window. ¡°That¡¯s my thinking, yes,¡± Tia said. ¡°Very powerful stuff; very powerful. If it hadn¡¯t changed the environment, you¡¯d have come to without your memory and wondered why your couch was flipped over and there was a dead body on the floor.¡± The mental image of that forced a laugh out of Aaron¡¯s throat. He¡¯d freaked out enough the way things had actually gone, he couldn¡¯t imagine what kind of meltdown would have ensued if he¡¯d gone to get a beer in the kitchen and come back to a murder scene in the living room. ¡°Obviously, we can rule out temporal magic,¡± Tia continued. ¡°There¡¯s no way this guy had a spell that affected an individual¡¯s mind so effectively and a localized time rollback. Even powered by a spell of sacrifice, anyone would have trouble doing both at the same time.¡± ¡°Temporal magic,¡± Aaron repeated, astounded. ¡°I think it¡¯s more likely the assassin was hiding in the corner waiting to attack so he could create a kind of snapshot of your apartment,¡± Tia mused. ¡°That spell didn¡¯t seem spontaneous, so he had it ready in advance just in case things didn¡¯t go as planned. My guess is that the spell repaired or replaced anything that was normally supposed to be there and got rid of anything that wasn¡¯t, including the assassin and his weapon.¡± Aaron nodded slowly. ¡°That makes sense, but I¡¯m actually hung up on the idea that temporal magic exists in the first place.¡± ¡°It does, but the really powerful magic is almost impossible to pull off, especially these days,¡± Tia said. ¡°Time is a lot less malleable than it used to be. Or that¡¯s our best understanding, anyway.¡± That tickled something in Aaron¡¯s memory. Hadn¡¯t Griffin said something about how there was more time than Aaron thought? No, he said there was more history than I thought, Aaron recalled. Why am I thinking there was more time? ¡°I don¡¯t understand how that¡¯s possible,¡± Aaron admitted. ¡°Isn¡¯t time just, y¡¯know, time?¡± Tia laughed softly. ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain, but I¡¯ll try.¡± Time, Tia explained, could be pictured as a river, flowing only in one direction and always at the same rate. You could swim with or against the current and you could even hold things out of the water, yet the river still flowed and carried all things with it. A great deal of evidence ¡ª what had survived of it and was relatively credible, at least ¡ª suggested that this metaphorical river had been somewhat different in the past. Not only had the rate of its flow varied on occasion, but this river of time would sometimes pull things along in its current at different rates. ¡°That¡¯s why so many ancient stories have people living to absurd ages or undergoing tasks that take years longer than they should,¡± Tia said. ¡°It¡¯s not like humans only learned how to see the sun or count seasons recently, so why would they keep making the same mistake?¡± ¡°What?¡± Aaron asked stupidly. ¡°Yeah, and it was also a lot easier to jump out of the river and land somewhere upstream, where you could divert the course,¡± Tia continued. ¡°Metaphorically, of course.¡± ¡°What?¡± Aaron repeated. Tia plowed on, heedless of the bombshells she was dropping on Aaron¡¯s fragile understanding of the universe. ¡°Of course, it¡¯s still possible to travel back in time, but it¡¯s much, much, much more difficult. Oh, and it¡¯s also been illegal for, like, more than a thousand years. I mean, it was sort of illegal before that since almost every faction had rules about it, but it was more of a ¡®do as I say, not as I do¡¯ situation, you know?¡± After searching for some way to concisely arrange his inquiries into a coherent format ¡ª preferably in a manner that made him seem sophisticated and erudite to the beautiful woman sitting with him ¡ª the best Aaron could come up with was, once again, ¡°What?!?¡± ¡°Anyways, since mind-altering magic is only really possible if you use alchemy ¡ª or are a vampire ¡ª I figure that rules out temporal and mind magic,¡± Tia finished. ¡°Oh, uh¡­ right,¡± Aaron said. ¡°So, uh, that¡¯s why it¡¯s probably not the same dagger.¡± ¡°Exactly! We¡¯re pretty sure the one you took from the hospital didn¡¯t have recall or tracking enchantments because they would¡¯ve set off wards when they were put on the plane in California, which suggests the one used in your apartment didn¡¯t either,¡± Tia explained. ¡°That¡¯s potentially more concerning, actually.¡± With all the revelations of the last hour ¡ª recovering his memory and learning he was a murderer, finding out vampires existed, and that time travel used to be easier ¡ª Aaron¡¯s brain was struggling to keep up with Tia, who was already almost certainly much smarter than him. Yet his mind was making the kind of snap connections it sometimes did despite his preoccupation. More often than not, the things his brain put together left people staring at him like he¡¯d grown a third arm, unable to follow his jumps in reasoning. Sometimes, however, it was one of the things that earned him the most sincere praise, whether for creativity, insight, or even outright brilliance. Aaron had learned to stifle and ignore those connections as he grew older to minimize all the times people looked at him like he was a stupid-ass dumb fucking idiot, but they still came on occasion. Like this one. And, like all those other times, he had a hard time stopping himself from giving voice to whatever puzzle had been transformed in his mind. ¡°Because if the dagger can kill ¡ª or even just hurt ¡ª a drakus, it probably required a lot of resources to make,¡± he said. ¡°Resources whoever sent these assassins were willing to burn and could replace for a second attempt not even twenty four hours later.¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Tia replied, putting away the ritual implements and spellbook she¡¯d used to recover Aaron¡¯s memories. ¡°Which is why I want to examine it and get a better idea of exactly how many resources the people after you were willing to blow on this.¡± A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°I¡¯ll go get it and we can find out,¡± Aaron said, getting up from the table. ¡°Back in a sec.¡± When Aaron came back to the table two minutes later, he had the dagger, wrapped in a t-shirt, and a Baby Bear, wrapped around the back of his head. ¡°Lemme see it,¡± Bear demanded. ¡°I wanna touch it!¡± ¡°Hello, Baby Bear,¡± Tia said, pausing in finalizing her preparations at the table to give the teddy bear a nod. ¡°Aaron won¡¯t let me play with the murder knife!¡± Baby Bear pouted. ¡°We need to test it,¡± Tia smoothly replied. She had laid out a number of new occult accoutrements on the table: a black candle; a red ribbon made of some glossy fabric, like satin or silk; a thin metal rod; a stoppered ampule of green liquid; and, a flat, glossy stone with rounded edges. ¡°Hang the dagger, point down, over the stone, please.¡± Aaron did so while Baby Bear positioned himself higher on Aaron¡¯s head for a better view. The dagger hadn¡¯t quite touched the stone when Aaron began to feel some kind of resistance. When he took his hand away at Tia¡¯s urging, the weapon hung, suspended upright, less than an inch above the gray rock. Like the blade from the remembered assassination attempt in his apartment, the one from the hospital had a strange, green discoloration and a faint gray aura that seemed to writhe and pulse just past its edges. ¡°I¡¯m going to use ceremonial magic, again, so we get the best, most accurate results,¡± Tia said. First, she lit the candle and fanned the smoke from it across the blade. Then the ribbon was loosely wrapped around and draped over the dagger. She set it on fire with the candle and it quickly burned away to nothing. Next, she prodded the blade and handle with her thin rod in several different places. Finally, she poured the green liquid over the weapon; it evaporated on contact with the blade. Tia must have known what she was looking at or been able to see something Aaron couldn¡¯t, because he learned nothing from watching the arcane procedures. Well, he learned that Baby Bear was easily impressed by magic as he ooh¡¯d and ah¡¯d every time. That wasn¡¯t all that surprising, though. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure this is a reaver¡¯s blade,¡± she finally said. ¡°A blade made of a mystic alloy called surripium. It¡¯s sometimes called a drain-blade because it transfers physical power from the victim to the wielder.¡± She took the dagger by the handle and held it out sideways. ¡°And do you see the aura around it? That¡¯s a very strong enchantment for sharpness and force. I¡¯m not confident it could cut a drakus too badly, but I think it could break skin, which is all the assassin would need.¡± ¡°To activate the draining effect?¡± Aaron guessed. ¡°We should test how strong it really is and add it to our armories. Do we have armories?¡± ¡°We do, but it¡¯s not just the reaving effect that would come into play; the blade is also coated in a poison derived from the fruit of the peridexion tree. It wouldn¡¯t be fatal, but it is one of the more effective poisons against drakus. It would have left you significantly weakened for a few hours.¡± ¡°This seems like overkill just to shank me,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Except, now that I think about it, the super shiv was the backup plan. He tried to stick me with a regular knife but it bounced off my, uh, scales?¡± ¡°As good a word as any and it doesn¡¯t sound as weird as saying it bounced off your skin or flesh or something,¡± Tia agreed. ¡°Not to diminish the trauma of people trying to murder you, but the most troubling thing here is definitely that whoever sent these guys had at least two of these blades ready to be handed off. They¡¯re very resource-intensive weapons.¡± She pulled a flat metal box out of her bag and placed the knife in it. ¡°I¡¯ll report on everything we¡¯ve learned to Barret and Mallory. Between this and their ability to track you, you¡¯re in real danger,¡± Tia said. That raised the last major concern Aaron had been chewing over, one he¡¯d let slip his mind repeatedly in the wake of all the other batshit insanity. ¡°Do we have any idea how they¡¯re tracking me?¡± he asked. ¡°It can¡¯t be too precise or we¡¯d have had more than just one squad of mercenaries on us.¡± His question was met with a sigh. ¡°That is the question. Whatever is being used can¡¯t be too specific or you¡¯d have been dead back in Sacramento. Most likely, whatever they¡¯re doing doesn¡¯t narrow it down to less than ten miles, fifty in a best-case.¡± That offered some small comfort to Aaron, but apparently not to Baby Bear. ¡°Isn¡¯t Manhattan kinda small, like San Francisco?¡± Tia nodded. ¡°Two miles across and a little over thirteen long. It¡¯s less than half the size of Frisco with twice the population.¡± Aaron and Baby Bear, natives of central California ¡ª if you didn¡¯t include wherever the hell Bear had been manufactured ¡ª both shuddered at hearing someone refer to San Francisco as ¡®Frisco.¡¯ ¡°So it wouldn¡¯t be very hard for people to find my Aaron, right?¡± Bear said, standing up on top of Aaron¡¯s head. ¡°Can someone get me a gun or a grenade or something? Ooh, maybe that extra murdery knife? I gotta protect my best snuggle buddy!¡± Both Aaron and Tia reached a silent consensus not to suggest that arming the teddy bear was a guarantee of catastrophe. He probably wouldn''t take that very well. It took them a few minutes to convince the bear that Aaron had excellent protection already, especially when he was at home, and that New York City was very built up and densely populated. ¡°Besides,¡± Tia added consolingly. ¡°Aaron might be doing some travel for his last Tribulation.¡± The stuffed bear was largely mollified and settled back down on Aaron¡¯s shoulders, clinging to the back of his head. Aaron, knowing the kind of personality he¡¯d always imagined Bear to have, wasn¡¯t sure if the matter was truly settled or if the bear was playing a longer game. As ridiculous as the idea of arming the teddy bear to help protect him was, it was nice to know someone was willing to do it for him, not for the position he was inheriting. Only time would tell if Baby Bear was satisfied with their explanations and deflections, but Aaron thought it would be wise to grab on to the new topic Tia had brought up either way. ¡°This next Tribulation, I¡¯m supposed to go get a magic golden stick, right? But it was hidden by the last Lizard King and the only way to find it is by remembering where he hid it, which I can do because he is also me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not as crazy as it sounds,¡± Tia said, laughing. ¡°We¡¯ve got some ideas that might help you with the process, too.¡± Based on historical precedent, the running theory was that Milton would have hidden the sceptre in one of the strongholds the Drakon had occupied over centuries, which Tia said were called temples for some reason. Although their archives didn¡¯t cover every new Primus Draconis¡¯s Tribulations, what records they did have said the sceptre had been retrieved from one temple or another. The specifics of how each candidate gained access to the sceptre weren¡¯t discussed, suggesting each Primus declined to share the details. To better facilitate Aaron¡¯s access to his inherited memories ¡ª and subsequent recovery of the sceptre ¡ª a collection of documents had been collected. They included selected journals, images, maps, and so on, each relating to one of the various temples, in hopes they would help Aaron form a connection with the memories. ¡°The biggest pain in the ass is that almost all the temples have fallen into disuse or been abandoned over the centuries and some have even been lost,¡± Tia said. ¡°There¡¯s a small chance this whole thing could turn into some kind of dungeon crawl.¡± ¡°Why were all these temples abandoned?¡± Tia shrugged. ¡°A lot of different reasons. Primus or Triumvirate fiat, magic run amok, and monster infestations have all caused temples to be abandoned, but the most common is that the location was compromised or thought to be compromised.¡± Tia had returned her dagger-testing equipment to her backpack and pulled out several expensive-looking pocket folders. She spread a sample of the various documents they held on the table and showed Aaron how they were organized ¡ª first by temple, then by date. There were a few old photos mixed in, but most of the visual records were drawings, sketches, and even a few paintings. The bulk of the material was loose sheafs of paper or journals recording the observations of previous Cordus and Animus Draconum. Baby Bear had no interest in the historical records, so he climbed up and draped himself across the top of Aaron¡¯s head. He might have even drifted off to sleep (if that were even possible). Aaron wasn¡¯t particularly excited to pore through all this stuff, either. ¡°Homework,¡± he said. ¡°Rad.¡± ¡°Basically,¡± Tia said, patting Aaron on the arm. ¡°Plus, Barrett and your security people want you to start combat training. After the ambush today, they want to make sure you can handle yourself.¡± ¡°So magic training with you, combat training with the goon squad, and studying historical documents on my own. It sounds like we¡¯re gonna need a montage.¡± Chapter 57 - Going Back to Anywhere Mara¡¯s Crypt was corny as hell, and in the way only vampires and other creatures with exceptionally long lives could be, but it had been worth the trip. Gabbie was one of the most dangerous people in the city, but she had produced. If every LARP troupe of magi with a few lumens to rub together were hiring goons, that could turn into a real problem, real quick. If they were doing it to prepare for an escalation of hostilities with the mystic lizards, the city could turn into a full-fledged warzone. Aaliyah needed confirmation before she could think about next steps. Unfortunately, the chances of a fancy magus condescending to speak with a lowly magic dick like her were low. All the more since they tended to be traditionalists with European ¡®sensibilities,¡¯ which meant the lack of an actual dick would work against her just as much as being a detective. She knew people who worked in what could charitably be called human resources in the local Creaturae community, but they mostly dealt with low level muscle, the kind of mook you¡¯d need for small jobs. They rarely dealt with hardened professionals. On the upside, she had a new partner she could ask to remind her to talk to the Vigiles¡¯ people with eyes in Customs at the local ports of entry. She turned to Eresthanon as they stepped back into the parking lot to do just that but had to put her hands on her knees to hold herself upright. During the walk back from the vampire club, Aaliyah had been so focused on working out the implications of a burgeoning war that she¡¯d forgotten about the elf¡¯s ridiculous outfit. The sheer weight of impending violence between the pointy hats and the salamanders had completely driven it from her mind. When she turned and was reminded she was in the presence of the Grand Marshal of the Black Parade, it knocked her off kilter for a second. Was it professional? Not entirely. Was it hilarious? Well¡­ she was laughing, wasn¡¯t she? She was working on the sickest of burns ¡ª something about being the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned, maybe ¡ª when her phone rang. It was Rognur. That sobered her up. Hopefully the little booger had something worthwhile to offer. ¡°Talk,¡± she said into the phone. Roger¡¯s poncy British accent assailed her ears, despite the goblin¡¯s quiet tone. ¡°Good evening. I felt it prudent to inform you that your bet is likely to pay out. If you stop by Anywhere, I¡¯d be glad to provide more details.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be there in ten,¡± Aaliyah replied, hanging up. She turned to Eresthanon, all business. ¡°Booger Joe has something for us, Sergeant Black Pepper. Hop in your car and follow me.¡± Mostly business, anyways. ¡° And try not to stop at any cemeteries along the way to brood.¡± ¡°If either the magi or drakus are planning a major offensive against the other it could quickly devolve into a bloodbath,¡± the elf said, astutely pointing out the obvious. ¡°No shit, Sherlock,¡± Aaliyah said as she swung a leg over her bike. ¡°If you don¡¯t have a change of clothes in your car, at least lose the coat and top hat, Mr. Peanut.¡± She took the West Side Highway and drove down along the Hudson. Hopefully the elf was on her tail, but she didn¡¯t pay him much mind. He¡¯d either find his way back to the bar or she¡¯d have another opportunity to laugh at him. She turned off at Clarkson and took a right on Varick, cruising all the way down to Tribeca. The route took her past a few local landmarks and Aaliyah idly wondered if Eresthanon would notice them. Near the end of the drive, they passed between the First Precinct house and the Ghostbusters Headquarters building. The squat limestone building of the police station, with its bright blue doors and anachronistic ¡®FOVRTH PRECINCT¡¯ engraved deep into the stone above the entrance, was very familiar. That house had been her station for the five years she¡¯d been part of the NYPD after she¡¯d mustered out. She¡¯d even dated a girl who worked in the Hook and Ladder company in the Ghostbusters building. Very convenient. Glancing in her rearview mirror, Aaliyah wondered if Eresthanon would appreciate the famous fire station. It was more likely he¡¯d have noticed when they passed the Whitney way back on 10th Avenue, the pretentious elven shit. Could she be certain he was pretentious? Eh¡­ probably. Roger¡¯s bar was only a block from the precinct house, but Aaliyah had to circle around so she could find an open parking spot. All those fucking one way streets. There was a reason for it, but it still bugged the shit out of her whenever she had to do the circle-round shuffle to get someplace. Eresthanon¡¯s sedan pulled in beside her and she was pleased to see her new partner hadn¡¯t had a change of clothes in his car; he was still wearing a brocade vest over his very fancy blouse and the most egregious trap pants Aaliyah had seen in years. It was awesome and she snickered a bit as they walked to the bar. The bar itself was busy; not packed, but busy. Soo, the orc bartender, interrupted his ¡®hunt for manflesh¡¯ to greet them and discreetly pass them a small crystal token across the bar. The orc leaned closer to them, flashed his fangs in a reasonable facsimile of a smile, and said, ¡°Last booth on the right.¡± God, this was all so cloak and dagger. Aaliyah didn¡¯t see the point of all the¡­ pointless mysteriousness, but criminals were always so tetchy about everything. Probably a habit to keep things on the down low when most of what you were doing was crimes. The last booth on the right was occupied by a couple who were engaged in a fierce, but very quiet, argument. It only took a second for Aaliyah to realize it was an illusion, but in that second she seriously considered smacking the couple; they had both shot her very nasty, snotty looks when she got close to the booth. When Eresthanon pointed out a small notch in the side of the booth the same shape as the token Soo had given them, Aaliyah slotted it in and the rear wall of the booth slid open. Smooth. After making sure no one was paying them any attention, Aaliyah and Eresthanon walked through the illusory couple and the open wall. A small staircase led down to a short, dim hallway with a door standing at the end of the hall, guarded by a pair of goblins who looked bored out of their minds. They didn¡¯t even need to flash their badges or give their names; the guards apparently knew they were coming and had been keeping an eye out for them. They opened the door and let the Vigiles pass into Rognur¡¯s real business - the Arena. The ¡°arena¡± was something of a grand title for what amounted to an eight foot deep pit with a low railing around it. Eidolons of all sorts ¡ª and they had better all be eidolons, or Aaliyah was going to get mighty pissy ¡ª were milling around, chatting with one another. Humans and human-passing critters made up the bulk of the audience, followed closely by goblins and orcs, but there was a smattering of other freaks, as well. A gnome in a garish yellow pinstripe zoot suit, complete with a matching tando hat, was sitting on a stool near the door. When Aaliyah entered, he hopped off the stool with a little squeak and extended a hand to her. It barely reached past her navel. ¡°Hi!¡± the gnome chirped, shaking their hands enthusiastically. ¡°I¡¯m Roosevelt, but most folks just call me Roo. I was asked to show you to Rognur.¡± The gnome led them through the crowd, quickly crossing the arena until they reached the goblin criminal who ran the whole thing. Rognur was sitting at a small table reading a newspaper, but set it down and stood at their approach. ¡°Ah, delightful,¡± Rognur said. ¡°Thank you, Roosevelt, I shall take it from here.¡± The goblin tossed a silver coin to the gnome, who gave them all a slight bow, winked, and disappeared back into the crowd. Rognur led them through an innocuous staff door nearby, then an equally innocuous unmarked door. This second door opened into a private office and from the inside they could see the door was anything but innocuous. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Thick as hell, made of metal-banded wood, and thrumming with magic strong enough even Aaliyah could feel it (as long as she was close enough), it was more like the door to a magical vault than an office. The goblin closed the door behind them and sat down behind the desk. He motioned them to sit and, of course, the only chairs in the room were all sized for little mucus people like Ole Booger Joe. Eresthanon eased into one of the small chairs with all the elven grace imaginable, the filthy traitor. Aaliyah took a different tack. She rested one thigh, and half of her very toned ass ¡ª thank you very much ¡ª right on the corner of Rognur¡¯s desk. ¡°So what¡¯ve you got?¡± she asked. ¡°I asked around and I believe your hunch was sound; something big is going down soon,¡± the goblin said. ¡°Several freelancers who participate in the entertainment at my establishments have been approached with offers to employ their talents in a less sporting manner.¡± Aaliyah¡¯s eye sockets might as well have been filled with ball bearings for how hard the squishy orbs within were rolling. ¡°So some of your pit fighters have had offers to upgrade from goon to mook and do violence out in my streets.¡± ¡°An adequate summary,¡± the goblin said. ¡°Most of them declined. The skint nature of their employers seems to have given them the impression they were the very dregs when it comes to muscle-for-hire.¡± Aaliyah was about to put on her cussing boots and tell Rognur exactly how useful she thought that vague-ass information was when he held up a finger and smiled like the junkie at his pipe. ¡°It piqued my curiosity. If the demand for mercenaries is so high that even resources as meager as my associates are being sought after, surely something larger must be going on. So I asked around.¡± The goblin¡¯s dramatic pause to sip something from a mug ¡ª probably tea, the slimy British nonce ¡ª gave Aaliyah the time to take some deep breaths and consider having a dentist check her teeth for cracks. It might be necessary with how much this meeting was making her grind the suckers together. Finally, the goblin smacked his lips and continued. ¡°It would seem there¡¯s been a sudden rush on hired hands, so long as those hands hold a weapon. Some folks I know who keep an eye on that sort of thing tell me hiring mercenaries has become de rigueur.¡± Another sip. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t tell you why so many armed personnel are needed, but I have discovered who is doing the hiring ¡ª magi. They¡¯re employing every freelancer or unaffiliated combatant they can. They¡¯ve also made entreaties to several of the local communities for alliances of mutual aid and assistance.¡± ¡°Any idea which factions they approached or what the responses were?¡± Aaliyah asked. The goblin¡¯s brows furrowed and he leaned back in his chair slightly. ¡°I¡¯m sure you appreciate that the involved parties are being exceedingly close-lipped so there are limits on what I was able to learn.¡± Aaliyah continued to stare at the goblin. He was fishing for assurances she wouldn¡¯t be pissed and that wasn¡¯t something she was willing to commit to. Not with the shitstorm she smelled brewing in her city. Finally, Rognur sighed. ¡°I have it on good authority that the therians and chimeras were both approached, though I¡¯m unsure through which factions or their responses. I¡¯d say it¡¯s a fair wager other factions have been contacted, as well.¡± ¡°What about the Outsider¡¯s Council?¡± Eresthanon asked. Although the goblin¡¯s bat-like features and solid black eyes gave him a good poker face, his surprise at the elf¡¯s question was easy to read and he didn¡¯t bother concealing it. ¡°You know of the Council?¡± Rognur asked. Eresthanon¡¯s only reply was a serene smile. If he weren¡¯t using his aloof elfin prissiness to her benefit at the moment, Aaliyah would have found it insufferably smug. She¡¯d have to remember to ask him what the hell he was talking about, too, because she¡¯d never heard of this Council. After a few seconds, Rognur took the hint. ¡°The Council doesn¡¯t like to involve itself in affairs that don¡¯t occur within their borders. I can¡¯t say whether any magi reached out to them but, given recent developments, I believe they¡¯re likely to aim for profit through neutrality.¡± ¡°What will they do if the violence spills into their territory?¡± Eresthanon asked. The goblin shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not my place to speak to that, but I imagine they¡¯ve already begun preparations for just such an eventuality. I shouldn¡¯t think it would be particularly pleasant for whomever is guilty for such trespasses in their territory.¡± Aaliyah had never heard of the Outsider¡¯s Council, but at a guess it was some kind of secret, shadowy frat boy crap that pulled the strings behind the hidden borough, Ekwiyakink. If that were true, then the goblin was underselling their likely response significantly. The chthonic peoples had a long and bitter history of brutal conflict among themselves, but they were even nastier to those they saw as encroaching on their territory. Whatever the case, she was getting pretty sick of all the cryptic bullshit. Unfortunately, it looked like it was just the beginning of wading through this much. Rognur had produced ¡ª good for him, the little shit ¡ª but he seemed to have reached the end of his useful information. If they stayed and let him spin his wheels, he¡¯d try to sell them on a beachside property in the Catskills. It was time to wrap the chit-chat up. ¡°Just so¡¯s I understand you ¡ª magi, from high to low, are scooping up every violently-inclined scumbag that¡¯ll take their lux for unknown purpose and they¡¯ve been reaching out to several of the more sizable and stable eidolon factions in the city to set up some kinda ¡®cover my ass if shit goes down¡¯ arrangement. Is that about right?¡± The goblin sipped from his mug. ¡°A most precise pr¨¦cis.¡± ¡°Anything else you can tell us?¡± ¡°Not at this time, I¡¯m afraid, but I will continue my inquiries. I, too, am curious about what might be coming.¡± ¡°Purely out of a sense of community-mindedness, I¡¯m sure,¡± Aaliyah said, standing. The goblin didn¡¯t bother to defend himself against the implication and the two Vigiles left the bar. They needed to have a confab before they called it a night and Aaliyah couldn¡¯t decide if they should grab a coffee, go back to the office, or just talk when they got back to the cars. Eresthanon had been effective without being too intolerable so far, and he was a bit gullible about social conventions, which promised all sorts of opportunities. Aaliyah was spared having to decide whether ¨C and how much ¡ª she wanted to socialize with the elf by a priority text message. It looked like the dry spell was ending; there had been some kind of incident. All the message from dispatch gave her was an address, instructions to get there forthwith, and a warning it could be an active situation. Aaliyah didn¡¯t know the neighborhood. It was on E 67th, which put it near the southern end of Central Park on the Upper East Side, but more than that she couldn¡¯t be sure of. It was swanky, though. ¡°You know this address?¡± she asked her partner. ¡°It¡¯s in Lenox Hill,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°It should be a townhouse or other residential building, unless my recollection is very out of date. Do you think surface roads will be clear enough to get there with all due haste at this time of night?¡± Mounting her bike, Aaliyah shook her head. ¡°We¡¯ll take the Byways, just to be on the safe side. There¡¯s an entrance two blocks up on the left.¡± She backed up onto the street and let herself think back to happier times at the Ghostbusters building on the corner up ahead while Eresthanon started in his car and pulled up behind her. Lenox Hill. Definitely swanky. Hopefully all the luxy folks would think they were too good to stand out on the sidewalk and there wouldn¡¯t be too many looky-loos hoping to see a dead body or something. A parking lot on North Moore let them into the Byways, where Aaliyah hit her lights. They weren¡¯t quite like the lights on a normal patrol car, although they would look like it to normal folks. Not only were the lights next to impossible to spot when they weren¡¯t lit because of some kind of dimensional magic fuckery, there was also some weird enchantment or device in them that caused pulses in the local aether. For people sensitive to magic, it would feel somewhat like an obnoxiously loud bass speaker was nearby. Thanks to the Byways ¡ª and the glories of speeding ¡ª they reached E 67th Street in a little over five minutes, instead of the fifteen minutes to more than half an hour it would have taken if they had hit any kind of traffic snags. She killed the lights before pulling out of the Byways exit onto a small, one-way street. The townhouses were definitely way up the posh scale in this neighborhood. Their destination was one street over to the west, not even a block from Central Park, and, thankfully, their street was going in the right direction. Aaliyah saw more lights ahead, so she knew they were in the right spot. An SUV and big, red pickup truck ¡ª from the NYPD and FDNY, respectively ¡ª had parked across the street just past Madison Avenue. That suggested officers were on the scene. Hopefully, they¡¯d be Vigiles¡¯ people. Aaliyah pulled her bike right up on the ass of the pickup. There was enough room for Eresthanon to park his sedan without completely blocking the crosswalk and she waited for him to park before putting up a hand to indicate he should stay in his car for a minute. She hung her badge on her belt, where it would be more conspicuous, as the police officer and firefighter approached. She took a second to inspect the markings on their uniforms. The glyph of the scales used by the Vigiles shone on their badges in addition to their insignia of rank. ¡°Captain,¡± she said to the firefighter. ¡°Lieutenant,¡± to the cop. ¡°What¡¯ve we got?¡± Chapter 58 - A Chantry in Lenox Hill The police officer and firefighter glanced at Aaliyah¡¯s badge then swept an appraising look around the intersection, checking for bystanders. She recognized both of them, but couldn¡¯t put names to the faces. Thank god for name tags on uniforms. ¡°A real shitshow is what we got, Quaesitor,¡± Rafferty, the police lieutenant, said. ¡°Sentinel wards picked up a massive aether disturbance twenty to thirty minutes ago.¡± Lehman, the fire captain, added, ¡°Bystanders got a whiff of it, so plenty of folks called 911. Protocols almost weren¡¯t quick enough to intercept.¡± Aaliyah held up a hand to forestall further explanations. Eresthanon really should have been hearing the initial briefing, but there was another, better reason to have him join them right now. She gestured for the elf to join them, then took a deep breath and steeled herself to keep a straight face. When her partner got out of his car in a billowy blouse, intricate vest, and pants with more straps and zippers than a dozen backpacks, Aaliyah was glad she¡¯d taken that moment to center herself. Otherwise, she¡¯d have been cackling. The two officers gave him a look that said exactly what they thought of his outfit. She waited for the elf to get close before introducing him. ¡°This is my partner, Eresthanon; Eric Nathanial in public. It¡¯s his first day on the job. Apparently he took the lack of dress code as an invitation to, uh, express himself or whatever. Any chance one of you has a department windbreaker he could throw on over his clubbing gear?¡± The elf ¡ª damn him ¡ª was as implaccable as ever. ¡°Pardon my appearance, I was meeting an informant and needed to blend in.¡± Rafferty opened the back of his police SUV and handed over a dark blue jacket. Eresthanon put it on, then hung his badge around his neck. ¡°Okay, just so¡¯s we¡¯re all on the same page, let¡¯s recap,¡± Aaliyah said, ¡°A big aether disturbance on the block, visible to mundies, happened around half an hour ago. What else do we know?¡± ¡°Let me walk you in so you can hear it firsthand,¡± Rafferty said. The lieutenant led them past the vehicle cordon, pointing out a townhouse halfway down the block. A fire engine and ambulance were parked on the street in front of it. The house was five storeys tall and made of large, pale limestone bricks with a rounded, bulging front. It was set back from the sidewalk a few feet and had a small patio enclosed by a wrought iron gate just over head height. The central window on the third floor, framed by a handsome balconette, had shattered. The sidewalk and street glittered with broken glass. ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s where the disturbance came from?¡± Aaliyah asked. Rafferty nodded. ¡°Looks like it. That glass is no joke to break, by the way, and the whole building seems to be warded up so tight there¡¯s no way the sentinel wards would¡¯ve picked up anything if the window hadn¡¯t broke.¡± They had arrived at the ambulance, where a firefighter sat on the edge of the cabin. A blanket bunched on the floor behind him suggested he may have been in shock. ¡°This is Delman,¡± Rafferty said. ¡°He was first on the scene from the MRU.¡± Aaliyah leaned over and stage-whispered to Eresthanon. ¡°That¡¯s the Magical Response Unit.¡± Then she turned back to the firefighter. ¡°Delman, how¡¯re you holding up?¡± The firefighter nodded to each of them in turn. ¡°Quaesitor, Tribune. It¡¯s a real shitshow in there.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what we hear,¡± Aaliyah said, doing her best to be warm and, like, soothing. Or whatever. ¡°Not gonna lie; my quick sweep left me a little shook up,¡± Delman said. Delman turned to look at a paramedic with a clipboard standing nearby and raised his voice a little. ¡°Not so much I needed a damn blankie, but you know how twitchy medics get.¡± The paramedic glanced their way and shrugged. ¡°What kind of shitshow are we talking about?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°At least six dead, spread around the house. I only walked the main hallways up to the top floor. No way was I gonna go in there. It¡¯s like a maze or something.¡± ¡°So the site¡¯s not secure,¡± Aaliyah said, turning to Rafferty. ¡°Get a tac unit here on the double; just in case we need backup. What else can you tell me, Delman?¡± ¡°It was a slaughter, real one-sided. Something major blew out that window on the third floor; it¡¯s a mess up there.¡± They thanked the first responders and headed to the house. A few gawkers were milling around on the sidewalk across the street but the uniforms had them well in hand. After a quick scan, no one stood out as being too interested in the crime scene so Aaliyah paid them no more attention. ¡°Why are there so many more people from the fire department than the police?¡± Eresthanon asked as they approached the gated patio. That was a damned good question, actually. Most people would assume the personnel present were appropriate to the incident and think nothing more of it. The elf was observant and insightful; Aaliyah had to give him that. ¡°Accidents and fires aren¡¯t as sexy as crimes, so people pay less attention,¡± she answered. ¡°And cops are armed, so that draws focus, too. In an ideal world, we¡¯d respond to all of these things with Con Ed workers or garbage men. Then no one would give us a second look.¡± They took a moment on the patio to examine the front entry. The door was slightly open with signs of damage near the floor, though it wasn¡¯t extensive. Eresthanon knelt down and examined the masonry around the door frame. He drew Aaliyah¡¯s attention after a few seconds. ¡°Do you see this mark?¡± Several short lines were carved into the brick at the base of the wall. It was a simple design, like a rune or a letter. The edges were smoothed from weathering, so it had been there a long time. ¡°A mason¡¯s mark? So what? Is this from some kind of famous magic bricklayer?¡± ¡°Look behind the mason¡¯s mark,¡± Eresthanon suggested. Aaliyah turned her attention back to the small engraving. Fucking illusions. She was perceptive, in both the mundane and metaphysical sense, but seeing through mystic obfuscation often required her to focus, which was a pain in the ass. Behind the illusory mark, she saw a more complicated engraving ¡ª an open hand with a burning candle over the palm. ¡°Do you recognize it?¡± she asked. ¡°Unless I¡¯m much mistaken, it¡¯s the sigil of the Brotherhood of the Flame Bearers. A small, rather uninteresting fraternal order of magi formed in the late nineteenth century.¡± ¡°Wizards. Of course it¡¯s wizards.¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Eresthanon paused, thinking. ¡°From what I can recall of this order, they should have nowhere near the resources to own a building like this nor to support the kind of enchantments I¡¯m sensing.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s a front,¡± Aaliyah mused. ¡°Well, let¡¯s go find out what kind of mystic horrors are waiting inside this ritzy chantry or sanctum or whatever.¡± Beyond the front doors was a small foyer with another set of double doors on the opposite wall. The floor was littered with broken glass and crystals from the remains of a chandelier hanging overhead. The body of a woman lay in one corner. Aaliyah pushed the front doors most of the way closed while Eresthanon examined the corpse. She stopped and pulled them open again, peering at them from the other side. Something had caught her attention and she spent a few seconds verifying her initial observation. ¡°The damage to these doors is all on the interior. They weren¡¯t even forced open as far as I can tell,¡± she said. Eresthanon stood up from beside the corpse. ¡°This woman was bludgeoned to death, her skull was crushed.¡± ¡°So whoever it was that came through here was either let in or already had a way in.¡± They moved on, continuing through the foyer. The house was so glitzy it had another, grander foyer after the regular one. Or maybe it was an atrium? Could a room be an atrium if it didn¡¯t have a skylight? The room was two storeys high with a double-wide quarter turn staircase climbing the walls on either side. There were doors on each side of the room, one under both staircases and double doors in the far wall. ¡°Three sets of double doors... this place is too damn fancy,¡± Aaliyah said. The fighting had grown more intense in the atrium or whatever the hell the room was. The walls and floors were scored with damage from spells, mostly around the staircase on the right side of the room. The intruder or intruders had been met there with fierce resistance. Aaliyah and Eresthanon took a moment to scan the space from the doorway, taking in the whole then narrowing their focus down to the specific. Three bodies were visible ¡ª two on the landing near the base of the stairs and one at the top. ¡°Check out those two,¡± Aaliyah said, heading up the stairs with measured steps and keeping part of her attention split between the head of the stairs and all the closed doors she was leaving below her. The layout of this place was about as close to a nightmare scenario as she could imagine, with so many potential angles of attack for the doers that there was no effective way to secure the scene without a much larger tactical unit. If it weren¡¯t for Delman¡¯s description suggesting the violence had moved upstairs ¡ª and her own prodigious badassness ¡ª she probably would have erred on the side of caution and waited for exactly that. Well, maybe not; that might have made her look weak or scared, neither of which she could afford as a woman in law enforcement. However, that didn¡¯t mean she was going to be reckless. At the top of the stairs, she didn¡¯t stop to examine the body. Not yet. The disturbance had started barely half an hour ago and the house hadn¡¯t been properly swept; it was possible the intruders were still in the building. A hallway stretched away from the balcony, running through the house. Aaliyah approached slowly, pulling out a crystal marble the size of a strawberry. She set herself, hips facing the wall, and slowly adjusted her footing and posture, each small movement letting her see a little bit more of the hallway. Each ¡°slice¡± of the ¡°pie¡± gave her a slightly greater field of vision down the passage without revealing her position to anyone she couldn¡¯t already see. Since she didn¡¯t have the manpower for overwhelming force and had absolutely no idea what was around the corner, it was the preferable tactic to a more dynamic entry. Not having a gun or other ranged weapon in hand made the technique much less useful, since she¡¯d have to draw a wand or something and that would eliminate the benefit of surprise, but it was better than just sticking her head around a corner and hoping no one tried to blow it off. Besides, Aaliyah wasn¡¯t too worried about a little magic getting flung her way and she had little fear of a more corporeal assault. Her initial assessment of the victims suggested the intruders relied on physical might rather than arcane to do their killing, so she wasn¡¯t terribly concerned. She would be pissed if some shit-wizard ruined her jacket, though. It took Aaliyah a few seconds to get a clear view of the hall. There were several doors on either side and a staircase at the far end, but the passage itself was clear. For the moment, anyway. She knelt and rolled the marble down the center of the lush carpet. It came to a stop just shy of the first doors, even with the jamb. If anything bigger than a fly moved in that hallway or the aether started changing enough for a spell, the marble would let her know. With the hallway as secure as she could make it, Aaliyah went back to the body at the top of the stairs. The corpse was a middle-aged man. He had fallen against the corner, crumpled in a heap. It only took a second to confirm the cause of death ¡ª his neck was broken. Someone with incredible strength had done that; more strength than the average eidolon was capable of. Eresthanon called to her quietly from the bottom of the stairs. ¡°Come take a look at this, Quaesitor.¡± When Aaliyah came down the stairs, Eresthanon was waiting beside the corpses on the first landing of the stairs. He held up one of the dead men¡¯s arms, revealing a tattoo of a teardrop with a wave inside, then showed her another, different marking on the other corpse, a palm and candle matching the masonry outside. ¡°Both marked with sigils for different, unrelated orders, both killed by brute force,¡± the elf said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure the intruders even used offensive magic themselves. However¡­¡± Eresthanon brushed at the carpet on the stairs with the flat of one hand, sweeping something into the other. He held up his palm to Aaliyah, showing some kind of fine, dark powder. ¡°This is stone. Unenchanted, as far as I can tell, but with lingering traces of magic on it. If I¡¯m understanding this correctly, the intruders used some kind of stoneshield spell unlike anything I¡¯m aware of to protect themselves from the chantry¡¯s defenders.¡± ¡°A stoneshield?¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°Would that even be effective against anything with real punching power?¡± The elf brushed the dust from his hands into a small pouch. ¡°If it were thick enough, perhaps; although even old stone golems would have been marked by enchantments to increase their durability. This is not a magic I am familiar with.¡± It was too early for forming theories or ruling things out, but a picture was starting to develop. Each body told them more about the how of it, but they were missing the who and why. Those answers would likely be harder to find, but every piece of information filled in the edges of the picture. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can get some more information from the rest of the house or chantry or whatever it¡¯s called,¡± Aaliyah said as she stood and began climbing back up the stairs. ¡°The perps could still be in the house, so we¡¯ll move with care.¡± Back on the mezzanine, she surveyed the hallway again. There were three doors on the right and four on the left. If each floor had roughly the same number of rooms, it would take them a very long time to clear every nook and cranny of the house. Add in the almost-certain presence of bullshit wizard traps and they¡¯d be at it until they retired. They needed something to speed up the process without increasing their exposure. She turned to the elf. ¡°You got any ways to detect movement or magic within the past thirty to sixty minutes?¡± ¡°The enchantments in this building would make attempts to detect magic fruitless, but I believe I have something that will suffice,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Assuming your goal is to mitigate the need to check each individual room?¡± Aaliyah nodded, glad her new partner was proving not to be a total dummy. Eresthanon began performing a complex spell, or perhaps a series of spells. His movements were neither big nor flashy and he was quiet throughout, a sign he was skilled beyond the norm, even for elves. Much as she might not have wanted a partner, it was nice to have someone watching her back who complemented her status as a woman of tremendous corporeal violence. In less than half a minute, Eresthanon had finished casting. He turned and walked to the railing, looking out over the atrium again. He hummed in thought for a moment before turning back to Aaliyah and examining the hallway once more. ¡°I believe I have a trail,¡± Eresthanon said. Then he pointed, first at the closest door on the right then the furthest door on the left. ¡°It continues through the hallway to the stairs, but there was movement from those two rooms within the past half hour.¡± A heavy sigh escaped Aaliyah¡¯s lips. Any hostiles still in the building were most likely on a higher floor, but exposing a flank she knew had seen movement recently was un-acc-fucking-cceptable. All the doors were closed, of course, because life had to be the biggest pain in the ass it possibly could. The odds should be in their favor checking rooms with recent movement, but there was always a risk when breaching that things could go sideways. It was a risk she felt they had to take. There was nothing to be done for it but to do it, unless she wanted to wait for daddy Khaldun to send some big strong men to do her job for her, which meant now was the time to take that first room. ¡°Keep an eye down the hall, then follow me in hard once I¡¯m through the door,¡± she said, careful to keep her tone low so the words wouldn¡¯t carry. They moved towards the door. Chapter 59 - Following the Wake of Destruction Aaliyah stopped a few steps down the hallway and knelt by the marble she¡¯d placed earlier. With a few quick gestures, she was able to adjust it and flick it further down the hall, where it came to a rest even with the frame of the door they needed to investigate next. With her trinket keeping an eye on the far end of the hall, she took up a position on the atrium-side of the door they were about to breach. Eresthanon moved into position across from her. It was an encouraging sign that no one had ambushed Delman, the firefighter with the Magical Response Unit, when he¡¯d done an initial sweep through the building, but it would have been foolish to take anything for granted at an active scene. Even if you couldn¡¯t account for every possibility and sometimes had to make hard choices, risk mitigation was still the name of the game. Nearly twenty years in law enforcement ¡ª first in the Army Military Police Corp, then with the New York Police Department, and now with the Vigiles Creaturae ¡ª had taught Aaliyah quite a few things. One was that doorways were where cops went to die. It wasn¡¯t called the ¡®fatal funnel¡¯ for nothing, after all. But she lived in a world of magic, now; a world with much less stringent rules of engagement and where you could get potions, artifacts, gizmos, and all other assorted types of magical doodads. It was impossible to plan for everything, but you could sure as hell try. Her marble sensor was just one of her tools, and Aaliyah reached into the same pocket to pull yet another. This time, she retrieved three small metal discs, each about the size of a quarter, but slightly convex with a bulge near the center. She pinched one between each of her fingertips on one hand ¡ª like she was preparing to do some kind of coin trick ¡ª then, with her other, held up three fingers; this signaled to Eresthanon to follow along as she nodded her head through a countdown. Then, they would breach the door. On the first nod, she placed her free hand gently on the doorknob and sank down to one knee. She angled her body so she had a clean line of sight to the space under the door. On the second, she swung the arm holding her discs back, just slightly, then flicked it forward, releasing the metallic objects to slide under the door. The third she delayed slightly, waiting for a burst of intense light from the thin space beneath the door. When it came, she finished the countdown, turned the knob, and rushed into the room. She was pleased to note Eresthanon was coming in hot on her heels, moving in a partial crouch to reduce the profile of his silhouette to any hostiles on the other side of the door. Their precautions turned out to be in vain, as the room was empty. It was a mix of office and lounge, with couches and chairs along one wall and a broad desk taking up much of the other. A bank of silverish screens adorned the wall over the desk. They were blank, showing only a blurry reflection of the room. Aaliyah scooped up her metal discs from the floor as Eresthanon went to examine the screens. She appreciated that the magical flashbangs had proven unnecessary, but appreciated even more that they were good for half a dozen uses and could be recharged when spent. With a bit of practice, even a magical ignoramus could power the glorious little tactical devices. ¡°Scrying mirrors,¡± Eresthanon said quietly. ¡°I believe this is a kind of security or observation post for this chantry.¡± Aaliyah pushed the door most of the way closed behind them. ¡°The recent movement from this room might have been one or more of the bodies we saw downstairs. Can you access their system, especially feeds of the intruders?¡± ¡°Not in a timely fashion; perhaps not at all,¡± Eresthanon answered after quietly perusing the mirrored screens for several seconds. ¡°These enchantments are complex and potent; far more potent than any of the orders we¡¯ve seen represented here so far should be able to manage. Unless my knowledge of arcane societies is very much out of date or mistaken.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a shame, but not unexpected. We might circle back around to this later, but for now we should keep moving. We¡¯ll use the same procedure to breach any other rooms with recent movement we come across. Got it?¡± Eresthanon barely had time to nod agreement before Aaliyah was headed for the hallway. This whole thing was setting her teeth on edge, from top to bottom. Each new piece of the puzzle made the picture just a little bit clearer and she did not like what she was seeing. Back out in the hall, the two vigilum moved to the last door before the stairway, which only went up. Aaliyah repositioned her marble and they repeated their new breaching process. The door ended up leading to a bathroom. A richly-appointed bathroom, but an ordinary bathroom nonetheless. ¡°Makes sense there was movement from here if it¡¯s the can,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°Let¡¯s not linger; god knows what¡¯s waiting around the next corner. We need to stay moving.¡± They closed the door and continued following Eresthanon¡¯s trail to the stairs. The stairway was wide with a broad landing at the switchback. With her sensor marble stowed and her flashbang discs in hand, Aaliyah led the way up the stairs, moving as quietly but as quickly as she could to avoid being caught on the low ground. It ascended only a single storey. Before they fully reached the summit, Aaliyah saw yet another staircase at the far end of the hall. Whoever had designed this townhouse apparently put a lot of emphasis on security through inconvenience; you had to cross the entire length of the house to get to a staircase leading to the next floor. In the end, that particular security feature hadn¡¯t done these wizards a whole lot of good. A large bay window framed the landing of the stairs across the hall, which had been broken outward by some tremendous force. Two more bodies lay crumpled not far from the foot of those stairs and the walls around the landing were scored and pitted by powerful magic. Aaliyah lowered her stance until her knee rested on the floor at the very top of the staircase. It wasn¡¯t an ideal position, but it might give them the drop on anyone barging out into the hall from any of the five evenly-spaced doors lining each side of the passage. She didn¡¯t want to run that gauntlet or leave her flanks so egregiously exposed without some idea of what kind of movement had come through recently. Even then, it was a risk. Eresthanon was crouching close at hand, a couple steps below her. ¡°The trail?¡± she asked, her voice quiet thanks to Eresthanon¡¯s proximity. ¡°It continues through, but there was movement from the second door on the right, likely preceding the attack by as much as half an hour.¡± The bathroom had been a bust and this movement was even older, but it was better to be safe than sorry when you had the luxury of choice. After deploying her trusty marble further down the hallway and flashing the door Eresthanon had indicated, they went through. It opened onto a short, narrow hallway that ended in still another door. A repeat of their rudimentary breaching process took them through that door and into a very unusual room, a library. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. An impressive library, to be sure, filled to the brim with shelves of books, cabinets of documents, and a number of handsome reading areas, but one that simply could not have fit in the townhouse. It was four storeys tall, just one less than the building housing it, but there was at least twenty feet between the door and the far wall. That was far too much space to have fit in the confines of less than half of a narrow townhouse on the Upper East Side. ¡°This is dimensional magic, right?¡± Aaliyah asked. Eresthanon took a moment to consider. ¡°I don¡¯t believe so. One or both of us likely would have felt something from a compression of this magnitude.¡± ¡°If this ain¡¯t magic,¡± Aaliyah said, stepping up to the rail to look down into the lower floors of the library, ¡°then you know what that means, right?¡± ¡°Yes, Quaesitor; this unknown and seemingly hidden order of magi ¡ª in addition to possessing a library that would inspire envy in many venerated mystic societies ¡ª outright owns not one, but two townhouses less than a city block from Central Park.¡± ¡°Well yeah, obviously,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°But it also means twice as many places our intruders could be if they haven¡¯t left already. After our initial sweep, we¡¯re gonna need more manpower to do a full clear safely.¡± There were plenty of nerdy types in the Vigiles who might lose their cool over a library like the one in this townhouse, but Aaliyah was not one of them. She was cool, obviously, but it never hurt to throw the eggheads a bone. Or a dusty tome, as the case may be. With no immediate threats as far as she could see, she returned to the hallway to continue their pursuit of the unknown intruders. They reached the base of the stairs in short order, giving them a better view of the two corpses and the damage to the landing. Like those below, the magi¡¯s deaths were clearly the result of physical trauma. The remains were mangled, showing brutal, gruesome injuries more extreme than the earlier victims downstairs. Up close, the cataclysmic damage to the walls and floor around the landing also showed signs that the conflict had escalated. Although the magic reinforcing the structure had largely held, the window had been blown out in spite of those enchantments. When she glanced out through the shattered window, Aaliyah saw a lone man in firefighting gear perched atop a fire engine on the street below, watching the building. The large identification plate on the front of his helmet bore the glowing sigil of the scales and, unless Aaliyah¡¯s eyes were crapping out on her, the markings of a member of the MRU. He tipped the brim of his helmet at her and she gave him a nod of acknowledgement. ¡°More MRU are on site,¡± she told Eresthanon, who was examining the damage to the walls. ¡°And more probably on the way. I better send word not to breach without my word or good cause.¡± While Aaliyah made the call to ensure no tactical goons came tromping in and contaminated her scene, Eresthanon continued his inspection of the damaged landing. Aaliyah had formed a preliminary picture of how this fight went in her mind, but she was interested in hearing the elf¡¯s take. He had specialized knowledge of magic which, much as she hated to admit, was a bit of a gap in her own expertise. ¡°What¡¯s your take on what happened here?¡± she asked when she¡¯d finished conferring with the MRU. ¡°Lt. Rafferty was most likely correct; the sentinel wards picked up a disturbance through this broken window,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°I suspect the dead magi, in their increasing desperation, were responsible for breaking the glass, but it was a third magus who triggered the wards.¡± Aaliyah¡¯s eyebrows shot so far up her head they might¡¯ve thought her edges had been talking shit. She had the same read on growing expenditures of magic power as the resident magi had become more desperate to protect their sanctum, except she thought the two dead magi had pushed the attacker to step up their beatdown game, explaining the severity of their injuries. She was having trouble fitting a third magus into her visualization of the scene, especially without a body or some other clear sign of their presence. Then again, serious battle magic had been thrown around in this building and she¡¯d be an idiot to let her pride get in the way of the job. She had to be the bigger woman, bite back her feelings, and find out what her new partner saw that she didn¡¯t. ¡°Alright, walk me through it,¡± she said. ¡°Tell me what your elf eyes see.¡± Eresthanon cleared his throat. ¡°By the time the intruder crested the stairs in the foyer, an alarm had been raised and the remaining defenders in the chantry were on alert. Judging by the spell damage, I would say the two victims at the base of the stairs represent a more elite security force than those on the ground floor. They met our intruder with an even fiercer resistance, likely using spells, artifacts, or potions that enhanced their bodies and allowed them to endure longer than their brethren who were slain first. ¡°In the course of their battle against the intruder, one or both of them unleashed magic that broke the window which, being glass, can only benefit so much from enchantments designed to increase their durability. Whether this magic posed a real danger to the intruder I cannot say with certainty, but it seems likely, which is why they renewed their attack with greater ferocity, resulting in the injuries we see before us. ¡°That is when the third magus enacted a spell of sacrifice.¡± Although magic was not Aaliyah¡¯s area of expertise, she recalled enough of her training from when she first joined this hidden world and from joining the Vigiles to recognize that phrase. Someone had turned themselves into a sorcerous suicide bomber, super-charging a devastating magic with their own life force. But if so, shouldn¡¯t there have been some compelling evidence left behind? Had the elf missed something? ¡°Why aren¡¯t there any bodies?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°The intruder survived and the remains of the magus were¡­ redistributed,¡± Eresthanon said, gesturing around at the scorched and pitted walls. Aaliyah took a moment to give those same walls a closer look. There was no viscera to be seen, but that meant very little if the arcane energies had been powerful enough. Come to think of it, it was not entirely impossible that a suicide spell could consume the very flesh of its caster to channel still more power into the magic. Now that would be a particularly grotesque bit of sorcery. ¡°Gross, but okay,¡± she said. ¡°So why just one intruder, and what makes you think they survived?¡± Eresthanon knelt on the floor and swept up more of the stone dust they had seen in the foyer, raising his hand to show Aaliyah. There was a significantly larger pile than he¡¯d gotten from the carpet downstairs, but it looked otherwise identical. ¡°If their protective magic had been insufficient to survive the spell of sacrifice, I believe the stone would have shown signs of it,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Whether it be a discoloration or damage to the fine particulates, there should have been some indication if the magic had been overwhelmed by a spell of such force.¡± The elf brushed his hands free of the dust. ¡°As for my reasoning on a single assailant, there have been two battles since the entrance foyer that involved multiple magi. In each, the evidence suggests their combined fire targeted a single point, rather than many. Until they were killed, of course.¡± Aaliyah allowed herself a smile, pleased that her new partner had noticed the pattern of fire and equally satisfied he hadn¡¯t included information from his tracking spell. He¡¯d already shown that his spell couldn¡¯t differentiate one person¡¯s trail from another, so if he¡¯d incorporated that in his reasoning on a single intruder it would have been a very poor deduction. Thankfully, Eresthanon was proving to have a capable analytical mind. ¡°I want to emphasize that the magic behind the stoneshield the intruder is using is surprisingly potent,¡± Eresthanon added. ¡°I suspect the two of us could overwhelm their defense if it becomes necessary, but it will not be without its risks.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me twice, buddy,¡± Aaliyah said, smirking. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s keep moving.¡± She took one last look at the devastation around her, offered another nod to the MRU officer sitting on the fire truck outside, and continued on her way upstairs. She had some tricks up her sleeves the poor bastards who¡¯d given their lives trying to protect this place didn¡¯t have and they¡¯d even the odds more than Eresthanon knew. Still, it would be better to play that sort of thing close to the chest until her working relationship with Eresthanon had solidified. For now, they had to keep looking for this mysterious intruder. Hopefully they¡¯d find some compelling evidence about the who and why of the assault, because the how was painting a picture Aaliyah really wanted to make sure was as clear as possible before she committed to a working theory on the crime. The two vigilum left the destruction of the landing behind and made their way up to the fourth floor, in search of answers in this strange sanctum of sorcerers hidden in the heart of Manhattan. They could only hope that clues awaited them above, and not more bloodshed. Chapter 60 - The Chantry Heights Although the battle on the landing had ended almost an hour earlier, Eresthanon had no trouble detecting the traces of their movement. The battery of minor sensory enhancements he had enacted at Quaesitor Dean¡¯s request made it a simple matter. While more potent sorceries would have been ineffective given the density and nature of the magics in the chantry, lesser, mundane enhancements to his already acute elven senses were more than a match for the task. Subtle impressions in the carpet, the faint but lingering scent of ozone and other byproducts of mystic energies impacting worldly materials, even minute deviations in the dust carried on air currents circulating through the townhouse, all of these little things provided Eresthanon with a clear sense of recent movement and a rough idea of how recent it was. He couldn¡¯t distinguish one trail from another all that well and changes from specific movement of bodies and appendages were too minute to sort out, but the movement of larger bodies through space left something like a hazy, indistinct afterimage he could follow. They were fortunate to have arrived when they did; a half hour later and the signs would have taken much greater scrutiny to discern, if they could have been at all. This phantom path led them further upwards, to the fourth of five storeys in this mystic stronghold belonging to some as yet unknown arcane order. The culprit who had so brutally murdered half a dozen magi with little apparent effort was most likely to be on the last floor, if they were still in the building at all. The potential for violence with a foe this dangerous set Eresthanon¡¯s nerves on edge. Stugrond¡¯s exercises had shown him he was no stranger to armed conflict, but he didn¡¯t relish the idea of a bloody confrontation, especially so early in his new Cycle. His partner was something of an unknown, as well, although Eresthanon was beginning to suspect she might do the heavy lifting if it came to a battle. Aaliyah had taken point in their two-man formation since they arrived at the chantry. She had been relatively prudent and cautious in their investigation of the grounds, but Eresthanon suspected it had more to do with procedure and protecting him than concern for her own safety. The woman herself seemed to hold little fear of whomever had assaulted this place, leading Eresthanon to wonder, once more, exactly what manner of Creaturae the Quaesitor was. That was not the kind of thing you asked someone unprompted. It was all the more important given their working relationship; questions of that nature could suggest a lack of trust in either his partner or the Vigiles itself. Eresthanon knew Aaliyah was a bit prickly and prideful, so it was not a subject he planned to broach without very good reason. It did seem implausible that her boldness was unfounded and having her at his back gave him no small measure of solace. Elves often relied on magic and speed to hold their own in praeternatural warfare, but he knew the odds were against him if he had to face the kind of might demonstrated by the chantry¡¯s assailant without assistance. ¡°Shields on,¡± Aaliyah said, practically under her breath. ¡°Won¡¯t be much use against our doer on account of they¡¯re so hands on, but it should help if any wizard trap bullshit is waiting for us.¡± Each of the vigilum touched the badge wallet hanging from their clothes, activating the enchanted metal plate stored within. Eresthanon felt a dull, vibrating hum spring to life around him, not the most potent magic but a passable arcane shield nonetheless. He could reinforce it with his own defensive castings if trouble arose. The fourth floor was much like the third ¡ª a long, central hallway running the length of the townhouse with doors on either side, and ending at a staircase leading up to the next floor. Instead of five doors on each side placed at regular intervals, this hall had two doors on the right side and four on the left. ¡°No signs of movement from any of the doors, Quaesitor,¡± he said. ¡°The trail continues directly to the stairs.¡± ¡°The wizards might¡¯ve run out of defenders,¡± Aaliyah mused. ¡°Still, take nothing for granted; we¡¯ll move slow and steady.¡± Once more, the two vigilum crossed the building in pursuit of an unknown killer, or some tangible clue to their identity and motive, at the very least. They moved with caution, neither pushing too fast nor dawdling on their way. Eresthanon kept the structure of a spell primed in his mind and the intent to draw his bonded glaive lurking just behind it. Aaliyah had her flashing metal discs ready, as well. For all their wariness, the vigilum made their way to the other end of the hall without incident, where the stairs led up to the fifth floor and a most peculiar room. Filled with comfortable chairs and couches, it took up the full width of the townhouse and could have passed for a large lounge. A broad desk was set beside the only door in the room, which stood ajar directly across from the stairs. The desk gave the room the air of a lobby or, perhaps more accurately, a checkpoint. More telling than the layout, however, were two gleaming suits of armor which lay, scattered and mangled, on the floor near the desk. He wouldn¡¯t know until he got closer, but Eresthanon suspected they were golems or some other form of automata. The very functional melee weapons on the ground near them made that a near certainty. With a few simple gestures, Aaliyah silently indicated Eresthanon should wait on the stairs while she scouted the room. She dropped her marble on the ground ¡ª it was some kind of aetheric sensor, unless Eresthanon was much mistaken ¡ª and it rolled down the stairs in near-silence, then she proceeded into the antechamber of the fifth floor. Despite the size of the room, it only took Aaliyah about a minute to make a complete circuit of the area. When she came back to the stairs, she crouched beside Eresthanon and spoke in a low tone, meant not to carry. ¡°Delman was right, there¡¯s a rat¡¯s nest of hallways back there. I could tell with just a peek through the door.¡± ¡°There is powerful magic beyond,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°I can sense it from here, though it¡¯s difficult to discern the nature. I would like to stop a moment before we press on to examine those suits of armor and the desk, if that would be alright.¡± With no objection from his ranking officer, they crossed the room and paused near the desk, allowing Eresthanon to confirm some of his preliminary observations. The suits of armor were, indeed, constructs of some sort, and quite advanced ones at that. The runework inside the damaged pieces revealed core enchantments that were old. Quite old. They had been altered and upgraded in the centuries since, but Eresthanon suspected the fundamental spellforms ¡ª and likely the armor itself ¡ª had been forged from the designs of the early architects of the so-called Golden Age of Golemancy. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. If this chantry belonged to some off-shoot of one of those old orders, it would go a long way to explaining their resources as well as their secrecy; many of those who had suffered at the unfeeling hands of those early constructs had long memories and, for some, vengeance was a time-honored institution. Looked at in the light of this new information, it was somewhat more concerning the mysterious intruder had not only overcome several magi, but had just as handily dispatched two ancient and powerful war golems, and apparently been none the worse for wear from it. There were not many Creaturae, in general, possessing that degree of both mystic and martial prowess. Exemplars and paragons could be found amongst any faction or peoples, of course, but for such an asset to come here and conduct so brazen a raid? It was more likely to be someone acting without direction or an organization who had this kind of strength to gamble. ¡°I believe the mage who performed the spell of sacrifice was seated here,¡± Eresthanon said, gesturing to the desk. ¡°There are traces of movement that are slightly older than the trail leading onward.¡± Aaliyah nodded. ¡°And the suits of armor, they¡¯re constructs of some kind, right?¡± ¡°Yes, very old, very powerful ones.¡± ¡°So this was the last line of defense, meaning the reason for the assault is likely hidden somewhere in the maze behind that door,¡± Aaliyah said, as much to herself as to her partner. ¡°Let¡¯s push on, but we¡¯ll move as quietly as we can in case our doer¡¯s still here.¡± They passed through the final door, Aaliyah in the lead, and immediately felt a change in the world around them. At a questioning look from the Quaesitor, Eresthanon withdrew his phone and typed out his best guess as to why ¡ª they had entered into an area heavily modified by spatial magic and other enchantments. The effect was so pronounced even the spells Eresthanon had employed for tracking were hardly functioning. To find their quarry, they were going to have to make their way blind; no easy task considering the top floor was a complicated maze of hallways and closed doors, with no markings and no discernible rhyme or reason. Moving with stealth would have been ideal, but the best they could manage was a reasonable facsimile. Eresthanon was an elf, so he moved like a soft breeze and made barely a sound, but his partner was not. Aaliyah wasn¡¯t timid by nature and her steps were rather heavy. She moved like infantry flanking an enemy position through a forest; hard to hear only because of the sounds of the living woods and the opposing soldiers. They began their search, pausing briefly at each new intersection so Eresthanon could search for signs of recent movement that would register to his much-diminished tracking senses. Each minute that passed would make it harder still for him to spot signs of movement in the stifled corridors of this formidable sanctum. Thankfully, neither their lack of real stealth nor the lack of a trail was much of a hindrance. Within a minute of their exploration beginning, they heard a voice speaking from somewhere not far off. The voice belonged to a man, Eresthanon thought, and seemed unconcerned about being overheard. In fact, from his tone it sounded like he was having a casual conversation with one or more other, unheard people. The language being spoken wasn¡¯t one Eresthanon knew, but it was vaguely familiar; he had heard it before, though he couldn¡¯t identify it specifically. It had an air of pomposity to it, as if it were highly ceremonial and ritualized. There was a strange, staccato quality to the phrasing and a great deal of emphasis was put on the vowels of each syllable. It was a dreadfully inorganic tongue, as far as the elf was concerned, almost like dwarven but with none of the personality. Aaliyah leaned over until her face was barely inches from Eresthanon¡¯s. ¡°Is that, like, Pig Latin or something?¡± The voice switched to English before Eresthanon could think of how to answer that, which was fortunate as he was seriously considering whether it might, in fact, be some kind of joke language. ¡°Please accept my apologies,¡± the speaker said in a distinctly British accent. ¡°The lack of nuance isn¡¯t linguistically ideal for casual conversation. What I mean to say is that I have yet to ascertain what, precisely, the intruders were after or might have taken.¡± After a pause, he continued. ¡°I can confirm they ascended to and breached the highest floor which, as you know, imposes certain limitations on what I may glean without taking additional measures that require rather more time than I suspect is available.¡± Another pause, longer this time, as the unknown speaker likely listened to additional, unheard voices. It gave the vigilum a chance to stalk the hallways in search of the conversation. They knew from the sound that they had closed some of the distance when the man began speaking once more. ¡°Our old associates should be downstairs for a while yet, sweeping and clearing and carrying on in their own fashion. Given the damage to the structure and the violence of the incursion, I estimate another ten to fifteen minutes before they reach the checkpoint, which should itself delay them significantly longer.¡± The vigilum had drawn closer still, reaching a point where the unseen speaker could have been around the very next corner. It seemed clear this was a report on the outcome of the assault, but this secretive order was also aware the Vigiles were on the scene and had plans to take some investigative action on their own that they would rather not share with law enforcement. The unknown magi¡¯s cavalier attitude suggested he thought the intruder had left the premises ¡ª or didn¡¯t care either way ¡ª yet he was not so informed as to be aware the door leading into the maze had been left open. By unspoken agreement, Eresthanon and Aaliyah both lowered their stances and further slowed their steps. They were very close, now, and could come upon the speaker at any moment. If the immediate threat had passed, it would be better for their own investigation to gather as much information as possible before announcing their presence. The speaker was unlikely to be the person responsible for the murders on the floors below, so they would lose little from monitoring him discreetly for a while. Aaliyah quietly pulled out a pair of half moon reading glasses with darkly tinted lenses and set them on the end of her nose. Then, she withdrew a thin length of stiff cable from somewhere in her jacket, bent the end of it at a ninety degree angle, and began using it to peer around corners as they pursued the enigmatic speaker. It was, Eresthanon reasoned, likely some sort of surveillance system used to peek around tight spaces without revealing oneself. A very clever piece of equipment, although Eresthanon wondered why they hadn¡¯t used it to survey the rooms they¡¯d needed to investigate earlier. He had several questions about some of their procedures, actually, but they could wait. She gave him the thumbs after a moment, which he took to mean she had spotted the magi. ¡°I¡¯m going to inspect the five high-priority vaults,¡± the British man said. ¡°I shan¡¯t have time to check the workshops or laboratories, and I¡¯m afraid the library is right out. We¡¯ll need a local who can interface with our former associates, as well; someone capable but unimportant. We wouldn¡¯t want our associates forming any undesirable hypotheses or conclusions.¡± A brief pause, then the voice began to move away from their position again. ¡°Very good. I shall commence my inspection and report back with further information as soon as I¡¯m able.¡± There was no time to consider the implications of that last bit of conversation, but there was also no need at the moment. Following and observing this man for as long as possible was likely to yield more useful information for their investigation than anything short of tearing this chantry apart with a large and dedicated squad of highly skilled enchanters, smiths, and runewrights. Aaliyah waved for Eresthanon to stay on her tail, then she stepped around the corner. Their pursuit continued, albeit with slightly-modified objectives and a much different target. Chapter 61 - What Was Taken It would have been ideal, in Eresthanon¡¯s opinion, to employ some form of magic to provide him and Aaliyah better concealment in their pursuit of the magus from the unknown order. Unfortunately, the enchantments and wards on the maze in the fifth floor of the chantry were smothering, oppressive even. He felt that enacting a magic to obfuscate their presence would be fiercely contested by the defenses and he certainly didn¡¯t have the time to try piercing them. They followed as quietly as they could, which wasn¡¯t all that quiet by elven standards. Eresthanon reminded himself that elven senses were far more acute than those of humans, which was to their advantage. The magus led them through the hallways, taking turns seemingly at random and passing doors without looking at them. It was no mean feat to keep pace with someone who clearly knew where he was going and didn¡¯t need to slow for the purpose of stealth, but the two vigilum managed somehow. After a couple minutes of this, Aaliyah brought them to a complete halt at an intersection the magus had turned down a few seconds earlier. She used her odd surveillance device to watch around the corner for a moment, then brusquely passed the half moon glasses over to Eresthanon. When he set them on the end of his nose, he saw that the lenses did, indeed, act as a receiving device for Aaliyah¡¯s tube-like apparatus. In them he saw the unknown magus, though only from the back. Two things immediately jumped out about the stranger. The first thing was that the man wore a long coat that was a good deal too heavy for the weather in New York at the moment. That didn¡¯t necessarily mean anything, but Eresthanon thought it was telling. The magus had to have come from somewhere and it wasn¡¯t likely he¡¯d snuck past the two vigilum on the lower floors, which limited the possibilities. Coming from the roof was one, but Eresthanon suspected he had arrived directly on the fifth floor. It was something he intended to keep in mind for later should the chance arise to speak with the magus. The second thing that stood out was that the man was standing at a blank stretch of wall at an otherwise unremarkable corner of the warren of passages. Although he was uttering no verbal incantations, Eresthanon watched him working through several complex spellforms with a series of intricate, precise gestures. A door, matching the others they¡¯d passed in the halls, appeared in the patch of wall. It began as a faint afterimage and grew more distinct with each passing second of continued casting. No sooner had the door finished forming and solidified than it began to change again, rapidly replaced by an entirely different ¡ª and much more conspicuous ¡ª style of door. That was a threefold door, a complicated and powerful enchantment usually constructed from one or more artifacts that were built into the structure itself. They could confound all but the most skilled and determined thieves. A first, hidden secured door was set at the front. If it was breached, it usually contained an entire dimensional space affixed to the frame that was meant to act as a decoy or trap. Behind it was a second door, more concealed and with better protections, that granted access to the real room being secured. In addition to being fiendishly difficult to create and prohibitively expensive to install, they had fallen out of vogue in recent centuries as buildings had become less permanent and rarely had the lasting power to justify renewing an installation every time some new piece of technology or architectural style became ubiquitous. They had much more use in ages past, when castles and manors could stand for centuries without any major modifications. Nevertheless, they were an excellent security investment. Very few people would think to look for a second door, even fewer would possess the magical capability to find and access it without having either foreknowledge or a great deal of time to spend performing complex magic. This mysterious order must have placed a very high value on whatever treasures were stored behind it. The magus continued his spells for several more seconds until, finally, the second door opened. Eresthanon¡¯s elven physiology prevented him from gasping at what was revealed, but his eyebrows threatened to creep perilously high on his head. Aaliyah, watching her partner closely, registered his shock and physically peeked around the corner so she could see what had elicited such a strong reaction. From what Eresthanon knew of her, there was very little chance she would have the context to understand what she was seeing. It was likely to be an awe-inspiring sight nonetheless, even for a cynic like the Quaesitor. Beyond the threefold door was a room filled with fire, only it was an impossible fire. Flames filled the room entirely, reaching to the very ceiling, yet neither heat nor smoke nor any additional light were emitted by the inferno. There was barely even any noise. Where a fire of that size should have produced a crackling roar, the only sound that escaped through the door was a sinister hiss. The flames were also indigo ¡ª a deep, rich, and uniform purple that did not exist in nature. More unnerving than all of that, however, was the way the fire moved. The flames did not move fluidly, but flickered from position to position, a ponderous stroboscopic image that resembled primitive animations. The conflagration ¡®moved¡¯ every second or two, enough to give the sense of continuous motion yet slow enough to be obviously disjointed. ¡°Should we follow him in?¡± Aaliyah asked, her voice barely a murmur. Eresthanon shook his head. ¡°We cannot follow him through that. If he doesn¡¯t come out soon, the trail ends here and I would suggest we call in the MRU to do a full clear of the premises.¡± ¡°Is the magic fire really that dangerous?¡± ¡°It is entropic fire,¡± Eresthanon answered. ¡°There are, thankfully, very few magic substances more dangerous.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of it; what does it do?¡± ¡°It works much like normal radiation, breaking down the connection between things only it does so on an aetheric, rather than molecular, level,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Limited exposure can cause devastating mutations to the¡­ how can I put this? To the magical realness of the victim. Acute contact with entropic flame can ¡®unweave¡¯ a person¡¯s very essence, effectively leading to disintegration. It is exceedingly rare to withstand entropic flames, even briefly, without suffering grievous harm.¡± ¡°How the hell do you fight something like that?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°Barring powerful temporal magic? Avoidance. Entropic fire must be anchored to a clearly delineated point or area in space, otherwise it will quickly dissipate.¡± ¡°Wait, then how is that dude just walking through it?¡± ¡°There will be a path or, rather, there will be several paths but only one that can be safely traversed through the changing state of the flames. I doubt the magus in there is local to this chantry, which suggests he either has something to guide him or this order uses a standard pattern when they design and set the conflagration.¡± Before they could discuss any further, the magus in question emerged from the flames. The threefold door closed and vanished behind him almost as soon as he was out and he immediately brought out his phone to make a call. The nature of the magic required to contain entropic fire would render most forms of communication from inside that room impossible, much to the benefit of the eavesdropping vigilum. ¡°Vault zero is secure,¡± the magus said. ¡°I¡¯m continuing to vault one.¡± He hung up and began to move again, heading away from where Aaliyah and Eresthanon waited, poised to backpedal if he had come their way. The vigilum followed as closely as they dared, Aaliyah retrieving her glasses and using her device to check around corners ahead of them so they wouldn¡¯t come around a corner and stumble into their quarry. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Several turns later, the magus stopped at one of the unmarked and unremarkable doors along one of the stretches of hallway. Aaliyah passed her glasses back to Eresthanon again, apparently keen to put his knowledge of magic to good use and unwilling to miss an opportunity for whatever information he might glean. Eresthanon watched the magus perform a very brief spell with no apparent purpose ¡ª likely an otherwise-meaningless bit of magic meant only to unlock or access this specific door ¡ª then he grabbed the knob and pulled it open. Instead of a room, the open door revealed a blank stretch of wall. That was odd, but it was even more odd when the door continued to swing until it was fully open. When it made contact with the wall, it merged into the structure of the hallway. Suddenly, it was as if the door had been placed there the entire time; all that remained of its previous position was a faint outline of the frame. The unknown magus grabbed the knob ¡ª the knob that would have been on the inside of the room that didn¡¯t exist ¡ª and opened the door again. This time, there was a room behind it. From their position at the end of the hallway, Eresthanon could only see a small sliver of the room. There was no entropic fire, which was something of a relief, but all he could make out was the side of a bookcase, cabinet, or some other tall piece of wooden furniture. ¡°Can you slip your device a bit further along the wall?¡± he asked sotto voce. Aaliyah took a moment to reshape the bit of tubing that served as the input of her device so she could slide it along the wall with at least some modicum of discretion. The view in the glasses was chaotic while she did so and Eresthanon made a point not to focus his attention there; he wanted to avoid even the chance of momentary disorientation given how precarious their situation and position were. When she was satisfied with her adjustment, Aaliyah knelt low to the floor and slid the device out along the baseboard of the hallway. Eresthanon watched the view in the glasses move over the wall until the open door came more fully into view. He tapped Aaliyah on the shoulder lightly and she held the tube steady in its new position. Past the door was a well-organized repository of knowledge; a private library, but much smaller than the one the vigilum had seen downstairs. Many of the shelves and cases had protective covers made of wood, metal, and glass and contained tomes, grimoires, scrolls, and other media. This collection held items of much greater rarity and value than those below. Eresthanon could see powerful magic bound into some of the volumes even through the shelf covers and the lens of Aaliyah¡¯s device. The magus was flitting from one shelf to the next, clearly trying to take an ad hoc inventory to see if anything was missing. There must have been some order of priority that wasn¡¯t tied to where things were stored, because Eresthanon lost sight of the magus frequently as he moved around the room, often passing outside the device¡¯s field of vision. ¡°What is it?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°A library of some sort,¡± Eresthanon replied quietly. ¡°Curated for particularly powerful or valuable pieces, I suspect.¡± From inside the library vault, they heard the magus shout. ¡°Oh bloody shitting hell!¡± he cursed. A moment later, the vigilum were crouching on either side of the open door and peering around the frame into the library itself. They had moved as quickly and quietly as they could. If the unknown magus had stumbled upon the intruder, they needed to be ready to intervene; if he hadn¡¯t, they didn¡¯t want to forfeit their concealment. Something relevant to their case was happening in that room and they needed to be ready to respond. The magus was leaning, practically hunched over, on a broad archival cabinet along the back wall. The cabinet was made of a handsome, dark-stained wood and stood about four feet high, coming just up to the man¡¯s chest. There were several wide shelves beneath the angled reading top and the highest one had been pulled out slightly. With no immediate danger, the vigilum watched and waited. They were ready to spring away and move back to their corner if the magus turned to leave, but he didn¡¯t seem to be in any hurry. His posture and the droop of his head indicated he was struggling under some great emotional weight. Eresthanon suspected the magus had discovered something had been taken from the cabinet, but it was paramount for the investigation to have it confirmed. After a little over a minute, the magus took a steadying breath, pulled out his phone, and placed another call. ¡°It seems our divinations underestimated the threat,¡± he said, a bitter note in his voice. ¡°Our old adversaries have grown quite bold indeed now they have a new leader. I have little doubt they are the culprits behind the breach, given their apparent target.¡± A pause, then, ¡°There may be other losses ¡ª I have yet to check ¡ª but I can confirm they entered the first vault and reclaimed The Sleeping Dragon.¡± The sense of some impending menace, of a growing storm, that had nestled in the back of Eresthanon¡¯s mind since he first opened his eyes in this Cycle swelled. It was as if a peal of dreadful thunder had crashed on the distant horizon and just rolled across the place where he was sheltered, shaking the walls even after weakening from the travel. There was, as of yet, insufficient information to be certain whether a renewed war between one of the most ancient Creaturae and the collective of magi was the source of his vague and dreadful foreboding, but each new revelation he discovered working this case was making a point to gesture vaguely in that direction. Eresthanon found he had some knowledge of the dragons ¡ª or drakus, as they called themselves ¡ª but it was largely centered around how their kind interacted with others and provided little insight on their internal structure or culture. He believed ¡ª or had believed, in his previous Cycles ¡ª that the dragons were a largely independent and fractious lot who had only nominal leadership most of the time. They had no rigid clan, bloodline, or other governing structures, and no powerfully authoritative ruling bodies like many other Creaturae. Hearing this magus speaking of a new leader, Eresthanon was forced to consider that he was missing a big part of the picture. After the First Reformation of the Vigiles Creaturae in the fifteenth century, most knightly orders had been disbanded, often by force of treaty. That left the few purported ¡®dragon slayers¡¯ of the world to find new callings or go to ground. In the aftermath, the most well-established orders of magi were poised to be the greatest authority on the dragons among the Creaturae. The secretive order who owned this impressive chantry might know a great deal about the dragons ¡ª they certainly seemed to have had some highly prized volume that once belonged to the drakus in their possession until this evening ¡ª but Eresthanon did not. He would have to be careful not to let his ignorance influence or cloud his conclusions. If, as he suspected, his new Cycle and position in the Vigiles was going cause him to become embroiled in whatever intrigues were brewing between these long-standing enemies, a hasty or ill-informed assumption could lead to catastrophe. Especially considering he didn¡¯t know where his fortunes and favor might fall if war erupted, no matter how much he might strive for neutrality. After all, few entities had played as prominent a role in the last protracted conflict between dragons and human sorcerers as the Vigiles Creaturae. While that involvement had led directly to the First Reformation, those with an interest in such things were unlikely to be unaware of what preceded it. ¡°Quite right,¡± the magus said, interrupting Eresthanon¡¯s thoughts. ¡°I believe we must fortify our most valuable resources until we can ascertain the lay of the land. We can hope our other endeavors bear fruit in finding a resolution to this nascent conflict, but it would be foolhardy in the utmost to pin our hopes on such vagaries.¡± Things were in motion now. It wouldn¡¯t be long until the magus left this vault to check the others, so Eresthanon prepared himself to move back to their last hiding spot. He and Aaliyah would benefit from continuing to monitor the magus for new information. They had learned a great deal already, but you could never really know too much. The Quaesitor seemed to have other ideas. She flicked her long braids over her shoulder, stood up, leaned against the open door, and knocked on the wooden frame. The magus spun around, phone held to his ear with one hand and a blue crystal orb in the other. The orb shone with magic waiting to be unleashed, but Aaliyah simply brushed aside her jacket and put one hand on her hip, the badge hanging from her belt brazenly on display. She smiled at the magus in a way that some might describe as sweet, even saccharine. However, it looked like a distinctly unfriendly smile to Eresthanon, even malevolent. ¡°We should talk, bucko.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll have to call you back,¡± the unknown magus said before hanging up his phone. Chapter 62 - What Comes Next ¡°Good evening, officer,¡± the magus said. ¡°I was just on my way down to interface with your people over the appalling attack on our chantry.¡± Eresthanon knew that was a lie and his partner did, as well, but the magus had no idea they¡¯d been spying on him for several minutes. They could use that to their advantage, if need be, though he wasn¡¯t exactly sure what Aaliyah¡¯s intentions were. He¡¯d have to wait and see what strategy she adopted for the interview. ¡°Why don¡¯t you set your crystal ball down on that cabinet, nice and easy, and come talk to us out in the hallway,¡± she replied. ¡°Keep your hands where I can see them and don¡¯t start speaking in tongues, okay?¡± ¡°Right you are, officer,¡± he said, gently laying the crystal orb on the archival cabinet and came to join them in the hallway. ¡°It¡¯s Quaesitor, actually; Quaesitor Dean. And this is Tribune Eresthanon.¡± The magus inclined his head slightly, though Eresthanon saw his eyes and realized the magus was doing a very quick re-evaluation of the situation. ¡°My apologies, Quaesitor, Tribune. I would say it¡¯s a pleasure to make your acquaintance if the circumstances weren¡¯t so dire.¡± ¡°Speaking of the circumstances, what, exactly, are you doing here, Mister¡­ ?¡± Aaliyah let the question hang. ¡°Ah, of course, apologies again.¡± The magus actually gave them a slight bow at the waist. ¡°Percival Heathcote-Scott. I came with all possible speed as soon as we had word the chantry was being assaulted but, sadly, arrived too late.¡± That reinforced one suspicion Eresthanon had, but he would have to pick at it. Aaliyah was playing the interview aggressively, which meant it fell to him to take on the role of ¡®good cop.¡¯ The magus, Heathcote-Scott, had presented the opportunity to drink two beers with one mug, as the goblins said. ¡°It is a great travesty to have a sanctum violated, especially in such a bloody manner,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Surely the grief your order must feel at these losses cannot be easily assuaged, but I hope our efforts to unearth the truth behind these crimes in the pursuit of justice will bring you and your fellows some small comfort.¡± Heathcote-Scott gave a polite nod of thanks, but Eresthanon didn¡¯t let the lull drag on. He needed to press for information without making the man feel like the interview was an interrogation. Since the magus clearly intended to keep information from the Vigiles before he knew they were present, a suggestion that he and Aaliyah knew less than they did might lull him into feeling a bit more at ease. ¡°I¡¯m afraid our understanding of the timeline isn¡¯t entirely precise at the moment,¡± Eresthanon said apologetically. ¡°Can you tell us when you became aware of the assault? Or, if you¡¯re aware, of how long before you were aware of it the assault began?¡± Heathcote-Scott nodded, the very picture of cooperation. ¡°About an hour and a half ago, the chantry¡¯s overseer made us aware the building had been breached. From what they said, the assault had begun ten to fifteen minutes earlier and they were going to assist the remaining staff. We waited ten minutes in hopes of receiving further updates but, when none came, I was dispatched.¡± There was valuable information about the timelines to be mined there, information that could shed light on the intruder as well as the mysterious order operating this powerful ¡ª and seemingly unknown ¡ª chantry. The earliest first responders from the Vigiles¡¯ Magical Response Unit had arrived at the chantry just a few minutes after the sentinel wards had detected the powerful magic energies of the chantry¡¯s last defender¡¯s spell of sacrifice. About the same time Delman started his sweep of the building to look for injured people in need of immediate care, Heathcote-Scott would have begun his journey. Aaliyah and Eresthanon arrived not long after and had been in the chantry for nearly an hour since. Between the too-heavy coat, untempered accent, and the surprising resources in the chantry, Eresthanon suspected Heathcote-Scott had traveled quite some distance to get there. More distance than could reasonably be covered in such a short time without resorting to certain shortcuts. The fact he seemed to have entered the sanctum without being noticed by the vigilum within or without supported that theory. If it could be proven, that would give the Vigiles some leverage for when the occult order behind the chantry inevitably resisted their inquiries trying to sort out the crimes that occurred below. As well as those that were likely to follow. However, it would be nearly impossible for Eresthanon to start that line of questioning without painting himself as adversarial in the eyes of the magus and his fellows. Thankfully, Aaliyah had already introduced herself using a rather brusque demeanor, so she could press a bit without compromising the relationships they were establishing. He gave his partner a quick look to indicate she should take the follow-up. Even if she wasn¡¯t following the same exact line reasoning he was, she was still an experienced investigator and could likely pursue any number of avenues springing from that response. Almost any would likely present new opportunities to pursue more information, as long as they didn¡¯t push Heathcote-Scott into shutting them out entirely. ¡°You got here in barely more than an hour?¡± Aaliyah asked, incredulous and mildly challenging. ¡°No offense, but you don¡¯t seem local and we didn¡¯t see you come in. What¡¯s to say you¡¯re not the intruder trying to pull a fast one on us?¡± A very solid technique ¡ª if you could convince an individual of the need to establish something about themselves or their history, preferably with as much detail as possible, they risked providing previously-unknown information about other topics and could set traps for themselves if they were evasive or deceitful. It also provided Eresthanon the opportunity to jump in and soften the blow, reaffirming their relationship and leaving the magus unsure of their footing with so many quick reversals. ¡°I hope you will be understanding of our position, magus,¡± he began. ¡°The Vigiles Creaturae doesn¡¯t make a habit of asking individuals for their patents, provenance, or papers as tracking the comings and goings of individuals is outside the mandate of the Four Pillars. Given the severity of the situation and your sudden appearance, however, it would be remiss of us not to exercise due caution on the scene of such an atrocity.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t play nice with the guy, Tribune,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°He shows up out of nowhere at the scene of a massacre and you¡¯re okay just taking his word about how he got here?¡± Eresthanon gave the magus a considering look before answering. ¡°I am, if it is given freely. A magi¡¯s word is a powerful thing and would not be broken lightly.¡± ¡°Of- of course,¡± Heathcote-Scott replied. ¡°I made my way here via portal. It is, among other things in our keeping, a legacy of the ancient order from which our society is derived.¡± That confirmed several of Eresthanon¡¯s suspicions and would almost certainly give them some degree of leverage over this order. Teleportation was among the most fiendishly complex forms of magic and had only grown more so as humanity turned away from magic in favor of science, which argued that teleportation bordered on the impossible. A fixed, semi-permanent artifact was the least prohibitive method to accomplish it. Such a device could be linked to one or more others, creating a kind of conduit network that would form a passage between them. Even those were not without many limitations, one of which would explain why it had taken so long to open each end and, even then, only allow one person to travel through the portal. The Vigiles Creaturae did require the registration of such devices within their sphere of influence, even if they didn¡¯t require notification of their use. Many private portals circumvented the practical problems involved by cheating, in a way, and they risked violating ¡ª or outright violated ¡ª several of the Pillars the Vigiles enforced. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. For one thing, the aetheric draw of portals was wildly inefficient, requiring immense power reserves. This led to regular violations of the Second Pillars: Thy essentia is thine own. Entire cottage industries had found success forming the aetherium crystals used to power portals in elven strongholds and it was said that peace between dwarven kingdoms and other chthonic races ¡ª particularly goblins and orcs ¡ª was only possible because of the long-standing collaboration on aether-refinement processes with the gnomes, who preferred an accord against warfare. Those without similar resources often turned to aether-gathering arrays, which would siphon the aether not just from the ends of each conduit, but along its path. These methods almost invariably wound up drawing their power from sources belonging to or overseen by others. The second common violation was in the mechanics of the magic involved in any given portal. Teleportation and translocation through space was complex, cumbersome, and, of course, inefficient. Corners could be cut by turning to another dimension ¡ª time. Using magic to dilate and compress time at the ends and along the route between made the portals more transportation than teleportation, but the outcome was basically the same. It wasn¡¯t that all temporal magic was outlawed, but the litmus test for a violation of the Fourth Pillar ¡ª Time is inviolable. ¡ª was generally how contained the magic was, in every sense. Because this method of connecting portals was not sufficiently limited in scope or effect, it was almost always criminal. Given the resources and likely skill of the magi in the secretive order behind this chantry ¡ª and Heathcote-Scott¡¯s claim it was a relic from an older time ¡ª the portal would presumably not be in violation of the Pillars. It was, however, most certainly not registered with the Vigiles. At least, not the one in this chantry. If it were, this chantry would have been a marginally known quantity and one of the MRU officers outside would have mentioned there was a functioning portal inside the potentially-active crime scene. That gave the vigilum some small measure of leverage and possibly a good deal more, depending on how they used it. There would be time for that later. For now, they had more pressing concerns. ¡°Very good, thank you,¡± Eresthanon replied. ¡°Now, if I might inquire ¡ª for all of our peace of mind ¡ª whether you have reason to believe the intruder has left your order¡¯s chantry.¡± The mage nodded. ¡°I do; we have limited monitoring instruments for the chantry in the portal chamber. They can¡¯t provide much information, but they do track use of exterior doors. The front entrance was opened ¡ª and never closed ¡ª just prior the beginning of the attack, and a rear access door was opened and closed a little less than thirty minutes later.¡± ¡°No chance it could¡¯ve been someone else? One of your people or something?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°Very little,¡± Heathcote-Scott replied. ¡°Only staff are permitted on the premises after nine o¡¯clock without special dispensation and none are currently granted.¡± According to that timeline, the intruder gained entry to the building, killed six people and two advanced constructs, breached the maze, got through the threefold door, obtained at least one prize, and made their way back out all in roughly half an hour. That was a feat so impressive as to strain credulity. There were entities in the world who could have done it, with ease even, but very few of them would have bothered, even fewer would have done it so messily or solely to recover a simple book, and most of that small number would have sent agents or intermediaries who weren¡¯t nearly so powerful. The whole thing raised a new suspicion in Eresthanon¡¯s mind, one he¡¯d have to raise with Aaliyah when they had a chance to discuss their theories. ¡°I can buy that,¡± Aaliyah said begrudgingly. She took out a small notebook and pen and flipped it open. ¡°Just for our records, are you willing to give us the name of this chantry and your order?¡± Heathcote-Scott hesitated at that. His order was obviously very secretive and had gone to great lengths to keep their identity ¡ª and presence in New York ¡ª concealed. He had to give them something, so he was likely weighing whether it was worth the risk of being deceitful and having that revealed later. After all, the Vigiles knew about them now, so the best his order could hope for was to mitigate the damage moving forward. ¡°We are the Ordo Susurrat Solis, or the Whispering Dawn, and this place is Novum Sidus, or New Star Chantry,¡± he finally offered. ¡°The roots of our order, as you can imagine, reach deeply into the bloody soil of history and we prefer not to be associated with the mistakes of our forebears.¡± Whether that was a lie or not was something the Vigiles would have to dig into in the future, but it was enough for now. It also offered a segue into another valuable line of questioning. ¡°Would any of your forebears¡¯ enemies move against you in this fashion?¡± Eresthanon asked, then added. ¡°If they were aware of your roots, of course.¡± Heathcote-Scott laughed softly at that. ¡°Many if not most, I imagine, hence our secrecy. We are relatively confident very few are, however.¡± Aaliyah blew air through her lips mockingly. ¡°Pfft. How can you be so sure nobody knows who you are?¡± ¡°Did you?¡± Heathcote-Scott replied, raising an eyebrow at her. Although Eresthanon was confident his partner was pushing to utilize her role as the ¡®bad cop,¡¯ he also knew she was touchy and did not respond well to condescension. Better he exploit the opportunity she¡¯d created before she decided to respond. ¡°It would help us to know who might have reason to breach your order¡¯s sanctum in such an egregious manner,¡± Eresthanon offered, in his most eminently reasonable fashion. ¡°I¡¯m sure the Quaesitor, after so long a career in law enforcement, is merely dubious at the idea that these violations were without motive.¡± Again, Eresthanon paused a moment to let the magus form conclusions of his own, but not so long he could respond. ¡°If the attack was not a matter of vengeance, we must ask ourselves why someone went to such lengths to enter this chantry ¡ª and especially to break into this highly protected area ¡ª only to leave the premises a few minutes later.¡± ¡°Ah, the motive,¡± Heathcote-Scott said. ¡°Well, yes, I can see how that would help you in the pursuit of this culprit.¡± The magus let his statement trail off. Eresthanon was willing to wait, using the weight of a prolonged silence to pressure the man to speak and offer more information. Heathcote-Scott didn¡¯t know how long they¡¯d been following him through the maze, so this was another opportunity to gain leverage if they could catch him being evasive. Aaliyah, on the other hand, was only willing to let the silence build for about thirty seconds. She made eye contact with Eresthanon before she spoke, so he was confident her demeanor was a tactic, but he still thought she came on a little strong. This was an interview, after all, and with the ostensible victim, not an interrogation. Still, she startled Heathcote-Scott when she finally broke the silence. ¡°A motive!¡± she blurted, leaning in a little too close to the magus to be polite. ¡°Gee, that sure would be helpful to us solving all those murders downstairs.¡± A human probably wouldn¡¯t have noticed, but Eresthanon saw Heathcote-Scott swallow; hard. ¡°I believe I can offer some illumination on that matter,¡± he said, hesitating only slightly. ¡°The, er, exclamation you heard from me earlier was at the discovery of something missing. Something that was, er, taken.¡± ¡°And what might that be?¡± Aaliyah asked, still uncomfortably close to the sorcerer. ¡°A- a book,¡± he said. ¡°A very old and valuable grimoire.¡± Eresthanon stepped in, figuratively, and Aaliyah stepped back, literally, both with the intention of giving the magus some space so he might feel more comfortable answering. ¡°While the loss must sting, magus, if you could tell us the name and subject matter, it might go a long way in helping us find the party or parties responsible and, perhaps, even recovering it.¡± ¡°You must understand if I am hesitant to speak of this,¡± Heathcote-Scott said. ¡°We inherited the book from a Grand Master quite some time ago, more than a century at least. It was bequeathed to the order along with a number of other volumes as part of his estate. By the time we realized what it was ¡ª and what was likely involved in its acquisition ¡ª we had divorced ourselves from the legacy of our predecessors as much as we could. We did not want to renew the association or be seen as complicit in whatever misdeeds had been carried out to procure it.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the name of the book, buddy, and why would you be so worried about how your order got its grubby little mitts on it?¡± Aaliyah asked, leaning into the magus¡¯s personal space again. ¡°Its title is The Sleeping Dragon and I believe there is no way it left the hands of the Drakon save by murder,¡± Heathcote-Scott admitted. ¡°A rather good deal of it, I suspect.¡± Chapter 63 - What Do We Know? ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not familiar with this book, The Sleeping Dragon,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Why would murder be required for it to change hands?¡± The magus, Heathcote-Scott, drew in a breath. ¡°It is a most potent grimoire created by the Drakon for their own use and may, in fact, be unique. I am not an academic so I can¡¯t speak much to the contents, but it has intrigued and drawn scholars of our order since we discovered it in our possession.¡± ¡°So you inherited a treasure stolen from dragons and, rather than return it or try to get rid of it, you tried to hide it in New York City, the financial capital of the world?¡± Aaliyah asked, incredulous. ¡°It¡¯s a wonder it took this long for a multiple homicide over it.¡± Heathcote-Scott at least had the sense to look mildly abashed. ¡°The research opportunities weren¡¯t something the order could bring themselves to surrender, especially given the likelihood of hostilities from the Drakon if they discovered our existence in the first place.¡± ¡°Fine, whatever,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°No use crying over spilled Gatorade. For right now, we¡¯re going to need you to come outside with us to coordinate with our people. Can you show us another route down that doesn¡¯t trample through my crime scene?¡± ¡°That depends. Where, precisely, would we need to avoid?¡± After describing the locations of the bodies, Heathcote-Scott told them he could avoid most of them. They had to choose between the rear entrance, which the intruder had likely used, and the front, where there was a body in the foyer. The magus assured them they wouldn¡¯t have to come within ten feet of the bodies on the grand staircase, however, so they chose that route. Heathcote-Scott closed the door to the private library then led them through the halls. Before long, they arrived at a hall running along the front of the building; tall windows looked down on the street below. A door in the corner turned out to be a small elevator, accessed with a talisman and spell the magus kept hidden from them. It was a tight fit with three of them, but Eresthanon had the slim build of elves and Aaliyah¡¯s only nod to being anything other than diminutive were her hips, breasts, and wiry muscles. It let them out in the closet of a reading lounge on the ground floor. The elevator turned back into a normal closet as soon as they had all stepped out, before the door had even closed. From there it was a short walk to exit from the door under one of the grand staircases in the entrance hall, the one without corpses strewn about on it. Although Eresthanon watched closely, Heathcote-Scott didn¡¯t visibly demonstrate any strong emotions at the bodies, even the one they had to pass within a couple steps of in the foyer to get through the front door. Aaliyah stopped them when they were in the small gated space outside. ¡°Say, we saw you had a room with a bank of scrying mirrors,¡± she said. ¡°Any chance those are recorded or can be rewound?¡± ¡°Sadly not, Quaesitor. As I understand it, interweaving the enchantments that restrict any form of scrying or monitoring is an atrociously complex task even for artifacts hardwired, as it were, into the schema. To permit recording or transmission beyond the chantry¡¯s confines would be prohibitively difficult.¡± ¡°Never thought to use cameras?¡± Heathcote-Scott gave a small, rueful smile. ¡°We are not nearly as adept at security with information technology so it would have created a worse vulnerability than benefit.¡± ¡°Shit,¡± Aaliyah groused. She led them to the gate and waved over one of the firefighters, directing them to bring over the incident commanders on the scene. When the two officers joined them shortly afterwards, Aaliyah made introductions. ¡°Captain Lehman, Lieutenant Rafferty, this is Percival Heathcliff-Scone,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s a representative of the people who own this site and you¡¯ll need to coordinate with him to make sure the Magical Response Unit has the needed access. The first thing is we need to get those bodies removed so they can be examined.¡± She turned to Heathcote-Scott. ¡°They¡¯ll be returned to your order to be laid to rest according to their wishes.¡± ¡°Heathcote-Scott, and thank you,¡± the magus said, bowing his head slightly and giving no indication of offense at having his name mangled. ¡°The next thing is to get people in there to pick up any forensics we can,¡± she continued, pulling out her notepad to jot some notes. ¡°Everything¡¯s pretty much on the path leading upstairs and hard to miss, but Mister Heathcote-Scott can also show you to back entrance that was used to vacate the premises and-¡± ¡°Quaesitor, if I might interject?¡± Heathcote-Scott interjected, then continued. ¡°We are glad to cooperate with the Vigiles in its pursuit of this culprit, but would also like to state that this chantry is both an abode and a place of study. As such, we would prefer no one outside our order enter any private spaces, including the fifth floor beyond the antechamber.¡± Aaliyah turned to the magus with an expression that wasn¡¯t outright hostile, but wasn¡¯t far from it. The magus went on. ¡°As you and the Tribune can attest, the intruders violated the Four Pillars in common areas.¡± ¡°What they were after was on the fifth floor, however, and the most promising information we¡¯re likely to get as to the identity of those responsible would come from examining how they bypassed your order¡¯s defenses there,¡± Eresthan observed. ¡°I can promise that we will conduct a thorough investigation of our own on that very subject and pass any relevant information along, Tribune, but surely you¡¯d agree that the theft itself does not constitute a violation of any of the Pillars. The theft may have been the reason behind these heinous crimes, but it is largely incidental in the greater scheme of things.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Aaliyah snorted. ¡°Just make sure you provide Captain Lehman with a point of contact in case we need to get in touch.¡± ¡°Rest assured, Quaesitor, that I shall be personally remaining in town for the foreseeable future to oversee the repairs to our chantry,¡± Heathcote-Scott said, offering them another small bow as they left him with the two embedded officers. Aaliyah gave some notes to the police lieutenant, Rafferty, on what to look out for ¡ª including a note to make sure they collected as much of the stone dust left from the attacks as they could ¡ª then grumbled all the way back to their cars. She stopped when they were back at her motorcycle. ¡°Alright, we should go over what we know so far,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s an all-night diner not far from here at 1st and 62nd that should be quiet this time of night; ditch the windbreaker in your trunk and meet me over there.¡± She mounted her bike and gave Eresthanon little choice but to follow. He dropped the police jacket in his trunk since Rafferty was still busy with the scene and made his way southeast. He was slightly delayed since it was more difficult to back his sedan out onto Madison Avenue, but there was little traffic so it didn¡¯t take him long. The Fancy Eats Diner was on the ground floor of a four-storey building of whitewashed brick on a corner lot. It had a narrow red awning for trim over tall windows and a classic marquee of raised neon block letters above that. The interior was classic Americana, something right out of the fifties or sixties ¡ª red-and-white naugahyde benches with a V-back pattern in the booths, white laminate tables, and chrome trim on the furniture and walls. There were no mini-jukeboxes on the tables, but they wouldn¡¯t have been out of place. He spotted Aaliyah sitting at a booth in a corner near the front of the diner, facing a window looking out at the street, and stepped inside to join her. Seconds after he was seated, the night waitress came by and left menus with them. Aaliyah didn¡¯t want to talk until they had ordered, so Eresthanon went through the surprisingly robust menu. Eresthanon opted to go with a classic ¡ª a cheeseburger, fries, and a milkshake. It was his first time at a diner in this Cycle and couldn¡¯t pass up on the opportunity for something so iconic. He might even order a slice of apple pie for dessert, if he wasn¡¯t feeling overly full. Aaliyah ordered a massive ham and cheese omelette, four sides of bacon, and coffee. After the waitress had taken their orders and brought drinks ¡ª including a large carafe of coffee; the waitress seemed to know Aaliyah ¡ª the Quaesitor withdrew a small, stone cube. Eresthanon could see the delicate tracings of runes and channels on the polished surfaces; they seemed to form a network of enchantments that would disguise vocal sounds in some way in a limited area. He couldn¡¯t see enough to know whether the enchantment worked on speaking going in or coming out of its radius, but he guessed the latter. ¡°That¡¯s an interesting device,¡± Eresthanon observed. ¡°Something from the Vigiles?¡± ¡°As if,¡± Aaliyah scoffed. ¡°The VC is no better than most eidolons when it comes to security; if it¡¯s not a castle, tower, volcano lair, they barely bother with security, let alone counterintelligence. Anyways, let¡¯s get to business.¡± ¡°Yes, before we review the case, I was hoping you could answer a couple of questions I had about procedure?¡± Aaliyah gave him a wave of the hand to indicate he should go on. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said with a nod. ¡°Why did we enter the chantry before it had been cleared and secured by the MRU? That seems like an unnecessary risk.¡± ¡°The MRU are well-trained, well-equipped, and well-coordinated, but more often than not they¡¯re low-grade magi or eidolons that don¡¯t have a lot of innate personal oomph. In highly dangerous situations, like our crime scene tonight, as soon as there are two MRU agents on scene one will do a preliminary sweep looking for the injured or any immediate threats.¡± ¡°As Delman did.¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Aaliyah nodded. ¡°If they think there¡¯s an elevated threat level at an incident, they¡¯ll inform the incident commander on scene. Then they¡¯ll either mobilize heavy hitters from the MRU or they¡¯ll wait for other agents with the potency to handle greater threats. Their primary responsibility is to secure the scene so there¡¯s no threat to bystanders or the Third Pillar.¡± ¡°Secrecy from and safety of the mundane,¡± Eresthanon mused. ¡°A sensible policy.¡± ¡°Any more questions on how we operate?¡± ¡°Just one. The looking device you used in the maze,¡± he said. ¡°My magic borescope, yeah. What about it?¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you employ that device on the rooms we had to breach?¡± ¡°The short version is: expedience and tactical advantage. The first is obvious enough, I hope, but the second is a little more complex. Let¡¯s say there¡¯s a hostile inside. A borescope under a door is pretty easy to spot, so it runs the risk of ruining a chance to leverage surprise. Since we had to go in any way, it was best not to risk letting any potential hostiles know when we were preparing to breach.¡± ¡°I assume it¡¯s better for windows, vents, and other unobtrusive locations that don¡¯t draw the eye,¡± Eresthanon mused. ¡°Or for getting an idea for the position of multiple targets, which we didn¡¯t have to worry about,¡± she agreed. ¡°Any more questions?¡± ¡°Not at this time, thank you,¡± he said. ¡°Besides, our food is about to arrive. The service here is quite fast.¡± ¡°Late night, no crowd, a staff who knows what they¡¯re about,¡± Aaliyah said, placing a hand on the napkin dispenser to cover the stone cube. ¡°The place might not be ritzy, but they do good work.¡± The last comment earned Aaliyah a smile and thanks from the waitress, who had just walked up to deliver their food. When she¡¯d gone, Aaliyah uncovered the cube. ¡°Let¡¯s get to it,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°So, start with a rundown. What do we know?¡± Eresthanon took a bite of his large cheeseburger and used the time to organize his thoughts. He wanted a good summary of what they had learned without adding too much extraneous detail. ¡°An unknown individual, or possibly individuals, killed seven magi in the course of breaching the security of a chantry belonging to a highly secretive and magically potent order of magi, taking approximately half an hour from the start of the assault to their exit from the chantry. Their target ¡ª assuming the intrusion and killings weren¡¯t the primary motive ¡ª was a rare, possibly unique grimoire called The Sleeping Dragon, which was likely obtained from the Drakon by force at some point in the past.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a good synopsis of what happened, but what else do we know? What can we infer or deduce?¡± ¡°The Susurrat Solis is particularly secretive because they fear retaliation from other Creaturae. They or the order they derived from likely have old connections to the Vigiles, as well, dating back to its founding, which would make them the subject of additional scrutiny even if only to make sure they had no undue influence in our ranks.¡± Aaliyah waved a bit of egg on her fork at him. ¡°Why would it matter if they used to have some connection with the VC?¡± ¡°Because if this potential conflict between the magi and drakus escalates, it will serve as a reminder of that past and might drive others to see an opportunity to settle old grudges,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°I know wizards have been one of the primary enemies of the lizards, but what does the Vigiles have to do with that?¡± ¡°Are you not familiar with the First Reformation of the Vigiles at the end of the fifteenth century?¡± ¡°A little?¡± she replied, waffling her hand from side to side. ¡°One of my mentors early on was a big history buff, but he was such a dweeb about it that it kinda put me off. That was when the Council of Archons was created, I think.¡± ¡°More formally known as Synedrion Eidola, yes,¡± Eresthanon agreed. ¡°As I am sure you¡¯re aware, at least one of the three Archons is required to be a Creaturae, rather than an otherwise normal human magi. Do you know why that is?¡± Aaliyah considered for a moment as she ate a piece of bacon, her brows furrowed in thought. ¡°It has something to do with making sure everyone understood we applied the law equally. I feel like I used to know more about this but I guess I purged it from the old memory banks. Probably to avoid turning into some kind of history dork.¡± ¡°Indeed, we must exercise constant vigilance against dorkiness,¡± Eresthanon said drily. ¡°You aren¡¯t far off; the First Reformation was a result of more than a century of brutal warfare ¡ª initially between the Drakon and various human orders, both magi and knightly ¡ª after the assassination of the former¡¯s leader. After decades of sporadic conflict between the drakus and various mage orders, the bloodshed escalated; many factions of Creaturae took up arms against a number of orders but against the Vigiles, as well.¡± ¡°What? Why?¡± ¡°The Vigiles Creaturae began as a collaboration between the orders,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Even after seven centuries, there were almost no members who were, themselves, Creaturae. Its membership was drawn almost exclusively from praeternatural humans. When it came out they had not only maintained closer ties to their parent orders than was known, but were helping to cover the crimes of their fellows through dereliction, the reaction was swift and harsh.¡± ¡°Dereliction,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°They were sandbagging investigations where eidolons were the victim and magi the likely perps?¡± Eresthanon dipped a fry in ketchup. ¡°Precisely. We heard Heathcote-Scott referring to us as their old associates, which suggests the connection, and the enchanting matrices in the core of the armor golems almost certainly came from one of the orders who founded the Vigiles and were known for their work in that field.¡± ¡°Alright, that¡¯s good background on the finger-wigglers, but we¡¯re getting off track. What else do we know about the crime, especially our doer?¡± ¡°The culprit was able to bypass the chantry¡¯s static defenses very quickly, suggesting they either had familiarity with the sanctum or some manner of key to gain access, perhaps both,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°This extends beyond getting through the doors, however, they also knew where their target was and how to navigate the maze on the fifth floor.¡± Aaliyah nodded. ¡°Good. What else do we know?¡± ¡°The wounds on the victims were inflicted with tremendous blunt force. This could indicate a powerful artifact, an extremely specialized magus, a particularly gifted savant, or a Creaturae capable of such strength.¡± ¡°A savant?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with that term.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a kind of wild talent, but instead of their innate magic answering to their increasingly unstable will, it¡¯s almost completely internalized to enhance their natural capabilities. Most savants are somewhat broad in how their magic is focused, directed to bolstering their physical or mental capabilities, but in some rare instances an individual will be even more specialized, so you might find a strength, perception, or reflexes savant.¡± ¡°Oh, okay, I think I¡¯ve heard of that. So why don¡¯t you think our perp could¡¯ve been some mook with a potion?¡± ¡°I would consider that a powerful artifact, though I think it¡¯s improbable. Magic that enhances the body which is then enchanted to be carried and transferred by an item will rarely be able to achieve the kind of puissance we saw from the attacks at the chantry. While it is possible, I think that is far less likely than, say, a cudgel enchanted to increase some aspect of its physical nature at the point of contact for greater impact.¡± ¡°Anything else?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°The grimoire that was stolen could provide us more insight if we knew more about what it contained, but I was forthright with the magus, I have never heard of this particular work.¡± ¡°Fair point,¡± she said. ¡°So, there¡¯s a lot we don¡¯t know but I think we have enough information to form some ideas about where we should be looking. Tell me your thoughts on that.¡± ¡°My inclination is that our first avenue of investigation should be to dig into the private dealings of the local members of the Susurrat Solis, especially those who worked at the chantry itself,¡± he said. Aaliyah raised an eyebrow. ¡°Walk me through it.¡± ¡°Given the demonstrated familiarity with and ease of access to the chantry, including its most secured areas, I suspect their information came from either personal familiarity or someone feeding them information who had that personal familiarity.¡± ¡°So you think it¡¯s an inside job?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the only sensible explanation, to a point,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°The principal may not be a member of the chantry or even the order, but it boggles the imagination to think the perpetrator could get in and out so easily without inside information, which suggests accomplices with the appropriate knowledge.¡± ¡°Accomplices, or dupes,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the first or last person killed was the person on the inside and were shocked to discover their payday turning into their last day.¡± ¡°That¡¯s well-reasoned, but aren¡¯t we more likely to find new leads by seeking accomplices? After all, we have no effective way to narrow down who might be the mastermind.¡± ¡°Sure we do,¡± she replied. ¡°Think about it. Who¡¯s likely to have people with the physical and magical ability to take on that many magi, has a history of conflict with the magi, has the means to drop bribes so big it could turn a mage from some secret old wizard club, and would have an interest in getting back a book that belonged to them in the first place?¡± ¡°You think it was the dragons?¡± Aaliyah shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s my instinct, yes.¡± Eresthanon couldn¡¯t dismiss Aaliyah¡¯s theory; he had considered the possibility himself and hadn¡¯t entirely discarded it. But there were incongruities in his knowledge of the Drakon that left enough room for doubt he could have driven his car through it. ¡°I am no draconic scholar, but this action seems out of line with the general methodology the Drakon employs. Outside of open conflict, they are usually defensive, even passive, and, from what little I know of them, they tend to rely on clandestine action rather than anything so¡­ brazen as this assault.¡± ¡°You heard what Heathcote-Scott said when he didn¡¯t know we were listening, right?¡± she replied. ¡°They have a new leader; new leaders mean new ideas. Usually that¡¯s just a slightly different flavor of shit sundae or some pointless new bureaucracy, but sometimes it means radical changes in operating procedures.¡± Aaliyah took another bite of her eggs. ¡°We also know a bunch of the Gandalf crowd are hiring up mercs in anticipation of some conflict with the dragons; what if the snakes struck first?¡± ¡°Heathcote-Scott also said their efforts at divination suggested the threat posed by the dragons was relatively low and only revised that estimate based on the theft,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°The Susurrat Solis were already paranoid about retaliation from the greater Creaturae community and all the more so when it comes to dragons.¡± ¡°Which warrants consideration but I don¡¯t see how it hurts our investigation to look into the dragons as a primary suspect. It¡¯s not like we won¡¯t also go over as much personnel info about the wizards as we can, even if it¡¯s just to try tracking the money to build a stronger case.¡± ¡°As you say,¡± Eresthanon agreed. ¡°What¡¯s our next step? Is there anyone in the Drakon who will speak with us? How does one even find a dragon, save in a bank?¡± Aaliyah grinned maliciously. ¡°Oh, I know exactly where to go and who to talk to. And the best part is: it will put those scaly dinks right on the backfoot.¡± Chapter 64 - Where Dragons Dwell The next morning, Eresthanon pulled into the parking garage beside the daycare just before nine o¡¯clock. Getting into the office was a much easier process now that he was a sworn member of the Vigiles, as his badge let him access the upper floor directly from the elevator. That deposited him in a lobby just a few steps from the detective bureau. When he stepped into the office suite that was his new professional home, he was met with the faint rustling of leaves, something tickling the top of his head, and a soft, feminine voice coming from a large shrubbery behind the reception desk. ¡°Good morning, Tribune,¡± Ivy said. ¡°And a warm and unobstructed sunrise to you, Miss Ivy,¡± he replied. ¡°Is Quaesitor Dean in yet?¡± ¡°What a thoughtful greeting,¡± she said, her leaves fluttering in a way Eresthanon took for laughter. ¡°Aaliyah got in about five minutes before you. She said to direct you in to see her once you were in. Not quite so politely, of course.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Eresthanon said, thanking the nymph with a smile and wink before heading down the hall. He found Aaliyah sitting in her office. She gestured for him to join her through the plate glass. Once he was inside, she waved her hands expansively and the walls turned opaque with a smoky tint, then she waved a single hand again and the door regained its transparency. ¡°There¡¯s a way to do both at the same time, but I never bothered to learn,¡± she said. ¡°Khaldun will be here soon; we¡¯ll give him a rundown on what we learned and what we¡¯re planning, then be on our way.¡± The Praetor joined them a few minutes later, wearing another suit tailored to accommodate the features of his sphinx heritage. Despite being as perfectly groomed as he had been when they¡¯d met the day before, Khaldun had a vaguely harried air about him. On the surface, Khaldun was perfectly poised for their meeting on Eresthanon¡¯s first tour of duty, but there was a slight droop to his wings and his feathers occasionally shifted in a way they hadn¡¯t during their initial meetings. ¡°Well that shines an interesting light on the latest developments,¡± Khaldun said when Aaliyah had finished detailing the previous day¡¯s activities. Khaldun let that enigmatic statement hang in the air, idly rubbing his chin. After a moment, he produced a file folder that was far too large to fit in any of his jacket pockets. He slid it across the desk to Aaliyah, who opened it and began browsing its contents. Although there was no reason for it he could identify, Eresthanon felt as if the distant storm he¡¯d been sensing since his awakening had just begun to rumble ominously. He didn¡¯t want to read over Aaliyah¡¯s shoulder, so he thought it best to request more information. ¡°What are the latest developments, if I might ask?¡± Khaldun sighed, more from annoyance than weariness. ¡°Things were a bit hectic last night. It started not long before you were sworn in, in fact, but it¡¯s only in light of your report that I¡¯m realizing it may be prudent to elevate your investigation to include this new situation.¡± According to the Praetor, several sentinel wards had activated in the late afternoon, meaning they had detected significant magical activity in or near public spaces. Nearly a dozen wards had been triggered all over the city, right in the middle of rush hour. The Vigiles dispatched several Lictors in response; these were investigators who handled lower profile cases than the squad Eresthanon was part of. They found a number of strange disturbances but nothing that specifically violated any of the Pillars. Initially, it was thought several poltergeists, elementals, or other pernicious spirits had been released as some kind of prank. That theory was revised later in the evening, upgrading to a burgeoning turf war when a gang of goblins was found battered and bruised in a sandwich shop in Queens. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t say a word to our people,¡± Khaldun added. ¡°You know how goblins can be about the Vigiles in general, but this crew clammed up completely; there wasn¡¯t even any insulting banter with our investigators.¡± ¡°What?¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°Goblins love to talk shit, especially to so-called authority figures. It¡¯s like a¡­ cultural imperative or something.¡± ¡°Unless they¡¯re on a job that forbids it,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Duty trumps the personal obligation of the goblin tradition that¡¯s come to be known as ¡®bustin¡¯ balls.¡¯¡± Khaldun nodded. ¡°Based on what you¡¯ve told me about all these mercenaries being hired, I¡¯d say the goblins were probably in the employ of magi and got roughed up in a scuffle with some drakus. I¡¯m also inclined to think a lot of the disturbances last night were the result of similar confrontations. No deaths yet, but these people are playing fast and loose with the Third Pillar.¡± ¡°What¡¯s our play, then?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°We¡¯re going to form rapid response teams and place them in the field. If these shenanigans continue, we¡¯ll be in a better position to act before anything gets out of hand, maybe even bring some folks in. I want you two to keep working your case; it sounds like the two are connected. Our best bet to nip this thing in the bud before there¡¯s an escalation is to put charges on the ringleaders.¡± Aaliyah grinned at the Praetor. ¡°As it so happens, I was planning a little trip to the circus this morning. I¡¯m confident I can at least get a better read on one side of the situation.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Khaldun said slowly. ¡°Just remember that you¡¯re on the job, too, so try to limit your shit-stirring.¡± ¡°You know me, Praetor, I like an easy ride,¡± Aaliyah answered. Khaldun sighed and shook his head gently, but offered no further comment. A lot of things had gone unsaid in that last exchange between the Praetor and his partner, Eresthanon suspected, though he lacked the context to even guess at what it might have been. Aaliyah was persnickety to be sure, but as far as Eresthanon had seen so far she was also excellent at leveraging her personality to benefit their work. As they got into the elevator to make their way down to the garage a few minutes later, Eresthanon resolved to probe what insight Aaliyah was willing to share on the matter. ¡°It seemed like Praetor Khaldun was worried you might be exceedingly¡­ gruff when we visit the Drakon,¡± he said. Aaliyah grunted. ¡°I have a bit of a history with the lizards. It¡¯s all personal bullshit from ages ago, but we ain¡¯t exactly on the best of terms.¡± ¡°Would you be willing to elaborate?¡± he asked. ¡°Or, if it would benefit our investigation, perhaps you¡¯d like me to take the lead in dealing with them?¡± Aaliyah waved a hand dismissively as they stepped into the garage. ¡°No need for all that, I know what I¡¯m about,¡± she said. ¡°Say, you seem to know the city well enough; are you familiar with 33 Thomas?¡± After a moment¡¯s thought, Eresthanon nodded. ¡°The Long Lines building, between Broadway and Church in Tribeca.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the one,¡± Aaliyah confirmed. ¡°That¡¯s our destination this morning, but we can¡¯t just go in the front door on account of all the spooky secret shit the normies got going on inside. That means using the guest entrance. Are you familiar with the theatre across the street from it?¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Eresthanon found he had at least vague, academic knowledge of the city going back centuries and it was often significantly more detailed, more personal than that. There had been so many changes over the years, sometimes it was hard to parse through all the ways the city had evolved. He was fairly sure he knew the theatre she was talking about, though, so, again, he nodded. ¡°That¡¯s where we¡¯re headed, so let¡¯s get moving,¡± she said. They walked to City Hall Park, much as they had the day before, only this time, rather than detouring to various landmarks, they turned up Broadway and walked all the way to Thomas Street. The AT&T Long Lines Building came into view as soon as they turned onto Thomas. It wasn¡¯t the tallest building in New York City ¡ª it wasn¡¯t even the tallest building within a one-block radius ¡ª yet it stood out in a way that few other skyscrapers did. The Empire State, Chrysler, and Woolworth¡¯s Buildings were all taller, and the Flatiron and Guggenheim were both weirder, but there were few, if any, buildings in all of the five boroughs that were more ominous than 33 Thomas. Reaching more than five hundred feet into the sky, the Long Lines Building was not the most iconic Brutalist building in the world, but it was one of the most stark and harshest in design. Made of plain granite over concrete slabs, the structure was completely windowless, the only features being irregular protrusions on its longer sides and large, square vents aligned in rows at its higher reaches. Eresthanon could think of few buildings in the modern world more secretive and less welcoming. The enigmatic, closed-off nature of the structure had led to a slew of conspiracy theories about what went on inside the strange monolith practically as soon as construction had finished. Although the public had since learned that some of those theories weren¡¯t as outlandish as they once seemed, Eresthanon doubted many people suspected there were dragons operating out of the imposing skyscraper. Across the street sat a much different building; at around fifty feet tall, with a dark gray-brown brick front and its sides painted matte black, the Flea Theater could be identified by the minimalist marquee made of light gray steel, the space¡¯s name cut out like a stencil and legible from the lime green backing of the marquee¡¯s interior. The theatre¡¯s doors were right on the sidewalk at street level, compared to Long Lines Building¡¯s recessed and elevated entrance behind two very wide, short flights of steps. Aaliyah pulled open the glass door of the Flea and stepped inside, as if walking into an Off-Off-Broadway theatre were a perfectly normal thing to do on a weekday morning. A pretty young woman with vivid, almost-neon green hair in a pixie cut sat behind a waist-high reception stand. She was reading the latest Playbill magazine and looked up as the vigilum entered, her eyebrows rising slightly. ¡°Um, hello?¡± she said. ¡°Morning,¡± Aaliyah said, her tone more perky and chipper than Eresthanon had yet heard. ¡°We have a tour of the scene shop scheduled for right about now-ish. Assuming we ain¡¯t late, of course.¡± ¡°You might have the wrong theatre,¡± the young woman replied. ¡°The Flea doesn¡¯t have a scene shop on the premises.¡± Aaliyah shook her head, her braids swishing softly. ¡°No, I¡¯m sure this is the place. Arthur P. told me it was all arranged and all we had to do was show up for our appointment.¡± ¡°Who the crap is Arthur P.?¡± the young woman asked. ¡°Arthur Pendergast, I think it was. Or something like that,¡± Aaliyah replied, waving a hand to indicate, well, something. Her tone was airy and casual, while the look she gave the young woman was anything but. The receptionist set down the magazine and stood up from her chair. As she did, the distinct sound of deadbolt locks sliding into place came from the doors behind the vigilum. ¡°Come with me,¡± she said, stepping from behind the reception stand and leading them to the stairs beside it. She took them down a flight of steps to the basement level, where the stairs ended in a hallway. It was much darker down there than in the lobby above, and not just from lack of natural light; the walls, floor, and ceiling were all painted black and the hall was lit by a sparse line of tiny bulbs hanging overhead. Several plain doors lined one side of the hallway. At one end, on the right, was a door painted the same lime green as the highlight paint on the marquee outside. A sign over the door, made of dark metal and lit from behind with a strong, white fluorescent light, read, ¡°the Siggy.¡± Eresthanon didn¡¯t know what that was in reference to, but it seemed obvious it was the name of a small theatre. From what he¡¯d seen so far, the Flea had three different performing spaces, one on each of its levels. The receptionist led them to the door at the other end of the hall, which was plain wood and painted a black not quite as dark as the other surfaces in the passage. Beyond it was a storage room nearly forty feet wide, likely as wide as the building itself, or close to it. In a rear corner of the room, the young woman placed her hand against the painted brick fa?ade of the wall. A section disappeared moments later, as if it had never been. A long hallway of featureless gray cement stretched away before them, traveling several hundred feet and ending at a conspicuous maintenance door. ¡°Through there,¡± the young woman said, and took a step back from the passage. ¡°Thanks, doll face,¡± Aaliyah replied, proceeding down the corridor with Eresthanon a step behind. The plain security door at the end of the concrete tunnel was so off-putting it had to have been intentional. Although it was painted a dull maroon, a number of dents and scratches in the paint revealed the coat of gray primer beneath. There were several small bits of graffiti that appeared to claim the territory for one gang after another, several stains that might have been blood, and signs of corrosion around the edges. When they drew close to the door, Eresthanon detected a hint of magic. It was exceptionally well hidden, even when he was standing right beside it, but it was there. He couldn¡¯t tell what the magics on the door were, only that they were present. Given that they were walking into what amounted to the lair of many dragons, the enchantments on the door were likely too strong to be concealed completely. Eresthanon couldn¡¯t explain how he knew it, but he knew sensing those enchantments at all, even right next to them, would require a degree of insight or arcane sensitivity very few spellworkers possessed, regardless of their mystic potency. He didn¡¯t know what to expect now that they had reached the door, but it wasn¡¯t nothing. Nevertheless, that¡¯s what happened. Nothing. The door remained resolutely uninteresting. The lack of response had to be intentional, though there could have been any number of reasons for it. Whatever the cause, it took less than a minute for Aaliyah to grow impatient enough waiting for something to happen to start fidgeting and issuing pointed sighs in the direction of the door. After a full minute, she pulled out her badge, hung it around her neck with a huff, and lifted a hand to knock on the door. It might have been more accurate to say she was going to pound on the door, but Eresthanon thought that would be an uncharitable way to characterize his partner¡¯s intentions. Just as Aaliyah¡¯s fist was about to crash into the steel ¡ª with more force than was strictly necessary ¡ª the door swung open. A man in a cloth dust mask stood behind it, his eyes apologetic, even embarrassed for some reason. Eresthanon got a brief view of a comfortable lounge past the doorkeeper before he was distracted by a torrent of raised voices flooding into the tunnel. ¡°-can¡¯t just fundamentally change a thing and demand people respect your delusion that it¡¯s not a new and different thing,¡± a woman¡¯s voice said, raised nearly to a shout. ¡°It¡¯s not a fundamental change, for fuck¡¯s sake,¡± a man¡¯s voice replied. ¡°It¡¯s additive, not transformative.¡± Though the man¡¯s voice wasn¡¯t as loud, Eresthanon heard the distinctive sound of flesh making contact with flesh to punctuate certain words. He couldn¡¯t see the people arguing from the hallway, so he couldn¡¯t be sure that they weren¡¯t coming to blows, but he thought it was more likely the man was slapping his hands together. Or perhaps driving a fist into his own palm. For emphasis. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s even kind of traditional,¡± a third person said, a man with a deep but wheezy voice. ¡°Tradition?¡± the woman said. ¡°Tradition? That¡¯s like calling one of those casseroles they make in Chicago a pizza margherita, you goddamn philistine! What you¡¯re talking about is an abomination!¡± Eresthanon wondered if the argument had something to do with the Drakon¡¯s supposed new leader or whatever direction this unknown individual might be taking the ancient society in. It was certainly heated enough to be something that serious. He turned to give Aaliyah a meaningful look, only to find a smile quickly disappearing from her face. She pushed past the guard at the door, making her way into the bowels of the dragons¡¯ lair. ¡°Well, well, well,¡± she called. ¡°If it isn¡¯t you stupid motherfuckers!¡± Chapter 65 - Look Who It Is Eresthanon was left with little choice but to follow Aaliyah through the door. She might be all brashness and bravado, but she was also his partner; he couldn¡¯t let her go into the dragons¡¯ den alone. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said to the guard as he slid past. The room beyond the door was, in fact, a well-appointed lounge. Reminiscent of something you¡¯d find in a large corporation, all the furniture was sleek, made of glass, steel, and black leather. The only other occupants were a quartet of people, sitting around a low table. There were three men and one woman, all in their twenties or thirties ¡ª not that appearances meant much with drakus, which he assumed these people were, as their aging was slowed significantly. They were the source of the loud argument. Or they had been, until Aaliyah marched up to them, a scowl plastered to her face. The drakus woman stood up from one of the couches. She was barely taller than Aaliyah, and not nearly as wiry, with dark red hair. She put her hands on her hips and scowled right back. A large man held up his hands and called back to Aaliyah, ¡°Ah shit! Look who it is!¡± ¡°What the fuck are you doing here?¡± the redhead demanded. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear?¡± Aaliyah replied. ¡°They made being a bitch a violation of the First and Second Pillars, since it¡¯s so draining dealing with them it makes you want to die. Naturally, they sent me to haul your flat ass in.¡± Whatever rocky history Aaliyah had with these drakus and despite Khaldun¡¯s warning, Eresthanon hadn¡¯t thought she¡¯d go so far as to provoke a fight. Still, he reminded himself that she had ripped the arm off a draugr after a fairly mild provocation, so he wasn¡¯t entirely confident in his conclusion. He stepped up beside her, a number of spells in the back of his mind joining the partially-formed intent to call his glaive to hand should any of them be needed. The two women glowered at each other with the kind of scorn that could only grow in the fetid soil of broken fondness. The men around the table remained impassive, although one of them seemed uncomfortable with the confrontation. He kept it hidden from his face well enough, but Eresthanon saw the lines of his muscles against his clothes; they were taut and ready to move. That kind of nervous energy rarely boded well if your goal was to avoid a fight. Then the entire group ¡ª drakus and Quaesitor ¡ª burst into raucous laughter, except for the tense fellow, but even he chuckled awkwardly after a couple seconds. ¡°No, seriously,¡± the redhead said. ¡°What are you doing here? Did one of ours do the dumb?¡± ¡°Kiara, please¡­ you must have heard something about what¡¯s going on.¡± Kiara, apparently, shook her head. ¡°You know we don¡¯t really do all that society shit. And we just got back into town a couple days ago besides.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Aaliyah said, drawing the word out into a question. ¡°Then what are you dinks doing back in the city?¡± ¡°We got us an intern,¡± the smallest man said, laughing. He had dark hair, a surprisingly deep voice, and a wheezy kind of laugh. ¡°Or maybe an apprentice is the right term since we¡¯re paying him and all?¡± The first man who¡¯d spoken ¡ª the largest of the bunch by quite a margin ¡ª stood up and ran a big hand through his sandy brown hair. ¡°Maybe we should do introductions, seeing as Aaliyah got herself a new friend, too?¡± ¡°Friend?¡± Aaliyah scoffed, blowing air through her teeth. ¡°Nah, this is Tribune Eresthanon, my new partner.¡± Kiara gestured to herself, then each of the men in turn. ¡°I¡¯m Kiara, the big lug¡¯s Griffin, the little weasel is Albert, and the normal-sized one is Aaron. Aaron has been a numbers guy, but he petitioned the higher ups to try his hand at delving, so we¡¯re giving him a trial run. That¡¯s what brought us back into town.¡± ¡°So they finally saddled you with a partner, eh?¡± the big man, Griffin, said. ¡°Wait,¡± Kiara interrupted. ¡°If he¡¯s your partner, does that mean you¡¯re actually here on official business?¡± ¡°What? You mean old man Barrett finally took my advice and started diversifying us into crime?¡± the smaller man, Albert, asked. ¡°Finally, one step closer to my dream of being a goon in the dragon mob!¡± Kiara smacked the small man on his shoulder with the back of her hand. ¡°Don¡¯t say shit like that when the fuzz is standing right there.¡± ¡°So is it true?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°Are you here on the job?¡± Aaliyah took a moment to look at each of the drakus in turn. ¡°Come on, surely you guys have heard about what¡¯s going down out there?¡± The apprentice, Aaron, raised a hand halfway to his shoulder. ¡°Uh, is there some kind of trouble going on? Was this a bad time to try delving?¡± Kiara grunted, exasperated. ¡°How the shit would we know? Do they tell you accountants what the spies are up to?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure we have some forensic accounting people who-¡± Aaron began, then cut himself off. He shot a furtive look at the two vigilum then quickly made sure he was looking anywhere else. The other two men chuckled while Kiara rolled her eyes. She turned back to address Aaliyah again. ¡°If there¡¯s something going down, it¡¯s news to us,¡± she told them. ¡°I take it you¡¯re here to see the old man?¡± ¡°At least one of them,¡± Aaliyah replied. ¡°Either way, it was good to see you again, Aaliyah,¡± Griffin said, punching her softly on the arm before making his way to one of the other doors in the room. Albert rose from his own chair and went to join him. ¡°I¡¯d wish you luck, but for all I know we¡¯re betting against each other here so, uh, I just won¡¯t wish you bad luck. I guess?¡± ¡°It was nice to meet you,¡± Aaron said, lifting a hand in a half-wave and making his way over with the others. That just left Kiara, who held up a finger to the other drakus, indicating she needed a moment. As her compatriots filed out through the door, she took a step closer to the vigilum, lowering her voice and speaking in a conspiratorial near-whisper. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Is there some kind of trouble we should be on the lookout for?¡± she asked. ¡°Me and the boys can take care of ourselves, you know that, but we have a newbie with us who¡¯s never really been in the shit.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t tell you anything specific, obviously, but I think y¡¯all should keep your heads on a swivel and a close watch on your six,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°Now you tell me something: what was that argument about when we walked in?¡± Kiara exhaled through her nostrils, a clear sign of frustration in Eresthanon¡¯s opinion. ¡°Griffin has all these Okie-ass, weird-ass, bullshit food things he picked up in the trailer park or wherever. I have no idea why but lately they keep coming up.¡± Aaliyah lowered her head and looked at Kiara from under her brows, clearly not satisfied with that answer. Kiara held her hands up in surrender and rolled her own eyes. ¡°Last time it was how he flays chicken nuggets and eats the skin separate,¡± she said. ¡°This time it was about how he adds pasta sauce to mac and cheese. Real psycho shit, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard of that,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°Marinara mac and cheese. It¡¯s supposed to be pretty good.¡± Kiara grunted derisively. ¡°Sure, with the right ingredients, maybe; if you use the right cheese and the right sauce. But that loppy asshole wasn¡¯t talking about gruyere, mozzarella, and parmesan, he was talking about pouring Ragu into a pot of Kraft dinner!¡± Aaliyah¡¯s face scrunched up, not in disgust exactly, but in the same way a child¡¯s might when trying to figure out how an airplane stays up. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s brilliant or horrifying,¡± she said. ¡°And to be perfectly honest, I¡¯m not sure I have the courage to try it so¡¯s I can find out.¡± ¡°It¡¯s real mad scientist shit,¡± Kiara replied, solemnly. ¡°He¡¯s ignored the laws of god and man to forge a culinary abomination.¡± Aaliyah laughed. ¡°Well, whatever the case, I¡¯m glad to see you three are doing alright. We won¡¯t keep you if you have shit to do, but it was nice to run into each other.¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing stopping you from keeping in touch, Aaliyah¡± Kiara said. Aaliyah¡¯s mouth thinned into a wry smile and she tilted her head into a kind of shrug, but offered no other response. Kiara seemed to consider saying something else, but in the end she remained silent, as well. With a final wave, she departed through the same door her three friends had used, leaving the vigilum alone in the lounge with the masked doorkeeper. ¡°Someone should be along shortly,¡± the masked drakus said, doing nothing to alleviate the air of awkwardness that lingered after the departure of Kiara and the others. Rather than stew in the discomfort, Eresthanon decided that a bit of light conversation might help pass the time. As a bonus, he might learn more about Aaliyah and her connection with the Drakon. ¡°I must confess, Quaesitor,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m familiar with what the term ¡®delving¡¯ means in this context.¡± Aaliyah cocked an eyebrow at him. ¡°Delving, you know? As in dungeon delving? They seek out, explore, and loot dungeons and shit like that.¡± ¡°Aha, adventurers are they?¡± ¡°Not really. They focus pretty much exclusively on dungeons, rather than drifting around looking for whatever trouble they can get themselves into,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s higher risk, but supposedly more stable and profitable. Plus they rarely have to contract with anyone ¡ª no saving a town from monsters, complicated heists, or love triangles ¡ª so it provides a level of autonomy a lot of bog standard adventurers don¡¯t enjoy.¡± Before Eresthanon could ask more about what this strange, hyper-specific profession entailed ¡ª and how Aaliyah knew so much about it ¡ª a new person joined them through one of the other doors in the lounge. He was young, Latino, wearing a nice suit, and a diamond stud earring in one ear. ¡°Excuse me, vigilum,¡± the young man said. ¡°If you¡¯ll just follow me?¡± He led them through the door and into a wide hallway made of cement painted a pale blue. The walls had a feeling of weight to them, a density that was both sturdy and vaguely ominous. Eresthanon, having no real way to gauge how thick the walls were, wondered if he was imagining it. Perhaps he was experiencing a kind of sense-memory from time spent in a chthonic underkingdom in a past Cycle. They followed the plain corridor through several turns, enough that they should have doubled back on themselves yet never seemed to. Whether it was some trick of architecture or dimensional magic, Eresthanon couldn¡¯t be sure; a faint sense of magic was pervasive in the halls, but it was distorted and masked by the presence of two deep wells of aetheric power, one above him and one below. From his sense of the currents coursing around him, Eresthanon¡¯s best guess was that a nexus of ley lines rested in the earth beneath the building and a massive aetheric engine resided in the floors above. Building atop a confluence of aether currents was perhaps one of the oldest hallmarks of civilization. While there were many nexuses more powerful than the one below, Eresthanon didn¡¯t know of any that were so masterfully contained. He hadn¡¯t felt anything until he was inside the confines of the structure itself! After passing more than a dozen unremarkable, identical doors, their guide chose one seemingly at random that turned out to house a conference room. Other than the lack of windows, it was basically indistinguishable from a modern corporate meeting space. ¡°Would either of you care for something to drink?¡± the young man asked, gesturing for them to take a seat. When they declined his offer, he sat down at the table across from them. Eresthanon hadn¡¯t known what to expect from this meeting with the Drakon, but the look on Aaliyah¡¯s face when the drakus sat down suggested she, at least, hadn¡¯t expected this. ¡°What the hell do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± she demanded. ¡°My name is Samuel and I¡¯m hoping you could help me figure that out,¡± he replied with a benign smile. ¡°We were unaware representatives from the Vigiles Creaturae would be coming today, so please tell me: how can the Drakon help you?¡± ¡°How can you help me?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°By telling one or both of the old men to get their ass in here so I can talk to them, that¡¯s how.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean, Quaesitor Dean,¡± Samuel said. Aaliyah took a deep breath, blew it out through her teeth with a slight hissing sound, and laid both of her hands flat on the table, the fingers splayed wide. ¡°Listen here, Sonny Jim, I don¡¯t have a chain to yank. If I did, I¡¯d be inclined to yank back harder,¡± she said. ¡°So what are you going to accomplish trying to yank me around?¡± Samuel offered an unctuous smile. ¡°I¡¯m afrai-¡± His statement was cut off when Aaliyah flexed her fingers slightly and the heavy wooden table top creaked beneath them. ¡°If I wanted to talk to gophers and middlemen, I¡¯d have gone to one of your stupid q-banks. The fact that I, of all people, am here should¡¯ve made it clear to the old coots that this was going to be a serious conversation. So why¡¯re you busting my balls and wasting everybody¡¯s time?¡± The door of the conference room opened and another man joined them. He looked to be on the older side of middle-aged ¡ª probably in his fifties or sixties ¡ª with graying hair around his temples. He was wearing an immaculate four-piece suit in midnight blue, though he¡¯d replaced the jacket with a cream-colored cardigan. Samuel stood up as he entered but Aaliyah kept her seat and simply glowered at the man. Eresthanon followed her lead, at least as far as seating was concerned, and remained in his chair. The new arrival beamed at Aaliyah, not put off in the slightest by the clear dislike emanating from the Quaesitor. ¡°Well look who it is,¡± he said. ¡°Good morning, all, good morning! Now, listen; nobody¡¯s trying to yank anyone¡¯s chain, it¡¯s just that your visit was unexpected and it took me some time to get here. I ain¡¯t exactly a spring chicken.¡± He turned his warm, friendly eyes to Eresthanon. ¡°And who¡¯s this handsome fella?¡± If the gritting of Aaliyah¡¯s teeth was any indication, she didn¡¯t plan to make any proper introductions, so Eresthanon took it upon himself. He rose from his seat and offered a hand to the older man. ¡°I am Eresthanon, Tribune of the Vigiles Creaturae.¡± ¡°Well butter my biscuits,¡± the man replied, taking his hand in a firm shake. ¡°So they finally saddled Aaliyah with a partner, eh? I¡¯m sure it¡¯s been a cavalcade of roses and professional bliss so far.¡± He winked at Eresthanon, then continued. ¡°I¡¯m Barrett Freeman, Cordus Draconis of the Drakon.¡± ¡°You are the second of the Drakon?¡± ¡°Something like that,¡± Barrett replied. ¡°So, what brings two inquisitors of the Vigiles Creaturae to see us this morning?¡± Chapter 66 - Unhappy Encounters ¡°We don¡¯t like to use that term,¡± Aaliyah said brusquely. ¡°It has ugly connotations we¡¯d rather not be associated with.¡± Barrett chuckled. ¡°There¡¯s a difference between a sobriquet and a slur, Quaesitor, between teasing and mockery. Unless you¡¯re saying there¡¯s no difference between calling you inquisitors and calling you magic pigs or mystic fascists?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t get all philosophical on me, old man,¡± Aaliyah grunted. ¡°It¡¯s not that serious.¡± ¡°Fair enough, but I take it the duty that brought you here is inquisitive, so perhaps you can tell me what you¡¯d like to inquire about?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not stupid so don¡¯t try to play me like you are,¡± Aaliyah said, leaning forward in her seat. ¡°You know full damned well I¡¯m the last person who¡¯d want to come talk to you lizards and the VC would only send me if it was important. So don¡¯t try to sell me on the oblivious grandpa crap because you know why we¡¯re here and if you don¡¯t then you¡¯re losing your damned touch.¡± Barrett sighed deeply, sitting in the chair beside Samuel at the table. ¡°You¡¯re here about the attacks, then.¡± ¡°What can you tell us about them?¡± Aaliyah asked, moderating her tone and matching her posture to it by leaning back in her chair. ¡°It started with attempts to scry some of our better known holdings,¡± Barrett said. ¡°When was that?¡± Eresthanon asked, pulling out his notepad to jot down anything that struck him as important. ¡°Yesterday afternoon, around two o¡¯clock,¡± Barrett said. ¡°We didn¡¯t know what we were looking at, at first, and our countermeasures were working, but I had a bad hunch about it.¡± Barrett told them that, after detecting and thwarting early attempts to scry prominent locations associated with the Drakon, more active measures were deployed to detect any further attempts at monitoring being directed their way. It took less than an hour from the initial efforts being rebuffed for the unknown watchers to turn their attention to the areas around their known holdings. ¡°Not long after that, they changed tactics from targeting locations to directing divinations at our people,¡± Barrett said. ¡°We knew they were looking, but we didn¡¯t know who they were, what they were looking for, or what they planned to do about it. We found that out soon enough.¡± ¡°Because of the attacks,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Right in one,¡± Barrett replied, tapping his nose with his index finger. ¡°We put word out to our people to make their way home or to a stronghold, so they¡¯d be better protected from scrying and divination.¡± ¡°Wait a second, why?¡± Aaliyah interrupted. ¡°Surely you haven¡¯t got the same protection on every drakus¡¯ home that you do on your other properties.¡± ¡°It would be to gain the protection of the hearthbond,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Unless I¡¯m much mistaken.¡± Barrett tapped his nose again. ¡°I¡¯m not the best with sorcery, but as I understand it, the hearthbond provides a degree of privacy that empowers even simple defensive measures. It¡¯s supposed to be one of the few ways magic has grown stronger in the past few centuries.¡± ¡°Property rights and privacy are cultural touchstones that have grown expansively, etching the authority of the hearthbond deeper into the aether even as the obligation of the host has eroded,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°So you wanted to get them out of sight before any trouble could spring up,¡± Aaliyah reasoned. ¡°But that didn¡¯t work out, obviously, or there wouldn¡¯t have been any attacks.¡± Barrett smiled ruefully. ¡°We took actions based on assumptions that turned out to be faulty; they weren¡¯t targeting local drakus, they were watching them to find people who weren¡¯t known around town.¡± ¡°How¡¯d you figure that out?¡± Aaliyah asked, shooting Eresthanon a glance. ¡°Quite a lot of our people were targeted by auguries, but a much smaller number were physically followed, and, of that number, the only ones confronted were all in the company of people who aren¡¯t from New York,¡± Barrett said. ¡°Some of them weren¡¯t even drakus.¡± Aaliyah began tapping the table with her fingers. ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear, your people were targeted by magic, then physically assaulted, and it didn¡¯t occur to you to reach out to the VC?¡± ¡°And report what?¡± Barrett chuckled. ¡°Harassment? Stalking? Bullying? Unless these attacks weren¡¯t limited to the Drakon and you know something I don¡¯t, then you¡¯ll know that none of the Pillars were actually violated.¡± He held up a hand to forestall Aaliyah¡¯s response. ¡°I¡¯m not fool enough to think all these attacks aren¡¯t going to end in someone¡¯s death, but they haven¡¯t yet so what¡¯s the Vigiles supposed to even do about it?¡± ¡°You know damned well that we take attempts to violate the Pillars seriously,¡± Aaliyah retorted. ¡°If the right kind of person is the victim,¡± Barrett replied. ¡°My people generally aren¡¯t under the aegis of the full force of the law, so why would we invite your people to come fish around for reasons to cause us even more grief?¡± ¡°Are you saying the Drakon has been unfairly targeted by the Vigiles recently?¡± Eresthanon said. The older man tried to keep his composure, but he couldn¡¯t stop himself from rolling his eyes slightly. ¡°Well I don¡¯t know about all that, but I do know we pay out a lot of fines every year over the most restrictive interpretations of the Second and Third Pillar you¡¯ll ever hear about.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t misrepresent this stuff,¡± Aaliyah said, pointing an accusatory finger at the drakus. ¡°Your little shadow empire has their scaly fingers knuckle-deep into all kinds of bullshit and the best our people can make stick is the most penny ante crap imaginable.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re right, Quaesitor, and that¡¯s the full and complete extent of it,¡± Barrett replied drily, settling back in his chair and folding his hands across his stomach. ¡°Whatever,¡± Aaliyah spat, sitting back in her own chair with her arms folded across her chest. There was obviously history between Aaliyah and the Drakon that was more involved ¡ª and more acrimonious ¡ª than she had let on to Eresthanon. There was a contempt between her and Barrett that could only have been bred by familiarity, leading the elf to wonder just how well Aaliyah knew the man who was ostensibly the second-in-command of the Drakon. Nothing of their features, beyond skin color, or personalities suggested a familial relationship, yet Eresthanon had to wonder. It was not just anyone who could become close enough to a highly placed member of such a secretive society to develop this much bitterness. Whatever the history between them might be, a surreptitious glance from Aaliyah was enough to let him know her behavior was at least partly for show, which meant it was his time to once more step into the role of the ¡®good¡¯ cop. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t speak to the recent history between the Vigiles Creaturae and the Drakon,¡± he began. ¡°While I don¡¯t want to discount or minimize the failings of this organization and its actions towards your people in the past, the reason we are here today is because of a series of attacks all over the city that appear to largely be targeting drakus. We would like to find those responsible and, hopefully, prevent the violence from continuing or escalating, but we need your help to do that.¡± Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°I don¡¯t know what help I can really give,¡± Barrett replied. ¡°I can get you reports on each of the attacks, but for security¡¯s sake they¡¯d have to be scrubbed of identifying details about my people. I imagine that would make them next to useless for your investigation.¡± ¡°Let us start with what we can tell you,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°First, you should be aware that there is widespread anticipation in the city of an imminent conflict with the Drakon. Numerous mercenaries have been hired in preparation for this conflict and, after yesterday, it seems unlikely you are expected to be the aggressors.¡± The drakus chuckled. ¡°I figured as much. You don¡¯t generally see the kind of irregular forces our people had run-ins with unless someone¡¯s been hiring freelancers.¡± ¡°Can you think of any reason someone may have felt motivated to go to such extremes?¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it enough we¡¯re dragons?¡± Barrett replied. ¡°Most folks don¡¯t usually need much more reason than that and the only things that have kept the peace so well are the deterrence of our retaliation and the connections we¡¯ve forged through banking and other services.¡± ¡°Most people will avoid disrupting the status quo ¡ª especially if it involves attacking a strong opponent ¡ª unless they think their chances of success are high, they feel there¡¯s no other choice, or both. Given the highly specific targets of these attacks, understanding why they chose them could help us put a stop to them.¡± ¡°I have absolutely no idea what purpose it could possibly serve to go after tourists and people traveling on business,¡± Barrett said. ¡°Unless there¡¯s some kind of prophecy or something that I¡¯m unaware of.¡± The drakus sat up in his chair, an excited twinkle in his eye. ¡°Is there some kind of prophecy or something? I¡¯ve always wanted to be involved in one of those big prophecies, you know?¡± ¡°Not as far as I am aware,¡± Eresthanon replied. ¡°But perhaps there is a more mundane root to these acts. Is the Drakon on the threshold of some great change, perhaps a diplomatic or business endeavor that could have far-reaching consequences?¡± ¡°Or maybe it has something to do with The Sleeping Dragon?¡± Aaliyah added, her tone casual, bored, even nonchalant, like she was talking about a stolen car and not some ancient text of drakus magic. ¡°The Sleeping Dragon,¡± Barrett repeated. ¡°That¡¯s a book, our book. It was stolen centuries ago, though. Why would it have anything to do with drakus being attacked now?¡± The lines of Barrett¡¯s forehead had crinkled in confusion as he looked between the two vigilum. Eresthanon didn¡¯t get the sense the man¡¯s surprise was feigned, but the old drakus was undoubtedly crafty to be so highly placed in the Drakon, so Eresthanon wasn¡¯t confident it was a reliable indicator. Thankfully, Barrett wasn¡¯t the only representative of the Drakon in the room. Eresthanon had kept an eye on the other person at the table, Samuel, throughout the conversation and was fairly confident the younger drakus wasn¡¯t particularly adept at controlling and concealing his reactions. He was decent, but he didn¡¯t have the kind of fine control over his eyes or body language that truly expert liars did. As far as Eresthanon could tell, Samuel¡¯s surprise and confusion at the mention of the pilfered grimoire were genuine. That was still no guarantee Barrett¡¯s reaction was earnest ¡ª plausible deniability often required front-facing people to be intentionally left out of the loop, after all ¡ª but it lent it an air of credibility. ¡°That depends on what¡¯s in the book,¡± Aaliyah answered. ¡°What can you tell us about it?¡± For a few seconds, Barrett considered the vigilum in silence. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision. ¡°It¡¯s a grimoire, a spellbook,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t know all that much about magic and spellcraft, but there is someone in town who knows about as much about The Sleeping Dragon as any drakus living.¡± He turned to Samuel. ¡°Can you tell my attach¨¦ we¡¯re in need of their expertise?¡± The younger drakus nodded and, with a small bow to the vigilum, left the conference room. An awkward silence descended as soon as he was out of the room. Aaliyah began tapping her fingers on the table almost immediately. ¡°Is this gonna take long?¡± she asked with a sigh. ¡°No, not long at all,¡± Barrett said, his tone muted and thoughtful. Barrett¡¯s demeanor was markedly different as they waited. Instead of the boisterous fellow who smiled affably and laughed often, he kept his eyes downcast to the table and even fidgeted in his seat. It was almost like the old drakus was feeling guilty, even ashamed, which was a complete departure from the surefooted candor he¡¯d projected earlier in the interview. ¡°Why so quiet, old man?¡± Aaliyah teased. ¡°No down-home, folksy wisdom you want to impart while we wait?¡± Rather than respond, Barrett pressed his lips together in an apologetic smile and shrugged at the question. His silence seemed to take Aaliyah aback, and she regarded the older man intently through narrowed eyes. When the door to the conference opened a few seconds after this odd exchange, a woman stepped through. She was tall and thin, but still curvy with long legs. Her hair was wavy and reached past her shoulders, the color like the soft orange of a sunset, much warmer than the dark crimson Eresthanon had seen on Kiara. Her eyes were emerald green and her skin was flawless. She also carried a glamour which, to Eresthanon¡¯s senses, marked her as a fae. It was diluted, however, and weak, not nearly potent enough to truly test someone¡¯s resolve, but Eresthanon could feel the weight of age on it. It was a glamour that had been sustained for a long time ¡ª years, most likely ¡ª without interruption. As much as Eresthanon was surprised to encounter fae sorcery in the den of dragons, it was Aaliyah who was truly unsettled by the woman¡¯s presence. She stood up from her seat and slapped her hands on the table, leaning aggressively towards Barrett. ¡°What the fuck is she doing here?¡± Aaliyah demanded. Barrett held his hands up in a placating gesture, sighing deeply as he did. ¡°She¡¯s my attach¨¦,¡± he said. ¡°She¡¯s also the person best suited to discussing the book you¡¯re asking about.¡± ¡°Bullshit!¡± Aaliyah spat, her fiery stare boring into the old drakus. Barrett shook his head. ¡°I promise you, it¡¯s not.¡± Eresthanon rose slowly from his seat and turned to the woman at the door, who had not yet stepped fully into the room. She was determinedly looking anywhere except the confrontation between Aaliyah and Barrett. He took a moment to consider how to proceed, what to say that would keep them focused on their goal without revealing too much. ¡°I realize I am an outsider to your past relationships,¡± he said. ¡°That is a role quite familiar to my people, for our lives rarely intersect with other Creaturae for more than the most fleeting of moments. It can be an uncomfortable position, but it also offers clarity in times of turmoil.¡± He paused for the span of a breath to let their attention fully settle on him, then continued. ¡°There has been violence in our streets and the threat of more to come looms heavy on the horizon. Whatever strife exists between us for the slights of the past, let us set them aside for the moment to pursue the most worthy of goals: peace. Now please, sit, speak, and seek peace with me.¡± There was a long beat of silence as the occupants of the room weighed Eresthanon¡¯s words, measuring them against their own wants and needs. He didn¡¯t know how effective his plea would be in the face of such heated resentment, but it was the best approach he could think of that wouldn¡¯t alienate anyone or put their backs up. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Aaliyah said, sinking back down into her seat. ¡°You don¡¯t have to get all eloquent and shit at us.¡± The red-haired woman moved to sit beside Barrett in the seat Samuel had occupied. ¡°This is Alice,¡± Barrett said. ¡°Alice, this is Tribune Eresthanon. He¡¯s Quaesitor Dean¡¯s new partner in the Vigiles Creaturae. They wanted to know about The Sleeping Dragon.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Alice asked, her voice a gentle wind through silver bells. ¡°What would you like to know?¡± Chapter 67 - The Sleeping Dragon ¡°One moment,¡± Eresthanon said seriously. ¡°Before we begin, I¡¯d like to clear the air.¡± ¡°By all means,¡± Barrett said. Eresthanon let his eyelids droop until they were almost fully closed. He took a deep breath and allowed his aura to expand, filling the room. He felt the edges of himself soften and blur, a sense of thinness descending as he allowed himself to become less corporeal. He¡¯d known he was capable of this as soon as the woman, Alice, had entered the room. He hadn¡¯t known exactly what it would feel like. He also found, with a little further consideration, that he wasn¡¯t sure what else he might be able to accomplish through manipulating his aura and essence. He clearly had some degree of skill in the craft, as some elves did, but the extent of his mastery was still shrouded by the Rite of Renewal. Something to keep in mind for his own pursuits. As soon as his essence had spread sufficiently to the space around, he let his will crystallize, suffusing the aether in the room with his own intent. It was a kind of magic elves and a few other Creaturae could perform, though its practical applications were quite limited. In this case, he just had to hope his efforts wouldn¡¯t cause offense; he was in no mood to play word games with a fae to avoid the implication of a debt. That kind of thing could escalate all too quickly if you let it. It had taken only a few seconds for the process to be complete. As soon as it was done, the room filled with the sounds of three people gasping. When Eresthanon opened his eyes fully and looked around, he saw astonishment on each of their faces. ¡°What did you do?¡± the woman, Alice, asked breathlessly. The question wasn¡¯t aggressive or accusatory, but Eresthanon had trouble picking out just what emotions the young woman was experiencing. Whatever her feelings, they were complex and powerful. If he didn¡¯t know better ¡ª especially when it came to the fae and their enchantments ¡ª he¡¯d have almost called it relief. ¡°As we are here on official business, I deemed it prudent to dispel your glamour in order to avoid any question of undue influence or preferential treatment,¡± Eresthanon replied. ¡°I trust the Drakon wouldn¡¯t want any questions of manipulation overshadowing anything we might discuss here today.¡± Alice leaned forward, her arms resting on the conference table. ¡°You can do that? Just¡­ turn it off?¡± ¡°Many elves can,¡± Eresthanon said, raising an eyebrow. This interaction was not going at all how he had envisioned it. What fae wouldn¡¯t know the presence of an elf could ruin their games? Didn¡¯t the old song warn, ¡®Sharp ears beget sharper eyes, in elfin vale ¡®ware iron knives?¡¯ ¡°Is it¡­ permanent?¡± Alice asked. Again, one of Eresthanon¡¯s eyebrows crawled up his forehead. He was obviously missing something here, but he had no idea what it was. Worse, he was struggling to think of a way to approach the topic directly that wouldn¡¯t cause offense. Better, then, to be somewhat circumspect. ¡°No, as with any other fae charm, the suppression will last only so long as I remain present and my intent is unchanged,¡± Eresthanon said. Aaliyah, Alice, and Barrett each exchanged glances. Eresthanon was once more reminded that there was something going on here he didn¡¯t understand. Many things, as it happened, but this one was new. ¡°Fae charm?¡± Alice asked hesitantly. It occurred to Eresthanon, at that point, that either he had misread the situation completely or gleaned something about this young woman that even she was unaware of. There were a number of possibilities; narrowing it down would be an exercise in frustration if they kept talking around each other. Eresthanon had to reverse course before this meeting turned into a Vaudeville act. He needed to be direct, but delicate. A narrow path to walk. ¡°I gather from your reactions that you¡¯re aware of the glamour but not that it was fairy in nature,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Do I understand the situation correctly?¡± ¡°It¡¯s wild magic,¡± Alice said. ¡°I did it when I was young, before I knew anything about, well, anything.¡± ¡°Under anyone¡¯s guidance? Or perhaps you made an offering or a deal to some name you found in an old book? Something on druidic magic, maybe?¡± Eresthanon asked. ¡°All the druids were men,¡± Alice said. ¡°But no, it was nothing like that. I just kind of put together a hedge spell and¡­ it worked. It worked too well, honestly. I can¡¯t turn it off and I¡¯ve only found one way to even moderately reduce the effects.¡± Aaliyah cleared her throat. ¡°A mystery for another time,¡± she interjected, and none too kindly. Alice¡¯s eyes dropped to the table as something unspoken passed between the two women. ¡°Yes, well, setting aside the bandru¨ª and the intriguing mystery of Alice¡¯s glamour, perhaps we should focus on the task at hand,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°We are hoping you can give us information on a book called The Sleeping Dragon. As much as you¡¯re able to tell us; you never know what might be useful.¡± ¡°Has it been recovered?¡± Alice asked, perking up with remarkable speed and zeal. ¡°It¡¯s an ongoing investigation,¡± Aaliyah said, ¡°so we can¡¯t say much, obviously, but we¡¯d like to hear what you have to say about it.¡± ¡°Uh, right, okay,¡± Alice said, taking a breath to get her bearings. ¡°The Sleeping Dragon is a book of magic. It was stolen from us in the mid-18th century in Europe.¡± ¡°Yeah no, we¡¯re gonna need you to be a lot more specific than that,¡± Aaliyah groused. ¡°Superficial stuff first, then, which I think I can handle,¡± Barrett said. ¡°One of our holdings was attacked in late August 1756. They took a few books, a handful of artifacts, and The Sleeping Dragon, which was probably their primary goal. We never found out who was responsible.¡± ¡°Do you happen to know the exact date in August?¡± Eresthanon asked. Barrett regarded Eresthanon with pursed lips for a moment before answering. ¡°It was the 30th of August, 1756. In Saxony.¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Naturally,¡± Eresthanon said with a nod of thanks. ¡°I assume there was violence involved in the theft?¡± ¡°There was,¡± Barrett acknowledged. ¡°Fatalities?¡± Aaliyah asked pointedly. ¡°Several,¡± the drakus replied with a shrug. ¡°Which, I¡¯m guessing, the Drakon never reported,¡± Aaliyah concluded, frowning at the older man. Again, Barrett shrugged. Disapproval radiated off Aaliyah, so Eresthanon decided to move the interview along as best as he could. ¡°Would you tell us the contents of this grimoire?¡± he asked. Before Alice could answer, Barrett placed one hand atop hers to forestall a response. At the edge of Eresthanon¡¯s vision, he saw one of Aaliyah¡¯s eyes twitch. ¡°Perhaps we can give you some idea of the contents of that book,¡± the older drakus said. ¡°If you¡¯ll tell us why it¡¯s suddenly so important to the Vigiles Creaturae.¡± ¡°This ain¡¯t a negotiation, old man,¡± Aaliyah spat. Barrett smiled at the Quaesitor. There was more than a little sadness in the smile, Eresthanon thought. ¡°Perhaps not,¡± Barret said. ¡°But the theft of a book doesn¡¯t constitute a violation of any of the Pillars, so there¡¯s even less obligation on us than normal to offer up private information.¡± The drakus made a strong point. The Vigiles Creaturae wasn¡¯t constrained by concerns of due process as many mundane law enforcement agencies were, but they also lacked any widely recognized authority to issue writs in any form, from subpoenas to warrants. They had exactly as much power as they could get others to agree to or they could force, which varied by the situation and the subject. ¡°I think there is some information we could share that wouldn¡¯t compromise the integrity of our investigation,¡± Eresthanon offered. After a few moments spent fuming and directing unpleasant looks at the drakus across from them, Aaliyah nodded her head once and waved at Eresthanon to indicate he could proceed. ¡°This book was the target of a rather brazen and reckless theft,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°The Third Pillar was strained significantly and may have been violated, which is what drew our involvement and interest. The contents of the grimoire may shed light on the motive behind the theft and provide new avenues to explore in pursuit of the culprit.¡± ¡°Who had it?¡± Barrett asked. ¡°Nope, noooo, nuh uh,¡± Aaliyah cut in. ¡°We don¡¯t know if the people who had it are the ones who originally stole it from you, but even if we did, we wouldn¡¯t tell you so you can try to get revenge for shit that happened, like, four or five Haley¡¯s Comets ago. He answered your question, now you answer his: what¡¯s in your stupid book?¡± Barrett shrugged and motioned for Alice to proceed. The young woman brushed her hair back over her ears and cleared her throat. ¡°From what we know, which is hazy at best, The Sleeping Dragon focused exclusively on the intersection of three subjects: drakus, the Dream, and magic. It¡¯s a book that doesn¡¯t just cover oneiromancy, or dream magic, but a details a paradigm and tradition designed specifically for our use.¡± ¡°I could see the value your enemies would place in such an object,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Dragons dwell in dreams, after all, or so the saying goes.¡± It took the elf a moment to realize everyone at the table was staring at him. Again. Aaliyah, naturally, was the first to break the silence. ¡°Who the hell says that about these dumb lizards?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard that saying either,¡± Barrett said, his tone thoughtful. When the old drakus turned to Alice, she shook her head, as well, her green eyes wide with fervent interest. ¡°What does it mean?¡± she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. Eresthanon didn¡¯t answer right away. He took a few seconds to consider that this was yet another completely unexpected development and think over the best way to proceed. As far as his understanding went, the association between dragons and dreams ¡ª or the Dream, if it was taken literally ¡ª was common enough that it was practically axiomatic. Nor was it a euphemism; dragons were understood to have the ability to work through dreams in ways few other Creaturae could, rivaled only by the fae and various dream-oriented spirits. He didn¡¯t question this knowledge, even if he couldn¡¯t remember the specific source as a result of the memory barriers that came with Renewal. He did question the timeliness of his understanding, however. He knew the saying had been common, at some point, but he couldn¡¯t have said when, let alone if it was remotely current. The reactions around the table suggested it wasn¡¯t, not anymore at least. The world had changed so much in the last two thousand years. It always changed, but it had grown steadily more calcified against the unusual as general human understanding of it had increasingly excluded the supernatural. Magic hadn¡¯t just become more difficult in the face of growing skepticism and disbelief, sometimes knowledge ¡ª and even records ¡ª had faded or been lost altogether. Dragons were perhaps the perfect example of the phenomenon, having seemingly lost their ability to take on the infamous and fearsome form that still defined them in popular thought. Eresthanon found himself burdened with knowledge that might not only be out of date, but if shared, could imbalance the levers and scales of power in the world of the Creaturae. He was going to need to be more mindful of the things he said as he acclimated to the world in this new Cycle. On the upside, this was another excellent opportunity to practice being circumspect on such sensitive topics. Even better: he seemed to have a deep well of knowledge that suggested he¡¯d not shied away from scholarly pursuits, meaning he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about studying a bunch of dry, boring texts in this Cycle. Truly, every cloud did have a silver lining if you found the light at the right angle. ¡°I assume what the saying means, exactly, is a matter of much scholarly debate,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°Although I think of it as an aphorism among the Creaturae, it¡¯s not an uncommon pairing. Jung, for instance, mentioned dragons in relation to dreams several times, even if he never assigned them the role of an archetype. I imagine the saying, as I have heard it, has roots that could be traced back to the magic in your missing grimoire.¡± Barrett gave Eresthanon a measuring look and the elf wasn¡¯t sure if the drakus was satisfied with his answer. Alice also seemed eager to ask more questions. Unless Eresthanon misread her completely, she was invested enough that it didn¡¯t particularly matter whether she¡¯d been fooled by his evasive answer. Thankfully, Eresthanon wasn¡¯t facing the interest of dragons alone. ¡°So dragons do shady dream shit,¡± Aaliyah cut in brusquely, shooting a venomous look at Alice. ¡°And this book is supposed to be full of shady dream shit spellcraft. Why would someone who isn¡¯t one of you shady dream snakes want it so damned badly?¡± ¡°Because even if it¡¯s designed with us in mind, there¡¯s almost no way every scrap of magic in that grimoire could only be performed by a drakus,¡± Alice said. ¡°In fact, it¡¯s very likely that-¡± ¡°Let¡¯s slow down a second,¡± Barrett interjected, not unkindly. ¡°We¡¯re glad to help you with your investigation, but there have got to be limits on what we share. I¡¯m sure you can appreciate that.¡± ¡°Stow your bullshit, old man,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°No one¡¯s asking you to give us a copy of your stupid book. That doesn¡¯t mean you can be completely vague about what it might be used for, not with all the trouble the damned thing could and has caused.¡± Barrett chewed on Aaliyah¡¯s response for a second, his mouth literally working in consternation. Finally, he heaved a great sigh and slouched back in his seat. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°Fine. Tell me, Tribune Eresthanon, do you know what the Primus Draconis is?¡± Chapter 68 - Bitter Recriminations ¡°The Primus Draconis,¡± Eresthanon repeated, stalling for time as his brain jumped into gear. As he had with Barrett¡¯s title of Cordus Draconis, Eresthanon found himself without any knowledge dredged up from his memories. That absence was nearly as troubling as the sudden tremor he sensed in the storm at the edge of his consciousness. Whatever strife the storm represented, the Drakon was definitely connected to it, which made it all the more important he dedicate his efforts to getting a handle on this situation. He knew what the title would translate as ¡ª the first of, or maybe first among, dragons ¡ª and had a strong suspicion as to what it meant given the context ¡ª if Barrett were the second of the dragons, then the first would be their ultimate leader ¡ª yet he had no tangible insight beyond those superficial details. Specific information about the internal workings of the Drakon were absent from what he¡¯d carried over from his previous Cycles. Or perhaps that knowledge wasn¡¯t absent but opaque, inaccessible because it was tied to experiences so specific and personal it couldn¡¯t be separated from the information itself. That seemed¡­ fairly improbable. He was an elf. While elves had many interactions with dragons throughout history, he could think of no instance of one of his people being so thoroughly ingrained in their culture. There was also the possibility that, due to whatever reason or whims of chance, he had simply never learned much of anything about the culture of the Drakon in previous Cycles. Although he had discovered he held a surprising breadth and depth of understanding on a number of esoteric topics relating to the Creaturae so far, drakus were one of the most insular and secretive of peoples. Hadn¡¯t Barrett¡¯s hesitance and evasions been proving exactly that the entire duration of this meeting? There was another reason he might not have access to knowledge of the Drakon: his previous Cycle may have consciously restricted that knowledge, sealing it away during the Rite or Renewal, ensuring Eresthanon would walk into this situation missing important context. If so, it would suggest his most recent Cycle wanted Eresthanon to approach the dragons with a fresh perspective. Weighed against the other options, the last struck Eresthanon as the most likely. There were many ways he could interpret that, especially if he took time to dedicate a little more consideration to the issue. The traditions surrounding the Rite of Renewal were clear, however, so Eresthanon forced himself not to dwell on the subject. His past Cycles were just that: past. He was himself now and that was the only thing he should try to understand. ¡°I can guess at its meaning,¡± he continued, ¡°but no more than that.¡± ¡°The Primus Draconis is basically the position at the head of our governing body, if you will,¡± Barrett said. ¡°I won¡¯t go into the details of how the Primus Draconis is determined, but I will say that dreams and oneiromancy are part of the process of discovering the drakus meant for the role.¡± Eresthanon nodded thoughtfully. Very few of the various factions and races of Creaturae adopted representative or democratic forms of administration and governance. Most adopted variations of oligarchy, monarchy, or meritocracy, but there were a host of other structures that had been used, as well. Most tended towards authoritarianism in some form or another. The problem wasn¡¯t a lack of liberalism or an excess of ego and elitism among the praeternatural communities, though the latter was surprisingly common. In fact, most Creaturae had rather egalitarian outlooks, an unavoidable side effect of a history littered with farm hands and poop shovellers finding magic swords, rings, or helmets and rising to become the mightiest of their age. The problem was power. The disparity of power ¡ª personal power ¡ª between those with and without was much broader than it was among mundane people. There were limits to how strong or tough a human being could be, limits that could be overcome with magic. If everyone felt like their opinion or authority had roughly equal weight, then the moment a charismatic prodigy emerged was the moment the countdown began to the almost inevitable attempt to overthrow the ruling party. A ruling party which, at that point in time, might not be blessed with the same mystic aptitudes and benefits. To stave off the chaos of constant revolution and insurgency, many Creaturae had developed their own practices and traditions to determine who could wield authority legitimately. A good number of these cultures engaged in such rituals on a smaller, local level, and turned to consensus for issues that were broader in scope. Still, quite a few societies were led by varying degrees of unilateral authority. The only other group Eresthanon knew of with a ruling body that had authority over the entire populace were the orcs. They were ruled by a figure called the Conquest, a position that had once been a kind of supreme warlord in the distant past. It was still a position held by the mightiest of all orcs ¡ª of those who were interested in politics, at least ¡ª but terms were limited to twenty one years and might wasn¡¯t necessarily measured in warfare or direct combat anymore. They were still orcs, however, so it usually was an issue of personal martial prowess, if for no other reason than a respect for their heritage and tradition. From what little Eresthanon did know of the drakus and their culture, the processes involved in seating this Primus Draconis were likely extensive and grueling. Dragons were fiercely independent and fractious, so if they had any kind of ultimate authority figure, it would have to be someone with a lot of legitimacy attained through methods that would be widely accepted as appropriately stringent. If those processes involved oneiromancy, then a one-of-a-kind book on drakus-specific dream magic would almost certainly contain spells that could be turned against whomever was slated to take on the role. On that basis alone, the grimoire would motivate a number of factions to kill for it without the slightest hesitation. ¡°I take it the book contains spells or rituals that could be used to locate or track your Primus Draconis,¡± Eresthanon guessed. ¡°Perhaps even attack them directly. All through dreams.¡± Barrett tapped his nose with his index finger. ¡°Right in one,¡± he sighed. ¡°No attacks, as far as we know, but we can¡¯t rule that out. It can certainly be used to find them, although we figure there are some limitations on that even if we don¡¯t know how limiting they are.¡± ¡°Wait, wait, wait! So it¡¯s possible to visit people in their dreams, even cause them harm?¡± Aaliyah asked. Eresthanon nodded. ¡°Of course, if the oneiromancer is powerful enough and has developed the right magic. There are also beings who exist almost entirely in dreams and there is, of course, the Dream itself.¡± ¡°Well what do you know?¡± Aaliyah said slowly. ¡°It¡¯s almost like dreams ain¡¯t just dreams, like there¡¯s some kind of¡­ I dunno¡­ realness to them. Huh.¡± Aaliyah was looking at the other woman, Alice, quite intently. She was staring, really, and not in a way Eresthanon would have called friendly. Glowering might have been a more appropriate term. Alice, for her part, was trying to meet Aaliyah¡¯s gaze but kept glancing away. ¡°It¡¯s- it¡¯s more complicated than that,¡± the young drakus said. ¡°Most times¡­ most times our dreams are tiny, self-contained universes, everyone and everything inside nothing more than a¡­ a diaphanous construct ¡ª an illusion ¡ª our own thoughts given a gossamer coat.¡± ¡°If you can hurt people in a dream and cause other things to happen, as well, then that doesn¡¯t exactly sound like a coat made of cobwebs, does it?¡± Aaliyah insisted. ¡°What¡¯s all this about?¡± Barrett asked, looking between the two women. ¡°Is there something going on I should know about?¡± ¡°Nothing that¡¯s any of your business, old man,¡± Aaliyah snapped, turning her attention to Barrett. ¡°Speaking of business, let¡¯s get back to business.¡± She stopped to take a breath, then continued. ¡°So, you got this magic book that can track down your dear leader, only someone else had it. It gets stolen from them who had it and suddenly your people are getting attacked all over the city. But it¡¯s not just any lizard getting jumped, it¡¯s tourists. People from out of town. People no one¡¯s ever seen before. Tell me if I said anything you disagree with so far.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°It¡¯s a decent summary, though a bit sparse on the details for my tastes,¡± Barrett acknowledged. ¡°The whole thing raises the question: why now?¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°What changed that made this book such a juicy target and has people trying to roll drakus all of a sudden?¡± Barrett had an excellent poker face, so he wasn¡¯t giving much away by holding his tongue, but he also wasn¡¯t playing the game alone. Alice wasn¡¯t nearly as skilled at keeping her emotions from showing and she was clearly worried about the direction Aaliyah was taking the conversation. Unfortunately, Eresthanon realized, the dynamic between the Quaesitor and the two drakus so far meant their backs were up. They might not know the Drakon was a suspect in the raid on the chantry, but they were unlikely to share anything unless they absolutely had to as long as Aaliyah was asking the questions. ¡°The Vigiles Creaturae isn¡¯t a mundane law enforcement agency, so there are limits to what we can offer,¡± Eresthanon said, trying to sound as reasonable as he could. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t provide some measure of assistance, especially if your people are in danger. The hired guns hunting for drakus out on the streets are reckless about keeping the secret and very likely willing to kill. We¡¯d like to put a stop to that, but there¡¯s only so much we can do without your cooperation.¡± ¡°What kind of cooperation are you looking for here?¡± Barrett asked. ¡°My suggestion would be protective custody, but initiated in a way that is public enough word would spread,¡± Eresthanon offered. ¡°If all these mercenaries ¡ª and their employers ¡ª believe we have their target in custody, the attacks will likely cease.¡± Barrett rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Saying we went along with it, which we¡¯re not likely to do, there¡¯s still a glaring problem with your plan ¡ª who¡¯s their target supposed to even be?¡± The denial, despite being very plausibly delivered, was still completely transparent. Eresthanon hadn¡¯t expected Barrett to admit they had a Primus Draconis and wasn¡¯t bothered by the evasion, but it was enough to make Aaliyah snap at the old drakus waspishly. ¡°Oh cut the bullshit, Barrett,¡± she spat. ¡°You found your damned Primus and now the city¡¯s turning into a fucking warzone with people trying to find and merk them. Add to that someone snatching up this magic book that can track your new big cheese and you¡¯re gonna sit there and turn your nose up at us when we come offering to help? Screw you, pal.¡± ¡°Alright, you want to get real?¡± Barrett said, his tone taking on a harsher edge. ¡°Then let¡¯s get real. Even if we have found our Primus ¡ª after all these years, and I¡¯m not confirming that¡¯s the case right now ¡ª you think we¡¯d ever put our trust in the Vigiles Creaturae to help keep them safe? You think we want you even knowing who they are?¡± ¡°So you¡¯re just going to let things escalate?¡± Aaliyah shot back. ¡°And what are you going to do about your magic book? Take a nap and dream for the best?¡± Alice abruptly stood up from her seat, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. ¡°We¡¯re not helpless, even without the grimoire,¡± she said in a rush. ¡°You obviously don¡¯t care about how dreams or oneiromancy work, so why don¡¯t you just butt out?¡± The redhead dithered on the spot for a moment, then she turned to Eresthanon. ¡°I hope I was of some help for your investigation, Mr. Eresthanon, and I apologize for my outburst.¡± She sketched a very small and awkward bow to him and then, with a final apologetic look at Barrett, left the conference room. Aaliyah watched her leave, breathing quickly through her nose and with a puckered grimace on her face. The Quaesitor turned back to Barrett, her face a thunderhead. The drakus cut her off before she could speak. ¡°I assume the theft of The Sleeping Dragon involved some pretty gruesome stuff, and I further assume you think the Drakon might be the culprit,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s fine, think what you want about us, but consider this ¡ª if I¡¯d had my people recover that book, do you really think it would be obvious it had been taken? Or that there wouldn¡¯t be half a dozen false trails pointing in other directions?¡± ¡°It could¡¯ve been short notice,¡± Aaliyah scoffed. ¡°You know how these things go, shit like this all tends to come together at the same time. Call it fluke, fate, or fuckery; it is what it is.¡± Barrett chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s fair. Magic has a flair for the dramatic, so the hidden world doesn¡¯t work quite the same as the mundane. Even still, you think I haven¡¯t had convincing forgeries and replicas ready to swap for the real deal if I ever found it? If that book was stolen yesterday ¡ª and I assume it was ¡ª that means you found out it was missing almost immediately. I¡¯m not that sloppy.¡± ¡°You¡¯re making a lot of assumptions, old man, and you know what they say about assumptions.¡± ¡°We¡¯re both of us asses already, Aaliyah,¡± Barrett replied. ¡°Figured you¡¯d¡¯ve figured that out by now.¡± ¡°You¡¯re hiding something,¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°I¡¯m hiding a great many things,¡± he replied. ¡°I am Oz, the great and god damned powerful, and the last thing you should want these days is to see behind my curtain.¡± Barrett rose from his seat and the vigilum followed suit. ¡°If you truly want to make strides in showing your order has turned over a new leaf, there¡¯s two things you can do: first, don¡¯t go trying to play mercenary and track down this hypothetical Primus; and second, recover that book and return it to us¡­ without trying to steal its secrets for yourselves.¡± The door to the conference room opened, revealing Samuel, the young man who¡¯d shown them to the conference room earlier. Aaliyah clearly had more she wanted to say to Barrett, but it was clear the meeting was over and she held her peace. The two vigilum were escorted back to the lounge and then to the tunnel, returning them to the Flea Theatre. Aaliyah didn¡¯t say a single word for two blocks, marching along in a funk of annoyance and frustration. She didn¡¯t open her mouth until they were back on Broadway and walking into a deli not far from City Hall. Even then, she only spoke to order an egg and bacon platter. Eresthanon, seeing she was still fuming, ordered a bagel with lox and waited. After sitting down and taking a few bites, his partner finally deigned to speak to him. ¡°So what was all that about August whatever and Saxony?¡± Aaliyah asked. ¡°From when the book was stolen in the first place.¡± Eresthanon glanced around the busy deli. It didn¡¯t seem like the best place for a confidential discussion on their investigation. ¡°Can we speak freely here?¡± Aaliyah waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Oh no, yeah, I got my cube thing under my thigh on the chair but we¡¯re also right between City Hall and the federal building. This whole block¡¯s basically a dead zone for scrying and whatnot.¡± ¡°It was a note of historical interest, which Mr. Freeman confirmed. That the theft occurred at the same time as the launch of the Prussian offensive into Saxony, which was the effective beginning of the Seven Years¡¯ War. Since we are discussing tactics, perhaps you would enlighten me as to your strategy in the interview?¡± Aaliyah¡¯s cheeks bulged as she slowly blew air out through her teeth. ¡°Yeah, no, I¡¯m sorry. I let myself get caught up in all the baggage and bullshit. If I could¡¯ve played it a bit cooler, we might¡¯ve been able to get Barrett to let something slip that incriminated him in stealing the book.¡± ¡°You remain convinced the Drakon had something to do with it?¡± ¡°Look, there¡¯s probably nobody who knows those snakes as well as I do that isn¡¯t a member of their little club, okay?¡± Aaliyah said. ¡°Don¡¯t let the down-home bullshit snow you ¡ª that old man is just about the most wily, ruthless, bastard-coated bastard with bastard filling out there. He wasn¡¯t lying when he said he wouldn¡¯t have done such a messy job to get that book and, under normal circumstances, I¡¯d agree. But I don¡¯t think these are normal circumstances. I think he was under the gun and didn¡¯t have time to pull out all his tricksy snake bullshit.¡± Eresthanon couldn¡¯t quite bring himself to agree with Aaliyah¡¯s reasoning, but he had no alternative theories at the moment. Barrett had definitely been withholding something and since she was both his superior officer and more experienced in the field, he decided to follow her lead. That didn¡¯t mean he was without questions. ¡°I think it would be prudent if you gave me some insight into your background with the Drakon,¡± Eresthanon said. ¡°There was clearly more than passing familiarity and if they¡¯re going to be at the center of this case, I feel it¡¯s important not to leave me in the dark.¡± Aaliyah continued to eat her breakfast in silence for a few long moments, then she sighed deeply and said, ¡°Alice and I were¡­ involved. We were together for a couple years and it was pretty serious. So, naturally, when it went bad, it went real bad.¡± There was still a lot being left unsaid, but Eresthanon knew better than to push, at least for now. He could tell it had taken a real effort for Aaliyah to share even that much of her personal life. ¡°What is our next move?¡± he asked, changing the subject enough (he hoped) to alleviate his partner¡¯s discomfort. ¡°We¡¯re going to need either ammunition or leverage if we want those stubborn-ass serpents to budge,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll keep working the chantry case, but we are going to pounce on anyone Khaldun¡¯s response teams catch throwing down. Hopefully, we¡¯ll bag us a dragon.¡± Chapter 69 - Closet Conference The Drakon was full of surprises. When Aaron told his security detail he needed to take a look through their archives, they took him to a building that looked like the forward base of a hostile alien species had landed in the midst of lower Manhattan. It was a windowless monolith of concrete whose only openings were a series of large vents high up on the building that might as well have been launch bays for small attack spacecraft or swarms of insectoid invaders. They hadn¡¯t entered the building directly, but gone into a bank Aaron had never heard of across the street from it. After being shown into the room where safety deposit boxes were kept, Griffin had opened a false wall for them leading to, of course, an underground tunnel made of cement. The night before, as he¡¯d prepared to start working with Tia on recalling anything from Oliver Milton¡¯s life that would lead him to the sceptre, he¡¯d joked he was going to need a montage to get through all the things he was supposed to be doing. It hadn¡¯t even taken a full day for him to start lamenting how much better movies were than reality; real life was often filled with tedious drudgery and you couldn¡¯t just skip over it. Real life was, in his opinion, kinda bullshit. As frustrating as it had been staring at images of various places where the Drakon temples deemed most likely to house the sceptre were located and reading snippets of journals from Barrett¡¯s and Mallory¡¯s predecessors about those same places, it had produced results! After a fashion, anyways. While there hadn¡¯t been any lightning bolts of insight about where Milton had sent the sceptre, he had found himself subjected to a consistent intrusive thought. Only it hadn¡¯t been a thought, exactly, as it lacked any kind of language he could verbalize. It was more of an image, popping into his head several times over the course of the night. Most of the records he¡¯d been given focused on landscapes that were isolated or hidden and seemingly pristine. Mountain ranges, hidden valleys, remote lakes, and other natural features seemed to be the favored places to build these temples. That¡¯s what made the persistent vision so noteworthy ¡ª there was a building sitting right in the middle of it and it was a fairly modern one. Set atop a bluff of stone overlooking a narrow strip of sandy beach at the edge of what Aaron felt like was either an ocean or a very large lake, he had decided the building was most likely a very large house. It reminded him of the big mansions he¡¯d seen in movies and TV shows about the English gentry, manor houses or country manors or something like that. When he¡¯d first started imagining this unknown place, it had been almost like he was remembering looking at it. He thought the view was something he¡¯d see from a boat out on the water. Except the perspective had been wrong, it had been much too high. There would have been no way to see so much of the house above the bluffs from the deck of a boat unless it was hundreds of feet above the water. Once he noticed that, Aaron noticed another oddity ¡ª nothing was moving. On its own that shouldn¡¯t have meant much, since stony bluffs and houses weren¡¯t exactly known for their movement, but the water? No body of water that large could be so still, whether it was lake, sea, or ocean. It might have been unsettling ¡ª and perhaps it should have been ¡ª but it only left Aaron intrigued. Every time the image flashed across his thoughts, it was different. The shift was subtle and Aaron couldn¡¯t consciously identify what or how the vision had changed, only that it had. No matter how hard he tried to hold the thought in his focus, it always slipped away before he could get a sense of anything more specific. After a couple frustrating hours, he came to the realization that what he was seeing was not a lived experience. That hadn¡¯t been quite the right way to describe it and he¡¯d tried to reframe his understanding to make sense of what his instincts were telling him. The closest he could get was that it was like he was no longer there, in person, looking at the house on the bluffs. What that meant eluded him and it had stayed in the back of his thoughts while he tried to focus on the other material Tia had brought him. Even after she had gone back to her apartment downstairs and he was lying in bed with Baby Bear, Aaron still hadn¡¯t been able to make sense of it. In the darkness of his room, as he waited for sleep with the TV playing in the background and a stuffed animal flopped across his forehead, it had finally hit him ¡ª he had no longer been seeing a landscape in the flesh, but a painting of one! The epiphany was so jarring, Aaron had started doubting himself. He had wondered if it had always been a painting in his imagination and he just hadn¡¯t recognized it, or if the very nature of the thing had changed so gradually he had failed to notice. Whatever the case, he¡¯d shot out of bed ¡ª much to Baby Bear¡¯s discontent and requiring apologies later ¡ª and rushed back out to the dinette to go through everything Tia had brought him again. Dozens of copies of photographs, sketches, and paintings, but none of them matching the one he¡¯d been seeing. None of them were even close. Tia had encouraged him throughout the night to stay confident and let the image come to him. Since it hadn¡¯t been too late when he finally had his revelation, Aaron had texted to ask her advice. Her suggestion was that he pay a visit to the archive. The archive was, as he had learned the following morning, in the Drakon¡¯s center of operations, housed in the skyscraper equivalent of a rectangular Star Destroyer. When he and his security detail had arrived through the ubiquitous secret underground tunnel, they¡¯d been asked to wait in the big lobby-slash-lounge area. The archivist, they were told, wasn¡¯t usually in so early. They had sat down and quickly devolved into the exaggerated banter that came naturally to Albert, Griffin, and Kiara. Aaron had avoided jumping in unless prompted, but he hadn¡¯t smiled or laughed so much in months and it had been a tremendous pressure valve for the stress of the last few days. Things had turned a little weird when two people showed up who were not with the Drakon, though one of them ¡ª a pretty but intense young black woman ¡ª had been on reasonably friendly terms with Aaron¡¯s protectors. He¡¯d tried to play the role of his cover story as best he could, but he¡¯d been a bit distracted by the lady¡¯s partner, Ares-something. Aaron was pretty sure that dude was an honest-to-god elf and he¡¯d needed to clamp down hard on the urge to ask a million nerdy-ass questions. As friendly as the three delvers might have been with the visitors, it was clear the trio wanted to get Aaron out of the room fast. They made their pleasantries and didn¡¯t rush, but Griffin and Albert headed for a door almost as soon as the conversation got started. Considering no one had come to tell them the archivist was ready for them, it surely wasn¡¯t a coincidence. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. If Aaron had followed the conversation well enough ¡ª which was a big if given how little he knew about this hidden world ¡ª then the visitors had been some kind of law enforcement officers. Tia had said something about there being only a few laws that were applied broadly among the supernatural types, but she hadn¡¯t gone into the specifics of what they were or how they were enforced. As soon as they were out of the lounge, Albert and Griffin led Aaron through several hallways, then into what looked like a storage room. Cabinets and tall shelves filled with boxes lined the walls and there were several rolling stools and step ladders. The three of them sat down in the tight space, Albert positioning himself to keep the door propped open. ¡°What was that all about?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Nothing unexpected,¡± Griffin replied. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ a bit earlier than Barrett was anticipating.¡± Albert frowned. ¡°It¡¯s a real kick in the pants some vigilum would show up in the same small window of time we¡¯d be in the lobby, especially that one.¡± ¡°What¡¯s a vigilum?¡± ¡°Vigilum is the plural of vigiles,¡± Griffin said, ¡°which is the term for a member of the Vigiles Creaturae, an independent faction that monitors violations of the laws that govern eidolons, us included.¡± ¡°The mythic cops, to put it simply,¡± Albert added. ¡°And I think the plural is eidola.¡± ¡°Why is it bad if they¡¯re here? Are magic cops as much of a hassle as the regular ones?¡± Griffin shook his head. ¡°In general, no, but it¡¯s complicated because of the history between the Drakon and them. That¡¯s really too much to go into right now, but suffice it to say they used to be a lot worse than they are now and they have been screwing drakus, in particular, since their inception.¡± ¡°Barrett knew the Vigil would come snooping around the Drakon before too long since we¡¯re getting ambushed all over the damned city, but he said tomorrow was more likely. This afternoon at the earliest if there was a particularly nasty brawl that left bodies behind,¡± Albert said. The conversation paused at the sound of someone approaching their storage room from the hallway. ¡°Unless the heel-heavy clomp! clomp! of tiny combat boots deceives me, that¡¯ll be Kiara,¡± Albert said. ¡°You get anything out of her?¡± Griffin asked when Kiara joined them a few seconds later. ¡°Maybe,¡± Kiara said, waffling with one hand. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure they know something about the attacks, but I¡¯m not convinced that¡¯s why Aaliyah and her new partner are here. The Vigiles wouldn¡¯t send a Quaesitor from their big case squad for an initial probe and definitely not one who has a history with the Drakon like hers.¡± Albert grunted his agreement. ¡°I was wondering about that. I figured she saw a chance to hold our feet to the fire without screwing us too hard and forced her way onto the assignment.¡± ¡°Maybe, but there was something else,¡± Kiara said. ¡°She wanted to know what our argument was about. That¡¯s what she asked for in exchange for hinting that people might be going after drakus.¡± ¡°Since when has Aaliyah Dean ever given a shit about our pissing matches?¡± Albert asked, incredulous. ¡°Since never,¡± Griffin answered. ¡°Which means she might¡¯ve thought we were arguing over something important.¡± ¡°That was basically my thinking,¡± Kiara agreed. ¡°Which means either she or the Vigiles might know about Aaron, or at least that we¡¯re closer to a Primus than we¡¯ve been in centuries.¡± ¡°Is there any reason these Vigiles people would care?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Not in theory, but it¡¯s an uncomfortable coincidence,¡± Griffin replied. ¡°The Vigiles Creaturae started out as a collective effort between orders of magi; to police themselves, in part, but mostly to police those they viewed as lesser beings. Very few magi, until recently, would have considered themselves to be creaturae. They saw themselves as purely human.¡± ¡°To make a long story short,¡± Kiara cut in, ¡°In the first few centuries the Vigiles was around, they hunted and punished eidolons for violating the Pillars but didn¡¯t really see us as protected by those same laws.¡± ¡°I think the plural is eidola,¡± Albert said, earning a backhand to the shoulder from Kiara. ¡°Anyways, like five or six hundred years ago the magi managed to assassinate one of your predecessors, a Primus,¡± Kiara continued. ¡°That was bad enough, but it came out later that the Vigiles was sort of complicit; they didn¡¯t bother to investigate the killing and some of their people might have helped orchestrate it. There was a whole big war over it that lasted years and years and ended with the Vigiles being torn down and rebuilt.¡± ¡°It was supposed to make it a more equitable institution, but it just made it a little less prejudiced,¡± Griffin said. Kiara pulled Albert up onto his feet, prompting the others to stand. ¡°We won¡¯t know more until we find out what she was here to talk about,¡± she said. ¡°For now, we keep our eyes on the prize. Let¡¯s head to the archive.¡± The four drakus made their way through a few more hallways, then up a flight of steps in a staircase so narrow they had to take it single file. Kiara brought them to a stop outside a thick wooden door with a large, brass knob set in the center instead of on the side. A plain metal plate was fastened to the door above the knob, and announced it was, ¡°THE ARCHIVE.¡± ¡°Okay, a couple things to go over quickly before we go inside,¡± Kiara said. ¡°The first thing is that the Archivist is generally very cool but she gets real shirty if you screw with her or the archives. Usually you wouldn¡¯t need her to access the main chamber, but since you have a specific request and a unique situation we wanted to make sure she was here to help. Second, she probably won¡¯t give you access to anything restricted ¡ª at least not directly ¡ª but it can¡¯t hurt to ask if you feel you need to. Lastly, no drinks, no snacks, and no smoking.¡± ¡°What do we do if she¡¯s not here yet?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°We¡¯ll have a seat near the door and wait,¡± Albert said, adjusting his clothes and breathing into his hand to check his breath. ¡°Don¡¯t want to start off on the wrong foot.¡± Griffin dropped an arm on Albert¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him! He¡¯s still the same seedy filth-pot, he just has a widdle cwush on the archivist.¡± ¡°Damned right I do,¡± Albert said. ¡°Dibs, by the way.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t call ¡®dibs¡¯ on a human being, you fucking used condom of a person,¡± Kiara sneered. Albert pshawed. ¡°Well I just did, so as usual you¡¯ve proven yourself both shrewish and wrong.¡± Griffin chuckled at the byplay and Kiara rolled her eyes, reaching for the doorknob. Before she could grab it, the wide door swung inward on its own. ¡°Welcome,¡± the Archivist said, standing in the doorway. ¡°I hear there¡¯s something you need help finding.¡± Chapter 70 - The Archive Under Thomas Street Albert stepped forward and bowed his head slightly to the Archivist. ¡°Ms. Wozniak, a pleasure as always,¡± he said, adopting a tone Aaron suspected he thought was charming but only managed to come across as sleazy. I can see why he¡¯s got a little crush going for this archivist lady, though, Aaron thought. The Archivist smiled back at Albert. ¡°I¡¯ve told you, Mr. Lang, you don¡¯t have to be so formal. You can call me Katrina or Kat, whichever you prefer. That goes for you, too, Mr. Abrams, and I must say I was excited to hear you needed the archives so soon after joining us.¡± The Archivist, Katrina Wozniak, was a bit under five and a half feet tall, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a warm olive complexion. While she was a pretty woman with an ageless quality to her features, it was her sense of style that truly made her stand out. Back in California, Aaron had known quite a few people who adopted ¡®50s fashion and aesthetics, but he associated the Rockabilly and Pin-Up types with a more working class, greaser kind of style. Katrina¡¯s style was both more formal and homier. She looks like a guest star on I Love Lucy, he thought. Wearing a canary yellow shirtwaist dress patterned with bright little birds, a deep blue cropped cardigan, and winged glasses that matched her sweater, Katrina looked more like a sultry housewife than Rosie the Riveter or a woman draped across the hood of a Ford Thunderbird. ¡°Come in, come in,¡± she beckoned, stepping back from the doorway. She had a kind of smoky rasp to her voice that was similar to Kiara¡¯s, though a good deal softer. ¡°Let¡¯s start with a quick tour!¡± Aaron¡¯s first impression was that the archive was more like a library than a storage facility. His next impression was that it was fancy as hell. A wooden balustrade, reaching nearly chest height, sectioned off the area around the door into a comfortable lounge, filled with leather couches and armchairs. Counters abutted the balustrade on the sides, but the end opened into a central hall fifty or so feet wide and perhaps twice as long. The floor was handsome parquet tiling and the ceiling was composed of domed sections, each ten to fifteen feet across. Small chandeliers hung in each of the domes, casting a warm light down into the hall and illuminating the designs etched into the curves of the roof panels. A carpeted lane ran down the middle of the hall, flanked on either side by sturdy tables with low-backed chairs. Islands of Carrel desks with low partitions and their own table lamps separated the space between the larger tables and the outer walls. Those walls were made up of bookshelves, with framed glass covers protecting smaller sections. There were breaks between the bookshelves at regular intervals, where large slant-topped bureau desks were set against the walls between them. Every bit of furniture in the archive was sturdy wood construction, ornately carved and gleaming in the soft overhead lights. ¡°Wow,¡± Aaron said. ¡°It¡¯s something, isn¡¯t it?¡± Katrina said. ¡°Please follow me.¡± Katrina crossed the lounge, passing through a cunningly concealed swinging gate in the wood balustrade wall into the central hall. ¡°This is the main chamber of the archive,¡± she explained. ¡°Normally, there would be a few archivists and around a dozen of our regulars doing their own research. We don¡¯t usually open the doors until ten, so you¡¯re beating the rush.¡± As Katrina walked them around the main chamber, she showed them how it was organized. Primarily housing reference materials ¡ª such as surveys, treatises, and meta-analyses ¡ª it was the starting point for many drakus conducting studies on a variety of topics. Those topics were varied, but the bulk of the material in the archive covered different styles of magic, history (both hidden and mundane), and unusual phenomena of the world, like bestiaries and almanacs on magical flora. Aaron was delighted to be shown that the bureau desks standing against the walls between shelving units weren¡¯t just useful for quickly looking something up in a book without needing to take it back to a table or desk; they also hid doors to other small wings of the archive containing materials with a more specific, detailed focus. In total, there were four additional wings that branched out of the main chamber ¡ª two on each side ¡ª and each of those contained their own collections as well as small rooms for research or meetings. ¡°And, of course, we have more exclusive materials, as well,¡± Katrina said when they reached the bookshelves that covered the entire rear wall. The Archivist stopped in front of one of the broad bookshelves. She produced three smooth round rocks from somewhere in her dress. They were somewhat similar to the one Aaron had for his apartment building, only hers were made of rarer stones than his simple granite key, each polished to a lustrous shine. One was a rich, honey-like yellow, another dark green, and the last a black so clear Aaron was pretty sure it was obsidian. She held the stones in one hand and performed a sharp, complicated series of gestures with the other. When she finished, a section of the bookshelf in front of her slid backwards into the wall, then swung open away from them, revealing another chamber beyond the first. Just as wide but not nearly as deep, the tables within were smaller and round and there were no rows of cubicle desks along the sides. The shelves along the walls were broken only once, in the middle, rather than twice, and the door in each was obvious instead of concealed and blocked by a bureau desk. The books on the shelves were also more diverse in size than the main chamber and many looked a great deal older. Aaron¡¯s eyes drifted around the library. It was a gorgeous room, but it wasn¡¯t particularly different from the larger chamber behind them. The contents of the books probably played a big role in why this section was more exclusive, as Katrina had put it, but it still seemed relatively mundane. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest: this is a really cool little library, but I was sorta expecting it to be a bit more¡­ more¡­ if that makes sense,¡± Aaron observed. ¡°Oh it is,¡± Katrina replied with a gummy smile. ¡°Take a moment to really experience the room itself, not just what your eyes are telling you.¡± Aaron¡¯s eyes swept the room again and he tried to focus on what his other senses were supposed to be telling him. Is it supposed to be a sixth sense kind of thing?, he wondered. Or maybe there¡¯s a feeling or a smell? It all looks and feels the same to me. Except there was something else, something harder to notice and even more difficult to define. The room had a quality ¡ª an impermanence or flexibility, maybe ¡ª that made it almost uncomfortable to be in, as if it were somehow not quite real. That¡­ is that magic I¡¯m feeling? Aaron wondered, looking around the room slowly and trying to keep himself open to the sensation. Katrina¡¯s smile widened and she nodded encouragingly. ¡°I think you¡¯re getting some idea of just how remarkable our little archive here is, especially when you consider its relative youth compared to some of the others the Drakon have back in the Old World.¡± ¡°So what¡¯s through the doors?¡± he asked. ¡°Those are the Society archives,¡± Katrina answered, then pointed to each in turn from left to right. ¡°Tome, Scale, and Spear, respectively. Only members of the appropriate Society ¡ª and those they grant access ¡ª may utilize the materials within.¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Why separate them like that?¡± ¡°Membership in a Society isn¡¯t just a matter of skill or preference, it requires a degree of dedication to the Drakon and our fellow drakus,¡± Katrina said. ¡°If we didn¡¯t keep a tight rein over some of these materials, drakus with little to no interest in the well-being of the community would take advantage to develop their own power and the rest of us be damned.¡± ¡°I¡¯m guessing you mean that in a literal sense,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Not just self-improvement or study.¡± ¡°The Emergence helps us awaken our potential, letting us influence aether even if we weren¡¯t magically-inclined before it. It grants us the benefits of strength and endurance beyond what humans are capable of, but it¡¯s not equally effective for all drakus.¡± Katrina retrieved a book from a shelf near the entrance and set it on a table. Aaron looked and saw that the title, written in gleaming golden letters, was Essentia Draconum: the First Hoard. ¡°This book contains a¡­ well, I won¡¯t say decent, but a foundational study of the topic. In summary: each drakus contains the essence of a dragon, either inherited from a previous drakus or newly-forged in their own being. In general, the greater the legacy of a drakus¡¯s essence, the greater the benefits they¡¯ll see when they complete the Emergence. More often than not, they will also have an easier time growing in power, at least at the early stages.¡± ¡°So that book is like a guide on how to power up your dragon-ness? Then why isn¡¯t it in one of the more restricted sections?¡± Katrina laughed quietly. ¡°This book? No, it¡¯s more like a primer on the ideas about our power. To be honest, as useful as some of the ideas in it are for codifying things, it¡¯s mostly a book filled with something akin to scientific racism. The main thrust of their research was to find evidence that drakus from western and northern Europe tended to have a stronger legacy than their contemporaries.¡± ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?!¡± Aaron exploded. ¡°We don¡¯t just have fantasy racism like ¡®all goblins are mindlessly evil,¡¯ but boring old normal racism, too?¡± There was some laughter at that, which was not a response Aaron had been expecting. He felt himself getting a little warm under the collar and cold along the spine, a sure sign that he was annoyed. Not angry, though, of course; just annoyed. Griffin clapped a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You have to remember that drakus are human before they awaken to their dragon-ness, as you put it, and all the bullshit and baggage doesn¡¯t disappear just because an individual suddenly finds themselves wielding tremendous personal power.¡± ¡°This particular research is especially stupid because it ignores certain very pertinent facts,¡± Katrina added. ¡°While it is well-documented that the essentia draconum tends to gravitate towards individuals who come from powerful or wealthy cultures, it¡¯s also very clear that those cultures can and do change and that this clustering effect is rarely limited to a single geographic region. No, what this book did, in its desperation to manufacture quantitative proof for the prejudice of its authors, was to devise useful metrics to classify the power of the individual.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Albert exclaimed. ¡°Is that where the lizard wizard wyvern thing came from?¡± ¡°Holy crap,¡± Kiara said, smacking Albert¡¯s arm. ¡°Don¡¯t stay stupid shit in front of the Archivist, Albert. It goes serpent, salamander, zmei, wyvern, dragon.¡± ¡°That¡¯s close, Miss Lavign¨¦, but it¡¯s actually a bit more complex than that,¡± Katrina said, excitement in her voice and a nerdy gleam in her eyes. ¡°When Ralstead and his collaborators were writing Essentia Draconum in the 18th century, they delved fairly deeply into extremely esoteric materials and it led them to, I would argue, their most compelling contribution to our body of lore.¡± Katrina carefully opened the old book and gently turned its pages until she found what she was looking for ¡ª an intricate graphic with so many tiny branches it could have been a map of a river¡¯s tributaries, the roots of a tree, or even a human lung. Each branch was marked with a small annotation, at least, and many had longer comments scrawled beside them in a cramped but delicate script. ¡°Now, this was before the term ¡®Emergence¡¯ became the norm, so you can see the old form at the top there,¡± Katrina said, pointing to the broad ¡®trunk¡¯ of the chart. ¡°He labeled it the ¡®crucible,¡¯ but noted other commonly-used terms found in older records, like chrysalis and so on. Now, if you follow the root downward, you see that serpent and salamander are the next in this scale, but what do you notice after those?¡± Aaron examined the diagram and noted that pretty much every label on the map itself was written in what looked like Greek, so he could only assume that the entry for salamander was the one Katrina¡¯s finger was hovering over. After that entry the chart began to spread, splitting into three different paths. ¡°That¡¯s where it branches out,¡± he said. ¡°Precisely!¡± Katrina said, bouncing in place once and swinging her arms in a tight motion across her body. ¡°You see, for all their insipid prejudice, they had discovered what they thought was an explanation for, as Ralstead put it, ¡®the inherent grandeur and superiority of the Anglo-Saxon drakus.¡¯ Their research showed that drakus had a long history of gauging each other¡¯s personal power and there were several different classifications that came up time and again. Although the book acknowledges there could be as few as two and as many as five, Ralstead settled on three separate categorizations.¡± She pointed to three large branches splitting off. ¡°The zmei, the wyrm, and the drake. Although there was a good deal of overlap and the records lacked the kind of unity of language or thought necessary to be confident, Ralstead surmised that they were separate outcomes of the Emergence that were roughly correlated with an individual¡¯s power.¡± ¡°How does that explain or prove their racism?¡± ¡°Poorly, only they were too blind to see it,¡± Katrina answered, delighted. ¡°In the decades after Ralstead¡¯s death in 1709, the Drakon reclaimed a number of texts and artifacts from temples that had been abandoned for centuries. Although many of them were damaged and didn¡¯t yield much, it did clarify what Ralstead had stumbled on ¡ª that drakus don¡¯t all develop in the same way or at the same rate.¡± She trailed her finger over the various branches. ¡°The zmei weren¡¯t ¡®Slavs, Bulgars, and Huns, innately diminished in both mind and vigour¡¯ ¡ª again, quoting the long-dead bigots ¡ª it was, instead, a common classification from one region of the world for an early stage of development, just like wyrm and drake were. We don¡¯t know for sure how the zmei classification develops beyond that stage, but the current research suggests it was a separate path of development and not a third common stage before branching. Now, are you ready for the exciting part?¡± Aaron wasn¡¯t sure if that was a rhetorical question or not, but he nodded anyways, just in case. The Archivist was on an enthusiastic roll and he didn¡¯t want to interrupt her. ¡°With the greater insight we¡¯ve gained from more recent discoveries, we are fairly confident that these paths are relatively static. That is to say, a drakus at the ¡®wyrm¡¯ stage of development will grow into a wyvern and one at the ¡®drake¡¯ stage into a dragon. What¡¯s really cool, though, is that these categories aren¡¯t about where a person was born, who their parents are, or even where their talents and interests lie; it¡¯s about how they use those talents and, most importantly, how they grow stronger.¡± ¡°That is cool,¡± Aaron said, glancing at his three protectors to see if they were equally confused. From the looks on their faces, they were trying to keep up with the Archivist and managing about as well as he was. Katrina was enthusiastic and engaging, but she also moved through the material at speed. ¡°So really, the scale is more like serpent, salamander, zmei track, wyrm track, and drake track, with wyrm and drake leading to wyvern and dragon and zmei to something unknown,¡± Katrina said, putting her hands on her hips proudly. ¡°One of the big projects right now is trying to figure out more details about how all that works because, well, having a better classification system doesn¡¯t really help without the context or practicum attached to it.¡± Katrina took a deep breath and blew it out through puffed cheeks. ¡°Anyways, you came to the archive looking for something specific and I¡¯ve led us off on a bit of a tangent. Can you tell me more about what you¡¯re looking for?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯ll have to wait a few minutes, Kat,¡± Barrett said, stepping through the door from the main chamber with Alice in tow. ¡°I need to speak with Aaron and his security detail.¡± ¡°Of course, Cordus Freeman,¡± Katrina said amiably, picking up Essentia Draconum from the table. ¡°The other archivists should be arriving shortly, I¡¯ll make sure everything¡¯s in order for the morning so I can help Mr. Abrams with whatever research he might need when your meeting is finished.¡± ¡°Thank you, Kat,¡± Barrett said, then turned to Aaron. ¡°Let¡¯s go talk in my study.¡± Chapter 71 - Touching Base Barrett took them through the door on the right side of the room. Although the design was much the same as the previous two chambers, only half the walls contained bookshelves while the rest of the wall space was adorned with racks of weapons hung on display. The furnishings were a bit different, as well. There were only four tables, placed in the corners of the room, and they were smaller and round. Much of the center of the room was taken up by sections of floor that had been raised a foot off the ground, creating platforms that were either long and thin or roughly square. The platforms were covered in thick, rugged carpeting that was marked with white lines in various designs. I think those are for training and sparring, Aaron mused. Pretty wild to see a mini dojo hidden in a library. There were two doors on the right side of the room and a third in the far left corner. Barrett led them through the far door into a spacious room containing yet another private library. Aaron guessed it was about twenty feet by thirty ¡ª nearly as many square feet as his apartment in Sacramento ¡ª and it was two storeys tall, with a walking mezzanine lining the walls. The rest of the room contained more personal furnishings. A large desk dominated the room, but there was also a reading lounge beside a fireplace in one corner and a gaming area in another. The gaming area was old-fashioned, made of a single wide table with the top carved and painted to create the board for several classic games, like chess or checkers, backgammon, and cribbage, among others. Barrett moved to sit in the lounge, which was the only place with enough seating to accommodate everyone. The desk had four chairs opposite Barrett¡¯s, but there were five of them beside the old drakus, so the couch in the reading area made the difference. ¡°Let¡¯s get down to brass tacks,¡± he said when they¡¯d all taken a seat. ¡°I hear you ran into our old friend, so I¡¯d like your initial impressions before I bring you up to speed.¡± Aaron, Albert, and Griffin all turned to Kiara. She had stayed behind to speak with the vigilum and had already given them a run-down of her conclusions during their impromptu conference in a storage closet before coming to the archive. ¡°They know about the attacks for sure and they might have some idea about us being close to a Primus,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s my read on it anyways, but I only had a brief conversation with her so I wouldn¡¯t put a lot of stock in it.¡± Barrett nodded along to the brief explanation. When Kiara finished, he tapped his nose with the tip of his index finger. ¡°You got it in one,¡± he said, though he didn¡¯t sound as pleased as he usually did. ¡°After my meeting with them, I¡¯m confident they know a good deal more about this situation than I¡¯d have suspected. I was able to glean a bit of intel from what they said and maybe shine them on a bit to look in some wrong places, as well, but I¡¯m not sure. Aaliyah¡¯s sharp as a tack.¡± The old man sighed heavily. ¡°They knew about the attacks for sure, and that it was mostly hired help doing the heavy lifting. I¡¯m pretty sure they already had some idea about the Primus but if they didn¡¯t I told them as much.¡± ¡°Why the hell would you do that?¡± Kiara asked, much to the chagrin of the other two delvers. ¡°Not my finest moment I admit, but I was flying by the seat of my pants,¡± Barrett said with a chuckle. ¡°Aaliyah raised a subject I had not anticipated and it caught me completely off guard. She already seemed to be angling to push me into a corner over why we were suddenly the belle of the ball, so to speak, so it was a bit of a gimme.¡± The delvers exchanged glances, Albert being silently volunteered to ask the question that had passed between them. ¡°What could she have asked that got you so flustered?¡± Barrett laughed softly at that, shaking his head. ¡°We¡¯ll circle back around to that. I have another question I need to ask first ¡ª did Aaliyah or her partner pay any special attention to Aaron?¡± ¡°No,¡± Albert said. ¡°They didn¡¯t challenge his cover story ¡ª which he performed really well, by the way ¡ª but I didn¡¯t catch them shooting any looks his way either.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± Barrett asked. ¡°As sure as I can be, but that Tribune with her was an elf and they¡¯re supposed to be incredibly perceptive.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll second Albert¡¯s take,¡± Griffin added. ¡°If they paid Aaron anything more than passing attention, they covered it just about perfectly.¡± Barrett relaxed into his chair. ¡°Alright then, that¡¯s something at least. Back to your question; the reason I was thrown off my game was that Aaliyah¡¯s main reason for coming to see us seems to be that The Sleeping Dragon has resurfaced. It was somewhere nearby ¡ª possibly right here in the City this whole blasted time ¡ª and, last night, someone stole it.¡± The delvers exchanged another look, confusion clear on their faces. ¡°The Sleeping Dragon is a book on oneiromancy that was stolen from the Drakon shortly before Oliver Milton disappeared,¡± Alice volunteered. ¡°In the past, it was one of the most reliable ways for locating a nascent Primus and there¡¯s a good chance our enemies have been using it to hunt down candidates before we can find them ever since it was stolen.¡± Aaron hadn¡¯t dreamt of the Conspicuous Pursuer since he¡¯d come to New York, possibly the first two consecutive nights of sleep without finding himself in that stupid maze in a long while. If the book with the magic needed to send the thing after him had been stolen, that might explain the change. ¡°Does that mean the thing that¡¯s been chasing me in my dreams will come back?¡± he asked. Alice looked at him apologetically, her emerald eyes meeting his. A tingle crawled up his back and his mouth suddenly felt too dry to swallow. In almost no time at all, he¡¯d forgotten how overwhelming her presence ¡ª and the magic behind it ¡ª could be. He tried to lock his emotions in a steel box, separate from his other thoughts, and pay attention to the conversation. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said, her voice caressing his ears like the exquisite harmony of a choir. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, but I¡¯m not sure if your dreams have been the result of oneiromancy from The Sleeping Dragon or something else entirely.¡± ¡°Are there steps we can take to mitigate the risk in either case?¡± Barrett asked her. ¡°I think so,¡± Alice said. ¡°The Sleeping Dragon isn¡¯t the only grimoire on oneiromancy, so there are things we can do that should provide some measure of protection against intrusions or assaults on Aaron¡¯s dreams. It will help if I can be closer to Aaron.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Aaron tried to ignore the sudden sensation of his stomach flipping over and pushed away unwanted thoughts about just how close he¡¯d like Alice to be. ¡°How, uh¡­ how close are we talking?¡± he asked. ¡°We can set something up in one of the apartments in Aaron¡¯s building,¡± Barrett said. ¡°Would that work, Alice?¡± ¡°That should be more than close enough,¡± she said, shooting an encouraging smile at Aaron. Do not invite her to stay in your spare room, Aaron told himself. You¡¯ve got no shot at seducing a woman like Alice and there¡¯s too much risk she¡¯d find out about Baby Bear. Just keep your stupid fantasies in your stupid head, Aaron. ¡°There¡¯s something else we can learn from this theft,¡± Barrett went on. ¡°We already knew several orders of magi were working against us finding a new Primus. We can also deduce they were probably using the magic in The Sleeping Dragon to stay one step ahead of us. Someone stealing the book tells us there¡¯s a new player on the board and we have no idea what their intentions are nor what they¡¯re capable of.¡± ¡°What can we do to improve our odds of coming out on top?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°I think we need to go to ground,¡± Barrett said after some consideration. ¡°We¡¯ll put our people on high alert and adopt a siege protocol, but that¡¯s only going to go so far keeping Aaron safe. He needs time to figure out where the sceptre is and the chance of a mercenary squad running into y¡¯all by pure fluke is too high for my tastes.¡± ¡°We could go into total lockdown,¡± Kiara suggested. ¡°The apartment is about as secure and concealed as it can be, so he should be safe as long as he stays in the building.¡± Aaron couldn¡¯t help but frown at that. The idea of going into lockdown in his apartment, as nice as the apartment was, less than a week after he accomplished his dream of moving to New York City was the last thing he wanted. He didn¡¯t usually have problems keeping himself entertained at home and he¡¯d gone weeks without leaving his apartment for anything other than work or groceries before, but that was back in Sacramento. I might go stir crazy staring out my window at the capital of the world, he thought. Especially before I¡¯ve had a chance to experience more than a tiny fragment of it. ¡°We could move our schedule up,¡± Griffin suggested. ¡°We were planning to take the next few days for some really basic training, but could knock it down to today and tomorrow, then head down on Friday.¡± ¡°Head down where?¡± Aaron asked. Albert grinned at him. ¡°To one of the local dungeons. There¡¯s no better training than field exercises!¡± A dozen questions popped into Aaron¡¯s head, but Barrett spoke up before he could voice any of them. ¡°Sounds like a plan. Which one?¡± ¡°We were thinking of taking the Buttonwood Gate down to the Well,¡± Griffin replied. Barrett rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ¡°That¡¯s a solid choice, not particularly dangerous but still a challenge. It can get ugly, though.¡± ¡°The world is ugly,¡± Albert said. ¡°We all have to learn to face it some time.¡± A small frown appeared on Aaron¡¯s face once more. He wasn¡¯t the most world-weary and hardened cynic humanity had to offer, but he was far from a doe-eyed innocent brimming with na?vet¨¦. He didn¡¯t appreciate the insinuation that he was unaware of just how ugly the world could be. But I also don¡¯t know what dungeons are like outside of role playing games, he told himself. Or that dragons, elves, and beast-people existed up until a few days ago, for that matter. As much as it galled him, he opted to keep his mouth shut for the time being. He did reserve the right to give Albert shit after he¡¯d seen what these dungeons were like, however. ¡°We were planning to go either this Monday or next,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Since we need to get off the grid, this Friday is the soonest I¡¯d feel comfortable heading down. But if all goes well, we could spend a week or more delving.¡± ¡°Hold your horses,¡± Barrett said. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t take that long to get through the Well.¡± ¡°No, but the bottom of the Well has access points to several echo dungeons,¡± Kiara replied. ¡°They¡¯re not without their own dangers, but they¡¯re pretty tame compared to a lot of other echoes.¡± I need a damn notepad or something, Aaron thought. I have so many questions and I¡¯m worried I¡¯m going to forget most of them before I get a chance to bring them up. Barrett stood up from his seat. ¡°It sounds like we¡¯ve got a plan of action and I couldn¡¯t think of a better group to handle it, so you can consider this meeting me signing off on your plan. I¡¯ll let you get back to your business of the day.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll come by this evening to make sure everything is in order, if that¡¯s alright,¡± Alice said. Aaron kept his big mouth shut. It was the best way to keep her glamour mixing with his personality to tag team him into saying something stupid. He opted for a smile and nod. A bit awkward, perhaps, but he couldn¡¯t take the risk with her magic whammy working its magic¡­ whammy. Barrett remained in his study while Alice walked the four of them back out to the central chamber. The room had become much busier in the few minutes they¡¯d been in their meeting, a dozen people were working around the library at various tables and bookshelves. Katrina, the Archivist, saw them return and came to join them. Alice quietly accepted her thanks for walking them out before heading back towards Barrett¡¯s study. ¡°Welcome back, welcome back,¡± Katrina said warmly, turning her attention to Aaron. ¡°So, where were we? Ah yes! I heard you needed help finding something. How can we be of assistance?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much I¡¯m supposed to share,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I¡¯m trying to find this thing and part of it is trying to remember stuff that I am supposed to have inherited, I guess.¡± Katrina smiled knowingly. ¡°Your third Tribulation; I¡¯m familiar. I supervised collecting the materials that were sent to you with Miss Kellogg. Was there something from them you needed more information about?¡± ¡°Not them exactly, no,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I saw something else, a vision I guess. It was of a building overlooking a body of water.¡± ¡°Really? Tell me more, as much as you can.¡± Aaron closed his eyes and tried to visualize the image he¡¯d seen so many times the night before. ¡°It was a big house, like an English country manor, and it was made of bricks, I think, and had white trim. It was kind of like a castle crossed with a chateau and there might have been towers at the corners. Square towers, I¡¯m pretty sure¡± ¡°What was your perspective of this place? Were you moving? Did you see anything else around?¡± Katrina asked. ¡°No, it was like I was over the water looking at the house. In fact, it was like I was way above the water, like fifty or a hundred feet. The house wasn¡¯t right on the shore. There were these tall bluffs of dark stone and the house was set back from them a ways, so I shouldn¡¯t have been able to see more than a sliver of the roof. If that. And there¡¯s something else, too ¡ª it was a painting. The image was. Or¡­ it might not have been a painting at first, but it was, it was definitely a painting later.¡± Katrina brought her hands together. ¡°Interesting. This might have been a painting made by Oliver Milton himself. Or it could be a piece in his collection, since I don¡¯t recall anything suggesting he was a painter. We can look through some catalogues of art he owned, that might yield some results.¡± Kiara stepped away from the quiet conversation she¡¯d been having with Albert and Griffin to join Aaron and Katrina. ¡°That would be great,¡± she said. ¡°We do have to limit the search to about an hour, though; we¡¯re on a bit of a truncated schedule due to some recent developments.¡± ¡°Then the game is afoot,¡± Katrina said, a twinkle in her eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s get started!¡± Chapter 72 - The First Step The game may have been afoot, but it had also given Aaron and Katrina the slip. After two hours of going through albums, folios, and catalogues of artwork the last Primus Draconis, Oliver Milton, had ever owned, they had failed to find anything resembling Aaron¡¯s vision of a large manor house on a bluff. Convincing Kiara to let them have the extra hour had taken some cajoling on the part of the Archivist, who seemed to take their inability to solve the mystery of the manor as an affront either to her research skills or the archive itself. She¡¯d remained peppy and optimistic as they¡¯d veered into records that were increasingly obscure or had a less meaningful relationship to Milton. However, it had been a manic kind of energy as the time passed. When Kiara ¡ª backed up by Griffin (and a reluctant Albert) ¡ª had drawn the line at pushing the search into a third hour, Aaron was actually a bit grateful. Enigmatic as the vision of the house had been, Aaron had felt a small sense of pride at experiencing any kind of flashback or inherited memory so quickly. That faint high had started to dull and fade in the face of Katrina¡¯s contagious frustration, despite her efforts to remain superficially positive as they struggled to make headway. As they were leaving the archive, Katrina followed them to the door, research materials piled in her arms. ¡°Nothing to fret over,¡± she reassured them. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be a Tribulation if it weren¡¯t troublesome, after all. I¡¯ll keep searching the archive and put together anything I find that looks promising.¡± After a round of thanks for her efforts, they departed and continued on their way through the bowels of the Long Lines Building. Griffin stopped them at an intersection of hallways. It was no different from any other as far as Aaron could tell, but it was his first time in the building. ¡°Hey, why don¡¯t you guys go make sure the room is ready for us?¡± he suggested. ¡°Aaron and I can go grab some drinks from the cantina. Should make up at least a couple minutes of lost time to kill two birds.¡± There was no objection to the big man¡¯s plan, so the group split at the intersection. Before they¡¯d gone more than a hundred feet, Griffin stopped again and pulled Aaron into a small room that was definitely not the cantina. It looked like a server room of some kind, with racks of computers filling the chilly space. Aaron was immediately on edge. Was this some kind of surprise betrayal? It did nothing to calm his nerves when Griffin did a quick sweep to make sure the room was empty. An all-too familiar icy tingle began to stir in Aaron¡¯s stomach. Whether it was fear or something worse, Aaron wasn¡¯t sure. You¡¯re just being paranoid, he told himself, even as he failed to shake off the spectre of disappointment and hurt welling up inside. Any one of the delvers has had much better opportunities to take a shot at you. Quit being stupid! He didn¡¯t know the layout of the Drakon¡¯s strange subterranean headquarters, but he knew it would be filled with people who were expecting him to be the reincarnation of their long lost leader. It was a small comfort to know he could probably find allies fairly quickly if Griffin turned on him. All he¡¯d need to do is get away and raise some hell. Despite his attempts to be rational about the very low likelihood Griffin had lured him into a trap, when the big man came back to the door Aaron was mentally preparing himself to throw down. He¡¯d hit the drakus with a jolt of lightning from his wand and bail as fast as he could. It wasn¡¯t easy to get in that frame of mind; he liked Griffin and the other delvers and was hoping to become friends with them. That wishful thinking was causing a certain degree of reluctance accepting what he might have to do if this turned out to be an assassination attempt. ¡°This is a little awkward,¡± Griffin said, his voice low and conspiratorial, ¡°but we¡¯re short on time and I wanted to talk with you about this in private.¡± The larger drakus paused and took a deep breath. Aaron was starting to think this wasn¡¯t going to be an ambush, which was great, but he tightened his grip on the wand in his pocket, just in case. ¡°Do you have¡­ problems with your anger?¡± Griffin asked. Aaron stood, mute, taken completely by surprise. For a moment, he was simply stunned by the question. Probing, deeply personal questions were about the last thing he¡¯d expected from this strange, semi-clandestine meeting. Then, he closed off. There wasn¡¯t a conscious thought behind it, exactly, but more like alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind. Danger! it screeched. Intruder detected! The idea of someone else knowing how Aaron was in his worst moments ¡ª what he was capable of, what his instincts were ¡ª was untenable, a shameful truth even he had trouble accepting about himself. Another part of him, maybe even the same part that ugliness had its roots in, warned him it was a vulnerability others could exploit, a way to hurt him. His body was tense, his jaw set, and his brow lowered. The impulse to project strength and confidence was nearly overwhelming. He needed to make it clear that whatever anger he might have was controlled; it was a weapon he could wield, not one that could be turned against him. But Griffin spoke again before Aaron could muster a sufficiently scathing response. Something in the tone softened the edges of Aaron¡¯s reaction, causing him to hesitate. ¡°Albert was a combat medic, I don¡¯t know if you knew that,¡± Griffin said. ¡°He probably would¡¯ve spotted it, too, back in the garage if he hadn¡¯t been so busy keeping that cat lady tied up so she couldn¡¯t disengage from Kiara and take a potshot at you.¡± Aaron hadn¡¯t known that about Albert. It seemed totally out of character with the sleazy rogue archetype the smaller man seemed to lean into so heavily. Griffin went on. ¡°I don¡¯t have the kind of training or expertise he does on the psychology of combat or however you¡¯d put it, but I grew up around enough broken down, piss drunk white trash to know that rage is insidious. Sometimes it pushes a person without fully taking the wheel, but those other times ¡ª when it does take over ¡ª it can look all different kinds of ways. Sometimes it doesn¡¯t look like much of anything at all and you might think it was just who that person is¡­ but you can see it if you know what to look for. It¡¯s behind their eyes, maybe, or in their aura. I dunno.¡± Aaron swallowed hard. He didn¡¯t know how to respond to that and, honestly, he¡¯d never heard anyone talk about anger in that way. Dealing with your anger was like sports, cars, shaving with a razor, or how you behaved to treat women respectfully ¡ª it was the kind of thing men were supposed to teach boys. Aaron¡¯s father was pretty much absent from his life. His grandfather had been in his sixties when Aaron was born and moved away when Aaron was barely in elementary school. He had tried to learn those things, and so many others, largely on his own and hadn¡¯t always had the best results. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°The thing is: anger makes you stupid,¡± Griffin said. ¡°There¡¯s power in rage, a strength born of spite, but it¡¯s reckless. Fury can pound down the Walls of Jericho, but it¡¯ll leave you to find shattered stumps where your fists were or to discover you¡¯d ignored the archers manning the heights.¡± With an effort, Griffin turned his face so he was making direct eye contact with Aaron. ¡°The kind of anger that grabs the wheel is like a shotgun; you have to learn to manage the kick on it or you¡¯ll wind up hurting yourself or your friends. Do you know what I¡¯m talking about?¡± It was too heartfelt, too earnest and well thought out for Aaron to completely blow Griffin off. Besides, it was obvious Griffin had at least some idea what he was talking about, so he probably wasn¡¯t just making wild guesses. That meant he was coming into this conversation without judgment. Or at least that he¡¯s considerate enough to keep it hidden, Aaron thought. Either way, he¡¯s not wrong that my life and the lives of others could depend on me getting a handle on this¡­ this¡­ whatever this thing with me is. ¡°Let¡¯s say, hypothetically, that I have some idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Aaron said. ¡°How would someone like that manage the recoil, or however you put it?¡± Griffin smirked. ¡°Someone like that could probably use a good deal of therapy if they wanted to address the underlying issues for long-term improvement, but there are other things they could do that could be helpful. The thing is: they¡¯re not the kind of things you can do alone and they certainly can¡¯t be done in the dark.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not exactly the kind of thing that¡¯s easy to just drag into the light of day, either.¡± Griffin gently placed a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder. ¡°When you¡¯re down in a hole, it can be hard to see that there¡¯s people right nearby, some of them in their own holes and some who¡¯ve climbed out. It doesn¡¯t make them dumb, blind, or ignorant; it just means they¡¯re not in position to have a wider perspective.¡± ¡°Alright, so tell me about these other things that can help.¡± ¡°Would you tell me something first?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°Do you know what kinds of things can cause problems for you? What might set you off? Knowing what we¡¯re looking for will help us make a plan. Like, for example, some folks will simmer for a long time, adding little things onto a pile until the cumulative frustration reaches a critical mass. For them, it¡¯s not any one thing that sets them off but the next thing. Then there¡¯s people who only find themselves losing their grip on the wheel in response to very specific things.¡± ¡°Violence, maybe, or someone hurting me?¡± Aaron began, searching for the words he¡¯d avoided consciously putting together even in his own thoughts for so long. ¡°No, that¡¯s not right. It¡¯s more like¡­ danger, I guess. I¡¯ve been in fights where I didn¡¯t have that problem, you know? But there have also been times when I took a punch before the fight even really started and that was it, we were off to the races.¡± ¡°Has it ever happened outside of a fight or getting hit?¡± ¡°No, I-¡± Aaron cut himself off. A jumbled memory rushed into his thoughts, emerging from the foggy haze of his childhood. He¡¯d chased a classmate around the playground in the fifth or sixth grade. Or, not really chased so much as stalked. He¡¯d been too heavy to run after the smaller boy, but he¡¯d pursued him. It had been a joke to everyone else, at first, and they¡¯d all been laughing. They stopped laughing when Aaron broke a big porcelain drinking fountain trying to kick his classmate into a wall. After that, some of the bigger kids had grabbed onto Aaron, trying to hold him away from the other boy. Aaron had just dragged them along in his wake, step after step, like they weren¡¯t even there. It had to have been fifth grade because the other boys had been in the sixth grade. They were older and bigger, starting to go through growth spurts and develop real muscles; they even had a couple hairs on their chins. Why had he done that, chased that other boy? The memories were all disjointed. Aaron tried to piece them together into something he could make sense out of. He remembered the boy was named Julian. Julian had been laughing, laughing at Aaron. Julian had transferred to the class a month or two after the year started and everyone called him Baby Face; he had these big dimples and all the girls seemed to have a crush on him. It was hard for Aaron to talk to girls at school. He¡¯d started having crushes on girls in kindergarten, years before the other boys stopped thinking they were gross, but he¡¯d never managed to figure out how to not be weird around them. There was something to that. Something connecting to the memory of going after Julian. Had one of them been talking to girls? I was, Aaron thought. I was talking to a bunch of girls during lunch recess and I was trying to do some kind of proto-flirting. I doubt it was going well for me ¡ª it never does ¡ª but where does Julian come in? The memories were like individual frames from a film, blown up into stills and flashing in a haphazard slideshow. There was no sensible order to them and what Aaron could see in his memory was often cropped into strange perspectives. But that was changing. The more Aaron focused on specific details, the more it started to make sense. Pieces came together fast, like random sections of a puzzle being solved, and Aaron was trying to pick out what was happening in this memory-movie. He had been talking to some of the girls from his class out near the playground, trying to impress them. That was the beginning. It had gotten all turned around at some point. He could see one of them ¡ª Maria, he thought her name was ¡ª frozen in time. She had a hand on her hip and she was saying something to him. Her smile was not kind. Had the girls been mean to him? He felt like that was right, or at least close. He¡¯d tried to be funny or charming to impress the pretty girls, had been weird and off-putting instead, and they¡¯d started making fun of him for it. Even now, two decades later, Aaron knew how sensitive he was to mockery and how hard it was for him not to fire back. As a child, he would have thrown up his emotional defenses if he¡¯d felt like he was being spurned and gone on the offense. So they¡¯d been mean to him and he¡¯d been mean to them, that was the second act of this little drama. But where did Julian come into it? Then the memory was there, searing Aaron¡¯s brain with its childish ugliness. As Aaron had struggled to salvage his dignity in a social arena where he was both outnumbered and outclassed, Julian had snuck up behind him and tried to yank his pants down. Aaron had caught the waist of his pants before they¡¯d fallen so much as an inch, but the hilarity of children ensued regardless ¡ª the girls had fallen into hysterics and Julian had started laughing at him, too. Aaron had needed to choose his target, to decide who would accompany him in misery. He¡¯d chosen Julian. ¡°Humiliation,¡± Aaron said, quietly. ¡°Humiliation, betrayal, and pain are all things that can get under my skin. But¡­ it''s only been pain for most of my life, since I was a little kid, really. I¡¯ve been humiliated and betrayed enough times to think I¡¯ve got an okay handle on myself there.¡± Griffin regarded him in silence for a moment, then had the courtesy to look around the room as he replied. ¡°So the big risks are going to come from combat. That gives us some things we can work on to reduce those risks and keep your hand on the wheel.¡± Aaron repeated his earlier question. ¡°Like what?¡± ¡°Training, practice, and experience,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Making you more capable and confident at defending yourself will minimize the risk of injury and any sense of helplessness, loss of control, or other underlying feelings that contribute to your anger grabbing the reins. It will also train your body to remember there are options other than going right for the throat and that you can be effective without being reckless.¡± ¡°That sounds okay,¡± Aaron said. ¡°It¡¯s not that far off from things I tried myself when I was younger and I think they helped. I got through high school and college without any real incidents, so it¡¯s not nothing.¡± Griffin beamed. ¡°That¡¯s awesome! You¡¯ve got a foundation and you already know it can work, so that¡¯s going to be super helpful. I think you should consider looking into meditation, too, on top of therapy, but that really has to be a ¡®you¡¯ thing.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Aaron agreed. ¡°So what¡¯s next?¡± ¡°Next, we grab those drinks from the cantina, then go meet the others in the Chamber of Suffering. Should be a lot of fun!¡± Chapter 72.5 - The Irrepresible Earthly Dao of Bao Bei The door slammed into the wall of the alley with a heavy metallic clang as it was flung open. A small girl stumbled into the wall across from the door, falling to her knees and scuffing them on the hard, wet cement. If only her pleated skirt and knee socks were a little longer! She struggled back onto her feet, bracing with one arm against the wall. She might have landed on the filthy water briefly, but she¡¯d avoid staggering into the actual trash in the alley if she could help it. Unfortunately, the choice was removed from her when Liu Wuhao and his band of sycophants burst into the alley just steps behind her. Liu slapped her about the head and swept her foot out from under her, sending her sprawling into the mound of trash bags waiting to be taken to the curb on garbage day. ¡°That¡¯s where you belong,¡± Liu jeered. ¡°In the trash because you are trash!¡± Most of the boys with Liu laughed, but his chief toady, Hong Haoren wasn¡¯t satisfied with that. Bigger and meaner than the other boys of their age, Hong stepped forward and shoved her again as she struggled to get to her feet. ¡°Wu Lihua? More like¡­ more like, Poo Stink Ho!¡± Lihua felt her ears warm. To be addressed in such a manner was one thing, but to have her very name transformed into a vile slur? And not even in the tongue of their homeland? Yet she was outnumbered and outmatched. Not only were the boys all carrying their heavy sabers, each was at the very peak of their foundation building, on the verge of forming their golden core. Liu may even have formed an early-stage core, seeing as his father was head of the sect and favored him with the best resources for their cultivation. Even if she were armed, she could not stand against so many and of such power. Her only hope was to bear their abuse with dignity and hope they did not take offense. If they felt they had lost face¡­ Lihua shuddered at the thought. Even in Xindalu, they would not be able to abide the disgrace of bearing an offense from a lowly orphan their sect had taken in. Especially not now! ¡°To think the Zandoudaogong took you in, a lowly urchin with no family, and you rejected our teachings,¡± Liu said. ¡°You are soft!¡± ¡°You have dishonored our most ancient and venerable sect,¡± Hong added, a note of giddiness in his voice. She knew what Hong was doing. He wouldn¡¯t be satisfied with her expulsion, not after she rejected his advances. Lihua had tried to be polite and hid her disdain for the large boy behind her poverty, claiming that she lacked the means to dress appropriately for a date to the shopping mall, but Hong had not been satisfied. ¡°To think of all the resources our Shifu invested into trying to make something worthwhile out of you,¡± Hong continued. ¡°You are little better than a thief!¡± Hong paused for a moment, letting the idea settle into Liu¡¯s mind as the other boys cajoled and harangued Lihua. She still had not mounted the courage to make another attempt to rise to her feet. If she did, she feared the next blow would be something far less kind than a trip or shove. ¡°If only there was some way we could recoup at least some of that investment,¡± Hong mused. ¡°Alas! You have nothing of worth to offer, peasant scum! Even the rags you wear are barely good enough to sop up your monthly frailties.¡± Lihua might not have the temerity to return to her feet yet but she could use her hair to give her some cover. She angled her head slightly, just enough to let her see Liu¡¯s face. She tried to suppress her grimace at the sight; Hong¡¯s suggestions had made their mark and Liu was following them to their logical conclusion. Logical according to the teachings of their sect, anyways. ¡°My father- Shifu Liu, that is ¡ª only wanted her expelled from the sect,¡± he said slowly. ¡°But Lihua has barely even begun to build her foundation after all these years. All the pills and spirit herbs she has been given¡­ pointless in the hands of a yin-brained shabi.¡± Hong tittered ominously and licked his lips. ¡°What do you mean, big brother Liu?¡± ¡°Only that she isn¡¯t exactly lacking on qi,¡± Liu said, still taking his time to work through his thoughts. ¡°The reason she¡¯s so far behind is because we¡¯ve been giving her yang-aspected resources and she¡¯s too soft and weak to use them efficiently. Yet the qi itself remains.¡± ¡°If only we could access it,¡± Hong said in frustration, though the quirk of his eyes in Liu¡¯s direction made it clear he knew exactly what water he was trying to lead this particular horse to. ¡°Perhaps we can,¡± Liu said, stroking his chin to give the impression of wisdom. ¡°My father- I mean, our Shifu- wanted her expelled from the sect. Now she is no more than a mediocre pedestrian, so surely he wouldn¡¯t begrudge us a¡­ harvest.¡± Hong said nothing, but the other three boys with them exchanged nervous glances. Lihua could see they were excited and terrified in equal parts. Illicit resources for refinement would surely be shared among them, after all, if only to keep their silence. Liu continued speaking, slowly, exploring the edges of ¡®his¡¯ idea. ¡°I¡¯m certain old master Cao in the alchemy lab would be willing to quietly refine some useful components without any questions.¡± Hands began drifting to the handles of the heavy sabers favored by their sect. Lihua tried to keep her breathing steady as she considered her options. Would begging for mercy work? Unlikely, her sect favored strength and saw triumph over the weak as eminently honorable and worthy. Could she run? Not without a fight. Since it seemed likely they were going to kill her, she might as well put up a fight anyways. Perhaps the difference in their cultivation wouldn¡¯t be so much of a handicap, as long as she fought with a heart that was pure and true. Who was she kidding? She was going to get chopped to pieces in this filthy alley and her parts refined into powders to empower these assholes. Not for the first time, she regretted being less than honest with that guidance counselor at the school she¡¯d attended in Nolita. Someone laughed nearby. It was a deep sound, ponderous and rumbling like boulders tumbling down a mountain. Lihua, like Liu and his henchmen, turned their attention to the mouth of the alley, where the laughter had come from. A giant of a man stood there, six and half feet tall if he was a foot and powerfully built with a thick, bushy brown beard. He had a small, button nose and a twinkle in his eyes, but the most unusual thing was his sweatshirt. One wouldn¡¯t expect to see an adult ¡ª especially one so large ¡ª wearing a fuzzy brown hoodie with animal ears on it. They were wide and flopped forward slightly. Lihua thought they might have been mouse ears. Hong, nearly six feet tall himself despite his youth, took a step towards the man and waved a hand to shoo him away. ¡°Begone, gweilo, this doesn¡¯t concern you.¡± The large man looked down at Hong, then his eyes traveled to the other boys in the alley with their heavy, brutish swords, surrounding a small girl with scuffed knees laying on a pile of literal refuse. He produced a white oyster pail from the pocket of his hoodie and popped it open. From within he plucked a bao so fresh, steam was still rising from the bun in the cool morning air. ¡°Keeping bees in your mouth is a poor way to make honey,¡± the gweilo said around a mouthful of bun. ¡°Uhm, idioms aside¡­ you wouldn¡¯t happen to have any actual honey, would you? It would go great with my pork buns.¡± ¡°You dare?!?¡± Liu said, taking three forward until he had passed Hong. The stranger pulled out another bun and began to eat it. ¡°I do.¡± He took two steps into the alley, looking down at the young men surrounding Lihua, then letting his eyes settle on her. His face crinkled in a smile and there was real warmth in his eyes, something Lihua had never experienced. ¡°Don¡¯t play the youxia, peasant!¡± Hong proclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the stranger. ¡°If you take another step, we shall show you your place and make you kowtow in the muck.¡± ¡°You child,¡± the stranger said, pointing to Lihua. ¡°Are these ruffians being disrespectful to you? Do they need to be taught a lesson?¡± The five young disciples of the Zandoudaogong sect blustered at the insult and Lihua was torn. If she told this stranger the truth and he tried to intervene, she would be putting him in just as much danger as she faced. She wanted help, but she couldn¡¯t condemn another to be refined into qi resources for the benefit of her tormentors. ¡°Please, sir, they are xiumozhe,¡± she warned. ¡°Powerful cultivators of an ancient sect.¡± Liu and his cronies turned to sneer at the stranger, confident he would flee before the advertisement of their might. Instead, the large man placed another entire pork bun in his mouth and chewed it slowly. ¡°Xiumozhe, you say? Is that some kind of kung fu thing?¡± Lihua would never admit to it, but she was almost positive the large ears on the man¡¯s hoodie twitched, matching the mischievous little chuckle he gave. It was impossible, of course; it was just one of those cute animal hoodies. ¡°You dare?¡± Liu spat. ¡°You keep asking that and I already told you I do,¡± the stranger said. ¡°I dare. I double dare. I double dog dare. I¡­ well, I could go on as high as quadruple dog daring but you get the idea. I am very daring.¡± He smiled at the young disciples and Lihua blinked. Did that man have rather, er, pronounced canines? The disciples seemed to have noticed something as well, as they leaned away from the large stranger slightly. Still, they had lost face many times in this conversation already and had little choice but to try salvaging the situation. There were very few ways that could satisfy their honor, especially for a mortal gweilo. ¡°Tell me your name, gweilo,¡± Liu threatened. ¡°I will remember you as my first victory on the path to apotheosis!¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°My name? Oh, I know that one,¡± the stranger said. He crumpled up the oyster pail in his meaty fists and tossed the crumpled wax paper box into Liu¡¯s face. ¡°I am Xiong Bao Bei, of course.¡± The stranger didn¡¯t use a foreign name, even though they were in a foreign land and had all the markings of being a gweilo. Lihua thought it was a rather cute name and Bao Bei¡¯s parents must have been very fond of him. She wondered who this stranger was. The disciples of the Battle Island Palace sect burst into laughter upon hearing the stranger¡¯s name. ¡°Are you laughing at my name?¡± Xiong asked, head tilted in curiosity. Lihua thought there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes, but the disciples either failed to notice it or didn¡¯t care. ¡°You¡¯re no precious treasure!¡± Hong guffawed. ¡°I didn¡¯t know little babies could grow such beards!¡± Liu hooted. Xiong took another step into the alley. One foot forward, then the other coming up to meet it, though not quite even. Lihua saw the poise in the motion, how it was so measured and precise even while looking completely casual. Who was this strange man? ¡°You! Nameless goon number two!¡± Xiong called, pointing at one of Liu¡¯s cronies. ¡°Do you know what my name means?¡± Lihua forced herself to stifle a laugh. She didn¡¯t know that boy¡¯s name, either. She just referred to him as Wang Pim Po in her head because he was a dick with the worst acne in the sect. Did he even have a name? Wang, or whatever, stopped laughing. ¡°It means ¡®tiny young bear.¡¯¡± Xiong laughed while Pimple Dick¡¯s fellow disciples winced at the clumsy translation. ¡°I am Xiong Bao Bei, yao moshou of the Air in the Dragon sect,¡± Xiong said. ¡°I was called Baby Bear by my master and, through the power snuggles and fuzziness, I have cultivated enough qi-yootness to be uplifted.¡± He allowed a moment for that to sink in, although from the expressions on the disciples¡¯ faces they might have thought Xiong was a crazy person. Unbothered, Xiong went on. ¡°You stand before a demon beast and you dare to behave like arrogant young masters?¡± he scoffed. ¡°Have you no vision or wisdom? I am a bear-ogant young master and I will punish you for your in-xian-ity!¡± The puns exploded across the alleyway, their corny power washing over the arrogant disciples. Liu and Hong managed to hold their ground, but the other three hurtled into walls and landed, spitting blood. ¡°Gross!¡± Xiong exclaimed. Liu and Hong drew their sabers and charged the uplifted beast. Lihua wanted to look away, for she couldn¡¯t bear to see the kind man hurt, yet she was mesmerized. ¡°Your inelegant dao are no match for my Dao,¡± Xiong said. ¡°Watch me cast a booty blast!¡± The big man spun around in place, leaned forward, bent his knees, and then threw it back. Lihua realized there was a furry little tail sticking out of the seat of his pants, but then his powerful glutes made contact with the charging disciples. They were knocked forcefully into the walls on either side and barely managed to keep their footing as they landed. Hong managed to hang onto his saber even though he was dazed, but Liu growled in frustration and positioned himself to charge in again. Xiong pointed an accusatory finger at the two boys. ¡°You were going to harvest that poor girl to further your own cultivation, when she is so clearly in need of snuggles with soft, cute things. How dare you?!?¡± When Liu rushed in to attack, Xiong pulled one arm across his body. He released it like an ax-hand strike, only instead of striking with the blade of his hand, he hit Liu across the face with the flat of it. ¡°Bao Bei Bitch Slap!¡± Xiong called out, as Liu did a complete flip upside down as if he had been clotheslined. Liu got back to his feet even though he was clearly dizzied and winded by the ferocity of Xiong¡¯s mighty blow. He rushed back in, trying to latch onto his larger foe with the Fearsome Eagle Grip technique their sect taught. It was designed to establish brutal grapples that could immobilize an opponent with agony as well as disrupting their meridians. Xiong stood his ground. He let Liu grab onto him several times, but each time he twisted his body and escaped! His hoodie was too loose and the faux fur on it too thick for Liu to maintain his holds! But Liu was only meant to be the distraction; Hong had regained his bearings and was coming in from Xiong¡¯s blindspot, swinging the heavy blade of his saber and a great overhand arc. ¡°Watch out!¡± Lihua called, finally rising to her feet. ¡°Aieeee!!!¡± Xiong turned his face to look in her direction in the midst of the fray and, she would swear to it, winked at her. Hong¡¯s blade struck Xiong high on the shoulder, near the neck, from behind with all the force the young cultivator could muster. It was enough to shatter bricks and bend iron, yet the blade was stopped dead on the fuzzy hoodie. ¡°Eugh?¡± Hong uttered in disbelief. ¡°Impossible, impossible!¡± Xiong turned his head so that Hong would see him in profile. ¡°You overreach yourself, young master,¡± he chided. ¡°The devil¡¯s cultivation only breeds demons in your heart and it has made you weak. Annoyed Donkey is Sick of Your Shit!¡± Xiong lifted one of his knees, then his foot shot back like a piston. It struck Hong in the chest and he flew across the alley, only to crumple on the other three fallen disciples. He tried to lift himself off the ground, but he spat blood and his arms gave out, causing him to land face first in a puddle of what would only be dirty water if the Heavens smiled on him. Although in New York City, even in Chinatown, Lihua wouldn¡¯t have taken those odds. ¡°Gross,¡± Xiong said. The ascended spirit beast turned to Lihua with a smile on his face, which was a mistake. Lihua saw Liu lift himself off the ground and draw forth a long needle, the tool of the Sevenfold Vengeance Pathway Shattering Strike, a forbidden technique her former sect taught only in secret to avoid conflict with other cultivators. She rushed forward, throwing her body between Xiong and Liu¡¯s ruthless attack. The long needle pierced her breast, digging deep into her spirit roots. The qi she had spent so long cultivating, trying to make work with her own affinities, began to bleed out of her meridians, poisoning her flesh with yang-aspected qi. ¡°Earrrrghhhhhhhh,¡± she cried, following into another pile of trash bags. Why were there so many trash bags just laying around in New York? Before she had even landed, Xiong had spun, grabbed Liu in his powerful hands, and hurled him across the alley to land atop his fallen cronies, blood spurting from his mouth and spraying him and everyone beneath him. ¡°Gross,¡± Xiong repeated, turning to Lihua. She lay on the filthy cement of the alley, her qi ravaging her flesh. Even if she survived, somehow, she would never cultivate again after the damage Liu had done to her spirit roots. Xiong knelt beside her, scratching one of his floppy ears. ¡°Why¡¯d you do that, cute little person?¡± ¡°T-to save you,¡± she gasped. ¡°As you s-saved me¡­¡± ¡°Save me?¡± Xiong asked, tilting his head. ¡°From this?¡± He yanked the deadly needle out of her sternum and looked at it curiously. Then, defying all sense, he poked himself in the face with the needle. It didn¡¯t even leave an impression on the skin. He pushed harder and the needle bent, then snapped. Her sacrifice had been for nothing! ¡°Well, it was very nice of you to try to be helpful,¡± Xiong said. ¡°I guess there¡¯s some kinda karma farm you could do by making heroic sacrifices that you miraculously survive over and over again, but let¡¯s try to just make it this once. Okay?¡± Lihua tried to swallow. She didn¡¯t really understand what Xiong was saying, not because her English was poor ¡ª it wasn¡¯t! ¡ª but because the qi poisoning was making its way to her brain and she could barely think. Xiong reached out and lifted Lihua off the ground. ¡°What I said earlier is just as true now as it was then: what you really need is some nice snuggles!¡± The big man pulled her tight against his body, his powerful arms wrapped around her. Lihua hung there limply, unable to even enjoy the first and only hug she would ever receive due to her impending death. It was a pretty great hug, though. Xiong¡¯s arms were strong but gentle, and his fuzzy hoodie was soft and warm. Lihua sort of wished her face weren¡¯t pressed into his beard, though. It was very soft but¡­ it tickled! Actually, the longer it took her to die, the more she wanted to move her head or brush the scritchy little hairs away. But she wouldn¡¯t. She held firm to her resolve to enjoy the hug with what little time she had left in her life. Xiong also smelled really good, like pork buns, egg rolls, and noodles. Lihua¡¯s stomach rumbled and, a moment later, Xiong¡¯s chest rumbled, as well, only with laughter. ¡°I guess you might want a nibble on some of the stuff in my pockets,¡± he said. ¡°Well, even the bestest of snuggles can¡¯t last forever. Otherwise they wouldn¡¯t be special.¡± Lihua found herself being set down on the ground. For some reason, she didn¡¯t seem to be dead. Or even dying. What was going on? Maybe she could ask¡­ ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Well, it seems like you¡¯re hungry is what¡¯s going on right now,¡± Xiong said, withdrawing another oyster pail from the capacious pocket on the front of his hoodie. He opened it to reveal a small heap of jiaozi, commonly called dumplings or potstickers here in New York. Lihua immediately began to salivate and had to slurp to stop the drool from flowing out of her mouth. ¡°Here,¡± the spirit beast said, offering her the container. He only used one hand, but it was big enough it probably counted as two. If not, Lihua found she was having trouble caring about the impertinence of it. That didn¡¯t stop her from accepting the carton with both hands (she was not a foreigner, after all!). She tried to be as dainty and refined as she could with the treats, but it was hard without chopsticks so she shoved an entire dumpling into her mouth so as not to spill juices all over herself. ¡°Mmmm,¡± she groaned, finding herself so ravenous that the flavor alone was enough to make her feel as if the delicious morsel was already in her stomach. After she had finished swallowing the first, she abstained from taking another. She had an important question to ask and she had learned from Xiong¡¯s last answer that she had to be specific. She bowed low before him. ¡°Master Xiong, how am I still alive? The technique young master Liu employed should have killed me with qi poisoning.¡± ¡°Oh that?¡± Xiong said. ¡°Pooh on that. I snuggled it away. Nothing¡¯s better for you than a good snuggle!¡± ¡°H-how is such a thing even possible?¡± ¡°Qi isn¡¯t all that complicated,¡± he answered. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know why all you cultivators get so obsessed over it when it¡¯s really boring stuff. Of course, so few of you have what it takes to focus on the energy that truly matters.¡± Lihua bowed her head again. ¡°What energy is that, Master Xiong?¡± ¡°Qi is only one part of the equation. Like yin and yang, nothing is really complete without the other half. So if you¡¯re going to cultivate qi, you might as well try to cultivate it in its whole form: qi-yoot.¡± ¡°A hundred apologies, Master Xiong, I do not know this term.¡± ¡°Qi-yoot, y¡¯know? In Korean it¡¯s qi-yeop-ta, in Japanese qi-wai-ee, and in English it¡¯s just plain old cute. Cuteness is the most venerable and true form of spiritual energy. Why do you think bad people are always ugly in stories, silly?¡± Lihua blinked at Xiong several times. She thought there was something deeply, profoundly wrong and stupid with what the large man with the spirit of a bear was saying, but¡­ well, she did like cute things. She¡¯d simply never had the means to explore that said of her personality. Maybe this was her opportunity? A chance to study at the feet of a secret hidden elder master sage¡­ she had to at least try! ¡°W-would you¡­ would you be my m-master,¡± she implored. ¡°And teach me the ways of cuteness?¡± ¡°You¡¯re funny,¡± Xiong said, his laugh practically a giggle. ¡°I¡¯m nobody¡¯s master, but I will be your friend. Let¡¯s get out of here, I¡¯m sure we can find some Hello Kitty stuff somewhere nearby. This is Chinatown, after all.¡± And with that, Xu Lihua left the sect of the Battle Island Palace behind forever, embarking on a fresh journey with her new master. Together, they would cultivate cakes, cookies, cuteness, and cuddles, as well as things that did not begin with the letter C (like snuggles). They would strive until they could defy the very mandate of the heavens, which seemed to be getting a job and being a boring jerkass who never has fun and doesn¡¯t appreciate the simple things in life. Chapter 73 - The Chamber of Suffering Griffin refused to elaborate on what, exactly, the ¡®Chamber of Suffering¡¯ was supposed to be, only telling Aaron that he¡¯d see when they got there. The cantina turned out to be pretty awesome, though. Less of a cafeteria and more of a buffet, the cantina had banks of chafing tables set against the walls keeping a massive variety of food warm. But these weren¡¯t run-of-the-mill warming trays, they were enhanced by magic. Griffin explained that the fields of faintly visible arcane energies kept the food sanitary, fresh, and piping hot (or pleasantly cold). Although they¡¯d only come for drinks, Aaron wound up grabbing a small heap of appetizers from the area dedicated to Chinese food. Egg rolls, pot stickers, and sliced barbecue pork, each went into their own containers. Aaron even grabbed a good bit extra in case anyone else wanted some. Griffin, on the other hand, met up with him at the door carrying a plastic bag stuffed with bottles of water, energy, and sports drinks. ¡°Is that char siu?¡± Griffin asked at their rendezvous. ¡°That¡¯s what it¡¯s called,¡± Aaron exclaimed, popping a slice of the glorious reddish meat into his mouth. ¡°And yes, it is. I love this stuff. Want some?¡± ¡°Not right now, thanks, but now I am thinking Chinese is sounding real good for lunch or dinner.¡± ¡°I am never not in the mood for Chinese food,¡± Aaron said solemnly. ¡°So what¡¯s this Chamber of Suffering thing like?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± Griffin replied with an enigmatic smirk, setting off down the hallway. A few minutes later, they were standing in front of a door just as nondescript as most of the others in the Drakon¡¯s maze of hallways. Griffin pushed it open and Aaron followed behind him. He was curious ¡ª but not exactly excited ¡ª to find out just what the hell any kind of place called ¡®of Suffering¡¯ was going to be like. As it turned out, it was some kind of gymnasium. At first, Aaron thought it was one of those warehouse-style industrial gyms, which he had avoided like the plague. They were always filled with people who were way too intense about ¡®gains¡¯ and how they were dodging rhabdomyolysis. When he took a closer look, he saw that it was unlike any gym he¡¯d ever seen before. The more he looked, the more confused he became. Everything was vaguely gym-like, yet none of it was quite right. Albert and Kiara walked up to find Aaron staring around the room, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. ¡°Hey, Aaron brought snacks,¡± Albert said, peeking into the bag of plastic containers filled with appetizers. Kiara was a bit more attentive. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Did something happen?¡± ¡°No, why?¡± Griffin said. He looked over at Aaron then laughed loudly. ¡°Oh,right! Aaron could probably use a tour to help him make sense of our equipment. This stuff must look like it¡¯s right out of some sci-fi movie.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Aaron exclaimed. ¡°That¡¯s a perfect description. What the hell is all of this stuff? Everything looks familiar but completely wrong at the same time.¡± ¡°So the first thing you have to realize is that we can¡¯t really use standard exercise equipment because of the powers innate to all drakus, namely praeternatural strength and endurance.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you mean supernatural?¡± Aaron asked. Albert answered as he fished out an egg roll. ¡°¡®Supernatural¡¯ is kind of a loaded word. Some people might think of it as being anything that exceeds what¡¯s normal, but others will latch onto the ¡®unnatural¡¯ and ¡®inhuman¡¯ meaning. It¡¯s not a big jump from ¡®inhuman¡¯ to ¡®not a person.¡¯¡± ¡°Gotcha,¡± Aaron said. ¡°So all this stuff is like a gym meant for someone with the Hulk¡¯s strength.¡± Albert made a waffling motion with one hand. ¡°Ehhh. That dude fights planets and shit, depending on the writer; we¡¯re not quite on that level, but you get the gist.¡± ¡°Years back, they had all these wacky magic solutions, like using dimensional magic to shrink a big weight into a smaller one without modifying its actual mass, or manipulating gravity slightly to simulate heavier loads,¡± Griffin said, walking Aaron through the gym. ¡°Now we use tensile machines and hydraulic damping. It actually gives a lot of fine control since engineers already did all the hard work calibrating, measuring, and so on.¡± Many of the exercise stations closely resembled the cable machines Aaron had seen at gyms hundreds of times, only the cables were much thicker. And instead of being attached to a stack of metal plates, the cables fed into enclosed pylons made of sleek metal. There were dials on some of the cases, clearly marked to denote they could be used to adjust weight or resistance to absurd levels. ¡°The black cases are hydraulic,¡± Albert said. ¡°They¡¯re best for trying to improve your strength. We haven¡¯t found anyone who could breach their limits yet but that¡¯s not surprising since it¡¯s the same technology used to catch and stop jet fighters when they¡¯re landing on aircraft carriers. The brushed gray ones are pneumatic and they¡¯re better for blind testing your limits, although they can help with improvement, too.¡± Griffin clapped his hands together. ¡°Ah, but Aaron hasn¡¯t seen anything yet. Let¡¯s show him the treadmills next.¡± The treadmills were, frankly, unrecognizable ¡ª ten separate rooms, fifteen feet across in both directions, separated by walls with thick padding. The floor was made of small, rounded tiles that tickled something in Aaron¡¯s memory, although he couldn¡¯t say what. ¡°These are really, really new ¡ª omnidirectional treadmill flooring,¡± Griffin said. ¡°You can move on them in any direction and they¡¯ll keep you generally in place. We built them into their own rooms and coupled them with some pre-programmed illusions so you can do all kinds of things in them.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not quite holodecks like in Star Trek, but they¡¯re not too far off either,¡± Albert said. ¡°Where have I seen that kind of tile floor before?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Did this technology come from a video game company or something?¡± ¡°A guy named Lanny Smoot invented it for Disney,¡± Griffin said. ¡°That guy¡¯s amazing, a truly talented and prolific inventor. Of course, it was possible to do something similar with magic alone, but it was aether-intensive and very difficult to automate. Combining Smoot¡¯s omnidirectional floor with a bit of enchanting took it to a whole new level.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s show him the Wall next,¡± Kiara suggested. The Wall turned out to be shorthand for ¡®the climbing wall,¡¯ a large room with walls covered by small, multicolored protrusions. Aaron had seen rock-climbing walls before, but never any that moved on their own. The overall effect was like looking at a room made out of funhouse mirrors that someone was slowly shaking. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°What are you supposed to do with that?¡± Aaron asked, trying to shrug off the wave of dizziness the slowly undulating room was threatening him with. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s great for training reflexes, flexibility, strength, adaptability, a whole bunch of stuff,¡± Kiara said. ¡°This is what the old treadmills were made of, but this is easier because it can alter the landscape without needing to adapt to whatever a user might do,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Give him an example, weasel boy. Show off your stuff.¡± Albert smirked at Aaron then ran straight for one of the walls. When he was about ten feet away, he jumped right against the wall and anchored himself with several of the protruding stubs using his hands and feet. Although he was wearing jeans, boots, and an Army field jacket, Albert made his way up the wall with practiced ease. He would sometimes leap for or swing from one handhold to another, but he did it all without breaking his stride. After reaching the top in much less than a minute, Albert latched onto a handhold in the ceiling Aaron hadn¡¯t even noticed and dangled for a few seconds. He waved down at the other three drakus with a shit-eating grin, suspended thirty or more feet off the ground, then released his grip. Aaron gasped and had to stop himself from moving to catch the smaller man, but Albert simply landed with a resounding smack, barely even bending his knees from the impact. ¡°Tada!¡± he said, brushing his hands against each other. ¡°Don¡¯t even need chalk on account of my fingies are so grippy.¡± ¡°That was pretty cool,¡± Aaron admitted. ¡°Actually, this whole place seems pretty cool, so why do you call it the Chamber of Suffering?¡± Albert and Griffin both laughed, but Kiara answered. ¡°We don¡¯t call it that, but that is what it¡¯s called. For us, it¡¯s just a useful ¡ª and sometimes fun ¡ª gym, but for the folks who dedicate themselves to an Order in the Drakon, it¡¯s where they get their asses beaten into a shape roughly approximating a useful asset.¡± ¡°You might find yourself agreeing with that particular moniker soon enough since we¡¯re going to have to do a crash course to get you up to snuff,¡± Griffin said. They led Aaron to the gray-clad pneumatic weight machines. ¡°We¡¯re going to establish your post-Emergence strength,¡± Griffin said. ¡°You know how to draw on that strength, right?¡± Aaron nodded. ¡°It¡¯s about intent more than muscles.¡± ¡°Exactly right. We¡¯re going to do four lifts: bench press, single bicep curl, squat, and leg press. Try not to think about any specific amount of weight, just pushing with as much force as you can manage. Okay? Okay.¡± To make sure they got a good baseline measurement, Aaron performed each of the four lifts three times with a brief break between each attempt. Aaron could feel the resistance of weight with each lift, but it wasn¡¯t the same kind of pressure he associated with free weights or standard cable machines. He focused on using his will to direct his body, paying attention to his form with each attempt as a way to channel his resolve. After each lift, Kiara would check a readout on the side of the machine¡¯s casing where Aaron couldn¡¯t see it and make a note of the result in her phone. Aaron burned with curiosity to know what those results were because it never felt like he was pushing a lot of weight. After the last attempt, he finally asked, ¡°So how are my results?¡± ¡°Promising,¡± Griffin said, his tone revealing nothing. ¡°We want to get secondary confirmation, though, so we¡¯re going to do the same lifts over on the hydraulics.¡± ¡°It might feel a little different from the pneumatics,¡± Albert said. ¡°Like, the motion might be smoother even if there¡¯s a heftier feel, if that makes sense. It¡¯s just a quirk of the mechanisms involved. It¡¯s pretty hard to notice, but I thought you should have a heads-up.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Aaron said, settling down onto the hydraulic bench press. As Aaron went through the lifts, he realized that Albert had been absolutely right ¡ª the motion of the hydraulic machines was slightly more fluid than the pneumatic, but he also felt the weight more keenly. What was most surprising, however, was that there didn¡¯t seem to be any growing fatigue accompanying each attempt. Even with the brief pauses, he¡¯d have expected to be feeling the burn, as it were. ¡°It¡¯s weird that I¡¯m not feeling the strain of these max presses,¡± he commented after standing up from his third and final squat, the last of his lifts. Griffin and Kiara were going over the results and speaking together quietly, but Albert came over and clapped a hand on Aaron¡¯s back. ¡°Why is that weird? It¡¯s like Morpheus said, ¡®You think that¡¯s air you¡¯re breathing now?¡¯¡± Aaron pursed his lips at the smaller man. ¡°Uh, yes?¡± ¡°Okay, not a totally perfect example because that is air you¡¯re breathing now, but the underlying meaning is the same: your muscles aren¡¯t burning because it¡¯s not really your muscles doing the lifting.¡± ¡°So, we have some great news,¡± Griffin said, breaking from his huddle with Kiara. ¡°Your raw strength has a very solid foundation to start working from, which we expected, but you also show a lot of potential for improvement. Like, serious improvement.¡± ¡°Your first series on the pneumatics weren¡¯t bad, but they also weren¡¯t quite as good as we were expecting, especially for a Primus,¡± Kiara said. ¡°We were sort of anticipating that, though, which is why we did the exercises twice; the second set was a blind experiment.¡± Kiara flicked her phone several times, flipping it open to its full size, then showed Aaron a small spreadsheet she¡¯d used to track each of his lifts. He blinked at the numbers stupidly for a few seconds, his brain flatly refusing to accept or process the data he was looking at. His average and maximum between three attempts were very close on all four lifts, within ten or fifteen pounds or each other. But the amounts were¡­ Kiara¡¯s numbers showed him at around two hundred pounds on the single bicep curl, fourteen hundred on squats, three thousand on leg press, and eight hundred on the bench. That was patently absurd. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure these are world record numbers, or close to it,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Are we really that strong?¡± ¡°Those are the results of your lifts on the pneumatics,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Scroll down a little to see what you did on the hydraulics.¡± Aaron ran his finger over the screen, moving the spreadsheet and bringing up a new set of numbers. They were larger. Much larger. His bench jumped from eight to twelve hundred pounds and one-armed curled to three fifty, while he added five hundred pounds on the leg press and six hundred to his squat. ¡°Why are they all so much higher? It doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say the pneumatics were better for determining maximum press?¡± Griffin nodded. ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s the physics of the machine; you were being held back by the magic of your own strength.¡± ¡°Did you notice how surprised you were to see numbers that might be world records?¡± Kiara asked. ¡°You know we¡¯re stronger than regular humans, so why were you shocked to find out you were stronger than the strongest humans?¡± Albert patted Aaron on the shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s why we needed the blind test. Your first attempts were all framed by your perception, which limited what you could manifest with your will and intention. In the second round, we increased the weight significantly each time without telling you.¡± ¡°And because I thought I was lifting the same amount, I would be inclined to believe that I already had,¡± Aaron concluded. ¡°Making it easier for my magic to work regardless of the hard numbers.¡± ¡°That¡¯s basically it,¡± Griffin agreed. ¡°And because you were able to do each new weight without any real struggle, we¡¯re pretty confident we haven¡¯t figured out what your current limits are. That will probably make your early growth much easier than if you¡¯d already hit a plateau.¡± Aaron rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wrap his head around how all this magic stuff worked. It made sense, yet at the same time it was borderline nonsense. He needed to reconcile what he knew, what he understood, what he felt, and what he believed, while none of those things wanted to perfectly align with each other. He let out a frustrated sigh. ¡°Ugh, okay. Going to take a bit to get a grip on all of this, but it¡¯s something to work on. So what¡¯s next?¡± ¡°Next we move on to the fun stuff,¡± Albert said, grinning malevolently at Aaron. Chapter 74 - Dont Treadmill On Me ¡°You guys have a really weird definition of ¡®fun,¡¯¡± Aaron observed. ¡°No, this will actually be pretty cool,¡± Albert replied, leading Aaron to one of the treadmill rooms. ¡°We¡¯re going to test your endurance, agility, and reflexes,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Again, just to establish a baseline.¡± ¡°I¡¯m just going to run on the treadmill?¡± Griffin snorted. ¡°Not quite. Remember how Albert said these weren¡¯t far from being like those holodecks on Star Trek? You¡¯re going to be doing a kind of obstacle course. Just follow the prompts and try not to second guess your reactions; we want to get an idea of where you struggle as much as anything else so we know where to put our focus.¡± That was one hell of a sales pitch for running on a treadmill, Aaron thought. Way more effective than anything about being skinny or heart healthy or whatever the hell. Aaron stepped into the treadmill room and the door was shut behind him. For a few seconds, the walls remained the same vaguely beige padding he¡¯d seen on the tour earlier. Then large words appeared on each of them in letters six inches high. < Move to the center of the room. > He didn¡¯t need to be told twice, so he walked over to the middle of the room. It would have only been an estimated middle, except a small section of the floor tiles had changed color to let him know where the exact center was. Walking on the omnidirectional floor was a little unusual. It was almost like a cobbled path, except the tiles felt a bit softer under his feet and the height was more evenly distributed. As soon as he reached the marked tiles in the center of the room, the text on the wall changed. < Beginning exercise in... > < 3... > < 2... > < 1... > The lights in the treadmill went out, plunging the small room into darkness. In the few seconds before they came back, Aaron realized he could vaguely see the floor and walls. That was odd. Or was it? He hadn¡¯t actually been in total darkness since the lake back in Yellowstone and he had been able to see for a few feet even then. Tia had said there were a lot of innate powers drakus could develop, maybe low-light or darkvision was one Aaron had. He¡¯d have to test that out at some point in the near future. Whatever illusion magic was at work in the treadmill activated and Aaron¡¯s surroundings changed. He was in some kind of hallway or tunnel. It was several hundred feet long and appeared to be made almost entirely of metal. Thick beams framed the walls at sharp angles and the floor was a mesh of heavy grating. Small panels of slowly flashing lights lined the corridor. This really is kinda awesome, he thought. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say this was a spaceship from some kind of gritty sci-fi thriller. No sooner had that thought crossed Aaron¡¯s mind than the corridor was filled with the unmistakable sounds of an explosion. It came from behind him and Aaron flinched terribly, stumbling forward a few steps before his rational brain reminded him this was all an illusion. When he turned to examine the corridor behind him, Aaron saw a plume of fire bursting into the corridor about a hundred feet away. It was real impressive sci-fi shit, a billowing, roiling cloud of purple flame that looked more like a fluid than fire. A smile formed on his face at the awesome spectacle, but it only lasted a second ¡ª the plasma fire was quickly heading in his direction and he could actually feel the heat from it, even from so far away. So maybe not entirely illusory, Aaron thought, turning to run. He¡¯d never been much of a runner. He could do okay with quick sprints even if he was never the fastest, but he¡¯d always hated the act of running itself and had never really gotten over it. His form was awful. Still, as the heat grew more intense behind him, Aaron pushed himself to go as fast as he could. He hadn¡¯t gone more than a dozen steps when one of the walls ahead burst in a shower of sparks. Part of one of the beams welded to the wall came loose and swung towards him at just about the right height to hit him in the gut. Before he could second guess himself, Aaron directed his will into his legs and leapt forwards. He cleared the swinging beam, but he also smacked into the padded wall face first and crumpled to the floor in a tangled heap of his own limbs. ¡°What the fuck?¡± he shouted. As he scrambled back to his feet, he noticed that the flames that had been chasing him weren¡¯t quite as¡­ roiling as they had been. In fact, they looked like they were frozen in time. And the support beam wasn¡¯t moving anymore, either, it was just suspended improbably in mid-swing. ¡°What the fuck?¡± he said again, gingerly touching his nose to see if he¡¯d banged it up too badly hitting the wall. The door of the treadmill opened, revealing Albert, Griffin, and Kiara. They all started firing off questions and comments at the same time. ¡°Holy shit, that was hilarious and dope,¡± Albert cheered. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Kiara asked. ¡°Damn, dude, that was a great jump,¡± Griffin exclaimed, a huge smile on his face. ¡°And without practice, too!¡± Albert was chuckling quietly. ¡°I didn¡¯t think there was any chance you could hit the wall on your first run.¡± ¡°Me neither,¡± Griffin agreed. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be mindful of your movements,¡± Kiara said, her tone bordering somewhere between her normal bossy voice and outright scolding. ¡°The tiles can only adjust based on where you¡¯re standing.¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. She came into the room fully to examine his nose for any damage from the impact and generally be a mother hen. Aaron tried to take it in stride. He¡¯d been pretty embarrassed when the door opened at first, but the three drakus had been so enthusiastic it was hard to feel like they were really laughing at him. Even if Albert pretty obviously was, it felt more like friendly teasing than mockery. ¡°I¡¯m okay, I¡¯m okay,¡± he told Kiara. ¡°More surprised than anything else.¡± ¡°You were doing pretty good, even if you hesitated at first,¡± Griffin observed. ¡°For sure,¡± Albert agreed. ¡°I was looking forward to seeing how you¡¯d do once you got into the rhythm.¡± Kiara gave Aaron a measuring look, as if she were considering the many hidden dangers of a padded room. ¡°Do you want to try again? We have other scenarios or you can do that same one.¡± Aaron took a quick breath, blew it out, and pushed against the wall. He slid over the omnidirectional tiles until he was back near the center of the room. ¡°Let¡¯s go again,¡± he said. ¡°And surprise me.¡± ¡°Remember to be mindful of your positioning if you jump or dive or anything,¡± Kiara reminded him again as they closed the door. ¡°If your feet lose contact with the floor, your face might make contact with the wall.¡± Aaron rolled his eyes as he prepared himself for another round on the treadmill, although it wasn¡¯t without a bit of fondness at Kiara¡¯s well-intentioned nagging. He took a breath and waited for the exercise to start anew. The new illusory setting was about as far from the industrial, futuristic space station corridor as it could be. A medium-sized room, the walls were made of large, irregular stones laid with cyclopean masonry so that they were flush against each other. Time had worn grooves into the space between the bricks, which had been filled by the accumulation of dirt, moss, and dried roots. Vaguely humanoid faces were carved into many of the stones, recognizable largely by the deeper carvings in place of their eyes and mouths. The room had a distinct slant to it, not so much it endangered his footing but enough that it was noticeable. There¡¯s something really familiar about this room, Aaron thought. Why in the world do I feel like there should be a bag of sand involved? A faint rumble interrupted his musing. It was coming from behind him ¡ª because of course it was ¡ª and from somewhere above. Aaron poised himself, ready to move in any direction as he turned to look at the source of the disturbance. At first, he didn¡¯t see anything of note. The room he was in continued into a hallway with similar eerie stone faces carved into the walls. The passage from the room to the hall was huge, an open stone arch maybe twenty feet across and just as high. The rumbling grew louder, closer, and small tremors began to shake the stone floor beneath his feet. That was not a good sign. Clearly Aaron was missing something. He dithered on the spot for a moment. He should probably start moving to the hallway, but what if that was the trap? He¡¯d been told not to second guess himself, but it just seemed so obvious that he couldn¡¯t get himself to commit. A shower of dirt and loose gravel fell down onto Aaron from above, pelting him on the head and shoulders. He looked up for the first time since the illusion formed and saw a massive chute, nearly as large as the room itself, that was cut into the earth at a steep angle. And there, careening down the slope, was the source of the noise ¡ª a boulder fifteen or twenty feet across, no more than fifty feet away, and rapidly picking up speed. ¡°Shit!¡± Aaron exclaimed, throwing himself toward the hallway as fast as he could. As he passed through the arch, he felt one of the flagstones beneath his feet sink into the floor. It was hardly any movement, but it was like the key to a lock. It was the last bit needed for his brain to finally grab all the disparate information he¡¯d picked up since the scenario started and flood his thoughts as it made connections between them, finally reaching a conclusion. Aaron stopped dead in his tracks just as a column of thin metal spikes shot out of the wall on either side of the hallway. If he hadn¡¯t stopped, they would have skewered him from ankles to eyebrows. He could hear the rolling stone rushing closer from ahead. Well now that slant of the room makes sense, he realized. That rock¡¯s going to smash into the floor then roll right down this damn hallway. Oh, that¡¯s a very nasty little change that makes the trap way more dangerous. ¡°You cheat, Doctor Jones!¡± he called out as he started to run again. This time he paid more attention to the stone tiles in the floors. It had been a long time since he saw the movie he was thinking of, but he was pretty sure the diamond pattern cut into the square tiles were pressure plates. If he could avoid stepping on those, then he shouldn¡¯t have to worry about any more traps. He hadn¡¯t taken more than a couple ginger steps when the boulder slammed into the chamber he¡¯d just left. A shockwave of dust and grit plumed out into the hallway, showering Aaron as he turned to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, it had filled most of the room and, thanks to the angle of the floor, was already starting to tilt in his direction. Not good. Very not good! Aaron resumed running. He couldn¡¯t watch his footing as much as he wanted, but his choice was between potentially getting nailed by some wacky trap or definitely getting plastered by however many tons a room-sized boulder weighed. He might be ridiculously strong, but Albert was right: he wasn¡¯t anywhere near as strong as a superhero. Not a Hulk, or even a Spider-Man. Spike traps weren¡¯t the only obstacle waiting for Aaron. He avoided setting anything off for the first ten or fifteen feet, but when he finally did put a foot down in the wrong place a thick piece of lumber swung out of the wall. It was more than a foot wide and large chunks of sharpened obsidian were embedded in its body. It swung right for his thighs. He remembered Kiara¡¯s warning right before he jumped. Instead of fully diving, he tried to do a kind of midair somersault. If it weren¡¯t for the physical changes he¡¯d gained from the Emergence, he would have almost certainly faceplanted trying that. Thankfully, he managed to clear the bladed trunk trap and hit the ground on his shoulder. It was an odd sensation. His hands, forearms, and back were more sensitive to touch than his feet, especially since they weren¡¯t protected by shoe soles. He could feel the treadmill tiles under the illusory stone and experience the super weird feeling of the tiles rolling to keep him in roughly the same position as he landed. Aaron popped back up onto his feet with a smile on his face. He¡¯d gotten caught up in the amazing magic of the treadmill and momentarily forgotten it was all just an illusion. It was a lot easier to enjoy the experience thinking of it as a harmless game instead of worrying about being smooshed by a humongous boulder. He was able to avoid activating more traps for another ten or fifteen feet, then he got distracted again. Even knowing the boulder chasing him was fake, it was still exhilarating and he made the mistake of looking back over his shoulder to see how far away it was. There was a bit of space between them, which was good and got Aaron to relax a little. But because he wasn¡¯t paying as much attention as he should have been, he stepped on one of the pressure plates in the floor. A log dropped out of the ceiling, held by thinner wooden frames wrapped in thick, coarse twine. The log was almost as wide as the entire hallway and swung like a pendulum right at him. It was little more than a crude swinging trap meant to knock people back into other traps ¡ª there weren¡¯t even sharpened rocks embedded into it! ¡ª but it caught Aaron by surprise and hit him square in the face. The moment of impact was one of profound cognitive dissonance, expectation clashing into reality to catastrophic effect. Aaron expected the log to pass right through him, the same as any other holographic or light-based technology he¡¯d ever seen. He thought the magic might make it slightly uncomfortable, the same way the plasma flames in the space scenario had produced heat. What happened was a blunt force slammed into his head, lifting him clean off his feet and flipping him over. He landed on his shoulders before he could do more than tuck his chin and his feet kept going, the momentum of the fall carrying him into a full roll. He saw the boulder ¡ª upside down, naturally ¡ª barreling down on him for a split second before he flopped over, crashing into the floor with his knees. ¡°Shit!¡± Without thinking, Aaron lifted himself onto his hands and the balls of his feet, trying to run on all fours like this was just an inconvenient high school football drill. He didn¡¯t know how hard that boulder would hit and didn¡¯t really want to find out. Unfortunately, the log trap had waylaid him long enough to eat up all the distance between Aaron and the rock, so it was on top of him before he could crawl more than a couple steps. The last thought he had before the stone rolled over him was, Shitshitshit! Chapter 75 - To the Dome ¡°That was significantly less dope, but quite a bit more hilarious,¡± Albert said when the door to the treadmill opened. Aaron, ever a paragon of eloquence, groaned on the floor. The illusory boulder hadn¡¯t hurt when it rolled over him, but it had definitely felt weird. It was like an extra huge bean bag chair filled with jelly had been pressed into his back then rolled up his spine. There had actually been enough force behind the illusion to scooch him along the tile floor several inches, which had also been a uniquely weird sensation on his face and body. ¡°Seriously, that log hit you and it was like Charlie Brown missing the football,¡± Albert chuckled. ¡°Augh! Woosh!¡± Kiara cut in. ¡°It was a decent attempt, especially for your first go. Your reflexes aren¡¯t bad; plus, you demonstrated some decent instincts and quick thinking.¡± ¡°It was obvious you were swinging back and forth on accepting the premise of the simulation, though, and that hurt your reaction times,¡± Griffin observed. ¡°Do you want to try again?¡± Aaron picked himself up off the floor. ¡°Maybe later, unless you need more data?¡± Kiara shook her head. ¡°No, I think we¡¯ve got a good idea of what your reactions are like, at least right now before you¡¯ve got any real training or experience.¡± ¡°Out of curiosity, is it possible to get hurt on the treadmills? Just want to know if I have to be on the lookout for a computer-run-amok or Moriarty-type situation,¡± Aaron said. ¡°For the most part, no,¡± Kiara answered. ¡°The physical contact isn¡¯t a hard light situation, it¡¯s more like there are wand-style attachments worked into the walls that can make finely-controlled attacks.¡± ¡°Which means the answer is yes,¡± Aaron observed. ¡°How do you figure that?¡± Albert put a consoling ¡ª and condescending ¡ª arm around Kiara¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Because that means if the programming went haywire, the wands could attack at full force.¡± He turned to Aaron. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about that too much, though. As it was explained to me, even if something set the magic inside to full power, it would still fall way short of a fairly crappy wand.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t take a mundane in there, though,¡± Griffin added. ¡°On the default settings, they could get concussions, fractures, minor burns, maybe even internal bleeding or the loss of an eye.¡± ¡°Okay, so it¡¯s no joke in there,¡± Aaron said. ¡°It ain¡¯t no cake walk, that¡¯s for sure. We¡¯re fortunate enough to have drakus resilience on our side, so we can raise the stakes a bit. You might not have much chance of getting injured, but at higher settings getting nailed in there will still sting like a bastard.¡± ¡°Wait a second,¡± Kiara interrupted, turning to Albert. ¡°Who did you ask about how the treadmills work? And why?¡± Albert didn¡¯t answer right away, which earned him a scrutinizing look from Griffin as well as Kiara. The smaller man held his hands out to the side and shrugged, the very picture of feigned innocence. ¡°What?! People can¡¯t be curious?¡± ¡°People can be. You can¡¯t,¡± Griffin said. ¡°There¡¯s no way you would¡¯ve asked about something that complex and technical if it wasn¡¯t to get up to some kind of mischief.¡± ¡°I knew it,¡± Kiara exclaimed, knocking Albert¡¯s arm off her shoulder and jabbing him in the chest with a finger. ¡°I knew you were planning to fuck with us. And you,¡± she added, turned her accusatory poking on Griffin. ¡°You said I was overreacting!¡± ¡°Hey now,¡± Albert objected. ¡°I was planning to design an adventure that I thought would be fun for all of us. I didn¡¯t know you used to play D&D, Kiara, or I¡¯d¡¯ve told you I used to run games for my friends and little brother.¡± ¡°Okay, but what did you need to know so many technical details about the treadmills for?¡± Kiara demanded. Albert held off answering again, chewing his lip instead, but Kiara¡¯s withering glare and Griffin¡¯s dubious expression convinced him to confess. ¡°I just wanted to know the upper limits, okay? I wanted to find out if there was a way to generate fire that would be hot enough to burn hair without causing more severe injuries. What¡¯s the big deal?¡± ¡°You wanted to burn off my hair?!?¡± Kiara said, outraged. ¡°Dude, not cool,¡± said Griffin. ¡°Oh come on,¡± Albert complained. ¡°A couple sips of a potion and it would¡¯ve grown right back. And I wasn¡¯t going to burn off your hair, I was going to burn off our hair. It would have been a bonding experience. For the team!¡± Kiara shoved Albert, who stumbled back several steps, then she stomped right back up to him. She raised a hand as if to hit him, but Griffin scooped her up off the floor from behind. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± the big man said. ¡°You have every right to be pissed, but let¡¯s work it out in a healthier way. Something with more structure and less eye-gouging.¡± A wicked gleam sprang to life in Kiara¡¯s eyes and her voice came out with a heavy measure of forced cheer. ¡°Right. Constructive! I can be constructive. Albert and I can have a constructive conversation while you show Aaron the ropes for our next assessment. Constructive and efficient.¡± Albert swallowed so hard it was practically cartoonish. He looked less than thrilled from the sound of Kiara¡¯s plan to work their shit out, but Aaron was intrigued. There weren¡¯t a whole lot of ways he could see for her to get the catharsis she seemed to be aiming for. It sounds like we¡¯re going to do some kind of sparring, he thought. That could be fun and informative. Oooor¡­ it could be wildly embarrassing. Either way. They left the main room of the gymnasium, heading down a hallway to some dressing rooms. There were lockers with benches in front of them, showers, and even steam rooms and saunas. Everything was a couple degrees more posh than any gym Aaron had ever been to. Kiara went into a separate dressing room, muttering imprecations about Albert and his parentage. ¡°Are we going to be putting on a gi or something?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Nah, we don¡¯t need to get changed, but we keep some equipment in the dressing rooms that will be very helpful,¡± Griffin said. He opened one of the lockers and pulled out several pieces of thick cloth. They looked a bit like sweatbands except wider, around three inches across. Griffin showed him the markings that indicated where they were worn: one pair went on each wrist, another pair the ankles, and the last went around the head, just like normal sweatbands. ¡°These are dampening bands,¡± Griffin explained. ¡°They create a kind of personal shield that clings very close to the body and lets us practice without holding back.¡± ¡°It¡¯s important to remember that they work best if both people are wearing them,¡± Albert added. ¡°The dampening effect is much stronger when two sets are interacting with each other, otherwise they¡¯d only hold up against a couple strikes using the kind of strength you or Griffin have.¡± ¡°Are you not as strong?¡± ¡°No,¡± Albert said sadly. ¡°I could be, in theory, but I think a good deal of my innate magic went into agility and reflexes. I could work at it more, but it¡¯s been pretty useful being quicker on the move and I worry I¡¯ll get in my head if I put too much emphasis on power over speed.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s like a finite resource? You only have so much physical enhancement and it has to be shared around?¡± The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Griffin made a waffling gesture with one hand. ¡°Yes and no, it¡¯s as much about what we think of ourselves as about what we¡¯re actually capable of. Barrett is faster, stronger, and tougher than any of the three of us, for instance.¡± ¡°He¡¯s not faster than me by much,¡± Albert complained. ¡°I mean, we¡¯re not elves, so it¡¯s not like we have a huge advantage over mundanes when it comes to speed.¡± ¡°So we¡¯re not much faster than humans?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°How does that work?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not exactly well understood,¡± Griffin replied. ¡°The vast majority of eidolons can¡¯t really move much faster, in a kinesiological sense, than the fastest humans. Occasionally, you¡¯ll find someone comparable to other mammals that have even better reflexes or the like. A lot of us can travel faster ¡ª like by running or flying or whatever ¡ª but we can¡¯t reposition or move our body all that much faster.¡± ¡°Even if you include the few that can, like elves and vamps, you¡¯ll pretty much never see a full-on speedster kind of movement,¡± Albert added. ¡°So it¡¯s not that big a deal if Barrett is a little faster than me.¡± Griffin snorted. ¡°Bro, let it go. He¡¯s the Cordus Draconis and he was more badass before his Emergence than both of us are now, put together.¡± ¡°He was a soldier or something, right?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Special forces or some such like that, back in ¡®Nam,¡± Albert said. ¡°Might¡¯ve gone to work for the Company or something afterwards because he pretty much disappeared for a long time.¡± Aaron quicked a brow. ¡°Disappeared? Like, he left the Drakon?¡± ¡°No,¡± Griffin said. ¡°He didn¡¯t become Cordus until, uh, around 1980, maybe ¡®81. It was more than ten years after the last record of him in the Army, anyways. He¡¯s never shared what he was doing during that time as far as I know.¡± ¡°Yeah and there¡¯s shit all for records,¡± Albert groused. ¡°Not, uh, not that I did any snooping.¡± ¡°Wait, so people can become drakus when they¡¯re old¡­ er, older?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°I figured from Alice and Tia that it tended to happen fairly young. I¡¯d been thinking I was some kind of late bloomer.¡± ¡°Nah, you¡¯re fine,¡± Griffin replied with a chuckle. ¡°Your predecessor was around your age, I think, and Barrett was around 40, but then you also have people like Mallory. He was in his 60s or 70s when he joined the Drakon.¡± Aaron did some rough math in his head. ¡°That would make him¡­ over three hundred years, in total. Do drakus generally live that long?¡± ¡°Not as much as we used to, but it¡¯s not uncommon for a drakus to be a hundred years old before they start showing signs of being middle aged,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s very rare for old age to kill a drakus. I don¡¯t know how much they¡¯ve told you, but we¡¯ve had a pretty awful attrition rate for a while.¡± Aaron didn¡¯t really have a response for that. Barrett, and maybe Mallory, had suggested the Drakon was facing constant hostility from enemies who remained largely unknown, but it hadn¡¯t really struck Aaron what that meant. They¡¯re killing drakus, he realized. That¡¯s real hoodlum shit. He tried not to let the realization settle in his thoughts too deeply. For now, it was enough that people were after him; he could start thinking about how to protect other people ¡ª his people, now ¡ª once he was in a better position to do so. That meant confirming his position as the Primus Draconis. It also meant taking his training seriously. Albert and Griffin also had nothing else to say after that morbid little statement. Kiara, however, had missed out on the gritty reboot of their conversation, and she had other things on her mind. They heard banging on the door of the dressing room, then her voice came through. ¡°Let¡¯s go, weasel boy,¡± she called. ¡°You and I got an appointment in the Dome.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the Dome?¡± Aaron asked quietly. Griffin laughed but didn¡¯t answer, just slid his last dampening band onto his head. Albert rolled his eyes as he finished putting on his own bands, but Aaron thought the smaller drakus looked a bit nervous. A few seconds later they were on the move again. Kiara was waiting for them outside the locker room, her own dampening bands already in place. She turned on her heel as soon as they emerged and stomped off down the hallway. Aaron and the guys followed her to a door that was made of thick wood planks and framed with riveted metal, giving it a much older and sturdier look than most of the plain doors in the Drakon¡¯s complex. The room behind the door was under some kind of spatial distortion; Aaron recognized the sensation that had been pointed out to him previously, though it was much more subtle in this case. Inside was a kind of auditorium. The walls had seating risers elevated about ten feet off the ground and it overlooked a number of spaces Aaron could only describe as arenas. The center of the room was dominated by three distinctive fighting spaces. The first was an octagon, not unlike the ones popularized by professional mixed martial arts. The second was something like an overly-complicated, adult-sized jungle gym, a blockish structure of thick metal pipes forming a gridwork of squares and rectangles. The last was a sand pit filled with what Aaron thought of as ¡®kung fu pillars¡¯ from movies he¡¯d watched as a kid, an array of logs set vertically into the ground like half-sized telephone poles that had been chopped in half. The pillars stood between five and ten feet high and none were more than about a foot in diameter. ¡°Those are the Cage, the Jungle, and the Forest,¡± Griffin said, pointing to the octagon, jungle gym, and wooden pillars, respectively. ¡°We won¡¯t be using anything so complicated today.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Kiara corrected. ¡°Me and Albert are going to do a little sparring in the Jungle.¡± Albert sighed and muttered something about how nobody had even lost any hair for real, but that just earned him another scowl from the diminutive redhead. ¡°Let¡¯s start with the basics: what kind of experience do you have with fighting?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°Uh¡­ I did about a year of freestyle wrestling in middle school, a little over two years of karate in high school, then some private, informal instruction in a couple of other styles from friends in college.¡± ¡°Do you remember the specific martial arts styles or schools?¡± ¡°Uh, the karate was Goju-ryu and the rest was a smattering of Chinese stuff,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I had some friends who studied some kind of animal-style kenpo and then went to some shady garage school with a retired Navy Seal instructor. They taught me bits and pieces through sparring, screwing around, and stuff like that.¡± ¡°Oh, Goju-ryu. Good school,¡± Albert said. ¡°Did you learn it because of The Karate Kid?¡± ¡°No, it was because it was the only place within walking distance of school. Why?¡± ¡°Mr. Miyagi is based on the founder of Goju-Ryu,¡± Albert informed him. ¡°I did not know that.¡± ¡°Are you sure it was Goju-ryu and not Shotokan or something?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°Positive,¡± Aaron replied. ¡°Goju-ryu means ¡®hard-soft style,¡¯ right? I used to joke to my friends that I was learning Dong-do, the Way of the Dick.¡± Albert wheezed a laugh and Griffin snorted, leaving Aaron feeling mildly proud of his puerile pun. ¡°Any weapon training?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°Alright, then let¡¯s do some goofing around to get a feel for where you¡¯re at with unarmed CQC,¡± Griffin said. ¡°After that, we can look at what kind of weapons you might like to do some training with.¡± Griffin walked with Aaron around the perimeter of the room. There were a number of mats in various shapes and sizes, all with different markings on them. They¡¯re probably the preferred markings for different combat sports, Aaron thought. I recognize the bull¡¯s eye-ish one from wrestling and I think the big double square is from karate. Albert stayed with them as they walked while Kiara broke off and headed for the big jungle gym. Her steps were even heavier than usual, like she was mad at the ground, and Albert kept shooting furtive glances her way. ¡°So what¡¯s with the bleachers?¡± Aaron asked, gesturing at the raised box seating placed around the auditorium. ¡°Sometimes we have tournaments, but mostly it¡¯s so people training for one of the Orders can observe their fellows,¡± Griffin said. ¡°It¡¯s not just our own mistakes that we can learn from and it¡¯s also super helpful to learn how to watch fights with an analytical mindset.¡± They stopped at a mat that looked like many of the mats closer to the door, only a bit larger. It was almost thirty feet across, with a six foot wide maroon border and a dark blue square at the center. Two parallel lines, ten feet long with ten feet between them, were on either side of the center, marking where the opponents stood. The mat even had a smaller line for a referee perpendicular to the starting lines. ¡°Fancy,¡± Aaron said. ¡°But why didn¡¯t we use one of the other kumite mats we passed along the way.¡± Griffin¡¯s face split into a grin. ¡°This one has a better view.¡± Aaron followed the big man¡¯s gaze, as did Albert. The position of the mat provided an unobstructed sightline to the big jungle gym, which Kiara had just started climbing onto. They watched for a few seconds as she maneuvered around the network of metal bars, occasionally doing practice strikes with her arms and legs. ¡°Let¡¯s go, you rat fuck!¡± she called from the metal arena. Albert groaned. ¡°See you in a bit,¡± he said, slouching off in that direction. ¡°I¡¯m betting he¡¯s going to have a killer headache and tender nards in ten to fifteen minutes,¡± Griffin said, laughing. Aaron joined him, as much because of the word ¡®nards¡¯ as because the idea of Albert getting smacked around by the tiny redhead was amusing. Both things could be true ¡ª and funny ¡ª at the same time. Griffin stepped onto the mat. ¡°Let¡¯s get started.¡± Chapter 76 - Getting Strong Now ¡°Striking drills are pretty common in karate, as I recall,¡± Griffin said. ¡°I¡¯d like to get a look at your form, so let¡¯s do some basic drills. Start with punches. Wide stance, fighting stance, whatever¡¯s comfortable for you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been a while, so I might be a bit awkward,¡± Aaron warned. Awkward turned out to be a bit of a generous word for it. Aaron hadn¡¯t done any basic drills in almost a decade, so it felt incredibly strange to move into a formal training stance, especially when he was doing it by himself. He was even wearing shoes and street clothes, which made it feel extra double weird. Still, this wasn¡¯t training for a hypothetical mugging or shoving match gone bad; it was preparation for life-or-death fights that were basically going to be inevitable in his new life. There was nothing for it but to do it, so he spread his feet to just about shoulder width, bent his knees slightly, and pulled his fists back to his sides. Start simple, he told himself. Remember the form, how to strike. Straight arm, straight wrist, hit with the first two knuckles. You can do this. Aaron went through the most simple punching drill he remembered. A punch aimed for the chin, then for the solar plexus, then the groin, with a small, sharp exhalation on each strike. He did one hand then the other before moving down to the next level. Chin chin, gut gut, nut nut. He could practically hear his old sensei counting out in Japanese and, when he finished the first drill, he had the strongest urge to drop back to the neutral stance and throw out a front kick. Had that been a part of this drill? he wondered. He repeated the drill four more times, leaving out the kick. There would be plenty of time for kicks later. Plus, Aaron was really unsure if that was actually part of the drill or just something his brain was inventing to screw with him. Some people would say your brain can¡¯t work against you because it is you, but those people and their healthy, normal psyches could eat the entirety of Aaron¡¯s ass. For his next drill, Aaron adjusted his stance. It was a little more narrow and his right foot was slightly further back and taking most of his weight. Once he brought his hands up into a relaxed guard, he was in the most basic sparring position he knew. He did five more straight punches from this position. He took the time on each strike to properly feel his way around the movement of his shoulder and hip, how his weight shifted between his legs to give each punch more power. This position was where he was most comfortable. After his five dominant crosses, he flipped his stance and repeated them with the left hand. In the minute or so it had taken to run through those simple drills, Albert had made his way over to the big jungle gym, where Kiara was already in the pipeworks and waiting for him. The small man didn¡¯t break stride, he just dove in like an otter hitting a stream. He flitted around the pipes like an eel as Kiara started to pursue him. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see some kicks,¡± Griffin said, drawing Aaron¡¯s focus back to the task at hand. Aaron repeated the same process he had used with punches - a neutral, front-facing stance for five snap kicks with each foot, then into a fighting stance for five more on each side. After those, he added a series of downward sidekicks and waist-high roundhouses. His roundhouse with the left leg was very uncoordinated, but he¡¯d never been much of a kicker anyways. ¡°Can you do an axe or hook kick?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°Never kick above your own waist unless you¡¯re in a tournament or shooting a movie,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I can¡¯t remember who told me that, but it¡¯s a solid policy.¡± Griffin grinned and nodded. ¡°Okay, so you learned street fighting karate, not tournament karate.¡± Over in the Jungle, Albert had climbed nearly to the top of the complicated structure and was saying something to Kiara. She didn¡¯t seem to be in a listening mood, however, and kept lunging to grab at his ankles. He kept just out of her reach by swinging and twisting away through the narrow metal frames. ¡°Let¡¯s do a little sparring,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Full contact, full speed; the bands will make sure we don¡¯t hurt each other.¡± They took positions on the starting lines, facing each other. Aaron bowed slightly at the waist and Griffin copied him a moment later, then they each took a fighting stance. Aaron settled into the simple posture he¡¯d been using for the drills, while Griffin adopted something more suitable to boxing. Aaron took a couple hesitant steps forward, angling his movement slightly toward Griffin¡¯s flank. Griffin¡¯s body swayed gently from side to side, his shoulders occasionally dipping to feign a punch, and he kept himself oriented on Aaron, but his feet stayed fairly stationary on the mat. That struck Aaron as odd. On his next step, Aaron didn¡¯t adjust his footing smoothly but hopped forward, lifting his leading foot as if he were going to kick. Griffin barely reacted, merely exaggerating his near-stationary bobbing and weaving. Is he screwing around? Aaron wondered. Maybe I can test whether he¡¯s being serious by breaking my kicking rule. With a few light punches, Aaron moved himself into a position with a good angle for a high kick. Griffin continued not to engage so, as soon as he was there, Aaron tossed a big roundhouse right at Griffin¡¯s head. All Griffin did was raise his guard a bit higher to tank the blow and respond by tapping Aaron in the chest with a light jab. Aaron stepped back and lowered his hands slightly. ¡°Are you screwing with me or something?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°I was wide open before, during, and after that big, stupid kick,¡± Aaron replied. ¡°But you barely did anything. If you just want to see my form, I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a heavy bag or some pads around here somewhere.¡± Kiara¡¯s voice cut across the Dome before Griffin could respond, drawing their attention. ¡°Stop running, you slippery little weasel!¡± She was in the midst of vaulting and diving through one gap after another over in the Jungle. Albert continued to treat it like a game of tag or hide and seek. He seemed to be intent on staying out of her reach and avoiding a direct engagement. ¡°You¡¯re right, I was sandbagging,¡± Griffin said. ¡°But I had my reasons. I wanted to stay threatening without engaging to get an idea of your sense of a fight and whether you¡¯d get overconfident or reckless. In fairness, you were reckless with that big roundhouse, but it was because you¡¯d seen through my deception and wanted to test it. It¡¯s not a risk I¡¯d encourage in live combat, though I can¡¯t really knock your reasoning to do it in this situation.¡± ¡°So, are we going to do this or do you want to keep playing grab-ass?¡± Griffin rolled his neck, then his shoulders. ¡°We¡¯re going to do this.¡± They returned to their starting lines and bowed again. When Griffin came in this time, he was lower, his shoulders more forward, and his hands loose and open ¡ª Aaron recognized it as a wrestler¡¯s stance. They circled each other a few seconds before Griffin shot forward, lunging for Aaron¡¯s legs. Aaron tried to sprawl out, but Griffin got an arm around his waist and one hand on the back of a thigh. Aaron had only a fraction of a second to reply or he¡¯d be on his back with Griffin on top of him. Going with the momentum of the lunge rather than fighting it, Aaron grabbed onto Griffin¡¯s shoulders and pulled his knee up to get a foot on Griffin¡¯s hip or waist. As soon as his ass touched the floor, Aaron rolled backwards and pulled as hard as he could while fully extending his leg. Griffin lost his grip, sailing clear over Aaron and flipping in midair to land flat on his back. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Aaron wanted to crow over the successful throw, to chastise himself for not attempting a guillotine choke, and to take a second to remember what the heck that throw was even called. Alas, he could hear Griffin rolling to his feet almost as soon as he hit the floor, so he had to get back up, too. No push kicks to keep him away unless he¡¯s coming in very high, Aaron told himself. In fact, no kicks that aren¡¯t a sure thing. That¡¯s a good way to get your ass gator rolled into a leg lock. ¡°Good throw,¡± Griffin said, squaring himself back up to Aaron. The big drakus regarded Aaron with a more measured look now, and approached in a more circular fashion with feints instead of looking for immediate openings. When they engaged again, Aaron could barely hold him off and had to use the threat of quick strikes to maintain any kind of breathing room. They wound up on the floor, scrabbling and vying for advantage, almost immediately. Griffin was fast, repositioning himself and trying to latch onto different holds constantly. It was all Aaron could do to keep himself from getting completely wrapped up and he never really managed to get himself into a position for any meaningful strikes. Trying to counter grapple was an exercise in futility; the big man was just too experienced. A loud clang from the center of the Dome caused both of them to pause in their struggle, turning their attention once more to the Jungle. Albert had finally stopped moving. He was standing with one arm draped over a pipe and rubbing a hand over his nose and forehead. Griffin couldn¡¯t quite stop himself from laughing, a snort of air escaping his nostrils. ¡°I think he went face first into that pipe.¡± ¡°Watch his feet,¡± Aaron said, his eyes darting around the complicated metal frame looking for what he knew had to be there. Sure enough, barely a second later a small, pale hand shot up and latched onto Albert¡¯s ankle. He barely had time to curse before Kiara had pulled herself directly beneath him and grabbed onto the other leg. Then she yanked on him like she was trying to break a wishbone. Although Chuck Taylor¡¯s might be famous for being stylish and comfortable, they were not famous for their grip. Especially not on a slick surface like a small, round metal pipe. Albert¡¯s feet slipped off the frame and then gravity lent Kiara a helping hand. He fell, hard, onto the pipe he¡¯d been standing on. His mouth and eyes formed near-perfect Os that made his face resemble nothing so much as a bowling ball that was quickly turning burgundy. Aaron and Griffin both winced involuntarily at Albert¡¯s drop, their grips on each other tightening as their bodies tensed in sympathetic agony. Kiara dropped off her own pipe, still holding onto Albert¡¯s ankles, and swung from him like a trapeze. She propelled herself onto the floor outside the Jungle and brushed her hands off with a satisfied smirk. Slowly, Albert tilted to the side and began to fall through the pipeworks like a poorly-designed game of Plinko. ¡°You were right about the nards,¡± Aaron told Griffin. ¡°Unfortunately so.¡± Kiara sauntered over to their mat, looking like the cat that caught the canary. She eyed them up and put her hands on her hips. ¡°How¡¯s it going over here? You boys look like you¡¯re on your third date.¡± ¡°Just doing some grappling,¡± Griffin said. Kiara scowled, but her smile came back quickly enough. ¡°I didn¡¯t get the impression Aaron was a grappler. It¡¯s good to have a solid ground game, but if this is an assessment shouldn¡¯t you go back to starting positions if you wind up rolling around on the floor?¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a very good point,¡± Griffin admitted. ¡°I guess I got caught up. If we wind up on the floor or one of us establishes a solid lock or choke, we¡¯ll break and go back to neutral positions.¡± Griffin released Aaron and scooched away. Aaron let him go, as well, and they went back to the starting lines. They adopted their fighting stances again. This time, Griffin was much more aggressive right from the start. He countered Aaron into throws, locks, and chokes enough times consecutively that even Albert managed to hobble over and join Kiara in watching them. It was getting¡­ frustrating. Aaron wasn¡¯t mad ¡ª he didn¡¯t get mad. Well, okay, he did, as it turned out, get really, really mad. But he wasn¡¯t anywhere near that point. He was definitely frustrated. He couldn¡¯t manage to accomplish much more than the occasional elbow or knee as Griffin closed the distance and wrapped him up over and over. There was a difference in size and reach, which worked against Aaron, but the real obstacle was that Griffin was used to fighting full out. He was much faster to find or create openings then capitalize on them. What can I work to my advantage here? Aaron wondered as they faced off in the center of the mat again. Maybe I¡¯m thinking about this wrong, too much like who I was and not who I¡¯m becoming. He started to form an idea, but it was very risky. His biggest concern wasn¡¯t whether he could pull it off ¡ª although that was an issue ¡ª but whether the dampening bands worked as well as he¡¯d been told. So far, neither he or Griffin had used any particular degree of superhuman strength; Aaron was about to change that. When Griffin came at him next, Aaron moved forward as if he were trying for his own takedown on the big man¡¯s legs. Griffin reacted by dropping his haunches, throwing his feet back, and wrapping his arms around Aaron¡¯s torso. But Aaron had got a hand around one of Griffin¡¯s thighs and that was enough to make his move. Aaron focused on the power he had as a drakus, not just the power in his muscles, and pushed through Griffin. He pulled the big man¡¯s leg in tight against his own body and stood up. Griffin was forced backward and fell onto his back on the mat. Before Griffin could reposition himself or start to get up, Aaron grabbed his ankle and began to swing him around like a club. Wham! He slammed Griffin into the mat. Wham! He slammed him down again, on his other side. He was only going to slam Griffin one or two more times, but he wanted to strut a little first. ¡°We have an Aaron!¡± he shouted. Before his celebration could find its way to less relevant movie references, Aaron found himself hoisted off the ground. He did at least one complete flip in the air and crashed onto the mat before he¡¯d even started to register what happened. ¡°Do it again!¡± Albert coughed from the sidelines, pulling out his phone. ¡°I wanna get a video of that!¡± Aaron rolled back onto his feet, still confused. Griffin had rolled all the way off the edge of the mat and was standing back up, as well, brushing himself off with his hands. ¡°What the hell just happened?¡± Aaron asked. Griffin held up a hand to stop Albert from responding. ¡°It was faster than you¡¯re used to and you were distracted, but take a second to see if you can piece together what went down.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Aaron said, rubbing his neck. He could start there actually, with his neck. It was a little tender and sore when it hadn¡¯t been sore at all a few seconds earlier. So something had happened with his neck. That¡­ didn¡¯t exactly narrow it down, but it wasn¡¯t the only thing he knew. He also knew that his feet had been yanked out from under him and that he¡¯d flipped ass over teakettle. And, now that he was thinking about it, he had also flipped in the same direction he¡¯d been swinging Griffin. Putting all of that together painted a picture that, if Aaron hadn¡¯t bench pressed over half a ton barely an hour earlier, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to believe. ¡°I think you grabbed onto me,¡± he said slowly, feeling the idea out. ¡°Then my own strength pulled me into a flip.¡± Griffin clapped his hands together once, loudly. ¡°Right in one!¡± ¡°It was hilarious,¡± Albert wheezed, though it was unclear if it was from laughter or his inevitably swollen genitals. Griffin went on. ¡°The thing you have to remember about fighting with praeternatural strength is that it can be turned against you if your opponent has anywhere close to the same degree of strength.¡± ¡°Or magic that can otherwise account for the difference,¡± Kiara added. ¡°Good point,¡± Griffin agreed. ¡°In my case, I curled down into a ball and grabbed onto you as best as I could. When you swung me over your head as hard as you could, so long as I kept my grip and stayed close to you, you would pull yourself off your own feet. Which you did.¡± Albert put a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder and leaned against him. ¡°Strength isn¡¯t an anchor, it¡¯s a chain. You still weigh roughly as much as a person of your size and build. Unless you can hold onto something, you¡¯re no harder to pick up than you were a week ago.¡± ¡°So if someone hits me I¡¯m going to go flying?¡± ¡°Sometimes,¡± Griffin said. ¡°But most attacks don¡¯t have solely, or even predominantly, upward momentum. Decent footing and your own strength will usually help you maintain your position.¡± Kiara stepped onto the mat. ¡°I think we¡¯ve done some good work so far but we¡¯re on a bit of a tight schedule. How about we move on to weapons training?¡± Chapter 77 - Or a Reasonable Facsimile The Drakon¡¯s armory was adjacent to the so-called Dome and could be accessed through a door between a pair of raised bleachers. The floor was covered in a mixture of mats and markings that suggested it was used for structured combat practice much like the Dome was. Most of these spaces were a good deal smaller and none were as extravagant as the three Mad Max-like centerpieces of the main arena. There were training stations placed around the walls of the room, clearly meant for individual practice. They were equipped with training dummies that ranged from simple reinforced planks to thick sets of armor and included more complicated setups, like spinning quintains and rotating mannequins with pegs arms and blunt weapons or shields. The only thing that seemed to be missing from the room was weapons. Aaron thought the room would be filled with racks and stands bristling with armaments, but there were none. Instead, it turned out that they were stored in wide, flat cabinets he¡¯d mistaken for wood paneling. More than that, the Drakon¡¯s training weapons were not at all what he expected. Inside the cabinets were simple wooden mock-ups. These plain, blank models varied slightly in size and shape but they were all basically the same ¡ª blunt wooden rods distinguished largely by their handles, which had been carved based mostly on the length of the weapon. They seemed far too generic to be of much use for training. ¡°So how do these work?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°First you decide what kind of weapon you want to practice with,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Then you find a waster that¡¯s about the right size and weight and insert an engram into the handle.¡± ¡°What¡¯s a waster?¡± ¡°Wooden practice weapon,¡± Griffin replied, pulling one of the rods out of the cabinet. He flipped down a second, narrow wooden panel running underneath the bottom of the cabinet, revealing rows of shelving about half an inch high that were laden with small, glass-like stones pressed into a soft setting. He withdrew one of these stones and slotted it into the bottom of the rod¡¯s handle. A moment later, the simple wooden baton transformed into a classic European arming sword. ¡°Whoa, the blade even shines and reflects light,¡± Aaron observed. ¡°These engrams are pretty cool enchantments,¡± Albert said. ¡°And they utilize magic similar to the stuff in the treadmills and the dampening bands, so they can be used for full contact training.¡± Griffin returned the engram and waster to the cabinet. ¡°So, ignoring any practical concerns you might have, are there any weapons you have a particular interest in?¡± ¡°Why would I ignore practical concerns?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I learn whatever¡¯s most optimal?¡± Albert held a hand out in the so-so gesture. ¡°Only if that¡¯s what resonates with you. In general, the more you like a weapon the better you¡¯ll do at mastering it. That¡¯s not just a motivation issue, either; it¡¯s tied in with intent and magic, too.¡± ¡°Do you think I¡¯ve learned how to use big ass hammers because they¡¯re peak optimization?¡± Griffin asked with a snicker. ¡°You¡¯ll see more eidolons wearing metal armor than anyone else this century who isn¡¯t LARPing, but it¡¯s not like our world is crawling with people in full plate.¡± ¡°Okay, well, let me think for a minute; I haven¡¯t given a whole lot of consideration to what my favorite kind of melee weapon is since I thought quicksand would be a much bigger concern than it turned out to be. Even in games, I usually pay more attention to stats and we don¡¯t really have those in real life.¡± As he thought back over that youthful period of his life when you had to have a favorite everything ¡ª from color to band to animal to painter to tank, weapon, and submarine ¡ª Aaron found that he remembered a handful of weapons he had been especially fond of at some point or another. In each case, they were at least mildly cringeworthy. ¡°I can think of a few I liked when I was a kid, but none of them really grab onto my imagination now,¡± he said. ¡°Like what?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°Give us some examples.¡± Aaron sighed. There was no escaping the embarrassment, it seemed. ¡°Nunchucks, zweihanders or claymores, and katanas are the ones that spring to mind.¡± ¡°Dang, you really hit the nerdy kid trifecta,¡± Albert said. ¡°Tell me about it.¡± Griffin gave Aaron an encouraging smile. ¡°Maybe they won¡¯t be for you, but it doesn¡¯t hurt to give each of them a test drive and see if they speak to you.¡± Which is precisely what they did for the next half hour. Aaron was provided with an engrammed waster for each of the weapons he¡¯d mentioned, one by one, and told to just do whatever came to him on any of the training stations. It was fun, moving from one station to the next and wailing on them with weapons from his childhood fantasies, but none of them really felt right. ¡°No need to worry,¡± Griffin reassured him. ¡°Believe it or not, plenty of drakus find their way to us with no real experience in using archaic weaponry. The Drakon has gotten pretty good at helping our people find things that work well for them.¡± Back at one of the waster cabinets, Griffin touched several small rivets on the inside of the wooden cover. The panel was immediately covered in an array of images. Each image had two parts: a weapon and a picture of someone wielding it, usually posed in a fighting stance Aaron assumed was best suited to that specific piece of equipment. ¡°This is a neat illusion, much improved by copying modern technology,¡± Griffin explained. ¡°It will track the motion of your hand just like a touchscreen would and it can scroll or flip like a book.¡± ¡°You can also touch an image to expand it into a new page with similar but distinct weapons or drag and flick one to remove it and have something else replace it,¡± Kiara added. ¡°If you want to go old school,¡± Albert said, ¡°there¡¯s also a big enchanted book that¡¯s way more annoying to use but gives you that tactile feedback some people love.¡± Aaron had no objection to the conveniences of modern technology ¡ª even if it didn¡¯t feel appropriately super magical on his end ¡ª so he passed on the inconvenient tome and started going through the catalog on the panel. The three delvers helped him parse the catalog, which was expansive, by asking him questions or making suggestions. It took them the better part of an hour, but they finally narrowed down the search to a handful of options. There was still some debate and lingering uncertainty over a couple of Aaron¡¯s choices. ¡°A one-handed bardiche?¡± Albert asked. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that even exists.¡± Griffin rubbed his chin and hummed thoughtfully. ¡°Actually, the epsilon axe is pretty close in terms of the axe head and I think there are historical images or something of it being used with a shield.¡± ¡°Screw it,¡± Albert shrugged. ¡°Add it to the pile and let¡¯s give it a whirl.¡± After Griffin pulled out a waster around three feet long and inserted an engram into the base to activate the phantom weapon, they had a total of four options: the epsilon axe, a four and a half foot long bastard sword, and a pair of Japanese kama. Two more weapons had been set aside and were the subject of additional discussion. One was the European cousin of the kama, a one-handed sickle nearly identical in shape to the agricultural tool seen in the hammer and sickle emblem used by communists around the world. The other was a kukri, a thick shortsword with a recurve blade that bore a vague similarity to the sickle. ¡°I think it¡¯s telling you picked three different short weapons with a scythe-derived blade design,¡± Griffin said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to rule out the epsilon or longsword, though.¡± ¡°Ominous and spooooooky,¡± Albert added, wiggling his fingers at Aaron until Kiara smacked him on the shoulder. Aaron frowned down at the two mismatched weapons. ¡°I just couldn¡¯t seem to feel my way to one or the other. Maybe I¡¯m just being scatterbrained here, but it was making my eye twitch trying to pick.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got extra engrams for the sickle and kukri, so we can run through every combination until you get a better idea,¡± Griffin assured him. ¡°Now comes the shitty part,¡± Albert muttered. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°What¡¯s the shitty part?¡± Kiara sighed. ¡°Wailing on the dummies is fun and can help you get an idea of what tickles your pickle, but now that it¡¯s time to get serious about what really clicks with you we need a more formal approach.¡± She paused. ¡°Unfortunately, none of the three of us are really experts in a ton of different weapons, while-¡± ¡°While I studied the blade,¡± a nasally voice interjected from behind them. Aaron and the delvers turned to find a man standing a few feet away. He was tall and gangly with blond hair tied back in a ponytail and small, round glasses perched on the edge of a hawkish nose. He wore gray jeans tucked into knee-high combat boots, a bowling shirt splashed with garishly bright colors, and a leather trench coat. To top it all off, a fedora rested on his head. Not a trilby; an honest to god, full-on fedora. ¡°Aaron Abrams,¡± Kiara said, ¡°This is-¡± ¡°I am Shinobi Sensei,¡± the man said. He raised a hand with the first two fingers extended to the brim of his hat, then bowed slightly at the waist. ¡°It is my great honor to meet you, Abrams-kakka.¡± Aaron gave the tall man a very confused look, but Albert cut in before he could question why the dude had just called him a piece of shit or something. Japanese suffixes were not one of Aaron¡¯s strong suits. ¡°Shut up, Greg,¡± Albert said. ¡°Greg Masters is a turbo-weeb who, much to our misfortune and ruin, is some kind of god damned prodigy at learning and mastering the use of melee weapons.¡± ¡°Not just melee weapons, Albert-tan, although that is where I excel,¡± Greg Masters (and definitely not Shinobi Sensei) said. ¡°To better explore and understand your talents and inclinations, I will lead you through a series of exercises with each of the lethal implements you were initially drawn to. You may have to repeat them several times until I am satisfied, yet I remain confident we can find the weapon that calls out to your very soul.¡± ¡°We have a lot to do today, so try not to take too long about it,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Please.¡± Masters¡¯s lip curled into a smirk, but he made no other comment. Kiara simply rolled her eyes and joined her fellow delvers in observing and assisting in the assessment process as needed. The first step in narrowing down the selection involved Masters showing Aaron several different forms and movement patterns with each potential weapon, then having him repeat them. Aaron thought of them as kata, the choreographed series of movements he had learned when he took karate lessons, but Masters used a variety of different terms. When they practiced with the kama, Masters did, in fact, refer to them as kata, but with the kukri it became yudhan, the epsilon axe required cheironomia, and for the longsword it was the very German-sounding meisterhaue. Only the forms for the European-style sickles were described in English, but even then Masters wasn¡¯t satisfied with calling them something simple like drills or forms and instead referred to them as flourishes. Regardless of their labels, the end result of these exercises was the same across the board: Masters would guide Aaron through relatively basic stances or movements, advise and assist him on what adjustments to make until he deemed it acceptable, then have Aaron string them together into something resembling a single, cohesive whole. These simple drills also brought a pleasant surprise ¡ª Aaron was able to learn and repeat each of them with relative ease. He¡¯d always had decent kinesthetic awareness, almost startlingly so considering his heavier frame, but this was on an entirely different level. He could reproduce even the most complicated positions and movements in just one or two tries, a significant improvement as far as his understanding of his own capabilities went. Probably another benefit of the Emergence, he thought. Dragons really are some kind of busted bullshit. I really lucked out that I didn¡¯t awaken into being a troll or something. Aaron discarded the European sickles as soon as he was done with the exercises. They felt unwieldy and awkward in his hands and he had more trouble with his positioning using them than anything else. ¡°Very good, Abrams-kakka,¡± Masters said. ¡°No less than I would expect, yet still exceeding my expectations. It is time to take the next step on the path to mastery and further winnow down your choices.¡± They went to one of the training stations with a spinning dummy, this one with a large blunt weapon affixed to one ¡®hand¡¯ and a shield on the other side. Masters pulled out a laser pointer and, wielding it like the handle of a rapier, flicked the red dot across the body of the dummy. ¡°I am going to mark the dummy with my point,¡± he said. ¡°I want you to attack in whatever way feels comfortable to you. Your goal, however, is not simply to strike your target, but to match the path I set with my guiding light. Remember: you will also need to consider the weapon, shield, and movement of your foe and respond accordingly.¡± This new series of exercises was more dynamic and engaging than drilling forms, but it was also exponentially more difficult. Attacking so the blade of a weapon matched the angle of Masters¡¯s pointer was hard enough, but doing it without getting nailed by the blunt steel rod or shield attached to the dummy was frustratingly complicated. Aaron wouldn¡¯t have said his performance with any of the weapons was more than passable, if he were being charitable. Masters and the delvers, however, all seemed to think he performed quite well, especially given his lack of training or experience. Training with the dummy also helped Aaron eliminate the epsilon axe from the running. It felt too limiting and he was way more sluggish trying to react and adapt with it. That left the bastard sword and either the paired kama or kukris. Masters regarded him with a critical eye after the exercises. He placed his odd two-fingered gesture against his lips and angled his head down slightly, perhaps to cast his eyes in shadow for what the wiry man probably thought of as some kind of cool effect. A prodigy with implements of murder the man might be, but he was still a massive fucking dork. I bet he¡¯s tried to put some kind of coating on his glasses so they¡¯ll turn completely opaque when the light hits them, Aaron thought. ¡°Can you describe for me, Abrams-kakka, your instinctive style with each of the three remaining weapons?¡± Aaron thought over the question for a few seconds. He could feel the answer, intuit and picture it, but putting it into words that made sense required a little time to work out. It was difficult to communicate and easy to get wrong, so he gave the question the consideration it required. After all, the answer could indirectly save his life in the long run. ¡°I think¡­ or rather, I worry that I might seem hesitant with the bastard sword, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the case, exactly. It¡¯s more like my instinct is to use it, uh, deceptively, I guess?¡± He paused for a moment to reorganize his thoughts and find the right language, because that wasn¡¯t wrong but it wasn¡¯t right either. ¡°I¡¯m prone to feigning passivity with the sword, like probing and hanging back to give the impression I¡¯m yielding momentum and being reactive when, really, my goal is to bait out opportunities or get the opponent to overcommit.¡± Masters pursed his lips into his fingers. ¡°Interesting. Please, go on.¡± ¡°With the kukris, I feel like I¡¯m more aggressive,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I¡¯ll push in and try to bully the space, which could help keep an opponent off guard and get around some defenses but I think that also makes it a lot more likely I¡¯ll get banged up in the process.¡± ¡°And the kama?¡± Masters asked. ¡°A mix of the two, or maybe it¡¯s more accurate to say there¡¯s more, uh, movement between those two approaches. Attacking with them feels harder to do than with the others, but they also feel more adaptable and responsive and I feel like¡­ like I can defend myself and retaliate with them more effectively than the other two.¡± ¡°Fair and accurate assessments all around, if somewhat shallow,¡± Masters said. ¡°Do you have any inkling of which you might prefer, Abrams-kakka?¡± ¡°Probably the kama, only¡­¡± Aaron paused, biting his lip lightly. ¡°The awkwardness I felt attacking with them worries me. I mean, isn¡¯t that the most fundamental purpose of a weapon?¡± Masters shook his odd two-fingered gesture side to side. ¡°The kama are the weapon with the least intuitive usage of anything you chose today, save perhaps the sickle. The placement and position of the blade does not follow the natural lines of the arm and wrist as easily as most other blades.¡± ¡°So I should toss it?¡± ¡°Should you?¡± Aaron found, to his surprise, that he didn¡¯t want to discard the kama. Even if Masters¡¯s caricature of aloof wisdom was annoying, it helped bring his thoughts into focus. The most rational part of Aaron¡¯s brain said the kama would be the hardest to gain serious expertise in, but the bulk of his thoughts leaned strongly in favor of keeping them. They felt the most him of all the options. ¡°No, no, I¡¯d like to keep them,¡± he answered. ¡°But maybe I should learn how to use one of the others, as well?¡± ¡°A jack of all trades will be a master of none,¡± Masters replied. ¡°Besides, practice makes perfect. Or a reasonable facsimile.¡± ¡°Alright, the kama it is, then,¡± Aaron said. ¡°What comes next?¡± ¡°I¡¯m told you¡¯re doing a number of assessments over the course of the day. Once you¡¯ve got all of those settled, we¡¯ll work out a training schedule that will optimize your time for the most efficient improvement.¡± ¡°We can make that happen,¡± Kiara said. ¡°One of us will get in touch with you later today, probably this evening.¡± Masters bowed slightly to her. ¡°Arigato gozaimasu. I understand our potential Primus has a number of concerns that require his attention, but you can rest assured that I will personally guarantee we have adequate resources available if the decision is made to place an emphasis on weapons and close quarters combat.¡± ¡°Thanks, Greg,¡± Albert said, clapping the tall man on the shoulder and earning a very small sneer in response. ¡°Now, we¡¯re off to get some lunch and then hit the range.¡± Chapter 78 - Where Seldom is Heard a Discouraging Word The four drakus returned to the cantina for a late lunch where they joined around a dozen others skimming the buffet to fill their own plates. Aaron had already learned that dragons did not mess around when it came to food, but now he saw there was a kind of industry behind it he hadn¡¯t experienced eating with Tia. Rather than a standard flat tray, the cantina had tiered display stands made of a thick metal wire frame, not that different from the kind that might hold different pies on display at an old fashioned diner or be ushered around a fancy party laden with cupcakes and finger foods. At over a foot high with a looped handle protruding from the top, each rack could hold up to five separate plates. As he looked around the cantina, Aaron saw that two plates seemed to be the minimum load and most drakus had opted for more. Despite their own abundance of food, he and the delvers chewed through lunch in barely an hour. Over the course of the meal, Aaron got them talking about their favorite experiences with tabletop role playing games. After Kiara¡¯s revelation about her patented potato math with bags of holding and Albert¡¯s intent to talk the other delvers into a treadmill-powered game for the sake of mischief, Aaron wanted to see if he couldn¡¯t angle for them to start up a game with him. Barrett might not approve of getting too friendly with the rank and file, but so what? Aaron had mostly cut himself off from his friends more than a year ago and it had been even longer since he¡¯d shaken the clicky math stones and learned what fate had in store for his paper avatar. Anyways, he wanted to ease into it. If he just threw the idea out there without laying the proper groundwork, it might make him seem clingy and weird. Nevermind that he could be clingy at times and was definitely weird pretty much always, that wasn¡¯t the kind of thing you were supposed to advertise. Better to start with old war stories to plant a seed he hoped to harvest later. When they had eaten their fill, the four drakus returned to the maze of corridors and made their way to what Griffin described as the shooting range. It wasn¡¯t far from the Dome. Like the other facilities at the Drakon¡¯s headquarters under the sinister skyscraper in Tribeca, the shooting range was a mix of the familiar and the alien. The room was spacious ¡ª the size of a large warehouse ¡ª and was mostly an open floor plan. One entire wall was taken up by individual firing lanes. Rather than paper targets with silhouetted figures on them dangling from clips, each lane had a plate that looked to be made of glass or plastic hanging in the line of fire. These odd panes were transparent, revealing that some kind of gel or liquid was encased within. ¡°Arcano-reactive targeting, uh, goop,¡± Albert explained. ¡°We produce special rounds that can be recycled very easily and the stuff in the targets responds to very close proximity. You¡¯ll see later, but it¡¯s super useful for training.¡± ¡°Wait, are you talking about actual firearms?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Like guns and stuff?¡± The delvers exchanged amused glances before Griffin replied. ¡°Of course. What else would we be talking about?¡± ¡°I figured it would be bows and arrows and shit like that, you know? Throwing knives maybe, or blowguns, shuriken, and that kind of thing. Are guns even useful for us?¡± ¡°They¡¯re not particularly useful against us, that¡¯s for sure,¡± Albert said. ¡°There aren¡¯t a lot of mythics as hard to hurt as we are, though, so a gun can come in handy. It can be a great way to deal with a shield sometimes, too.¡± ¡°How so?¡± For the purpose of a demonstration, Griffin performed a complex set of gestures, his lips occasionally moving as he worked through an incantation under his breath. A vertical band of crimson light appeared in front of the big man, six inches wide and roughly as tall as he was. After forming, the band bowed outward into a convex curve, then more transparent fields of energy spread to either side, creating a shimmering barrier. It was the same shield Griffin had used to keep the ogre at bay in the parking garage. ¡°Most arcane shields work by preventing things passing through them and they usually have certain limitations,¡± Griffin explained. ¡°This barrier, as an example, protects against physical objects, like a punch, a sword, or a bullet. Making it impede other things at the same time ¡ª like a fireball, gas, or light ¡ª is exponentially more difficult.¡± ¡°Aha, so a bullet can be useful against someone using a shield designed to stop magic.¡± ¡°Yes, exactly, but a gun can also be used to overload a shield meant to stop physical attacks, especially if the shield isn¡¯t particularly strong or the caster is focused on other things,¡± Griffin said. ¡°My shield is shaped to distribute and shed the force of impacts and it¡¯s stationary, tethered to a location. Both of those features make it a lot more durable, but you generally won¡¯t see shields this strong in a fight from anyone who doesn¡¯t specialize in creating them. Bullets pack a lot of punch into a tiny area and they can be fired very quickly, so they can put a real strain on a shield in a short amount of time and potentially overwhelm it.¡± ¡°Plus, plinking at a shield with a pistol is a lot easier on the wallet than whipping out a wand,¡± Albert added. Other than the firing lanes, there were several areas sectioned off by fine netting for walls. Each of these sections was filled with objects to act as both obstacles and cover. Numerous, free-standing targets littered the spaces made of the same plastic/gel combination as the hanging targets on the shooting lanes, though they were in different sizes and colors instead of being uniform. Aaron had seen similar setups before, although he couldn¡¯t think of a name to go with them. Was it a tactical course? Or a free-fire range? Something along those lines, probably. The last feature of the range was the one uniquely suited to the Drakon, one Aaron doubted a normal human would find much use for. Along the wall opposite the standard firing lanes were rooms that resembled racquetball courts, only their floors, walls, and ceilings were made of dark, sooty gray hexagonal tiles. Perhaps the oddest thing about these rooms were the corners, which weren¡¯t at straight angles but had a forty-five degree slope that turned the room into something like an octagonal cylinder laying on its side. ¡°What are those rooms for?¡± Aaron asked, gesturing towards the dark chambers. ¡°Advanced targeting practice,¡± Kiara replied. ¡°It¡¯s a great way to improve situational awareness and reactive aiming, but it¡¯s much more difficult than normal firing drills.¡± ¡°The first thing we should do is get you some more practice with that sick wand,¡± Albert said. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually a good idea,¡± Kiara grudgingly admitted. ¡°You were struggling using it back at Mac¡¯s shop and when we set that counter-ambush after Ekwiyakink.¡± ¡°I got it to work a little bit eventually,¡± Aaron said defensively. Albert snickered. ¡°Not until after you¡¯d poked that gryphon in the eye with it.¡± ¡°You know what? We might as well take a minute to get Aaron attuned to his new wand and EDS,¡± Griffin suggested. ¡°That should make the wand a bit more responsive and there¡¯s no sense letting the pocket go unused.¡± ¡°Sounds good to me,¡± Aaron said. The process involved in binding Aaron¡¯s keystone as a talisman had been clearly mystic and somewhat elaborate, involving overt ritual acts that anyone watching would associate with some kind of magic spell. The process of attuning objects was way less complicated. Aaron only had to focus his intent, in much the same way he summoned his keystone or called on his strength, to infuse a sense of possession and ownership over an item. This was supposed to create a highly personalized resonance between the aether bound to the item and his own. Forming a solid connection proved to be a bit difficult for Aaron. In the end, Albert helped him by manipulating the aether to form a kind of energy tunnel between him and the objects that Aaron¡¯s intent could follow. It was such a small act, but it made the attunement almost laughably easy. Once his pocket dimension was attuned, Aaron dropped his potions, wand, and phone inside. The feel of the pocket, both against his leg and as he reached into it, was an amazing sensation. Really, it was more like two simultaneous sensations. Stolen story; please report. For one thing, it felt like he was sticking his hand into a large, perfectly smooth pocket that, despite the warmth of the day, had refreshingly stayed cool in the shade of his pants. At the same time, the space within the pocket was bristling with his stored objects, each waiting the tiniest fraction of an inch beyond the very tips of his fingers and waiting for him to grab them. He found he could feel around the items individually or cause the one he wanted to find its way right into his grasp without the need to do anything. It was wondrous, intuitive, and So. Fucking. Weird. ¡°How come we don¡¯t do a full binding with the pockets?¡± Aaron wondered aloud. ¡°Seems like it would be more secure that way.¡± ¡°There are limits to how many talismans a person can have bound to them, generally tied to their aetheric presence but it rarely goes higher than about a dozen, even for the most powerful eidolons,¡± Griffin explained. ¡°So it¡¯s generally reserved for things that are absolutely vital.¡± Albert chimed in. ¡°Yeah and on top of that, binding dimensional storage is a non-starter. It¡¯s possible, but it¡¯s very, very tricky and can go disastrously wrong, especially as you start using it and shove things in there that aren¡¯t bound to you. It¡¯s also less convenient because you have to conjure it to access it, so it¡¯s an extra step anytime you need some loose change.¡± Kiara stepped into the conversation. ¡°Alright fellas, we are burning daylight. Aaron, grab your wand and let¡¯s do this.¡± Their first stop was the standard shooting lanes, where a press of a button retracted the gel-filled plastic target into the ceiling to be replaced by a metal one. The specialized targets were only useful for custom-made training ammunition, Kiara explained, and only risked being damaged by standard projectiles, spells, or wand fire. For the next hour, Aaron practiced firing obsidian darts from his wand. There were occasional hiccups when he failed to produce a shard, but it was much easier to use the wand now that it was attuned to him. That was the good news; the bad news was that his aim was pretty much shit at more than fifteen to twenty feet. ¡°It would be generous to call it hit-or-miss,¡± Albert snickered. ¡°I mean, at anything farther out than knife-fighting range, it¡¯s more like miss-or-miss.¡± Griffin patted Aaron on the shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s fine; everybody has to start somewhere and that¡¯s why we practice.¡± Kiara had been largely silent for the last fifteen minutes of Aaron¡¯s shooting, scrutinizing him closely as he tried to land shots. She was the wand expert of the delving crew and appeared to be much less patient about turning the wand into a weapon that was actually useful than the other two. ¡°Are you aiming your wand like you would a gun?¡± she asked. ¡°No?¡± Aaron replied. ¡°Or, at least, I don¡¯t think so? I¡¯m not, like, looking down the shaft of the wand or anything like that.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s a largely visuospatial thing, right?¡± Kiara said. ¡°You¡¯re looking at the target and thinking about trajectories and all that standard stuff? Instead of thinking about it in precisely that way, imagine it¡­ hmmm¡­ trying to think of what might work best for you.¡± She paused for a second and ran a hand through her thick red hair. ¡°Try to picture the target after it''s been hit, then mentally follow the path back to your wand. It doesn¡¯t need a lot of focus, you¡¯re just trying to form a mental construct that works best for channeling the magic of your wand.¡± ¡°So aim doesn¡¯t really matter at all?¡± ¡°It does, especially for discrete physical projectiles, but there is still magic involved in any use of a wand. That means the way you channel your intent or will plays more of an outsized role than it would with a firearm.¡± Aaron nodded and turned his attention back to the target halfway down the range. In his mind¡¯s eye, he pictured a dart of gleaming black stone hitting the target. A runnel of distorted air seemed to stretch from the point of impact back towards him, only it wasn¡¯t exactly where he was holding his wand at that moment. He adjusted his position so his placement would match the strange phantom visualization more closely and sent a shard of obsidian flying. It soared down range and hit the target with a satisfying plink! ¡°Nice!¡± Kiara said. ¡°Keep practicing like that, see how it feels and how naturally it comes. It might not be an exactly perfect imaging technique for you, but I think it fits what I¡¯ve seen of your style of fighting so far.¡± Following her advice, Aaron spent another thirty minutes firing his wand down the range, this time with much better results. He was no expert marksman with the thing, but there was major improvement. He landed nine shots out of ten at fifty feet and around seven at a hundred. Even if his precision and grouping weren¡¯t great, Aaron was at least making contact with the target most of the time. ¡°Any interest in guns?¡± Albert asked. ¡°When I was a kid, yeah, but I¡¯ve shied away from them since.¡± ¡°The way of so many young American boys,¡± Albert chuckled. ¡°And so few outgrow it. Let¡¯s see how your aim is with a nice, simple pistol.¡± There was a cabinet under the firing lane shelf that held a variety of magazines and those special training bullets. The training rounds seemed perfectly normal, if you discounted the fact the bullets looked like they were made of swirling blue liquid. So, not very normal at all, really. Albert grabbed a few magazines from the storage space and quickly slotted a number of the odd rounds into them. Once they were loaded, he laid the magazines out in a row on top of the shelf. Then he withdrew a pistol from somewhere in his jacket, ejected its magazine, cleared the chamber, and loaded it with one of the magazines of blue rounds. ¡°Give her a whirl,¡± he said, hitting the button on the wall of the lane that caused the metal target to swap position with the enchanted plastic one. After going through nearly a hundred rounds, it was clear that Aaron¡¯s aim with a gun was even worse than his initial efforts with a wand. He landed less than half his shots. ¡°Well, nothing to be too worried about,¡± Griffin reassured him. ¡°Not many people are a natural crackshot and it¡¯s not like we use firearms very often, anyways.¡± ¡°Still, one less tool in the kit,¡± Aaron complained. ¡°For now,¡± Albert said, patting him on the back. ¡°Speaking of improvement, we only have a couple days before we go on our delve,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Even if we¡¯re on short time, that doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t start a training schedule now and make adjustments later. Let¡¯s go over what Aaron needs to work on.¡± Griffin started counting things off on his fingers. ¡°CQC is a big one ¡ª weapons and unarmed ¡ª and we¡¯ll want some time to work on and develop Aaron¡¯s aim.¡± ¡°Greg won¡¯t let Aaron do less than three to five hours a day and he¡¯ll probably push for more, even if Captain Japan isn¡¯t personally handling the weapons training,¡± Albert said. ¡°He takes his weeb shit super cereal.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯ll work, but I bet I can get him to budge a little,¡± Kiara mused. ¡°I think Tia is supposed to be teaching me stuff about magic, too,¡± Aaron added. ¡°And I have to work on my next Tribulation, but that¡¯s nebulous and hard to schedule around. I don¡¯t plan to just stare at it until things fall into place, but I won¡¯t ignore it either. It will need at least some of my time.¡± There was some further discussion about scheduling and the best way to enable Aaron to build mastery in so many things as efficiently as possible. He also had some strong feelings about how early in the day to start since he was very much not a morning person, so that had to be taken into account. In the end, they decided Aaron would start the day with two hours of weapons training in the late morning, followed by an hour on the range, lunch, two hours of unarmed combat practice, and end with another hour of weapons training. There was some thought given to adding slots to the schedule for Aaron to return to the Chamber of Suffering for general exercise and strength training, but in the end they decided to leave it as a kind of elective. Since Aaron would be working pretty much entirely with the delvers for everything except the weapons training, they could slot some gym time in whenever they needed something to break up the routine. They stopped back at the armory to talk to Greg Masters, the so-called Shinobi Sensei, to make sure he didn¡¯t object to their tentative training schedule. Albert had been right; Masters pushed for a minimum of five hours training with the kama every single day. Kiara secured a compromise. She flipped her hair and batted her eyes at him, talking about growth without burnout or mental fatigue. It was brazen and didn¡¯t fit Aaron¡¯s sense of her personality, but it worked. In just a few minutes, she got Masters to agree that two hours of drill in the morning and an additional hour of practical application would be enough to promote solid improvement. On the whole, the training plan they¡¯d come up with sounded a little like an overachiever¡¯s college schedule to Aaron ¡ª three classes and an extra lab session four or five days a week? Who did that? ¡ª and that was before factoring in whatever he¡¯d wind up doing with Tia to learn more about magic. He didn¡¯t want to say anything and paint himself as lazy or a complainer, but he was a little concerned he might get overwhelmed by such an intensive schedule. Look at the upside, most of the people I¡¯ll be spending time with are people I enjoy hanging out with, Aaron told himself. I think that will make a big difference in keeping this training regimen from being completely soul-crushing. ¡°Your schedule¡¯s a bit busy,¡± Kiara noted, describing the obvious, ¡°but after a few weeks you should have a relatively strong foundation, at least in the more practical stuff.¡± ¡°Busy? It¡¯s brutal,¡± Albert scoffed. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to be careful to avoid burnout for the poor guy.¡± ¡°It¡¯s an unfortunate situation, but needs must and all that,¡± Griffin said. ¡°We¡¯ll manage; I¡¯ll manage,¡± Aaron said, projecting stoicism to the best of his ability. ¡°I¡¯ve never been shy about taking time when I needed or wanted it and I doubt that¡¯s going to change now that I¡¯m the big boss.¡± ¡°I think we can all live with that,¡± Griffin said. Kiara bit her lip. ¡°Or, at least, I hope we can.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll find out together,¡± Aaron said. ¡°For now, let¡¯s head back to the archive and see if Katrina has managed to dig up anything interesting.¡± Chapter 79 - Chantern of Light They had barely stepped through the wide door to the archive when Katrina Wozniak, the archivist, bustled over to them. Behind her, the main chamber of the library was a good deal busier than it had been that morning, with nearly two dozen people busying themselves about the tables and shelves pursuing their own studies. ¡°Welcome back,¡± Katrina said. She looked as impeccable as she had a few hours earlier, but there was a definite frazzled air to the woman. ¡°Archivist,¡± Aaron said, then, ¡°Katrina. How has your day been going?¡± ¡°Miss Katrina,¡± Albert added, raising a hand in a half-wave. The Archivist smiled at them. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s been challenging, to be sure. Nothing firm to present just yet, but I¡¯ve got two of my best assistants helping me in the search.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll come up with something,¡± Albert said. ¡°We¡¯re going on a trip Friday,¡± Kiara told the Archivist, ¡°but we can check back in again tomorrow.¡± Katrina patted Kiara on the arm fondly. ¡°Oh, no need for that, Ms. Lavign¨¦. We¡¯ll be in touch if we find something worth looking at, you can be assured of that. Although it may be quite fortuitous that you stopped by when you did.¡± ¡°Why is that?¡± ¡°Because I suspect young Miss Kellogg will be along shortly and Mr. Abrams¡¯s presence might expedite her efforts.¡± Just as Katrina finished saying that, the door to the archive opened again and a familiar young Asian woman stepped through, a backpack slung over one shoulder. Tia stopped short on seeing Aaron, the delvers, and Katrina all huddled together around the swinging gate at the end of the lounge. ¡°Well, fancy seeing you here,¡± she said boisterously as she walked over to join them. Katrina smiled warmly at Tia. ¡°I was just telling them how serendipitous their timing was, stopping by the archive just now.¡± ¡°It is?¡± Tia replied. ¡°Oh, yeah, it could save me some legwork. Are there any study rooms available? Preferably that can accommodate spellwork.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Katrina answered. She handed Tia a small disc made of pale green crystal. There was something etched into its surface, but Aaron wasn¡¯t able to make it out. ¡°Can someone explain what¡¯s going on?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°I had planned to stop by here to grab some primers to take back home so we could start our magic lessons later tonight, preferably after I had a chance to eat,¡± Tia said. ¡°Since you¡¯re here now, we could go over some really basic stuff for an hour or two, then get dinner on the way home to do some more!¡± Tia¡¯s enthusiasm had such a frenetic, nerdy energy to it Aaron almost wanted to bail on the whole thing. Anyone that enthusiastic and ¡®up¡¯ could wear him out quickly. That only lasted a second, though, before the realization that he was going to have a chance to actually learn something about magic fully landed on him and he found himself just as excited as she was. Or somewhere close to it, at least. ¡°That does sound awesome,¡± Aaron admitted. ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡± The delvers, who didn¡¯t find the prospect of sitting through incredibly rudimentary lessons about the basics of magic, told Aaron they¡¯d head back to the Chamber of Suffering. Kiara, in particular, was adamant that he contact them at least ten minutes before he was ready to leave. She even extracted a promise from Tia to make sure they had ample forewarning before they left the archive. Tia agreed easily enough, but she was barely paying attention. She had pulled a page out of her notebook and given it to Katrina, asking the archivist to have someone bring her the books on it. Then, she led Aaron to a private study room. It was in one of the sections behind the standing bureau desks in the main chamber of the archive and was little more than a small room with a conference table and six chairs. They had barely sat down at one end of the table before Katrina stepped into the room to deliver the small stack of requested books. She quickly departed again and left them to Aaron¡¯s first practical lesson on magic. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s do a little review,¡± Tia said. ¡°I know it¡¯s only been a day, but I want to see what¡¯s stuck with you. Hit me with your best summary of how magic works, whatever you can remember.¡± The most fundamental concepts of magic had been explained to Aaron twice in the past forty eight hours. Ezekiel Mallory had provided a broad overview two days prior after the Tribulation of the Vault, then Tia had expanded on those concepts in their talks over dinner last night. Aaron stopped himself from biting his lip or fidgeting in his seat as he reviewed those conversations and organized his thoughts. Even more than being wrong or leaving something out, he didn¡¯t want Tia to think he was some idiot who would struggle to remember simple concepts not even a day after learning them. Tia was, almost without a doubt, much smarter than he was, which was impressive as hell. It was also a little intimidating for someone who had always been one of the smarter people in the room. Even if Aaron could set aside his own ego ¡ª not that that was exactly the easiest thing in the world to do ¡ª her brilliance didn¡¯t suddenly make him cool with giving her the impression he was lacking for brains. She was a genius, yes, and something of a magic prodigy to boot. She was also funny, witty, and hot. In short, Tia was the very last person Aaron would want to have anything less than a stellar opinion of him. Gonna be a real uphill battle as long as I keep having to talk, he thought. But I can get by for now. I can answer this question without making a fool of myself. ¡°Aether is a substance that exists under, around, between, and through all of existence,¡± he said. ¡°Manipulating it is how magic works. The way we manipulate is determined by four things: expertise and engine, which are about the person doing the magic; and, emotion and, uh¡­ expectation, which are about the universe¡¯s response to the magic. Or to the attempt, I think.¡± Tia offered up a high five. ¡°Nicely put. Now, I know Zeke and I both mentioned we tended to prefer structured magic over spontaneous. The thing is: that preference generally holds true for most serious casters. Do you have any sense about why that is?¡± ¡°Because the structure has a stabilizing effect,¡± Aaron answered, recalling Mallory¡¯s dire warnings about magic gone awry. ¡°In more ways than one,¡± Tia agreed. ¡°Zeke had that whole spiel about the engine of magic being a trinary and not a spectrum, but I actually disagree with him on that to some degree, probably because he comes from the much older traditions.¡± She opened her notebook and drew two lines across a blank page, one vertical and one horizontal, intersecting each other near the middle of the page. At the bottom of the vertical axis, she wrote spontaneous and, at the top, structured. Then she drew a circle around the point where the two lines intersected. Aaron¡¯s vague recollection of high school math classes told him that point was called the origin, but it might have been something like the vertex or the vector. ¡°Truly spontaneous magic is down here at the bottom,¡± Tia said, drawing an X at the very bottom of the vertical axis. ¡°The trappings of the magic ¡ª whether material or mental ¡ª are completely improvised and without precedent for the caster, like when you conjured that weird club thing. But as soon as you impose any kind of planned form¡­¡± She moved her pen so it rested near the circle at the center of the graph. ¡°I think I see what you mean,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Because any structure at all will skip from the extreme bottom of the Y-axis up to the center or slightly above. It¡¯s like a¡­ a scale with a toggle before it, I guess.¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s exactly how I see it,¡± Tia beamed. ¡°Anyways, the stabilizing effect of structure comes in three forms. First, it can effectively increase the expertise of the casting. Second, it can provide a perspective or framework of thinking that helps with the emotional aspect of manipulating aether. And third, it can decrease the pushback that comes from expectation. People expect magic to involve doing magic shit, so doing magic shit makes magic more possible, if that makes sense.¡± Tia pulled over the pile of books Katrina had left on the table and spread them out in front of Aaron. For all that their subjects seemed suitably arcane and mysterious, they looked relatively modern. They weren¡¯t ancient, musty tomes of illuminated script on vellum and parchment or even the fancy, leatherbound affairs one might find with law or medical texts. ¡°These are a few of the latest editions of basic reference materials, compendiums, and syllabaries,¡± Tia explained. ¡°There¡¯s three that should really be where you put most of your attention early on.¡± She pushed a trio of books closer to Aaron, describing each in turn. ¡°Quinta Essentia: A Primer covers a lot of the concepts we¡¯ve already discussed but goes into much greater detail. It has a really excellent section on how different cultures have interpreted and influenced aether throughout history. Symbolic Resonance focuses on how the symbolism of an act can empower magic. It discusses common connections and how they¡¯re interpreted and has a lot of good information about the use of materials in spellcraft. Lastly, Language of Power explores language as a part of performing magic. It has really solid insights into the different forms that can take, from sounds or intonations to written runes and words of power.¡± Aaron scooped the books up into a pile. ¡°Are you telling me performing magic can be as easy as saying some magic words?¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°No no no, not at all,¡± Tia laughed. ¡°You still have to influence the aether with your will and intent. But some ideas have been used by so many people for so long they can have a significant impact on each of the axes of magic. Their role in a caster¡¯s expertise and engine are obvious enough, but they can influence expectation and help respond to the emotion of casting.¡± Tia¡¯s comment on the emotion of casting drew Aaron¡¯s mind back to the overwhelming feelings he¡¯d experienced in the last Tribulation, when he¡¯d been locked in the Vault and covered in vermin. He¡¯d pulled those feelings into a condensed core of magic and given them a form as a weapon. He remembered how precarious his control had been when he was creating it and now he knew how dangerous his desperate effort had been. What he realized, however, was that the threat of the spell destabilizing wasn¡¯t even the most upsetting aspect of his first spell. Aaron had dragged his own emotions out of his psyche and made them manifest yet their connection to him had remained, muted and concealed by the magic but no less impactful for that distance. When those emotions had been released, they had rushed back into him. It had been like experiencing every feeling as they had occurred in those few minutes in the space of a single moment, one rush of feeling implanting itself back into his mind. How horrific might that have been for an experience more unpleasant than being squicked out by some bugs? ¡°I can see why people might prefer structure over spontaneity,¡± he admitted. ¡°Right?¡± Tia said. ¡°Anyways, you should read over those on your own. I don¡¯t know what kind of learning works best for you, but I figure there¡¯s no point in sitting here saying all the shit you¡¯re going to read later. Instead, we¡¯re going to learn by doing.¡± She turned the page of her notebook with the graph outlining spellcasting so that a blank sheet of paper sat before them. With a deft hand, Tia quickly drew a number of simple shapes and symbols. They included things as rudimentary as circles and triangles as well as more esoteric figures that Aaron didn¡¯t have a name for. ¡°For your very first lesson, we¡¯re going to try casting one of the oldest and most reliable chanterns,¡± Tia said. ¡°Chanterns are among the most basic of structured magic. A lot of them are ancient, but what really defines them is that they¡¯re all very simple, limited in scope, and require almost no aetheric power. They¡¯re used as starter spells in a lot of traditions.¡± ¡°So they¡¯re like cantrips in Dungeons & Dragons,¡± Aaron mused. Tia¡¯s mouth curled thoughtfully. ¡°Cantrip is another common term for chanterns, actually. A chantern won¡¯t include more than two or three very basic symbols. Sometimes there¡¯s a very brief incantation, just one word more often than not. The one we¡¯re going to do creates a source of light.¡± ¡°Cool! So what do I do?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve probably noticed that a bit more than random fragments about mythics and magic have survived in the common consciousness,¡± Tia said. ¡°Some of the symbols I¡¯ve drawn here are good examples because they¡¯ve been present in various cultures around the world since basically forever. There¡¯s a near-infinite number of ways a spell can be crafted by an experienced mythic, but we¡¯re going to rely on some very old and broadly understood symbols for simplicity¡¯s sake.¡± She turned to another blank page in her notebook and drew a large triangle covering the bottom half of the page, its tip pointed upward. ¡°This is one of four symbols that alchemists started using centuries ago to represent the four classical elements: earth, water, air, and fire,¡± Tia explained. ¡°This specific symbol ¡ª an upwards-pointing equilateral triangle ¡ª represents fire. Since our goal isn¡¯t to create fire, but light, what do you think we could add to change the meaning?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m equipped to answer that,¡± Aaron said. ¡°There¡¯s no wrong answer here, I¡¯m just trying to get a sense of how you think.¡± A number of possibilities sprang into Aaron¡¯s mind but he didn¡¯t feel confident in any of them. There was simply too much he didn¡¯t know. But Tia was waiting for an answer, so he decided to pick the two that made the most sense to him. Better to make a specific choice, even if it might be wrong, than take the risk he¡¯d start rambling. ¡°Well, if I was going to use another classical element, I¡¯d add the symbol for either air or water since both are capable of filtering the heat of a flame without blocking the light. But the rationale there seems kinda flimsy, so it might be better to add some of those squiggly lines to represent the light that emanates from fire. I¡¯m not sure if mixing traditions is a good idea, though.¡± ¡°Those are all perfectly reasonable ideas and I think you could build a chantern on any of them,¡± Tia said. ¡°As a matter of fact, the one I¡¯m going to show you incorporates both of your ideas at the same time, just not the way you expressed them.¡± She spun the notebook around and drew a mirror of her first triangle, with the points of their tips touching. ¡°You could look at this as adding water as a filter, like you described, because the inverted triangle is the symbol of water,¡± she said, gesturing with her pen from the base of each triangle and up towards its apex. ¡°Alternately, you can look at it as fire opposing and reflecting itself, which would create light but doesn¡¯t do much to solve our heat problem. But if we¡¯re going to play with perspective and look at this as fire coming from two different angles, then what if we did something like this.¡± She turned the notebook so that the triangles were sideways, like an infinity symbol instead of a figure eight. ¡°As it so happens, this particular symbol is also quite old and rather well known, too. It is called dagaz and comes from the Elder Futhark, the runic alphabet used by some Germanic peoples going back just under two thousand years. Can you guess what the rune, by itself, means?¡± ¡°I mean, it has to be ¡®light,¡¯ right?¡± ¡°Oh my god, wouldn¡¯t that be perfect?¡± Tia laughed. ¡°No, it means ¡®day.¡¯ And if there¡¯s two things we associate with the day, it¡¯s a ball of fire that doesn¡¯t burn (much) and¡­ light.¡± ¡°Ah, sure, that makes sense,¡± Aaron said, although the logic seemed a bit¡­ wonky to him. ¡°So what am I supposed to do with that?¡± ¡°You pair it with a very short invocation, like I said earlier, which is usually no more than one or two syllables for a chantern. Lumos has become very popular recently, but the specific words are up to you.¡± Aaron scratched his head, then put his hand down quickly. He didn¡¯t want to give the slightest impression he was some dumb ape, but he felt like he was missing something really obvious here and didn¡¯t see any way to fix it except by asking. ¡°But what do I do with the symbol?¡± he asked. ¡°Do I draw the rune on a piece of paper and shout the word light?¡± ¡°You can but that seems a little melodramatic to me,¡± Tia said, raising an eyebrow at him. ¡°So then am I supposed to just, like, contemplate the idea of this rune and that¡¯s it?¡± Tia nodded. ¡°You could do that, too. Visualizing the rune forming in your mind is a pretty classic way to do things. Or you could use simple gestures, like this.¡± She held her hand out, her index and middle fingers extended and split into a V shape that she pointed at Aaron. Then she pulled her hand away, back towards herself, bringing her fingers together then opening them again as she moved. Aaron could almost see the lines of dagaz she had traced in the air with her gesture. ¡°Chanterns are well-defined but they still give the caster a lot of room to individualize them,¡± Tia said. ¡°Visualization, drawing or carving symbols, or gestures and movements that cement them in your mind, these are all viable ways to perform a spell, especially one as simple as this.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I think I get it.¡± ¡°Awesome! Then let there be light, dude.¡± Aaron drew in a long breath then slowly blew it out, letting his mind rush through all the possibilities while he tuned them out. Ignoring that kind of mental static was difficult, but Aaron could manage it for a little while. He already knew the method he wanted to use but he had to let his fucking brain do its running-in-circles thing or there was no way he¡¯d be able to focus. After about a minute, his thoughts settled into a dull hum somewhere in the background of his mind and he figured it was as good a time as any to give the spell a try. His first spell. Well, if you didn¡¯t count the cudgel or blade or whatever the hell he¡¯d summoned back in the Vault. He pictured the rune being drawn in his mind, vibrant strands of energy forming in the very air around him. It started at the point where the two symbols met, then filaments of magic spilled outwards, forming bundled fibers that traced the lines of the rune. This energy cascaded outward like a flame slowly eating paper, more of the rune forming in the space right in front of Aaron. As it reached the bases on the end and began to close the rune and Aaron began to plan for the word he would use to conjure this phantasmal light, he wondered how it would look shining on him and Tia. Would it be flattering or would it make him look weird and ugly? The energy in Aaron¡¯s visualization of the rune destabilized, bleeding out of the two arms of the triangle instead of sealing the ends of the rune. It pulled all the arcane energy with it from the core of the formation, causing the entire thing to fade and wink out before Aaron fully registered what was going on. It happened so fast he still blurted out most of the incantation he¡¯d been planning to use, although it was influenced by the unexpected change. ¡°Fucks,¡± he mumbled. Tia¡¯s lips rolled into an incredulous smile as she gave him the side eye. ¡°Fucks? That¡¯s an interesting choice of magic words.¡± Aaron shook his head, still not entirely sure what had just happened. He couldn¡¯t seem to get his voice to work either, not after the masterpiece of eloquence that was ¡®fucks.¡¯ Thankfully, Tia stepped in to offer him enlightenment. ¡°You can tell me if I¡¯m way off base, but would it be fair to say that you just ran face first into the emotion part of casting?¡± she asked. ¡°Maybe a weird feeling, intrusive thought, or distracting awareness of something around you?¡± Aaron nodded, his brain still not wanting to word for his mouthing goodly. ¡°That¡¯s completely understandable,¡± Tia reassured him. ¡°Even minor emotional distortions can be a major pain in the ass for people just starting to learn magic.¡± That got Aaron¡¯s brain in gear and he shook his head vehemently. ¡°I¡¯m usually really good at keeping a handle on my emotions,¡± he said. ¡°I mean, I conjured some kind of ultimate weapon while experiencing extreme emotional distress.¡± ¡°If I had to guess, I¡¯d say the difference is you were able to focus on your emotions then and this time it caught you completely unaware while you already had most of your attention directed to an entirely novel kind of thinking.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Aaron admitted. ¡°Don¡¯t stress over it,¡± Tia said. ¡°Let¡¯s grab some dinner and we¡¯ll keep working at it back at the apartment. Okay?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Aaron replied. ¡°That sounds awesome.¡± Tia stood up and Aaron followed suit. ¡°Don¡¯t forget your books,¡± she told him, packing up her notebook. ¡°Right,¡± he said and slipped them, one after the other, into his pocket dimension. ¡°That¡¯s so awesome.¡± ¡°Magic almost always is,¡± Tia agreed. With their things collected, they left the study room. Chapter 80 - Rooftop Distractions Aaron and Tia wound up having to wait, like a pair of teenagers sitting outside the mall, loitering because they were out of money and waiting for a parent to show up in an SUV to ferry them home. That wasn¡¯t all that far from the truth, actually, as both had forgotten Kiara¡¯s request to send word at least ten minutes in advance of wanting to leave. After sending a text to the fiery drakus woman, it didn¡¯t really give them time to do much more than loaf about the main chamber of the archive. It gave them enough wiggle room to discuss their options for dinner, at least. That was another thing they¡¯d need to send word ahead for, as they were likely to order more than any restaurant could reasonably make on demand. Even limiting themselves to just two or three dinners¡¯ worth of food each would be enough to put a strain on most kitchens. For the most part, they weighed the benefits and drawbacks between getting food from a single place or spreading it out like they had their previous meals together. Variety of choice had its advantages, but there was something to be said for exploring different dishes offered in any single cuisine. When the delvers joined them a few minutes later, they sat in the lounge near the entrance of the archive and got down to specifics. There was a momentary awkwardness as Kiara insisted that the delvers would take their dinner separately and didn¡¯t want to intrude, but Aaron made it clear they were welcome and he¡¯d be glad to have dinner with them, just as he had breakfast and lunch. She relented eventually ¡ª with some pointed looks from Albert and Griffin ¡ª but largely refrained from voicing an opinion over the specifics of where they should go or what they should get. Settling on what to order ¡ª Indian, Chinese, and Italian, of all the oddball combinations ¡ª wound up taking a lot less time than actually picking up the food did. Even though they ordered from places close to the apartment, stopping at three different restaurants to pick up several large orders was bound to be a mildly time-consuming affair, especially at the tail end of the dinner rush. On their way back uptown, Aaron spotted a motorcycle behind them several times. It was keeping a good distance so he likely wouldn¡¯t have noticed on the city streets, but the Byways were largely empty. There was a moment, when he first noticed the tail, where fear clutched at his throat and he felt that unwanted coldness start to tingle in his spine. He quickly realized, however, that it was most likely a sign of the heightened security in the aftermath of the ambush under Paramount Plaza. Since none of the other drakus in the car mentioned it ¡ª and it was highly implausible that not one of them had made the same observation he had, given their relative levels of experience ¡ª Aaron reigned in his fear. He kept an eye out for the tail, of course, but he didn¡¯t let it consume his thoughts and he didn¡¯t give voice to the shadow of panic. On top of helping Aaron spot the motorcycle, the Byways also allowed them to get from the Drakon¡¯s spooky, windowless monolith in Tribeca to the apartment in upper Manhattan, numerous bags filled with dinner in hand, in less than an hour. The wonders of magic are truly a boundless marvel to make Manhattan traffic such a trivial thing, Aaron thought as they parked in the mysteriously empty space right in front of their building. They ate around the little table in Aaron¡¯s apartment and dinner passed with plenty of companionable conversation. The delvers even managed to avoid any major arguments amongst themselves, which might have been some kind of record from what Aaron had seen. He avoided pushing the gaming angle, if only so he wouldn¡¯t paint himself as some kind of basement-dweller in Tia¡¯s eyes. There was something he wanted to bring up with his trio of defenders and the conclusion of their meal seemed like a good time for it. ¡°I was wondering, how safe is it to hang out on the roof?¡± he asked. In addition to a latent-yet-insidious desire to learn and practice magic with Tia under the night sky, Aaron had always wanted to hang out on a New York rooftop. It was the kind of thing you saw in movies and TV shows that never seemed to be replicated in any other setting. Kiara¡¯s lips pursed in thought. ¡°Fairly safe. We have enough time to inform the next shift so that it won¡¯t be disruptive to the changeover. How long were you planning to stay up there?¡± ¡°Probably just an hour or so, while Tia and I do some more basic magic stuff.¡± ¡°Then it¡¯s no problem,¡± Kiara said, pulling out her phone. ¡°We can head up whenever you like.¡± A couple minutes later they climbed the last steps in the building¡¯s stairwell and Griffin used his keystone to open the access door. As they stepped out into the rapidly darkening twilight, Aaron saw that the roof was everything he could have hoped for and then some. Their building was almost three times as long as it was wide and the roof was six or seven feet higher than the buildings on either side of it. A four foot high brick parapet wall ran along three sides, adding more height, and the front was guarded by the cornice that crowned the fa?ade of the apartments. Pains had been taken to make sure the roof was a habitable and usable space. Hedges lined the long sides of the building, set in wooden planters with attached benches. Several wooden picnic-style tables and benches had been placed to accompany them, creating enough space to host dozens of people (and plenty of hot dogs or burgers). In the rear, a lounge area had been created under a semi-permanent pavilion tent with sturdy canvas walls and windows made of flexible plastic. A comfortable sectional couch anchored one side of the tent and a huge standing television the other. A wide coffee table and several sturdy wood chairs had been added to provide more seating options and fill out the space. There was even a cluster of tall patio heaters standing near the access door, ready to be spread around the roof to warm up a party when the nights turned cool. ¡°Damn, this building is amazing,¡± Aaron said, taking in the space. He could practically imagine all the rooftop parties you could host, filled with intellectuals and cool artistic types. ¡°It¡¯s cozy yet versatile, that¡¯s why I chose it,¡± Tia agreed. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to live somewhere that was super lux even though I know that¡¯s, like, the thing for so many New Yorkers. It warms my cold little heart to hear that you think it¡¯s nice, too.¡± Albert, Griffin, and Kiara spread out around the roof, taking up positions near the edges. Albert stationed himself near the fire escape at the rear of the building, Griffin by the cornice at the front, and Kiara settled onto a bench right near the middle. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, an ultramodern, super ritzy apartment might be cool, but this building is just about perfect as far as I¡¯m concerned,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Did you do all the decorating yourself?¡± ¡°I had some help with the specifics, but a lot of it was my idea.¡± ¡°That¡¯s awesome,¡± Aaron said earnestly. ¡°Now, bearing in mind how cool I think that is, I hope you¡¯ll give me a little leeway with what happens next.¡± Tia¡¯s brows furrowed. ¡°What do you mean? What happens next?¡± Aaron pulled out and lit a cigarette. Another fun little perk of his new pocket spatial storage was that he could lift a single smoke right out of the pack with little more than a twitch of his fingers. Naturally, no sooner had he lit his cigarette than three more lighters flickered to life around the rooftop as the delvers joined him in their shared hooliganry. I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s ¡®hooliganry¡¯ and not ¡®hooliganism,¡¯ Aaron thought. Because we¡¯re not breaking any laws or being violent at the moment. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. He took a drag and held it, waiting to see what Tia¡¯s response to his worst habit would be. He hoped it wouldn¡¯t sour their friendship but he wasn¡¯t willing to hide this part of himself either. ¡°What the shit do you mean?¡± she demanded again. ¡°What happens next?¡± Aaron glanced over at Griffin, who was the closest of the delvers. The large man blew smoke out of his nostrils and shrugged. Aaron had absolutely no idea what the shrug was meant to communicate, so maybe it was pointless to look to the delvers for input here. Or maybe Griffin was just being noncommittal to screw with him. ¡°Uh, this?¡± Aaron said, lifting his cigarette up. ¡°That I¡¯m a dirty, dirty smoker.¡± Tia blew air out between her teeth as she dropped her bag on a picnic table and sat down on the bench behind it. ¡°Listen, buddy, I think you misunderstand some things about me,¡± Tia said, bordering on indignation. ¡°First of all, I¡¯m not a nanny to worry about what you do or don¡¯t do if it doesn¡¯t concern me. Second of all, it¡¯s not like they¡¯re going to be bad for your teeth or health thanks to your drakus constitution. Third of all, there¡¯s magic that can deal with the lingering smell, if I decide I give a crap.¡± She paused and took a breath. ¡°But the big thing, the most-of-all thing, is: both of my parents are doctors; both of my parents were in the military; and, both of my parents are Korean. I consider myself lucky that I''m not out here chaining Arirangs or Esses every damned night.¡± ¡°Damn girl, you¡¯re kinda hardcore.¡± ¡°No shit, Sherlock,¡± she replied. ¡°Now sit your ass down and try to do the chantern of light again.¡± Aaron, wisely, did as instructed. This time, he decided to take a more cautious approach to performing the cantrip than he had back in the archive. Rather than diving right into an active visualization of the whole process, he started with the rune, dagaz. His theory was that it would be a good exercise to picture it in his mind¡¯s eye, to focus on and try to cement its existence in his thoughts. That was simple enough. Even if Aaron¡¯s mind wasn¡¯t perfectly focused, he was good enough at working through distraction to tune out the little things. He could even take the occasional slow drag of his cigarette as he tried to familiarize himself with the basic symbol as deeply as he could. You have the rune, now add the aether, he told himself. You¡¯ve done this before, you can do it again. To avoid pushing too hard and creating another unstable aether construct, Aaron changed his approach at this step, as well. Instead of a strong flow of energy bursting from a central point and spreading through the rune, he imagined that power as a faint light. This light was, in his mind, behind the rune. It illuminated each line of the character evenly at the same time. The light began to grow steadily stronger, the brightness increasing with the relaxed speed of a sink filling. The construct was approaching some kind of critical mass; Aaron could feel it. Before it got all the way there, however, the phone in his pocket buzzed. He tried to brush this new distraction away. When it buzzed in his pocket a second time, the light of his visualization vibrated with it then slipped away, leaving only the dark rune behind in his mental construct. ¡°Dammit,¡± he sighed, yanking his phone out of his pocket. ¡°Tough break,¡± Tia said. ¡°Don¡¯t let it discourage you!¡± ¡°Who even has this number?¡± Aaron wondered aloud as he checked the phone. There were two messages, as expected. The first told him they were coming from Alice. The second asked when it would be convenient for her to visit his apartment to prepare extra defenses against attacks on his dreams. He sent back that he would probably be available in an hour or two and got a quick reply that Alice would be by around the end of that window, near eleven o¡¯clock. Aaron went back to trying to conjure the light with the cantrip Tia had shown him. Even with another fifteen to twenty attempts, he never quite managed to conjure more than a brief flicker. The problems mostly came at the same place and in the same form ¡ª a distraction or errant thought right as the aether felt like it was reaching a climax. Even stopping completely to smoke another cigarette and reset his concentration didn¡¯t get him over the hurdle. ¡°God shitting dammit,¡± he cursed after another failed attempt. ¡°I just can¡¯t seem to get the hang of this, even if I¡¯m close.¡± Tia patted him on the arm. ¡°These things can take time. What you should do is read over those books and familiarize yourself with the concepts. Building up confidence in the fundamentals of magic can be a big help for performing it.¡± ¡°Confidence? Why is that?¡± ¡°Magic is an expression of will and desire but it¡¯s also about belief, so confidence can fill in gaps for focus and control,¡± Tia replied. ¡°You think all those upwards-failing morons sitting in C-suites and senior partners¡¯ offices are there solely because of institutional prejudice?¡± ¡°I mean, yes? Like, categorically yes.¡± Tia laughed softly. ¡°Sexism, racism, and all those other shitty human biases can only go so far when they¡¯re weighed against the risk to the bottom line posed by incompetence. Greed and selfishness usually play a much bigger role in decision-making than bigotry. After all, there¡¯s no shortage of bigots out there who will happily work with people they despise as long as they stand to profit and can do it quietly.¡± ¡°Fine, I can see your point there, but what does the proliferation of successful idiots have to do with magic?¡± ¡°A lot of those idiots are benefitting from glamours like Alice¡¯s, only they¡¯re usually way less powerful and much more subtle,¡± Tia said. ¡°Sometimes, family members will put the whammy on a jerk-ass relative ¡ª to uphold the legacy and all that patrician nonsense, you know? ¡ª but as often as not it¡¯s an unconscious manifestation of latent mystic talent and not a nefarious conspiracy to create an arcane idiocracy.¡± Aaron scratched his head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure being sexy would take anyone that far professionally and it¡¯s not like extreme sexiness is a common thing for the power suit crowd.¡± Tia laughed again, louder this time. ¡°I said it was like Alice¡¯s glamour, not that it was the same. Her magic makes people who would already want to be with her ¡ª romantically or sexually ¡ª want it more. It¡¯s about attraction and intimacy. For the executive types, it¡¯s more like getting people to want to agree with them, or maybe to earn their respect and approval. So if they say things with confidence ¡ª even if it¡¯s a mish-mash of vague jargon and buzzwords ¡ª the glamour makes it seem at least marginally respectable because disagreeing with them would cause them to dislike you.¡± ¡°Holy shit,¡± Aaron said. ¡°That¡¯s insidious.¡± ¡°Thankfully, it¡¯s fairly mild most of the time, especially compared to the mojo Alice shackled herself with. Someone with a mystic executive boost as strong as Alice¡¯s sex appeal would probably turn into a cult leader or dictator or something.¡± ¡°Speaking of Alice, she¡¯s coming by in a little over an hour to help set up extra defenses against dream magic,¡± Aaron said. Tia stood from the bench. ¡°Let¡¯s head back downstairs then. There¡¯s some stuff I¡¯d like to test before she gets here.¡± She leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. ¡°Warm and fuzzy tests that are best handled in private, if you know what I mean.¡± Aaron did not, in fact, know what she meant. For a full five seconds. His brain could not disengage from the way it completely misread the moment. Then, he remembered what ¡ª or rather, who ¡ª was secretly waiting downstairs in his apartment. He took it as a good sign there hadn¡¯t been any interruptions when they had dinner, but he suspected there were going to be consequences for coming home and not stopping in to say hello. I should have snuck off to the bathroom or something, he thought ruefully. To check in real quick, if nothing else. I hope he¡¯s not too pissed at me. ¡°Sounds like a plan,¡± Aaron said, standing up to join her. They said their goodnights to Albert, Griffin, and Kiara and went back downstairs to Aaron¡¯s apartment. Once they were in, he double- and triple-checked to make sure the interior locks were slotted into place ¡ª giving him maximum protection against anyone opening the front door and seeing something he¡¯d rather they didn¡¯t ¡ª then headed back to his bedroom. The television was still playing quietly, just as he¡¯d left it that morning. Aaron could barely hear it until he was only a few feet from the bedroom door, which stood slightly ajar. Again, just as he¡¯d left it that morning. He walked into the flickering gloom of his bedroom, bracing himself for whatever scolding was about to come his way. Instead, something leapt at him from the shadows, heading right for his head. He tried to flinch away from it but was too slow. It covered his face and plunged his vision into darkness. Chapter 81 - Its Science, of a Sort ¡°Hbblmabbafmph!¡± Aaron tried to say. ¡°Oh, did you remember how to speak baby gibberish?¡± Baby Bear asked, before remembering he was quite mad at Aaron. His furry brow furrowed. ¡°Is that why you forgot to give me hello snuggles when you got home?¡± Then, having ensured Aaron was aware of the source of his ire, he began to smack Aaron on the sides of his head with both paws. Bap! Bap! Bap! The bear maintained his position attached to Aaron¡¯s head like a barnacle by squinching his tummy and head on either side of the man¡¯s face. ¡°Miforry,¡± Aaron protested, through a faceful of fuzz. ¡°You better be,¡± Baby Bear responded. Aaron peeled the teddy bear off his face and carried him out into the living area of the apartment. Tia was seated at the dinette table waiting for them and she waved to the bear as they came out of the hallway. ¡°Are you ready for some tests, Baby Bear?¡± she asked. Bear leapt down from Aaron¡¯s arms onto the table. ¡°You bet,¡± he replied. ¡°Let¡¯s start with some really basic stuff,¡± she said. ¡°Let me just get my notebook.¡± She retrieved a small journal ¡ª about the size of a paperback novel ¡ª from her bag. It was bound in what looked like very fine grain leather and sealed by two clasps on the corners. There was almost certainly some kind of magic involved in unlocking the journal, but all Aaron saw was Tia press her fingers to the clasps and they popped open with a soft click. ¡°Let¡¯s start simple,¡± she said. Tia began to take measurements of Baby Bear with a disappointingly mundane tape measure, recording each in her notebook. She didn¡¯t just measure his total height or the circumference of his stomach, but of every conceivable thing she could. How long his arms and legs were, the size of his feet, the height and width of each ear, his full arm span, and so much more. Bear endured it all with good humor, though not without the occasional squirming or giggle as he accused Tia of tickling him unnecessarily. When she was done, she dropped the tape measure back into her bag. ¡°Why all the different measurements?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°To see if Baby Bear grows,¡± Tia replied, pulling out something that looked like a meat thermometer with thin hooks coming out of the top and bottom. ¡°Grab onto this hook, please, and hold on as tight as you can.¡± When Baby Bear placed his paw against the hook, Tia lifted the whole thing off the table from the other end until Bear was dangling a few inches above the dinette¡¯s surface. He laughed merrily and kicked his nubby little feet, starting to swing back and forth. ¡°Can you hold still a minute, Bear?¡± Tia asked, steadying him. ¡°As still as you can, like you¡¯re practicing to pretend you¡¯re just a regular teddy bear when other people are around.¡± ¡°Okiedokie,¡± Bear agreed, relaxing so that he dangled limply from the hook. ¡°Just a smidgen under two pounds,¡± Tia remarked, jotting it down in her notebook. ¡°That¡¯s so light,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I guess I never really thought about how little he weighed.¡± Tia stowed her hanging scale back in her bag. ¡°It¡¯s just about right for a teddy bear his size, but here¡¯s something that might really cook your noodle: we watched Bear eat at least a quarter pound of food at dinner the other night, so where the hell is all of that?¡± ¡°I eated it,¡± Bear pointed out, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°You sure did and I¡¯m glad you liked it,¡± Tia said, pulling an honest to god stethoscope out. ¡°But where did it go? Is there just, like, a mashed-up lump of orange chicken sitting in your stomach right this second? Do you have a stomach? Did you digest it? Do you poop!?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not even in the woods,¡± Baby Bear said. Tia¡¯s expression was perplexed. ¡°Why would it matter if we were in the woods?¡± ¡°Because that¡¯s where bears shit,¡± Aaron said drily, rolling his eyes as Baby Bear flopped onto his butt, snickering and kicking his feet gleefully. ¡°Anyways, I dunno about stomachs,¡± Bear finally said, ¡°but I¡¯ve had enough of Aaron¡¯s poop, pee, and puke on me to know that it is very not cute and I¡¯m proud to say I don¡¯t do any of that gross stuff.¡± Tia shot a look at Aaron, who held up his hands defensively. ¡°Just to be absolutely clear, here: I was given Bear on the day I was born. Like, getting him was the very first thing that ever happened to me after I stopped being physically attached to another person. So there were a few years where I didn¡¯t have a whole lot of say about when or where I was, uh, purging my system, as it were.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± Tia said with a snort. She set a pack of cookies down on the table and placed the tips of the stethoscope into her ears. ¡°I¡¯d still like to figure out as much as we can about you, Bear, if only so we can make sure we¡¯re taking good care of you. Would you be willing to eat some of those cookies on the table there? For science?¡± Baby Bear, who was already in the process of opening the wrapper, looked up at Tia. ¡°Well¡­ I guess¡­ if it¡¯s for science¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s science,¡± Tia said. ¡°Of a sort.¡± Aaron poked Bear gently on the back of the head. ¡°Pay him no mind, Tia, or this charade of long-suffering sacrifice. I might not know a lot about autonomous constructs, but I know Baby Bear. If there are cookies close at hand, he¡¯ll be interested in them.¡± As if to prove Aaron¡¯s point, Baby Bear began to eat the cookies, one after another. While he happily worked his way through the packet, Tia pressed the listening bell of the stethoscope against different parts of the stuffed animal¡¯s body. At one point, she even leaned over the table so she could try to see into his mouth as he ate. Baby Bear, however, apparently had good enough manners not to chew with his mouth open. An impressive feat, considering he basically had no lips. Tia hummed thoughtfully as Baby Bear finished the last of the cookies in the package. She pulled the stethoscope out of her ears and draped it around her neck, then rummaged around in her bag some more. After a moment, she pulled out a small flashlight and, of all things, a tongue depressor. ¡°Popskickles?¡± Bear asked hopefully. His big ears had perked up, but they soon flopped over again. ¡°Oh wait, those are doctor sticks.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Yes they are, Bear. That¡¯s exactly right. Would you open your mouth and say ¡®ah¡¯ please?¡± Baby Bear considered the request for a moment, then nodded his large head. ¡°I can say ¡®aw,¡¯ and that¡¯s pretty close, only more cuter.¡± The bear did as promised, making a noise like someone seeing a kitten trapped in a length of ribbon, which allowed Tia to peer into his puppet-like mouth and place the wooden plank where a tongue would be. The examination only lasted a couple seconds. Baby Bear¡¯s ¡®aw¡¯ was soon cut off by a ¡®grk¡¯ and he swatted away the tongue depressor, working his mouth like he¡¯d taste something sour. ¡°You poked me,¡± Bear complained. He pointed an accusatory paw in Tia¡¯s direction. ¡°You poked me in the back of my mouth!¡± ¡°Sorry!¡± Tia said. ¡°I wanted to see if there was any kind of opening to a throat or something like that. I didn¡¯t think it would be uncomfortable for you or anything, so that¡¯s my bad.¡± ¡°Well there¡¯s not,¡± Bear grumped. Tia patted the bear on the head. ¡°I know, I see that now, and I¡¯m sorry. I have no clue where anything you eat goes. I think I might have a test for that, though. Maybe.¡± She considered Baby Bear for a moment. ¡°Do you know where the things you eat go?¡± ¡°I eated them,¡± Bear said with a shrug. ¡°They¡¯re eaten.¡± ¡°That has implications so horrifying I don¡¯t even want to think about them,¡± Tia said, shuddering. ¡°I will, but later. Let¡¯s move on for now. You don¡¯t seem to breathe, Bear, do you need to?¡± Bear shrugged again. ¡°I dunno.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s see how long you can hold your breath, if you¡¯re up for it.¡± Baby Bear was, but only after he extracted more apologies, pets, and pats from the young woman. It turned out the bear either didn¡¯t need to breathe ¡ª which might have been true of Aaron, too; he had to remember to test that! ¡ª or he could hold his breath for at least ten minutes. A quick phone search showed that the world record, even for normal humans, was over twice that. Tia made a note in her journal and said they could test that more thoroughly later. ¡°What about sleep?¡± she asked. ¡°Can you sleep? Do you need to?¡± ¡°Ooh, I know the answer to that one!¡± Bear said proudly. After a few quiet seconds, it became obvious that Baby Bear was too satisfied to have the answer to the question to remember he hadn¡¯t actually bothered to share it with them. ¡°And?¡± Aaron prompted. ¡°And what?¡± ¡°Do you need to sleep?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Baby Bear replied. ¡°The answer is: sorta!¡± ¡°What the heck does that mean?¡± Aaron complained. ¡°Can you tell us more about that, Bear?¡± Tia asked. ¡°Do you mean that you¡¯re more like a cat ¡ª a light sleeper that¡¯s easy to wake up ¡ª or like a dolphin ¡ª with only part of your brain or consciousness or whatever asleep at a time?¡± ¡°Ummm¡­ more like the second one, I think,¡± Baby Bear said. ¡°When it comes to sleeping, anyways. I¡¯m more like a kitty cat than a dolphin, in general though.¡± ¡°Because you¡¯re fuzzy and cute, right?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°And snuggly,¡± Bear replied, bouncing up to his feet. ¡°I¡¯m even more snuggly than most kitties, really, when you think about it.¡± Aaron, who had called it, said, ¡°Called it.¡± Tia jotted down some more notes in her journal. ¡°I¡¯d like to find out more about how you sleep, Bear. Can you give me a general description of what it¡¯s like? And maybe try to think of more detailed information over the next few days that you can share with me later?¡± ¡°Um, sure,¡± Bear agreed. ¡°Well, let¡¯s see. I came to life or whatever in a dream. I was playing in a park with Aaron, in the dream, and then I was also laying on a pillow in bed. It¡¯s like that.¡± ¡°You were asleep and dreaming and also awake and aware?¡± Tia clarified. ¡°I don¡¯t think he was just dreaming,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure he was in my dream, the dream I had the night I came home from breaking out of the Vault.¡± ¡°Yeah, that tracks,¡± Tia said thoughtfully. ¡°That might be something we can explore more in the future but for now let¡¯s move on to some other simple, baseline tests. Is that okay, Bear?¡± The teddy bear raised one of his arms and held a paw out towards her. Tia¡¯s eyes drifted to Aaron, looking for clarification. Aaron had no idea what that gesture was supposed to mean, either, so all he could do was shrug. ¡°Is that¡­ a yes, Baby Bear?¡± Tia asked. ¡°Oh, right,¡± Baby Bear said, examining his own paws. ¡°I don¡¯t have fingers or thumbs so you can¡¯t see me giving you a thumb¡¯s up. Or the bird! Anyways, it was supposed to be a thumb¡¯s up. This time.¡± ¡°Well, speaking of fingers, as it happens that¡¯s exactly what I wanted to test next.¡± Tia, it turned out, was deeply intrigued by how Bear¡¯s paws worked. As he had just pointed out, the stuffed animal had no apparent digits. Yet both Aaron and Tia had seen him grab and lift several different things with his paws, from picking morsels out of Chinese food cartons to grabbing the hook of a hanging scale a few minutes earlier. Tia made a circular washing gesture towards the bear. ¡°I want to figure out how, precisely, that whole thing works.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s do it!¡± Bear replied, slapping Tia¡¯s open hand with one of his round paws. ¡°High five. Or one. Or both!¡± The tests started simple. She had Bear grab, lift, and move a variety of things in different shapes and sizes to get a sense of how his grasping worked. From the outside, it looked like Bear just pressed his paw against something and it stuck. There was no other apparent mechanic to explain, it was just blatantly magical. Tia wasn¡¯t satisfied with that, though, so she had Bear trying more complex things. She had him try to twirl a length of twine around where his theoretical phantom digits would be, but the best he could do was a loop. That suggested he didn¡¯t have invisible fingers or tendrils of telekinetic force. But then he was able to do things that required very fine manipulation. He could work specific buttons on a remote control and use the keyboard on a phone to type out words both by tapping individual letters and by swiping. He could even play the role of a partner in a game of cat¡¯s cradle as long as the string stayed on Tia¡¯s fingers. Finally, she held out her index finger and asked Bear to grab onto it. ¡°Ew, gross,¡± Bear exclaimed. ¡°If you want to do a fart, do it yourself. Don¡¯t make me an accomplice to your emanations!¡± Aaron couldn¡¯t help but laugh at that, though the look on Tia¡¯s face was one of pure chagrin. It was the kind of thing only dudes would be likely to think of and Aaron didn¡¯t know if her disappointment was in herself or him and Bear. In the end, she switched from her index finger to a pinky, which was enough to convince Bear it wasn¡¯t some flatulent trick. ¡°Whoa, this is so weird,¡± Tia remarked after Bear had ¡®grabbed¡¯ her pinky. ¡°Try to pull my hand around a little, Bear, but gently. Just in case.¡± Bear nodded and began to move his paw around, dragging Tia¡¯s hand along with it. Tia had him increase the pressure he was using to grab her finger, then tried playing a gentle game of tug of war against the teddy bear using her own hand. ¡°That is one hundred percent the weirdest thing I¡¯ve ever felt,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s like there¡¯s nothing there, but that nothing is still interacting with and influencing my hand.¡± She checked the time on her phone. ¡°Okay, I think we have enough time before Alice gets here to do the last couple things I had in mind. You¡¯ve been doing great so far, Bear. Are you up for a little more testing?¡± Baby Bear extended both of his arms in front of him, paws aimed at Tia. ¡°Thumbs up, again?¡± she asked and got a nod from the bear. ¡°Awesome. I want to do some preliminary tests on how your senses work and what their limitations are.¡± Chapter 82 - All the Better to Snuggle You With ¡°There are going to be limits on how exactly we can measure your senses, but we¡¯ll do the best we can,¡± Tia told Baby Bear. ¡°Let¡¯s start with sight, okay?¡± Once again, the bear held both of his round, slightly-flattened paws out towards Tia to indicate the thumbs up. I wonder if he¡¯d hold his paws differently if he were flipping someone off, Aaron mused while Tia set something up on her phone. Phone in hand, she walked away from the dinette and down the hallway to the bedrooms. She stopped at the corner and turned around, phone held in front of her. A large E took up most of the screen. She did something with her phone that caused the E to change directions. Each time, she asked Bear to indicate what direction the legs were facing. Baby Bear got them all right. She came back towards the dinette, stopping at the end of the hall just five or six feet away from the table. When she held up her phone again, it had several lines of random letters in different sizes. It wasn¡¯t quite as many lines as Aaron was used to, but he recognized the classic eye chart right away. Bear read through the lines ¡ª which seemed to be on an app that let Tia cycle through them ¡ª with both eyes and with a paw covering each of his eyes in turn. Finally, Tia came back to the table and set down her phone. She shone a tiny flashlight in Bear¡¯s eyes for her last test and even Aaron could see that Bear¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t respond to the light in the slightest. ¡°You¡¯ve got decent vision as far as I can tell, Bear,¡± she told them. ¡°I¡¯m not an expert or anything, but I¡¯d say it¡¯s around 20/20. It¡¯s a little surprising because I thought bears were supposed to have bad eyesight.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a common misconception,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Slander and lies,¡± Bear complained. Aaron patted the bear on the head. ¡°If I remember right, the conventional wisdom is that bear¡¯s had strong senses of smell to make up for bad eyesight. But I think they see about as well as we do.¡± ¡°And bears can see in color, too,¡± Bear added. ¡°It¡¯s a conspiracy by Big Cat because they¡¯re jealous. Lions and tigers are in cahoots to make bears seem less awesome.¡± ¡°Right, well¡­ there¡¯s some other tests we can do to get a better picture of your overall vision, too,¡± Tia said. ¡°Let¡¯s do it!¡± Bear cheered. ¡°We¡¯ll show those big kitty cats who¡¯s the bestest murder floofs. It¡¯s bears, by the way.¡± For Tia¡¯s next test she pulled the drapes over the windows almost completely closed and turned off the lights. Baby Bear was able to identify how many fingers she was holding up from everywhere she stood. He could even see her standing at the end of the hall, which was the darkest place in the apartment. The truly interesting thing, to Aaron, was that he could also see her with relative ease with only a sliver of light coming in through the windows. And, he realized, she was moving around the apartment in the darkness without any obvious problems, too. So low-light vision seems common enough to drakus, Aaron thought. ¡°What about total darkness?¡± he asked when Tia came back to the table and began rummaging in her bag again. ¡°Hmm? What do you mean?¡± ¡°Well, Bear¡¯s not actually an animal and doesn¡¯t have rods or cones or irises, so he sees purely with magic, right? What if he can see even if there¡¯s no light at all?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Tia said. ¡°Your guest room doesn¡¯t have a window, right?¡± Aaron shook his head, then remembered they were mostly in the dark. ¡°It does not.¡± She pulled two things out of her bag. One was a stubby flashlight. The other looked like the world¡¯s stubbiest toy lightsaber, a tube of glass a little over a foot long extending from a thick handle. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get in there and check it out,¡± she said. Aaron scooped Baby Bear up from the table, where he had his nose in the empty cookie packet, and followed Tia to the second bedroom. The room had an odd orientation but he hadn¡¯t taken the time to give it much thought before. Now was as good a time as any and Tia might be able to shed some light on the strangeness. ¡°Do you have any idea why this room¡¯s door is on the hallway before the turn?¡± he asked. ¡°It seems odd to have it come out here instead closer to the guest bathroom.¡± ¡°Probably because it¡¯s not really a bedroom,¡± Tia said with a shrug. ¡°You have to have a window for a room to count as a bedroom, so this was probably designed as an office or something during the initial renovation to combine the two apartments.¡± In the room, Tia set her flashlight things on the dresser and began to set up for their experiment. She had Aaron pull the bedspread off the bed while she turned on the light in the closet on the far side of the room. Then she told him to sit on the bed with Baby Bear while she hung the bedspread over the door. Aaron was going to ask how she got it to stay up until he realized it was probably a trivial piece of magic for her. Very useful, though, to be able to magic up double-sided tape at will. With the door blacked out, Tia crossed the room back into the closet. She turned off the light and the room was plunged into pitch darkness. Aaron blinked at the sudden change. He could see the room with a level of detail he could only describe as severe. It lacked color. Instead, everything was in grayscale. There was something disconcerting, something off about the way everything looked. It took Aaron a few seconds to put his finger on what. There are no shadows, he realized. Holy shit, that¡¯s weird. Without shadow, nothing looked quite right. Objects had a quality ¡ª a fakeness ¡ª to them. They were surreal, almost. They were too defined yet seemed to blend into one another. Aaron¡¯s depth perception was struggling with the change, as well. He was glad he was sitting because he didn¡¯t trust himself to move much until he could adjust to the change. One other thing was clear ¡ª Baby Bear could see just as well as he could, if not better. The teddy bear waved at him happily when Aaron happened to look down while surveying the room. He was also watching Tia as she carefully progressed across the room back towards the dresser, using one hand to guide her along the wall. Seeing in the dark must not be as common as low-light vision, Aaron thought. Tia had finally made her way to the dresser. She was clearly making an effort to be as quiet as possible. Bear, standing on Aaron¡¯s lap, kept glancing up at him with a smirk as he watched her progress. Sometimes he even imitated her by miming exaggerated sneaking. Slowly, Tia felt for one of the lights on the dresser. Her hand found the shorter, regular-looking one first. She slowly lifted it up and raised it above her head. ¡°How many fingers am I holding up, now?¡± she asked. Bear looked up at Aaron and very clearly rolled his eyes. Then he raised a paw until it was just below his chin and puckered his mouth into a small O. He wasn¡¯t sure, but Aaron thought Bear was shushing him. ¡°Four,¡± the bear answered. ¡°Are you sure, Bear?¡± ¡°Four fingers held up, final answer.¡± Tia shook her head, even though she didn¡¯t know they could see her. ¡°Sorry, Bear, that¡¯s wrong.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s not,¡± Bear insisted. ¡°Four fingers and a thumb, raised above your head, holding a thingy.¡± In the lightless void of the guest room, Tia blinked several times. Then she looked up at her own, as if to confirm that she was, in fact, holding some kind of ¡®thingy.¡¯ ¡°That¡¯s¨C that¡¯s right,¡± she finally said. ¡°I know,¡± Bear boasted. ¡°Well, holy crap,¡± Tia muttered. ¡°Alright, well that was unexpected. Let¡¯s, uh, let¡¯s test a couple other things.¡± Tia swapped between the two lights she¡¯d brought into the room. Aaron suspected the flashlight was infrared and the wand-tube thing was ultraviolet, but neither he nor Baby Bear were able to see light outside the visible spectrum. After those tests, they returned to the dinette. Tia¡¯s last test of Bear¡¯s vision was to see how good his peripheral vision was, which was how they learned the most shocking thing about how Bear saw. He didn¡¯t see with his eyes, at all, but somehow perceived the world around him in every direction at the same time and with the same visual acuity. Through the clever use of advanced mystic apparatus ¡ª such as a plastic bag and a cardboard box ¡ª they were able to figure out some limits of Baby Bear¡¯s omnidirectional sight. He existed in a sensory field that extended a little over two inches around him in every direction. The field could pass through barriers, to a degree, and gave him a full field of view if even a part of it was clear. It couldn¡¯t penetrate everything, however, Some quality of an object, other than its thickness, seemed to block the field. Tia suspected it was how solid the material was, but wasn¡¯t sure. If he was inside a closed box that was larger than the field for every part of him except where his feet were touching the box, he could see as if the box weren¡¯t there at all. But if that box were placed on the dinette table, whatever quality the table had effectively closed the gap. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Baby Bear¡¯s hearing operated on the same basic principles as Aaron and Tia¡¯s. If they had him muffle his ears, it muffled his hearing. After playing around with some apps on Tia¡¯s phone for a couple minutes, they learned he could identify specific sounds at lower volumes than they could and hear much higher frequencies, as well. His sense of taste was harder to pin down. Tia had a collection of small glass ampules with droppers she had prepared. Each ampule contained a small amount of blue liquid and was meant to determine if Bear had the same basic taste buds as humans and how sensitive they were. The experiment didn¡¯t work out, though. When Tia would pull a dropper out of an ampule, Bear could identify what was in the solution by smell. Salt, sugar, lemon juice, and something Bear didn¡¯t know the name of; Tia told them it was lime pith. It only took a minute for Tia to run through about a dozen of the ampules and Bear got them all right ¡ª even the one that was just distilled water. ¡°I do wonder if your taste buds are adapted the same way a natural bear¡¯s are,¡± Tia mused, packing the box of ampules back into her bag. ¡°Like, will you enjoy flavors that a bear in the wild would that a human wouldn¡¯t?¡± ¡°You should ask the next magic teddy bear you meet,¡± Bear replied. ¡°Because I¡¯m okay chomping on some sushi and sashimi, but not so much with chewing a living fish right out of the river. And I¡¯m one hundred percent for sure not gonna eat bugs or moss or whatever.¡± Tia held her hands up in surrender. ¡°I¡¯m not judging one way or another, Bear. Anyways, how about we test your sense of smell next, seeing as it kind of wrecked the taste test.¡± ¡°Sure, bears smell great!¡± He wasn¡¯t kidding. Tia had done some basic web searches to have an idea of how good a regular, living bear¡¯s senses were, particularly compared to humans. Smell was where they shone. Not just compared to humans, but compared to every other animal in the world. ¡°Your average dog has a sense of smell a hundred times better than a human and a blood hound¡¯s is three times better than that,¡± Tia told them. ¡°A bear¡¯s sense of smell is seven times better than a blood hound¡¯s.¡± ¡°No fucking way,¡± Aaron said. ¡°That¡¯s what? More than two thousand times better than a human? That just seems made up.¡± Baby Bear held out a paw towards Aaron. It was oriented in a way he was pretty sure confirmed his early theory about a thumb¡¯s up versus flipping the bird. ¡°I know; it sounds insane,¡± Tia agreed. ¡°The internet is a festering pit of calumnies and vitriol, but it¡¯s rarely this consistent. I think there¡¯s a good chance it¡¯s true, but we still need to see how close Baby Bear is to, say, a grizzly.¡± Of course, Baby Bear was only too happy to participate in any tests that would lay their doubts to rest. To say he was smug in doing so would have been doing a disservice to smugness. He was downright haughty, even bumptious, in proving the unparalleled might of his nose. He could list every meal, snack, or drink each of them eaten going back several days, mostly in order, and with relatively good accuracy. He could smell things Aaron had eaten that Aaron didn¡¯t even remember eating and the same went for Tia. ¡°That¡¯s bullshit,¡± Aaron complained. ¡°Bear senses are bullshit.¡± ¡°Kinda makes you question how much benefit we¡¯re really getting from brushing our teeth, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Tia said while Bear took a victory lap around the dinette table. ¡°Ouch,¡± Aaron replied. ¡°Too real. And also, it makes me think of the bathroom, which I really don¡¯t want to think about after learning just how good Bear¡¯s sense of smell is.¡± The bear in question blew a raspberry ¡ª another mystery, considering he didn¡¯t have a tongue or anything resembling the rather fleshy lips of humans. ¡°I tune most of that stuff out,¡± he said. ¡°I ignore most things I can smell, actually, but that goes double for gross people stuff like poops and whatnot.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a small comfort, I guess,¡± Aaron muttered. ¡°Why in the world do bears need such powerful senses anyway?¡± ¡°All the better to snuggle you with,¡± Bear said, the picture of wisdom. ¡°I guess we¡¯re just lucky bears are dumb and can¡¯t use tools,¡± Aaron mused. ¡°Otherwise we¡¯d be screwed.¡± ¡°Damn straight,¡± Bear said. ¡°Hey, wait a minute¡­¡± ¡°Just a couple more to get through,¡± Tia said, checking her phone. ¡°Which is good because Alice should be here fairly soon.¡± The next set of tests were meant to measure Baby Bear¡¯s sensitivity to touch. Poking, pulling, prodding, pinching, using objects with different temperatures, materials, consistencies, and more all revealed that Bear felt things pretty much the same way humans did. Tia confessed she wasn¡¯t entirely confident in the accuracy of the results, however. After all, Bear could basically see anything she tried to use as a stimulus so there was no way to effectively ensure he was relying solely, or mostly, on touch alone. ¡°There is one thing, though,¡± she told the bear. ¡°You don¡¯t seem to experience any real discomfort. I¡¯m curious if you experience pain the same way we do.¡± ¡°Well, I am a bear,¡± Bear said. ¡°We¡¯re the toughest of tough!¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Tia admitted. ¡°In any case, even if you¡¯re willing to do more experiments on that subject, I¡¯m not comfortable doing any more strenuous tests without expanding my magical talents a bit. I¡¯ve never really put much attention towards restorative magic and I¡¯m not sure whether magic that heals or repairs would be more effective if you accidentally got a minor injury.¡± ¡°Pshaw! I was full of holes a week ago and my head was almost falling off. I can take it. Easier than eating bugs, that¡¯s for sure.¡± Tia considered the bear for a moment. ¡°We¡¯ll see. We can talk about it more when I come to check on you while Aaron¡¯s on his delving trip. For now, the last thing I want is to take a sample of your fur for some testing.¡± ¡°Not my fuzz,¡± Bear gasped, hugging himself. ¡°I need that. For my fuzziness!¡± ¡°I just want to snip a tiny piece from the end of a bit of your fur, not cut it down to its roots or anything. Plus it would give us a chance to see if your fur grows or regrows. That would be pretty good to know, right?¡± Baby Bear sat down and considered this for a solid two minutes, occasionally rubbing his tummy with his paws and mumbling inaudibly to himself. Aaron wanted to reassure his bear that it was okay to say no, but decided to wait until he¡¯d made a decision on his own. Setting a boundary without any input from Aaron would be good for Bear¡¯s personal growth. If he agreed, Aaron could make it clear he¡¯d support a choice either way and give Bear a chance to change his mind. Finally, Bear came to a decision. ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°But take it from the bottom of one of my footsies. It¡¯s the least snuggliest, least cutest place.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay to say no, Bear,¡± Aaron said. ¡°There will be enough times where I¡¯ll have to ask you to follow my directions even if you might not want to, but this is not one of them. Your body is your body, you have the final authority on what happens to it as far as I¡¯m concerned.¡± ¡°No doy,¡± Baby Bear said, flapping a paw dismissively in Aaron¡¯s direction. ¡°It¡¯s nice of you to say, but I already knew that. I might only be a day old but I¡¯m also older than you are. I know you better than anybody, Aaron. You¡¯re my person!¡± ¡°That¡¯s very sweet, but, uh¡­ who says ¡®no doy¡¯ anymore?¡± ¡°Not to ruin the moment,¡± Tia said, ¡°but I want to make it clear that I also would have reminded you about your bodily autonomy. Anyways¡­ let¡¯s give you the tiniest haircut.¡± She laid a piece of wax paper on the table and positioned Baby Bear so that his feet were on top of it. Then she leaned over the table, a tiny brush and pair of tweezers in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. After tousling the fur on the bottom of Bear¡¯s feet with the brush ¡ª a brutally ticklish act that caused the teddy to squeal and squirm, requiring Aaron¡¯s help to keep him still ¡ª she squeezed a tiny bit of fur with the end of her tweezers and snipped off the very tip with her scissors. Or she tried to, at least. Baby Bear¡¯s fur proved to be recalcitrant in the face of the scissor blades, with little respect for their sharpness or the physics of leverage involved in their operation. The tiny bit of fur proved to be downright disrespectful of the very purpose of any blade, in fact, remaining obdurately attached even after Tia began escalating to increasingly sharp objects in an effort to secure her sample. After five minutes of increasing frustration, Tia boastfully announced that, ¡°Play time was over!¡± and began casting spells at Baby Bear¡¯s foot. The first spell formed a shimmering barrier that rose up from the table. It was tiny, not even an inch high and only a couple inches across. It was flush with Bear¡¯s foot, which was pressed against it. Except for a small tuft of fur, the tip of which was just barely poking out over the top of the energy field. Then Tia created a second, nearly identical barrier, coming from above. The two panes of magic were almost touching, with just enough space between their edges to pinch the end of that errant tuft of fur between them. Finally, Tia performed a third spell. Carefully. So very carefully. Watching her, Aaron could see she was concentrating more intently on this sorcery than she had for the simple barriers. She didn¡¯t perform her incantation aloud, so Aaron wasn¡¯t positive what it did, but when she finished there was a woosh of air and the tiny bit of Bear¡¯s fur rustled, as if in a breeze. Yet it remained resolutely attached. ¡°What the actual shit?¡± Tia complained. ¡°How the crap did that not work!?¡± ¡°I told you I was tough,¡± Baby Bear bragged, wiggling on his butt and tapping the arcane shields with the bottoms of his feet. ¡°Built bear tough!¡± ¡°What was that spell supposed to do?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°It was a severing spell. One strong enough it could hurt a drakus, maybe even take off a finger or ear.¡± Aaron whistled. ¡°That¡¯s strong.¡± ¡°I guess I could get a microscope and some other stuff and try to just, like, plop Baby Bear on the damned thing,¡± Tia mused. ¡°That might be an option. ¡°Not exactly the most scientific of experiments that have ever been conducted, but I think you¡¯ve done a good job so far,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I¡¯m sure you can figure something out.¡± Tia sighed. ¡°We¡¯re in magic waters that might be largely uncharted and we don¡¯t have unlimited time, so I¡¯m trying to make the best of it.¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s sciencey enough,¡± Baby Bear said, patting Tia¡¯s hand gently. ¡°Barely.¡± A pause ¡ª a long pause ¡ª settled on the table like a weight. Bear broke the silence. ¡°Get it? Bear-ly? No? Well, I thought they were very good¡­ ex-bear-iments.¡± ¡°You said he was surprisingly durable, right?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Yes, very.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Aaron said, picking Baby Bear up and hurling him down the hallway. The bear cackled gleefully as he soared through the air until he hit the far wall with a fwump. ¡°And make sure you hide your fuzzy little butt in one of the drawers,¡± Aaron called down the hallway. ¡°Not just because Alice is coming but as punishment for those awful puns!¡± Baby Bear continued laughing as he waddled around the corner of the hallway towards the bedroom. Aaron¡¯s phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to find a new message. ¡°Alice will be here in five minutes,¡± he said. ¡°Awesome, I¡¯m interested to see some oneiromancy in action and she¡¯s probably the only person in the Drakon with even half a chance of doing it well,¡± Tia replied. Chapter 83 - A Mind Like Zirconium In the few minutes before Alice arrived, Tia was able to pack away all of her magical accouterment. She was especially cautious about leaving any trace, even checking the floor under and around the table. ¡°Better safe than sorry,¡± she said when Aaron raised a questioning brow at her. ¡°Alice¡¯s expertise is mostly with oneiromancy ¡ª her dream magic ¡ª but she¡¯s not totally untrained in other forms of magic.¡± Aaron was grateful Tia was taking Baby Bear¡¯s secrecy so seriously, but he had to put it out of his mind when the intercom panel at his front door buzzed and the screen lit up, showing Alice standing out on the stoop. When he got to the panel, he paused. ¡°Is there any way to check if someone is using magic to trick this thing?¡± he asked Tia over his shoulder. ¡°Not really,¡± Tia said with a shrug. Aaron swallowed hard. His hand jerked away from the button that would open the front door of the building to whomever it was standing outside. It¡¯s Alice, of course, he told himself. I mean, it¡¯s almost certainly Alice. And¡­ and she¡¯ll have to pass the security people on her way upstairs too, right? But what if it wasn¡¯t Alice? What if¡­ Aaron suddenly found himself wishing he had a weapon. Why hadn¡¯t they given him a pair of kama to take with him, just in case something happened? Or maybe left that knife with him. What had Tia called it? A reaver¡¯s blade? It seemed like a massive oversight to leave him almost entirely defenseless. Now, here he was with a stranger at the door and all he had was a wand he still struggled to use properly. The layout of his apartment sprang into his mind. How fast could he get to his bedroom, out the window, and up the fire escape? Was there anything he could do, short of a no-holds-barred brawl, that would slow down an assassin? If he had to run, should he stop to grab Bear? If Baby Bear was really that tough and hidden in his closet, he could probably let him stay hidden there until he could come back for him. He¡¯d only do that if he had no choice, though. He wasn¡¯t comfortable with the idea of abandoning his oldest and best friend just to gain a few seconds on an intruder. Tia was with him, too, and that wasn¡¯t nothing. She was pretty good at magic, as far as he knew. Was she any good at combat magic? None of the delvers seemed to rely very heavily on combat magic, so maybe it was really rare or not particularly effective. How quickly could Tia do that severing spell she¡¯d tried to use on Baby Bear¡¯s fur? I won¡¯t leave her or Baby Bear behind if I can help it, he thought. That means I¡¯ll have to stand and fight. That familiar, unwanted cold had begun to creep over his innards. Muscles were taut, but not too tense. He was in his home, so he had the advantage. All he had to do was press the buzzer and let whomever it was into the building. Yet his finger hovered, just an inch away from the button, his eyes locked on the person who appeared to be Alice on the monitor. It was too soon ¡ª too soon! ¡ª for another life-or-death fight. Why couldn¡¯t he just have some time to rest, for fuck¡¯s sake? Why couldn¡¯t they just leave him be? Tia walked up beside him and Aaron managed to stop himself from flinching at her sudden presence, but only just. ¡°What¡¯s the hold up?¡± she asked. ¡°Is everything okay?¡± She looked at the screen, then at Aaron. She blinked once, slowly. A comforting hand fell on Aaron¡¯s shoulder. Gently. So gently he almost couldn¡¯t feel it. He suppressed the conflicting instincts to lean into that soothing touch and recoil from the potential threat that came with any kind of physical contact. That¡¯s just your nerves talking, he admonished himself. Tia¡¯s not a threat. And that¡¯s probably Alice down there, even if you can¡¯t know that. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Tia said, softly, and pressed the admittance button. The person on the stoop, probably Alice, opened the door and stepped into the building. ¡°I should¡¯ve been more clear ¡ª if someone disguised or hidden got all the way up to the door and touched the buzzer, either our people would have known seven steps earlier or the stranger would be concealed by magic beyond even our best enchantments¡¯ ability to detect.¡± Aaron nodded, to show he understood, but he remained standing stock still. Misunderstanding or not, it had been a stark reminder of the repeated attempts on his life over the past several days. He hadn¡¯t been so on edge in a very long time, perhaps ever, and it was just as easy for the threat to crash back into his consciousness as it was for him to get distracted from it. I need to take all this training more seriously than anything I¡¯ve ever done, he realized. If I don¡¯t, I¡¯m as good as dead. ¡°Hey,¡± Tia said. ¡°Grab a soda or something and go sit down, okay? I forgot how tough the past week must have been for you, especially with how cool you¡¯ve been about everything. I didn¡¯t mean to freak you out.¡± Aaron put a smile on his face, even if it was strained. It helped to hear that Tia thought he¡¯d been ¡®cool¡¯ about everything, even if he had a hard time accepting that. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said. ¡°Really. I¡¯m a little on edge, but that¡¯s not exactly outside the norm for me. I manage well enough when shit gets real.¡± ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have to just manage, Aaron,¡± Tia said. ¡°You should be able to-¡± She was interrupted by a soft knocking at the door. ¡°Okay, well you should check this out, at least,¡± she said, pressing a button on the intercom. ¡°You can swap the camera view and the security teams get the same feeds.¡± The image of the stoop changed to an image of the hallway, with his door in the foreground. Alice was standing there, radiant and perfect, with a big cloth bag hanging off one shoulder. ¡°Better not keep Alice waiting,¡± Aaron said. He cleared the locks and pulled the door open. ¡°Hi there,¡± Alice said, wiggling the fingers on one hand in greeting. With the door open, the power of her glamour rolled over Aaron like a warm ocean breeze; a breeze with the lifting power of a tornado. It practically washed his fear and tension away and replaced it with something else, something that wasn¡¯t desire but wasn¡¯t far from it. He coughed once to clear his throat. ¡°Come in,¡± he croaked. ¡°Thanks for coming.¡± Stop saying ¡®come,¡¯ you hooting jackhole! Aaron mentally shouted at himself. Tia rolled her eyes and walked to the fridge while Alice glanced demurely at the floor as she stepped into the apartment. ¡°You want something to drink, Alice?¡± Tia asked. ¡°Aaron¡¯s got six different kinds of soda because he didn¡¯t know which one he¡¯d like the most with his new dragon tongue.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got a new tongue?¡± Alice asked. ¡°Same old tongue, same as it always was,¡± he said. ¡°And, uh, it was Tia over there who ordered those sodas the other day. I know what I like.¡± Shut up, Aaron, he winced. Don¡¯t talk about your tongue, either. And definitely don¡¯t say outlandish shit like, ¡®I know what I like.¡¯ What the fuck is wrong with you? ¡°I¡¯ll have a glass of whatever cola you have, if that¡¯s alright,¡± Alice said to Tia, her eyes sweeping the communal area. ¡°This is really a lovely apartment. It will be quite nice once it¡¯s got a more personal touch.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± Aaron said. Smooth. Aaron was keenly aware the glamour was influencing his thoughts and he was fighting against it, but he was even more keenly aware he still had mounds of new clothes arrayed across the couch in the living room. Not to mention the boxes of other stuff from his shopping trip he still hadn¡¯t managed to get fully unpackaged and set up. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He knew the clothes were brand new and that he hadn¡¯t had a ton of spare time to do more than a single load of laundry since he bought everything, but Alice wouldn¡¯t know that. It probably just looked like he was a lazy fucking degenerate slob who couldn¡¯t be bothered to keep his shit clean. Which isn¡¯t all that far from the truth, Aaron lamented. But I don¡¯t want her to know that! I need to find a way to cover my ass on this a little. ¡°I talked with the gang about remodeling the place,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how we¡¯re going to handle that and it¡¯s been so hectic that getting everything organized has been a nightmare.¡± ¡°If ¡®the gang¡¯ refers to your primary security detail, I did hear something about that,¡± Alice replied. ¡°They sent word to Barrett so we could sort out the logistics. Since you¡¯re going to be away for several days to explore the Well and the echoes, we¡¯re planning to handle everything then.¡± ¡°Any chance they could put a washer and dryer in here while they¡¯re at it?¡± Aaron joked. ¡°Absolutely. Where would you like them installed?¡± Aaron blinked a little too slowly but otherwise managed to suppress the urge to physically cringe at himself. Of course that¡¯s something the Drakon can do, he thought. And of course I tossed it out there like some entitled jackass. Backpedal and bail! ¡°I can go without, really. Nobody has to go to all that trouble,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t mind going down to the basement, I¡¯ve just been a little swamped.¡± ¡°It won¡¯t be any trouble at all. Our people are very capable.¡± Aaron tried to smile and ignore Tia smirking at him from the dinette, where she had sat down with three glasses of soda. ¡°The guest bathroom is the best place for it,¡± she offered. ¡°Sure, the- the guest bathroom would be perfection.¡± Aaron did wince at that. Smoooooth. Your brain is very functional and you word so goodly! Idiot. Alice graced him with a small smile and a flutter of eyelashes. ¡°I¡¯ll pass word along to Barrett. You should return from your adventure in the Well to an entirely new apartment. If anything is less than total perfection, let your security detail know and we¡¯ll have people sort it out immediately.¡± ¡°I appreciate all that, really, but, uh¡­ isn¡¯t everyone supposed to be on lockdown because of all the attacks?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°I do not want people being put at risk just to make my apartment a little more fancy.¡± Tia blew air out through her teeth. ¡°Pfft. All those mooks are looking for drakus who are new in town, so it won¡¯t be nearly as much of a threat for locals. But more than that, the main reason we¡¯re going into siege mode is that we don¡¯t have the right talent distribution locally to make sure everyone can get around safely.¡± ¡°Tia¡¯s absolutely right,¡± Alice said. ¡°Not only would the d¨¦cor be managed by drakus who are established in the City, but they¡¯ll have help moving unnoticed by an elite task force of the Society of the Spear.¡± ¡°With an assist from the Order of the Eye,¡± Tia added. Aaron thought the Society of the Spear was the umbrella term for the various Orders that answered to Barrett, but he couldn¡¯t remember which S-word summarized what the Order of the Eye did. It was probably under Mallory, otherwise Tia wouldn¡¯t have made the distinction. Even with all those precautions, Aaron couldn¡¯t help but think of how many potential problems could arise from taking those risks. People¡¯s lives would be in danger and for what? Something as frivolous as his comfort? It didn¡¯t sit right with him. As he looked at the two young women, Aaron felt like he could see the future. If he knuckled down on this issue ¡ª even with all the assurances Alice and Tia were trying to give him ¡ª it might make him look obstinate, even churlish. It would be ungrateful. Perhaps worst of all, it would be insulting. Alice and Tia knew more about this situation and the magic new world Aaron found himself in. Wouldn¡¯t it be the worst kind of arrogance to assume his ill-informed opinion should carry more weight than theirs? He was worried for those drakus who would face the risk and that was understandable. His fear, however, didn¡¯t make his ignorance somehow authoritative. It would be best if he just kept his mouth shut here and was grateful for the efforts being made on his behalf. Thank God we¡¯re not talking about this on Twitter, he thought. Otherwise I¡¯d probably never shut the hell up. ¡°Okay then,¡± he said. ¡°Like I said, I appreciate it. I don¡¯t know if that can be passed along to the people who are doing all this for me or what. Should I at least, like, leave a tip or something?¡± Alice smiled at him and Tia burst fully into laughter. ¡°I guess not,¡± Aaron said, chagrined. ¡°We take care of our people,¡± Alice assured him. ¡°Speaking of taking care of our people, let¡¯s get down to business. It¡¯s late and you probably want to sleep soon, so let¡¯s set up some additional protective measures against any potential hostile oneiromancy.¡± Alice let her simple cloth tote slip from her shoulder and set it on a chair at the dinette table. She took a sip from the glass of soda Tia had poured for her, then plunged her arms into the bag. From its depths she removed several wooden boxes. Each of them could have fit in the tote easily enough, but wouldn¡¯t have left much room to spare. There were far too many for the tote to be anything but a dimensional storage. After she set the last one down, Alice flipped their lids open one at a time. Each box had wooden drawers that could be lifted out, supported by hinged metal arms. They reminded Aaron of boxes he¡¯d seen that were used for storing hobby and crafts stuff, or maybe something like fishing tackle. The drawers themselves held a variety of items that Aaron could only describe as bric-a-brac or curious, though he suspected they were more than they appeared at first glance. He noted that each drawer was dedicated to a single specific item, though the items varied in design and material. ¡°Are you a follower of any of the Abrahamic faiths?¡± Alice asked casually. Aaron shook his head. ¡°Not really. I¡¯m agnostic, at best. What does that have to do with anything?¡± ¡°Some magics are so deeply connected with a specific faith ¡ª particularly to an individual¡¯s devotion ¡ª that they won¡¯t really do anything for someone who doesn¡¯t hold that faith,¡± Alice explained. She lifted out a shelf that was filled with small tiles. Made of porcelain, clay, metal, or wood, they were about six inches long, an inch wide, and half and inch thick. Some were very simple and plain and others ornate, but all of them had a few characters placed on them, running vertically, from an alphabet Aaron knew he knew but couldn¡¯t identify. Alice lifted one out of a drawer and held it up for Aaron to inspect. ¡°This, for example, is a mezuzah, an ancient charm that contains passages from the Torah. It will do little good to anyone with little or no devotion to it.¡± ¡°What about crosses and crucifixes?¡± ¡°Actually, it¡¯s ideal that Tia¡¯s here,¡± Alice said, turning to the other woman. ¡°I was going to ask you to join us so I could get your insight on a couple things and this is one of them. I¡¯m inclined to say they have the same limitation, but you¡¯re much better studied on cultural trends and their impact on expectation.¡± Tia hummed thoughtfully. ¡°I think you can leave them out, especially if it¡¯s any form of a Christian cross. Christian tradition mostly holds that the cross is just a reminder of God and Christ that can bolster the bearer¡¯s faith; it doesn¡¯t have any inherent power.¡± Alice nodded and continued sorting out the drawers with things she wouldn¡¯t need. There were a few of them, including some that held various crosses. One drawer seemed to give her particular trouble. She kept adding it to the pile of discarded symbols then taking it off. Eventually, Aaron¡¯s curiosity got the better of him and he took a closer look at the drawer. It was one of the more colorful and eclectic of the collections that Aaron had seen, so far. The drawer had a number of ornaments and statues, made of different materials and decorated differently, but they all depicted roughly the same thing ¡ª an open hand with a single eye in the center of the palm. A few were shaped like a human¡¯s hand ¡ª a thumb and four fingers ¡ª but most of them were almost like paws. They had three fingers of the same length in the middle and the fingers on the end ¡ª what would be the thumb and pinky ¡ª were both much shorter, barely reaching the first ¡®knuckle¡¯ of the central fingers. Still, once Aaron realized they were supposed to be hands, it was obvious. Tia craned her neck and looked into the container, as well. ¡°You could include that, I think. Muslims and Jews might think of it as the Hand of Fatima or Hand of Miriam, but this particular symbol has roots going back a long while and was spread all over the ancient world back in the day, by either the Phoenicians or the Sumerians.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± Alice asked, biting her lip hesitantly (and causing Aaron¡¯s stomach to do a somersault). ¡°There¡¯s a lot of overlap between thaumaturgy and theurgy, so you¡¯re not wrong to give this stuff serious consideration because it totally can screw with expectation,¡± Tia replied. ¡°In this case, though, I¡¯d definitely include it. The hamsa is a sigil etched deep into the aether; deep enough the coarse edges of history haven¡¯t blurred those lines much.¡± Aaron had learned that symbols had a kind of power, with things like simple runes making it easier to perform magic. He knew this intellectually and he also put a lot of stock in the things Tia was teaching him. More importantly, he was powerfully motivated ¡ª stupid and fanciful as it might be ¡ª not to come across as a jerk to these two gorgeous women. And yet¡­ And yet, as he looked over the drawers of idols, talismans, and charms, an entire life of sarcasm and skepticism was propelling him towards a response he didn¡¯t want to make. There was absolutely zero chance that trying to look like he was so cool he was above it all was the socially intelligent thing to do here. And yet¡­ ¡°Not to be a cynic,¡± Aaron started, unable to clamp his stupid mouth shut now that it was flapping. ¡°But this all seems a little¡­ gift shop gimmicky.¡± Smooth, he thought once more. So smooth it¡¯s got a V on the end. Smoove. Aaron couldn¡¯t do anything but stand there, waiting to see Alice¡¯s and Tia¡¯s opinions of him disintegrating in real time. And it was coming, no doubt about it. The best he could do was try to think of ways to play it off in hopes he could salvage something out of the situation. On the upside, it had taken three entire days to shove his foot in his mouth so hard he was kicking his own ass from the inside. It could¡¯ve been a lot sooner, especially with how much time he¡¯d spent with Tia. Ah, well¡­ that was over; it was nice while it lasted. All that was left to sit through the fallout. Chapter 84 - Getting Ready for Bed Think of something, Aaron told himself. Some way to play off your snide little comment like you weren¡¯t calling the magic they¡¯re doing on your behalf a bunch of tacky bullshit. As was so often the case for people whose thoughts had a tendency to spill from their mouths without a filter, the moment Aaron really, truly wanted to say something, his words failed him. The waiting, brief as it was, felt like forever. With Alice and Tia gazing at him in what was surely silent horror, there could be no clock fine enough to track just how long it seemed to go on. Then Tia burst into laughter. ¡°That¡¯s not totally unfair,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s like this ¡ª the building and apartments have serious protections on them, but they¡¯re mostly established magics that work based on our understanding of active aether manipulation. Serious, heavy duty sorcery, in other words.¡± Aaron wasn¡¯t sure where she was going with this line of thought, but her laughter took some of the pressure off. He latched onto what she was saying like driftwood in a river¡¯s rapids. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the best option?¡± ¡°Yes and no,¡± Alice said. ¡°Most of our wards and enchantments are based on a more academic perspective of sorcery. It can overlook some forms of sorcery ¡ª like folk traditions or hedge magic ¡ª because they¡¯re generally not as effective or powerful. Since we have very little idea about the specifics of the magic in The Sleeping Dragon, we don¡¯t know how well those defenses will work. These charms will hopefully plug any gaps our established countermeasures can¡¯t anticipate.¡± They don¡¯t seem to be mad about the gift shop gimmick comment, Aaron thought. Maybe it wasn¡¯t as far off-base as I thought? ¡°I don¡¯t want to seem ignorant or anything but I am, well, pretty much totally ignorant about a lot of this stuff,¡± he said. ¡°You have drawers filled with crosses and dreamcatchers, of all things; it¡¯s not exactly filling me with, uh, confidence, you know? What am I missing here?¡± ¡°You¡¯re getting hippie New Age shit mixed up with the older traditions they¡¯re based on,¡± Tia scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong to consider the impact of cultural movements like neo-shamanism and postmodern paganism can have on expectation in working magic, but it doesn¡¯t erase what came before. I can see how not knowing what some of this stuff is, how it works, or why our versions are turbocharged could have you giving it the side-eye.¡± ¡°That¡¯s an excellent point, Tia,¡± Alice said with a nod, causing her hair to fall across one eye before she brushed it back over an ear. ¡°One of the limitations of folk magic ¡ª especially in the last five to ten centuries ¡ª is that the shaman, priest, or what-have-you often wasn¡¯t able to manipulate aether. That didn¡¯t just limit their ability to leverage these tools, it also meant the tools themselves weren¡¯t always crafted as well as they could be. We don¡¯t face those same limitations.¡± Tia lifted one of the dreamcatchers out its box. ¡°Take this, for instance. It¡¯s made from a hand-crafted willow hoop, which is traditional and so simple anyone could do it. The web of this dreamcatcher, however, is made of something way better than mundane string or sinew. The feathers and beads are also more than simple glass or what a crow might leave behind. The same higher standard applies to pretty much everything Alice brought with her.¡± ¡°So the difference between using the horn from a narwhal versus one from an actual unicorn, basically,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Yes, exactly,¡± Alice agreed. ¡°Most of what we¡¯re working with are apotropaic charms, as well, which are meant to give general protection against hostile or intrusive magics. Even dreamcatchers weren¡¯t traditionally meant as wards against dream magic.¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I knew that, actually,¡± Aaron said. ¡°About the dreamcatchers not being for dreams, specifically, I mean. Can you tell me more about what else you¡¯re using? The more I know, the more confident I¡¯ll feel, and the more effective the magic will be, right?¡± ¡°Damn straight,¡± Tia said, offering Aaron a high five. Alice began showing Aaron the charms she planned to use. ¡°We¡¯ve got some sigils, like ofuda and Futhark runes, that aren¡¯t already installed in the building. There are also cippi, obelisks, and stel? derived from some older traditions, the hamsa we talked about earlier, and a couple of witch bottles (which I¡¯ll need to add a bit of your hair to).¡± ¡°My hair?¡± ¡°You can piss in them, too,¡± Tia teased. ¡°If your aim is solid.¡± Aaron didn¡¯t have a tendency to blush, but he felt a bit of heat around the base of his neck regardless. Alice, mercifully, wouldn¡¯t see if he had turned bright red. She¡¯d begun placing her mystic trappings on the windows behind the dinette, which overlooked the street below. ¡°Speaking of piss,¡± Tia went on, ruthlessly, directing her comments to Alice, ¡°I see you¡¯re planning to set up a few braziers that might help, too.¡± ¡°What does that have to do with pee?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Because there¡¯s no way there won¡¯t be coyote piss in it,¡± Tia replied. ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Alice agreed. ¡°I thought ahead, though, so there are charms on the braziers to make sure there won¡¯t be a problem with smoke or scents.¡± ¡°Coyote pee?¡± ¡°Magic can be pretty gross, sometimes,¡± Alice said, continuing to create a kind of makeshift altar of magic talismans in Aaron¡¯s front windows. ¡°Coyotes are seen as powerful, supernatural tricksters in pretty much every culture that encountered them and they¡¯re invoked in a lot of defensive magic.¡± ¡°Gross but effective,¡± Tia said. ¡°I bet you could smoke a cigarette right next to one of these braziers without stinking up your curtains. Hell, you could drop the ash and butt right in there without messing up the magic.¡± Aaron had no idea why Tia had chosen this moment to torment him. Payback for the gift shop comment, perhaps? He tried to communicate that she was being kind of a dick with nothing more than a look while Alice¡¯s back was turned. Tia, for her part, just winked back at him and clicked her tongue against the side of her teeth. ¡°Anyways, tell him about your very own personal touch, Alice,¡± Tia suggested. Alice stopped at the table, several dreamcatchers dangling from her slender fingers, and bit her lip again. Aaron¡¯s instinct was to emphatically agree, even to beg that Alice tell him ¡ª what better way to show he was interested in her and an excellent listener? ¡ª but he reined in the impulse. For once. ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Alice demurred. ¡°I hadn¡¯t even decided to use it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s definitely not nothing,¡± Tia replied, seriously. ¡°From what Zeke described it¡¯s a clever piece of sorcery. I might not know much about oneiromancy but I know magic theory. I¡¯ve been looking forward to seeing it in full.¡± ¡°Yes, tell me about it, please,¡± Aaron said, deciding this was a good chance to weigh in and trying his best to sound light and breezy. Alice still hesitated, but after a second she nodded and went back to her tote. She withdrew another, smaller box, opened it, and lifted out a box made of pure white marble. It was a foot across in each direction and a bit more than half as tall. The top turned out to be a lid, which Alice pulled off and set aside revealing the box housed a complicated model of a maze. There was something odd about the maze, but Aaron couldn¡¯t put his finger on it right away. Each of the walls had a single opening, a simple rectangular frame with no door or covering. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Set into each wall was a simple, rectangular portal with no door. Looking closer, Aaron could make out fine inscriptions on most of the surfaces in the model. Though they were too faint for him to read, he was pretty sure the alphabet was either Greek or Cyrillic. He also noticed the frames on the doors were made of different materials, more off-white or yellowish with hints of darker shades in two of them. ¡°I call it an oubliette of dreams,¡± Alice said. ¡°The individual gates are made of ivory and horn, respectively, based on a concept drawn from the ancient Greeks. The inscriptions are spells, prayers, and exhortations of the Oneiroi, the divine personification of dreams in Greek mythology. In their beliefs, only a true dream could pass through the gate of horn and only a false one could pass through the gate of ivory.¡± Tia leaned in to examine the maze more closely. ¡°Tell him how it works,¡± she urged the other woman. ¡°It¡¯s just a trick,¡± Alice said sheepishly. ¡°Each gate only connects to its opposite through the maze, not to one made of the same material. My thinking was that, whether a dream is true or false, it has to enter through an appropriate gate. Then, since there¡¯s only one path available for the sending to use, it will be nullified trying to pass through the other.¡± ¡°That¡¯s really clever,¡± Aaron said. ¡°How do you make sure any dream stuff goes into the maze? Or through the gates, for that matter?¡± ¡°The inscriptions should push any sending towards the gates and the lid will make them the only viable entrance. Proximity will help, too, which is why I want to place the oubliette very close to where you¡¯ll sleep, like a bedside table. The main draw of any trap is bait, though, and we¡¯ll create that with a bit of sympathetic magic.¡± She pulled out a small figurine, roughly human in shape and made of cloth. ¡°I¡¯ll add a bit of your hair to this poppet, then place it in the center of the maze,¡± she said, pointing to the empty space at the heart of the model. ¡°If you look closely, you might notice there are no actual paths leading there from any of the gates.¡± Aaron looked at the maze again and realized she was right. Now that he knew what to look for, he recognized what it was about the maze that made it look so strange at first glance. Although there were many walls that gave the illusion of a fair maze, it was all a misdirection ¡ª each gate only led to its pair and there was no way to get to the center. ¡°More of my hair,¡± Aaron lamented. ¡°Yes,¡± Alice said. ¡°Thankfully, it looks like you haven¡¯t shaved in a couple days. That will make things much easier.¡± As it turned out, there was no need to yank any hairs out of Aaron¡¯s head, which is precisely what he¡¯d been picturing thanks to a lifetime of movies and TV shows. Instead, Alice produced a folding razor from the capacious depths of her simple cloth tote. It had a mother of pearl handle and the blade flashed threateningly in the light when opened. Aaron leaned away slightly as she reached for his face with the razor. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you at least use a bit of water?¡± ¡°No need,¡± she said. ¡°The enchantment on the blade will take care of that. I¡¯m not sure it even could cut your hair, let alone break skin, without the extremely focused tonsorial magic applied to it.¡± ¡°Tonsorial magic¡­ it¡¯s enchanted specifically to cut hair?¡± ¡°Oh yes,¡± Alice replied. ¡°We discovered long ago that drakus hardiness is a major inconvenience to grooming.¡± Aaron had never shaved with anything but an electric razor, so that wasn¡¯t as reassuring as Alice probably thought it was. Before he could raise any more concerns, however, one of Alice¡¯s hands was resting against his jaw and her fingers were gently pulling his skin taut so the hairs would stand erect. The next few minutes were a bit of a blur. Aaron was able to follow the guidance of Alice¡¯s hands as she turned and angled his head, but almost all of his concentration was turned internally. He needed to focus on things like keeping his eyes locked on places it wouldn¡¯t be disrespectful to look, maintaining a steady and calm breathing, and quieting the ember of discontent that came from knowing some kind of magic was influencing him. He was mostly successful in each but not entirely in any. When she was done, Alice had a dusting of whiskers on a piece of wax paper. She stuffed a good number of them into the poppet and the rest were distributed between several bottles made of thick green and brown glass which she then stoppered with cork. Aaron let out the breath he¡¯d been marginally holding as slowly as he could when there was finally a little space between him and Alice. He steadfastly kept his eyes from turning in Tia¡¯s direction. She¡¯d know he was flustered already, but why give her the opportunity to give him any more guff with a knowing look or a lascivious smirk? ¡°All that¡¯s left is making sure everything is in its proper place,¡± Alice said. ¡°Then your sleep will be about as protected as we can make it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have to wear a hat made of magic tin foil or anything like that?¡± Tia snorted. ¡°Hanging a bunch more talismans on you would be a bit of overkill, at this point. Protections that are bound to a place have a stability that usually gives them more oomph than stuff that moves.¡± ¡°We could give you something ¡ª a gris-gris, nazar, medicine bag, or something similar ¡ª if it would make you feel more comfortable,¡± Alice offered. ¡°I agree with Tia, though; they wouldn¡¯t provide much more than a bit of peace of mind.¡± ¡°There are limits to how much confidence can do,¡± Tia added. ¡°It¡¯s fine, then. I trust you two.¡± With that settled, Alice spent the next fifteen minutes continuing to arrange all the new defenses she¡¯d brought around the apartment. Tia trailed along to observe, asking the occasional question about Alice¡¯s thoughts on placement or positioning and voicing compliments at any instance she felt had particularly strong reasoning. Aaron followed them because it felt immensely weird for his sensibilities to have people wandering around his home unattended. Plus, he could still try to absorb more about how magic worked from the two gifted women, even if his brain was feeling a little mushy and sluggish at the moment. When Alice was done, all the windows in the apartment were festooned with various talismans and a number of charms hung from the walls and ceilings (somehow), including the dreamcatchers she¡¯d shown Aaron earlier. Finally, she placed the oubliette of dreams on the end table beside Aaron¡¯s bed. The poppet went into the middle and the thick marble cover was set atop the whole thing. When they were back in the dinette and everything was being packinged away, an idea occurred to Aaron. It was a terrible, stupid, goofy-ass idea. A wild flight of fancy that was chasing a half-formed daydream to its own absurd conclusions. Silly as it was, Aaron found the idea making good its escape from his mind through the open goddamn door that was his mouth before he could rally the conceptual guards to lock everything down. ¡°I remember you telling me that proximity helped with dream magic,¡± he said. ¡°The apartment has a spare bedroom. You¡¯re welcome to use it if that would be, uh, y¡¯know¡­ helpful?¡± Tia shot him a look then rolled her eyes. She clearly knew exactly where his mind was and he knew she¡¯d be saying something about it later. For now, she refrained from making any comment that could embarrass him or jeopardize his ploy. That was a real friend, a true homie. Someone who would banter with and razz you as needed, but wouldn¡¯t put you down in front of others. ¡°That¡¯s very gracious of you,¡± Alice said. ¡°In this case, though, I think that would actually be too close. Tia and the security people have also offered me places to sleep on every floor of the building and I had to turn them down, as well.¡± Tia eyed her curiously. ¡°You turned down the security people, too? Then where the heck are you staying, Alice?¡± Aaron was glad of Tia¡¯s question. He was doing his best to keep the mixture of relief and disappointment from his face and a distraction could only help his cause on that front. As thrilling as having Alice sleeping just across the hall might have been, it would have been a bit of a nightmare, as well. Not only would he have to contend with whatever overclocked nonsense the magic-whammied infatuation conjured in his thoughts, he¡¯d have also had to be extra careful she didn¡¯t find out about Baby Bear. This was definitely the ideal outcome. ¡°On the roof,¡± Alice replied. ¡°I¡¯ll be close enough to monitor Aaron in the Dream and respond whether I¡¯m asleep or awake. Plus, it will give me a better perspective to see anything coming from farther out.¡± ¡°Are you going to be okay up there?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Alice reassured him. ¡°It¡¯s surprisingly nice up there. Now, it¡¯s getting a bit late and I need to make sure I¡¯m set up for whenever you fall asleep, so I should probably head up.¡± Aaron nodded. ¡°I should be in bed after I do a load of laundry and I usually fall asleep in a half hour or less, so probably not more than two hours. Unless that will be too late for you?¡± Tia scoffed. ¡°This is New York and it¡¯s not even quite midnight yet. Going to sleep the same day you wake up is just how we do things.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t feel you need to rush on my account,¡± Alice told him. ¡°Take all the time you need. I can fall and stay asleep pretty much at will.¡± After that, Aaron said his goodnights to the ladies and found himself alone in his apartment once more. Sleep, dreams, and whatever may come of them were waiting for him. Chapter 85 - A Little Perspective One big load of laundry later, Aaron lay in bed, waiting for sleep. It didn¡¯t come easy. His mind was teeming with anxious thoughts about a number of different things bothering him. It would grab onto one concern, squeeze it in frustration, then move onto the next. Sometimes it kept going, sometimes it turned around and grabbed one that had already passed. On the upside, he wasn¡¯t alone in trying to endure these not-quite-racing thoughts, which was a change from the usual state of things in his experience. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Baby Bear asked from his position sprawled across the back of Aaron¡¯s head. ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong, not exactly,¡± Aaron said. ¡°I just have a lot on my mind.¡± The bear¡¯s paws pitter-pattered softly against the sides of his head, like he was playing the bass drum in a marching band. ¡°Tell me about it,¡± Bear said. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ a lot of things piling up on top of each other, I guess. All these people are counting on me, putting themselves in danger for me, and I¡¯m worried that I won¡¯t be able to live up to their expectations.¡± ¡°What would make you think that?¡± Bear asked. ¡°I happen to think you¡¯re pretty great.¡± ¡°Where do I start?¡± Aaron sighed. ¡°I¡¯m barely able to defend myself, so I¡¯m worried about going into this dungeon. And I¡¯m struggling to figure out this memory thing to find the sceptre, too, which I have to do or this whole Primus thing is dead in the water. And I couldn¡¯t perform even the simplest magic Tia tried to teach me no matter how much I tried. Plus, I¡¯m starting to freeze up and panic at the mere suggestion of danger. Not actual danger, but anything my brain can interpret as a potential danger.¡± Baby Bear scoffed, his breath ¡ª or whatever it was ¡ª puffing against Aaron¡¯s head. ¡°Pfft. Is that all?¡± That wasn¡¯t all. Aaron had stopped himself from giving voice to the thing that had been worrying him the most. It was a terrifying thought, one Aaron didn¡¯t want to be real. He tried to brush past it ¡ª to refuse to even acknowledge it ¡ª yet his thoughts swung back to it more than any other concern. What it might mean about who Aaron was as a person was profoundly troubling. Baby Bear probably wouldn¡¯t judge him for it, but that didn¡¯t make it any easier to share. Aaron didn¡¯t know how deep his mental connection with the sapient teddy bear went, but he should have guessed his oldest friend would sense he was holding something back. ¡°Is that all?¡± Bear insisted. He could refuse to answer, he thought, but what would that say about him? Other than sexual stuff ¡ª which had always felt too weird to form any kind of association with his teddy bear, even by talking about it ¡ª he¡¯d never held back from sharing anything with his childhood toy. Could there be a more damning confirmation of his fears than being unwilling to share this, Aaron¡¯s deepest fear? ¡°No, that¡¯s not all,¡± he finally said. ¡°The worst part is¡­ back in Sacramento, when I was attacked the first time, I killed someone. I was¨C I hadn¡¯t lost control of my temper and it wasn¡¯t on purpose, but¡­ I still killed someone.¡± He paused for a moment, swallowing hard before forcing himself to explain the rest. ¡°That would be bad enough, but¡­ but the thing that¡¯s bothering me most about it is that¡­ is that it¡¯s not bothering me. Since Tia restored my memories of the attack yesterday, I haven¡¯t thought about it one single time, not until I got into bed tonight.¡± ¡°Why is that the worst part?¡± Baby Bear asked, his tone confused. ¡°Because it¡¯s not supposed to be this easy,¡± Aaron breathed. ¡°There has to be something seriously wrong with a person if they can take a life as casually as I did and¡­ and it has to be way, way worse for the killing not to bother them. Before last night I could have made excuses for myself ¡ª I didn¡¯t consciously remember what happened; I¡¯d been trying to survive other, newer threats; whatever else could come to mind ¡ª but today? Today there was no immediate danger. So in all those hours goofing around with the delver trio or Alice or Tia, I should¡¯ve felt something. I should have at least had the occasional thought about the guy I killed.¡± He paused again. Not for breath, but to force himself to name the thing he feared. To give it an explicit form. ¡°I¡¯m worried that all of that means I don¡¯t really have a conscience. Like it¡¯s just something I¡¯ve been faking this entire time and I did it so well I even started to fool myself. And the thing that¡¯s so fucked up and makes this so frightening, is that when I think back on my childhood, I feel like maybe a strong case could be made that that¡¯s true.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a lot of feelings, Aaron,¡± Bear said. ¡°It¡¯s okay to have all kinds of feelings and it¡¯s good that you¡¯re not trying to smoosh them into a dark corner where you can ignore them. Yay for you!¡± The teddy bear squeezed the back of Aaron¡¯s head in a gentle hug. ¡°But you have to remember that feelings aren¡¯t always honest; they¡¯ll fib to you. That doesn¡¯t mean they aren¡¯t real or, um¡­ uh¡­ believable¡­¡± ¡°Valid?¡± Aaron offered. ¡°Right! Feelings are real and valid, but that doesn¡¯t make them true. I said that part ¡ª which I think is important and you need to hear ¡ª but now I¡¯m going to tell you why you¡¯re wrong and dumb for believing any of it.¡± Baby Bear patted Aaron on the back of the head consolingly but continued before Aaron could respond. ¡°So first, the dungeon is scary and I¡¯m nervous for you, too. It doesn¡¯t sound very snuggly. Not very snuggly, at all. But! You¡¯ll have people with you who do that sort of thing for fun or whatever so it probably won¡¯t be that bad. The memory thing has to be frustrating, but you¡¯re forgetting that you¡¯ve already accessed that old memory stuff more than once. That means this is just a riddle you need more time to figure out, not that it¡¯s something you can¡¯t figure out like those stupid eye puzzle thingies. Same thing goes for the magic stuff ¡ª you¡¯ve already done magic that was way cooler than some dumb light bulb thing, so all you really need is more practice.¡± ¡°What cooler magic have I done, Bear?¡± Bear tapped Aaron¡¯s head lightly as he presented his list. ¡°You saw through secret ninja stealth magic, twice; you talked to a dragon under a lake in the forest; and, you made that emo stick that broke open the bug box thing.¡± ¡°I guess,¡± Aaron conceded. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I could conjure that weapon again so that might not really count. I definitely wouldn¡¯t call it an ¡®emo stick,¡¯ though, I was thinking something more like the ¡®hateful blade¡¯ or the ¡®anxiety knife.¡¯ Based on what it felt like, anyways. Besides, getting down to that cavern in Yosemite was more about innate drakus powers than doing magic.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t argue with me when I¡¯m giving you affirmations,¡± Bear complained, smacking Aaron¡¯s head vigorously with his soft paws. ¡°You did extra cool magic stuff! Besides, did you learn how to ride a bike or swim in a day? Or how to do math? Sometimes you have to work at things. I mean even I wasn¡¯t always as snuggly as I am now; it took practice to know the best ways to do the snuggles.¡± ¡°Alright, Bear, I see your point.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Bear said with a harrumph. ¡°Now the last stuff, the more seriouser stuff¡­ that is really complicated stuff, for sure. I won¡¯t say you were never a selfish jerk when you were growing up, but you had a conscience. Who would know better than me whether you worried about how other people felt or whether things you had done were wrong? Your problem was never that you didn¡¯t know if something you did was bad or didn¡¯t care if they were, it was that you had trouble stopping yourself. It was never that you didn¡¯t have a conscience, it was that your conscience tried to overthink everything so it was slower to get involved than your knee-jerk reactions.¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°That¡¯s still not great, Bear.¡± ¡°Maybe not, but it means you¡¯re not some psycho killer,¡± Bear said. ¡°And you¡¯re forgetting two very important things. The first one is that you put a lot of effort into training your conscience to be better at restraining your immediate instincts. The other one ¡ª which is more important ¡ª is that you have things to help you deal with all these worries you never had before. Like me! I¡¯m here, ready with snuggles and cuteness and friendship, and no matter how bad things are, snuggles can always make them better, one at a time.¡± Aaron snorted and Baby Bear bapped him on the back of the head again before patting his hair more gently. ¡°It¡¯s true! Snuggling the Baby Bear is like the most effective therapy ever, except it¡¯s much fuzzier and it¡¯s free,¡± Bear said. ¡°Now, you get some sleepies. Tomorrow¡¯s another big day.¡± Aaron yawned deeply and sighed as exhaled. Baby Bear was right ¡ª there was too much to do before they went delving and Aaron needed rest to be ready for it. With Bear¡¯s help, he¡¯d put most of his concerns out of his thoughts for the moment, so he was ready to slip into the still, deep waters of a calm mind. Aaron drifted off to sleep so quickly after that he didn¡¯t even have time to worry about whether he¡¯d be attacked in his dreams. Thankfully, the night passed without incident. As far as Aaron could tell, anyway. He was loosely scheduled to have a meeting with Alice, Tia, and the delvers once he was awake and dressed to go over any new developments from last night, so he¡¯d know one way or the other soon enough. Baby Bear demanded attention before Aaron could get out of bed and into the shower, but that wasn¡¯t such a bad thing. He cuddled and played with the bear for a few minutes, then got ready for the day. Once he was dressed, he offered a silent prayer of gratitude to that guy who¡¯d blown up on social media a few years back for hot takes about menswear and dudebro fashion. Knowing even a little bit about what to look for to get the kind of pants he wanted had made his wardrobe shopping so much more efficient and effective. Once he was dressed, he saw he had a message from Tia, which she must have sent while he was showering. Alice had passed word to everyone as soon as Aaron had woken up ¡ª something she must have known from watching his dreams ¡ª and Tia had convinced everyone to have their meeting over breakfast up on the roof. Aaron was almost out the door before he remembered the protocols Kiara had drilled him over. He stopped to send a message to the security group chat, letting them know he was heading to the roof, and had several thumbs up in response before he¡¯d finished climbing the two flights of stairs. There were quite a few more people out on the roof than he¡¯d been expecting, a dozen in total other than Alice, Tia, and the three delvers. They all took seats around a pair of picnic tables that had been dragged together. The tables had several platters on them, each piled with various breakfast foods ¡ª scrambled eggs, waffles, pancakes, French toast, bacon, ham, biscuits and gravy, and other assorted pastries. As they began to eat, Kiara walked him through a quick round of introductions. Aaron knew he¡¯d be hard pressed to remember everyone after just one meeting, but did his best to commit names and faces to memory. There new people were divided into three distinct groups. The first was introduced as the second security team, a group of five, each with a vibe that made Aaron think of bikers, all long hair, leather, and denim. One of them had a particularly large ¡ªand bendy! ¡ª tobacco pipe clamped in his mouth, an older sort with a white rim around the collar of a flared bowl. The next, a group of four, was the third security squad. At first glance, they came across as business types in their plain-but-fashionable suits. After interacting with them for a few minutes, Aaron revised his impression to something more military than finance, just dressed up in civilian suits. They were too crisp, too upright, too straight-laced, even. Literally, if you got a look at the plain black Oxfords all four were wearing. Aaron suspected each of them owned at least one other pair of similar shoes, but made of leather that was way more glossy when polished; he could practically picture shoes that gleamed as if they were made of black glass. Last to be introduced was a trio who had a style and demeanor far more familiar to Aaron. They were nerds. Clearly and obviously nerds. Not necessarily the brand of gamer nerd he was most accustomed to, but definitely from a branch of the nerd evolutionary tree not far removed from it. They likely had a shared ancestor that wore hoodies more than any other single item of clothing. Naturally, they were more laid back and casual than the other two groups; one of them had even come to the meeting wearing pajama pants and fluffy slippers! The first two groups ¡ª the bikers and the hedge fund soldiers ¡ª were the security details that covered the night shift. Albert, Griffin, and Kiara covered Aaron more than full time ¡ª pretty much as long as he was out and about during the day ¡ª and the other two alternated who had primary duties the rest of the time. The group of nerds handled any logistics or support that might be needed and were on call pretty much around the clock. When he heard about the scheduling, Aaron felt like he had to say something. ¡°So you¡¯re all working twelve hour shifts ¡ª or more ¡ª seven days a week?¡± he asked. ¡°I appreciate the dedication, but that sounds like some real Grade A bullshit. Do you want me to crawl up Barrett¡¯s ass about better staffing and time management?¡± Even after a round of reassurances, Aaron wasn¡¯t satisfied. He tried to impress on everyone that he was on their side and he¡¯d go to bat for them, but all twelve of the security people were adamant. The delvers had to join the conversation to get Aaron to let the matter drop. ¡°This isn¡¯t just a job where you clock in, do your work, and clock out,¡± Griffin said earnestly. ¡°This is important work. The kind of important that¡¯s less than once-in-a-lifetime. Most people won¡¯t ever have a chance to do something as impactful in their lives.¡± Albert picked up the thread, talking around a mouthful of pancakes. ¡°Griffin, Kiara, and me have had a chance to get to know you the past few days, so don¡¯t think this is some kind of messiah thing. We know you¡¯re just a guy and that this isn¡¯t some kind of ¡®Chosen One Who Will Save Us from the Wrath of the Whatever from High Atop the Thing¡¯ situation. But we also know there¡¯s a chance you can be so much more than just some guy. And that can only happen if you survive to complete your Tribulations.¡± ¡°We need a Primus,¡± Kiara said. ¡°The Drakon has gone way too long without a full and formal executive branch, if you want to think of it that way. Too many things have fallen through the cracks in all those years. This is our chance ¡ª you are our chance ¡ª to maybe pull some of it back together and rebuild the foundation of our future.¡± Even Tia had two cents to throw on the pile. ¡°They¡¯re not wrong, Aaron. We¡¯re so much less than we could be and drakus have been suffering for it for years. Without getting too deep into the weeds on our whole situation, just think about this for a second ¡ª if it¡¯s not unusual for drakus to live as long as Zeke, isn¡¯t it weird none of us that you¡¯ve met have been even close to a century old, let alone as old as he is?¡± That brought Aaron up short. Hard. He hadn¡¯t considered that, actually. In fact, he hadn¡¯t really been sure how old anyone he¡¯d met so far was, with the exceptions of Mallory and Barrett. Now that Tia mentioned it, though, none of the drakus he¡¯d met struck him as being much older than he was. So where were the older dragons? One of the bikers spoke up before Aaron could follow that train of thought for long. ¡°Our numbers for this mission are being kept small for consistency, flexibility, and stability, but also because it requires a diverse range of talents operating at very high levels. While each team has to be capable of reacting to any number of threats, our best defense is keeping anyone from noticing you¡¯re here at all.¡± ¡°New York is big,¡± Tia added. ¡°Eight and half million people live in the City and another ten or eleven million in the greater metro area. If you go by the conventional wisdom that mythics are about one percent of that total, that¡¯s between eighty and almost one hundred ninety thousand. Assume five percent of the population are nominally magic-capable humans and that¡¯s another four hundred thousand to just under a million on top of that.¡± ¡°And that rule of thumb doesn¡¯t account for things like the fact that New York is one of if not the most prominent of all the global cities,¡± Kiara added. ¡°Which would push those numbers higher.¡± Albert snorted. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re likely to see a lot more weirdos here than in Milwaukee or Houston.¡± ¡°Which is why we¡¯ve got the teams on this that we do,¡± the biker said. ¡°It¡¯s not because the Cordus is a shitty boss; it¡¯s for operational security.¡± One of the buttoned-up military suits spoke up. ¡°Speaking of operational security, I believe Miss Carroll had a report to present. Unless there¡¯s anything else more pressing?¡± She left the question hanging, a single, immaculately sculpted eyebrow raised. She hadn¡¯t addressed Aaron specifically, but he got the message. He held his hands up in surrender and went back to his French toast. He wasn¡¯t thrilled that all these people had basically put their lives on hold for his benefit, but he had at least gained a better perspective on why they were doing it and could respect their choice. With that settled, all eyes at the table turned to the beautiful redhead, the woman of Aaron¡¯s dreams, as it were. Chapter 86 - Prep Work Alice set down her fork as everyone¡¯s attention fell on her. She was seated on the other side of the table from Aaron. Although not directly across from him, his stomach still lurched as she gave the corners of her mouth a dainty dab with a napkin. I really need to figure out how to not get absolutely hammered by her glamour, Aaron thought, suppressing a frown. I hate the feeling of something influencing me and I don¡¯t want to wind up resenting her for something that¡¯s not really under her control. Unfortunately, that didn¡¯t look like something he was going to have an easy time achieving and there was no chance of resolving it this morning. Alice¡¯s dazzling green eyes met his as she began to speak and he almost didn¡¯t hear her question. ¡°Did you sleep well?¡± After a moment, Aaron¡¯s brain processed what his ears had heard through the emerald fog of her gaze. He jammed a forkful of French toast into his mouth to cover for his delay and nodded. ¡°I¡¯m glad,¡± she said. ¡°As far as I can tell, there were no hostile magics directed at Aaron in his sleep. We¡¯re not out of the woods ¡ª especially since we know someone recovered The Sleeping Dragon Tuesday night ¡ª but it suggests we don¡¯t have to adjust our current plans.¡± ¡°How confident are you that there wasn¡¯t an attack?¡± one of the military types asked. Alice bit her lip. ¡°If I were basing it solely on what I currently know of oneiromancy and the Dream, I¡¯d say I have ninety percent confidence. I think that would be presumptuous to the point of arrogance, though, since it¡¯s an overlooked branch of magic, at least in more traditional circles. Still, I¡¯d go with seventy five to eighty percent.¡± ¡°Would you be willing to explain your reasoning?¡± one of the logistics nerds asked. ¡°Of course. The Dream ¡ª for an oneiromancer who has sent their consciousness there ¡ª is often perceived as something like the night sky, a vast darkness dotted with points of light. These lights have many different names ¡ª ignis fatuus, chimera, phantasms, and so on ¡ª but the important thing to know here is that some of them are representations of the sleeping minds of people. ¡°These individual minds are hidden among this astral void and their placement roughly aligns with their physical body in the waking world. That¡¯s important. If an oneiromancer knows where both their body and their target¡¯s lay, it makes navigating to them easier. Even more so if those two sleeping bodies are close to each other. Does- does all that make sense so far?¡± There were nods from around the table, then Alice went on with a nervous smile. ¡°Because of how the Dream is perceived and how it relates to the physical world, I was able to position myself in such a way that I could see Aaron¡¯s presence in the Dream and a good deal of space around it. In theory, any magic targeting him would have had to travel through that space, where I could have detected it.¡± Several of the people around the table had questions about that, but Tia held up a hand to forestall them and motioned for Alice to continue. The redhead gave the younger woman a grateful nod and continued her explanation. ¡°It¡¯s possible such an attack could be concealed, of course, but in this case I don¡¯t think it¡¯s likely. There are several reasons for that. We know The Sleeping Dragon contained spells that could be used in the search for a Primus and we also know it¡¯s very likely Aaron possesses some innate way to limit or counter them. I¡¯ve visited him in his dreams and I can tell you there are at least two things I¡¯ve personally witnessed that could be the manifestation of that protection. On top of that, I think we¡¯re all aware he¡¯s the first Primus candidate that almost no drakus has had any prophetic dreams about, right?¡± Another round of nods from the table. ¡°Yet in spite of that, at least two assassins were able to track him down in California,¡± she continued. ¡°One found him within twenty four hours of the first attempt failing. So there was still some unknown way our enemies were tracking him at that point. After his Emergence, however, it seems whatever protections he had improved. We can be confident of that because no assassins have targeted him specifically since, but also because of the reactions around it. Not only did the magi in the City begin utilizing divination in a haphazard ¡ª and frankly reckless ¡ª way, but someone also went and stole The Sleeping Dragon the very same night of Aaron¡¯s Emergence.¡± ¡°There¡¯s, like, zero chance that was a coincidence,¡± Tia snorted. Alice smiled at Tia and continued. ¡°On top of all that, I¡¯ve personally seen that Aaron¡¯s protections have changed since I last saw them, which was the day before his Emergence. For instance, he was better hidden among the phantasms of the Dream; enough so that I had trouble pinpointing his location even though I was less than fifty feet away from him. I¡¯m pretty sure the other protections were more formidable, too, though it would have been impolite to test that.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why you think an attack didn¡¯t slip past you?¡± one of the suits inquired. ¡°Use your head, numb nuts,¡± Tia said. ¡°She shouldn¡¯t have to spell everything out for you.¡± Aaron swept a look around the table and was glad to see his face wasn¡¯t the only one where confusion was writ large. He was putting all this information together and he felt like he could get to the same conclusion Alice and Tia had, but Tia thought a good deal faster than most people and likely had access to most of this information already. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Tia,¡± Alice said sheepishly. ¡°I guess I sort of left off the conclusion statement. Basically, since The Sleeping Dragon was stolen the night of Aaron¡¯s Emergence, we think that someone had been tracking him through other means and stole the grimoire because that method stopped working. It seems highly unlikely that one day would be enough time for the thief to master its secrets to the point they could perform a tracking spell that could overcome Aaron¡¯s potentially unique protections and conceal it effectively.¡± Alice¡¯s reasoning satisfied most of the questions around the table, enough to be getting on with anyways. She received a round of thanks for her efforts and explanation, which she accepted with demure silence. ¡°We better get moving,¡± Kiara said, checking her phone. ¡°Otherwise we¡¯ll be late for our first day training with Shinobi Sensei.¡± She put two scoops of sardonic emphasis on the last two words. A series of groans, chuckles, and eyerolls answered her from those seated around the table. Aaron said goodbye to Alice, Tia, and all the security people, wrapping a handful of bacon in some napkins on the way out. He again felt bad that he probably wouldn¡¯t be able to remember most of their names without a few more meetings, but then they were downstairs, in the car, and on their way to the Drakon¡¯s creepy concrete monolith. The trip to the Long Lines Building was quick enough, thanks to the Byways, but they were still on the razor-thin margin of tardiness for Aaron¡¯s first ten o¡¯clock weapons training session. They had barely stepped into the armory when a voice sneered, ¡°You¡¯re late.¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Turning, they found Greg Masters standing behind them. He was clad in an eastern-themed ensemble that still somehow closely matched what he¡¯d been wearing when they first met. The leather trench coat had been replaced by a kimono jacket made of black silk. Sakura trees and various animals were embroidered into the fabric with white and gold thread. He also wore loose black pants tucked into tabi boots with a divided toe and bloused near the calf. Rather than a fedora, Masters had donned a broad, flat conical hat made of woven wicker or bamboo, likewise dyed black. Masters also held a long wooden training sword at his waist. It wasn¡¯t like the solid wasters Aaron had been shown on his last visit, but he recognized it nonetheless. It was one of the practice swords used in kendo, made of long, thin bamboo slats that were bound at several different points along its length. It was not a bokken, which was solid, but Aaron couldn¡¯t remember the proper name for it. He had always thought of them as ¡®kendo clackers,¡¯ because of the sound they made on impact. Kiara took a step forward and opened her mouth to speak, but Masters held out his free hand to stop her. He couldn¡¯t stop Albert, though, who had doubled over with laughter. ¡°I will only hear your excuses from my student,¡± Masters said severely. ¡°And I insist on being addressed as sensei for the duration of your training.¡± Aaron bit down on the response that immediately sprang to mind. He needed to consider what he wanted to say. This seemed like the kind of issue that needed enough delicacy that it would have best been served by literally anyone other than Aaron answering it. The buck, however, stopped with him, as the saying went, so he had to muddle through it and hope for the best. That consideration also gave Albert the chance to catch his breath and share his own thoughts. ¡°Man, with you dressed like that we are for sure going to get sued by the ACLU or Funimation or something.¡± Masters scowled at the smaller man but kept his silence, focused entirely on Aaron. It wasn¡¯t that Aaron didn¡¯t have thoughts aplenty about what to say or a pile of rationales for any of it. His mind worked fast enough that ideas were rarely in short supply. The problem was that he needed to weed through all of those different ideas ¡ª some of which were so calamitously bad they were sure to start an argument ¡ª and then find a way to say them that further minimized the chance of anyone getting pissed. That was the hard part, not least of all because Aaron didn¡¯t often particularly give a shit if people got upset. It was something he needed a little time to work through. Thinking back to the conversation he¡¯d had with his security detail that morning helped him make up his mind on what he wanted to say and it gave him a reason to say it. He¡¯d already disagreed with Barrett over maintaining some kind of air of superiority with distance, but this felt different and he thought he could put it into words well enough to pass muster. ¡°The morning security briefing ran a little long,¡± Aaron said. ¡°That¡¯s the reason we¡¯re late, but I¡¯m not offering it up as an excuse. I got here late and it doesn¡¯t really matter why or by how little.¡± He took a pause to breathe before the next part, which went against his instincts even more than the first. ¡°I won¡¯t be calling you sensei, however. That would make me uncomfortable for a number of reasons. Neither of us are Japanese, for one, but the context of that term as I understand it also suggests a power dynamic in the relationship that I cannot allow. Not as the future Primus Draconis. I¡¯d be glad to call you ¡®teacher¡¯ or ¡®instructor¡¯ during our training, though, as a sign of gratitude and respect for your expertise and time.¡± Masters considered Aaron for a long moment. The delvers were clearly waiting to see how he would react; even Albert had mostly settled himself down to watch quietly. After a few seconds, Masters nodded his head sharply once, then bowed at the waist, his back straight as a board. ¡°You are right, please accept my apologies,¡± he said. ¡°Instructor Masters would be¡­ It works for me. We can begin right away, if you¡¯re ready.¡± ¡°I appreciate that, instructor Masters, but you don¡¯t need to apologize. We¡¯re just getting to know each other and I try to be as relaxed about things as I can.¡± Albert raised a finger in question, then gestured at Masters. ¡°Uhm, okay, but nobody¡¯s going to say anything about that getup?¡± ¡°Not me,¡± Aaron replied with a shake of his head. ¡°It might seem eccentric to you or I, but it¡¯s pretty obvious it¡¯s appreciation not appropriation. I wouldn¡¯t have shit to say about a Japanese person wearing jeans and playing guitar in a rock band, either.¡± ¡°I guess,¡± Albert reluctantly conceded. For the next two hours, Masters began training Aaron in how to use the kama. The idea behind using kama effectively in real combat was simple in premise but difficult to put into practice. There was a heavy emphasis on gaining control over an opponent¡¯s tools ¡ª whether their weapon or body ¡ª then exploiting that control to attack. After a surprisingly brief time spent drilling basic forms and positioning, most of what Aaron did was try to prevent Masters from hitting him with the training sword, which he learned was called a shinai. Naturally, this didn¡¯t go very well for Aaron and he was routinely smacked with the rattling wooden ¡®blade¡¯ of the practice weapon. Clickety-clack! Other than developing the proper form itself, Masters told him, the most important thing early in learning to master a weapon was developing a good sense of and reaction to attacks. The scythe-like form of the kama wasn¡¯t well-suited to parrying or blocking straight on like most weapons, which made it tricky to use. Instead of defending against an attack with a direct counter, the goal was to catch a weapon in the cradle formed where the handle and the base of the blade met. When done well, it gave you a significant amount of control over the enemy¡¯s weapon, protected your hands, and opened avenues for a counter attack. The kama, when wielded well, was a riposte machine. Aaron¡¯s riposte machine was missing some gaskets, hoses, and plugs, but he was working on it.He¡¯d made surprisingly good progress, thanks in large part to the improved capabilities and coordination of his post-Emergence body. Each time he improved noticeably, however, Masters would step up his own efforts. It was never enough to overwhelm him entirely ¡ª which Aaron was pretty sure the ultra-weeb was fully capable of, regardless of any other foibles ¡ª but it forced him to adapt to increasing challenges. When the two hours were up, Aaron left the armory with the sound of the shinai¡¯s slats echoing in his ears. Clickety-clack! The rest of Aaron¡¯s training for the day wasn¡¯t nearly as fraught with dangers to his pride, though it was still productive. He worked with Griffin on refreshing his muscle memory for basic techniques he¡¯d learned in karate when he was younger. The goal was to get him to the point where he could maintain proper form and react without having to think about it, much as he was learning to with the kama. In this case, Aaron had the advantage of a more-developed foundation, so he wasn¡¯t starting from scratch. Griffin did suggest he had a more complicated training regime in mind for the future, but wanted to get the most bang for his buck since they were pressed for time before they went into the dungeon. At the shooting range, Aaron found he was having less trouble reliably firing his wand, which was a welcome surprise. He still had the occasional hiccup, though, especially when he tried to switch from one mode of firing to another. Visualizing his shots before he made them, as Kiara had taught him, was getting easier with practice, too, and he was confident that was the key to improving his skill with the wand. His accuracy and precision were already improving. He was landing every shot at short range, even if his precision wasn¡¯t anything you¡¯d see in a movie. Out to fifty feet, Aaron was still only landing about nine out of ten shots, but his grouping was notably improved. At a hundred feet, he was floating between seven and eight shots landed for every ten attempts, but Kiara assured him that was a bit on the long side for a wand that wasn¡¯t designed for more powerful, specialized attacks. His afternoon ¡®lab¡¯ session with Masters went by in a flash. The weapon master opted to continue the drills they¡¯d begun that morning instead of something more complicated. Getting a feel for the basic uses of the kama, he assured Aaron, was the best use of their time. All the more so given how little of it they had before Aaron would be venturing out into the wider world. On their way out of the Dome, Aaron and the delvers had a brief conversation about what to do for his end of day ¡®elective¡¯ time. Albert wanted to get Aaron back on the treadmill and see what kind of stuff they could get him to run into or get run over by, but Griffin and Kiara had another idea. ¡°I think we should use the time to clue Aaron in on what we¡¯ll be doing tomorrow,¡± Griffin argued. ¡°You mean the dungeon?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Yes, and I agree with Griffin,¡± Kiara said, nodding. ¡°Forewarned is forearmed. Let¡¯s head back to the apartment; we can talk it over there.¡± Chapter 87 - Dungeons & Dreamings ¡°Anyone want a drink before we start?¡± Aaron asked, holding open the fridge door so the three delvers could see inside. Only Kiara declined and he spent a minute pouring soft drinks for Albert, Griffin, and himself. After the drinks were on the table and Aaron had taken a seat, Albert gave his cup a flick with one finger. ¡°Didn¡¯t Griff talk you into buying a bunch of nice glassware?¡± he asked. Aaron waved towards the communal area, where most of his new clothes were piled on the couch and numerous boxes had been stacked around the room. ¡°I¡¯ve been so busy with all this magic and memory stuff in the evenings I haven¡¯t had time to unpack everything,¡± Aaron replied. ¡°It didn¡¯t seem all that important in comparison, you know? Especially since all that remodeling is happening soon. Anyways, tell me about these dungeons! That¡¯s one of the wildest things I¡¯ve heard about since this whole thing started.¡± ¡°You have no idea,¡± Albert said. ¡°Of course I don¡¯t; isn¡¯t that why we¡¯re here?¡± Griffin guffawed and smacked Albert on the back. ¡°He got you there!¡± Even Kiara smiled at the comeback ¡ª perhaps just glad to see Albert get verbally smacked around a little ¡ª but she quickly turned back to business. ¡°We talked about dungeons a little when we visited Ekwiyakink, but we didn¡¯t even really scratch the surface,¡± she said. ¡°Nice,¡± Griffin said with a chuckle. ¡°Right. You said they were ruined or forgotten places that had monsters and treasure, like the old stories about the pyramids and stuff. And you mentioned something about echoes when we were talking to Barrett yesterday, unless I¡¯m misremembering.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Let¡¯s take it from the top.¡± ¡°Nice,¡± Albert said, shooting her the finger guns. ¡°Enough from the peanut gallery, otherwise this will take forever,¡± she chastised her fellow delvers. ¡°Dungeons are defined by two things: stratum and severity.¡± ¡°All this magic shit seems to have an awful lot of alliteration,¡± Aaron observed. ¡°It only really happens in modern English and, believe me, it takes a lot of work,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Sometimes you can tell when generations of scholars have spent a long time trying to find a word that fits and either lowered their standards or just given up.¡± Kiara huffed a sigh, raising her voice slightly. ¡°As I was saying ¡ª dungeons are defined by two things: their stratum and their severity. Sometimes they¡¯re called classification and complexity.¡± ¡°So that would be like their type and level if real life worked like some kind of video game, right?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°That¡¯s basically right, yeah,¡± Kiara agreed. ¡°He¡¯s some kinda mythic prodigy,¡± Albert said, clapping Aaron on the shoulder. Griffin regarded Aaron more thoughtfully. ¡°It¡¯s sorta apparent from the terms, but what if you¡¯re channeling some degree of inherited memory on eidolon society? Can you guess the letter that¡¯s used in the next alliteration?¡± ¡°Well, I had definitely guessed there was going to be more alliteration, but a specific letter?¡± Aaron paused and gave it some thought. No specific idea came to him as he did. Not as far as he could tell. Naturally, he considered using the Wheel of Fortune shortcut and picking one from R, S, T, L, N, or E, but that would have defeated the purpose of the exercise. Although, now that he was thinking about it, there was something that might have been inspiration percolating in his mind. There was a letter that kept creeping into the edges of his thoughts more than any of the others. It seemed like it was worth a shot. ¡°Is it T?¡± he guessed. Griffin¡¯s lips puckered. ¡°Ah, no. It¡¯s C again, although it was kind of a trick question. The strata of dungeons ¡ª their type, like you said ¡ª are corporeal, conceptual, and portal.¡± ¡°I mean¡­ It¡¯s not really alliteration with just two words, is it?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the trick,¡± Griffin replied. ¡°Hold on a second,¡± Kiara said. ¡°He¡¯s technically correct.¡± ¡°The best kind of correct,¡± Albert noted. ¡°The formal terms used for dungeon strata are temporal, transcendental, and threshold, all starting with T,¡± Kiara explained. Griffin waved a hand in the air. ¡°Okay, but who actually says it like that?¡± ¡°Scholars, you vapid dolt,¡± she spat back. ¡°It¡¯s the terminology used by anyone who seriously studies this stuff.¡± ¡°Those wads are all obsessed over theory,¡± Albert complained. ¡°The people who put out guides that are actually practical don¡¯t get all up their own asses with two dollar words. We¡¯ve had this argument already.¡± Kiara slapped the table. ¡°And I agreed you two didn¡¯t have to read those books to have the knowledge needed for our delving. That doesn¡¯t mean Aaron is wrong, especially considering his most recent inherited memories would be over two hundred years old.¡± Albert and Griffin shared a considering look, then the big man shrugged. ¡°Okay, point. That¡¯s fair.¡± ¡°So is anyone going to explain what these words mean?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Or do we keep playing guessing games? It¡¯s not that I mind, I just feel out of my element and it would probably be easier to explain things directly.¡± Kiara gave Albert and Griffin the stink eye before she continued her explanation. A temporal, or corporeal, dungeon was the simplest and most common form dungeons took. They were physical places that had usually been built with some purpose in mind. Most of the ruins and monuments that Aaron was likely to think of when he thought of dungeons were ¡ª or had started as ¡ª temporal dungeons. Transcendental, or conceptual, dungeons often formed naturally. They were usually contained in a dimensionally-altered physical space, but their nature was formed or influenced by some abstract idea, or sometimes more than one. The last stratum, threshold and portal dungeons, were either incredibly rare in the modern era or outright extinct. They were said to lead to other dimensions, realities, or planes of existence. Stories about the afterlife, fae realms, and so on were thought to originate from threshold dungeons, despite the few credible surviving records all agreeing such dungeons weren¡¯t very large. ¡°What about the echoes you mentioned?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°Echo dungeons,¡± Kiara said. ¡°It¡¯s possible they¡¯re the last stable remnants of the thresholds, but most see them as a sub-type of the transcendental stratum. Simply put, they¡¯re the echo of a specific event in history.¡± ¡°They¡¯re like traveling through time?¡± Kiara shook her head. ¡°No, just a phantom of perception and pathos. They can be wildly inaccurate representations of what actually happened. Most echoes only cover a handful of days around their key event, but some can last for weeks. They¡¯re still interesting and entertaining, not to mention profitable because of their severity.¡± ¡°Severity is their level,¡± Albert reminded Aaron. ¡°Right,¡± Kiara continued. ¡°There are way too many different scales that try to measure severity, so we use four very broad categories based on a dungeon¡¯s relation to aetheric currents.¡± ¡°Which you might know better as ¡®ley lines,¡¯¡± Griffin added. ¡°The simplest dungeons are artificial or temporary; they have little aether beyond what went into making them. Empowered dungeons draw power from a connection with an aetheric current. They usually start as constructs and grow over time. Nexus dungeons exist near the intersection of several aetheric currents. They can be built, but they¡¯re naturally-occurring more often than not. The last are the endless dungeons, found on truly massive wells of aetheric power. They¡¯re the rarest, as well as being the most perilous and profitable.¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°She¡¯s doing her own alliterations now,¡± Albert snickered. Aaron held up two fingers. ¡°Not enough words for proper alliteration.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a rule,¡± the smaller man groused. ¡°What about the dungeon we¡¯re going to? It sounded like there¡¯s more than one.¡± ¡°The place we¡¯re going is downtown and it¡¯s called the Buttonwood Gate,¡± Griffin said. ¡°That¡¯ll get us into a conceptual dungeon called the Well. There are three echoes that can be accessed from the bottom of the Well and that¡¯s probably where we¡¯ll spend most of our delve.¡± Aaron looked between the three drakus, trying to find some hint of who was going to elaborate on that. After a few seconds, it became clear none of them were going to provide any more details, so he decided to press the issue. ¡°Surely that¡¯s not all you¡¯re going to tell me,¡± he said. ¡°What should I expect in the Well? What time period are these echoes?¡± The delvers shared an infuriating ¡ª no, not infuriating; just mildly annoying ¡ª smile between them. Albert mimed locking his lips and swallowing the key, then winked at him. ¡°We don¡¯t want to spoil it with too many details,¡± Griffin said. ¡°Come on,¡± Aaron pleaded. ¡°What am I, eight? You¡¯re screwing with me, right?¡± Kiara was the one to answer. ¡°We¡¯re not. We talked it over and we want you to experience the whole thing with fresh eyes. If you go in with a bunch of expectations, it could undermine the entire point of the exercise.¡± ¡°And that point is¡­ ?¡± ¡°We can¡¯t tell you that, either, because it might create expectations,¡± Kiara said. ¡°You¡¯re shitting me,¡± Aaron complained. ¡°That¡¯s true of practically anything depending on how you look at it.¡± ¡°I know, right?¡± Albert said, smirking. ¡°What the hell happened to ¡®forewarned is forearmed,¡¯ you dicks?¡± Aaron cajoled the delvers a while longer, but to no avail. Frustrated, Aaron decided to do a load of laundry as an excuse to shoo them out of the apartment. He wasn¡¯t mad at them, not really. In fact, he recognized they probably had good reasons for keeping him in the dark about their upcoming delve. He was annoyed with them, nonetheless. Besides, it was already five o¡¯clock. There was only so much time available before Tia came by for more magic instruction. A little time to himself would be a welcome reprieve. Up until he¡¯d almost been assassinated a week earlier, Aaron had spent most of the previous year practically as a shut-in. All the socializing with Tia and the delvers was welcome and wonderful, but it was also a bit draining. Plus, there was also a teddy bear who needed ¡ª nay, demanded ¡ª a share of his attention. He was able to spend nearly an hour playing with Baby Bear before Tia messaged him to arrange their nightly meeting. She had already made arrangements for dinner and showed up half an hour later laden with several reusable grocery bags filled with plastic bags from a dozen or more restaurants. ¡°It¡¯s sticks and sacks night!¡± she declared, transferring the food to the dinette table. ¡°What the hell are ¡®sticks and sacks?¡¯¡± The sticks turned out to be long, thin, rolled foods from different cuisines. Anything that vaguely resembled a stick, basically. Various egg and spring rolls made up the bulk of the options, but there were lumpia, flautas, and taquitos, as well. The sacks followed the same naming convention and were mostly different kinds of dumplings ¡ª potstickers and gyoza, pierogi, empanadas, samosas, gnocchi, and a host of others Aaron couldn¡¯t identify. Tia had come well-prepared for such an odd meal, armed with an outlandish number of different sauces to go with the appetizers. They spent the evening discussing magic, Aaron¡¯s efforts to recover memories about the sceptre or the mysterious bluff-top manor, and anything else that came up. He tried to probe her for information about the dungeon, as well, but Tia knew even less than he did about them. Baby Bear came and went as the mood struck him, sometimes just to observe and others to be a playful nuisance. They made arrangements for Bear to spend a few days in Tia¡¯s apartment while Aaron was in the dungeon. Bear was reluctant to give up on having the apartment to himself until he learned other people would be in and out of the apartment for the remodeling. After that, he was much more agreeable to staying with Tia. Better to spend time at her place than having to play possum for hours at a time or worrying about some worker being overcome with avarice and trying to steal him after they ¡®beheld his cuteness.¡¯ Alice stopped by later in the evening to double-check the protections she¡¯d put in place. That included refreshing the various ingredients to be burned in the braziers ¡ª which Aaron had learned were effective enough to let him smoke inside if he wanted to ¡ª and making sure his hair was still affixed to the poppet in her oubliette of dreams. Once she had departed to her perch on the roof, Aaron had a cigarette on the fire escape with the delvers, wished them good night, and went back inside to get ready for bed. The imminent dungeon dive took pride of place in his thoughts as he lay down and spending time with Baby Bear was just the thing he needed to smooth over the rough edges of his nerves. Besides, a good night¡¯s sleep was just the thing to make sure he was rested and ready for whatever waited for him tomorrow beyond the Buttonwood Gate. Whatever the hell that was.
Aaron stood in a small park. It was unlike any park he had ever been to, yet it was vaguely familiar. A cobblestone path meandered through the park, wending this way and that, lined with small flower beds and well-trimmed grass. Healthy trees ¡ª ash, oak, sycamore, willows, and the occasional pine; all trees he knew from home ¡ª grew as densely as their roots would allow. The canopy overhead cast the ground in green-tinged shadow, blocking enough light that the space between the trees was mostly free of large underbrush. Lacking anything else to do, Aaron followed the path. There was nothing to say he couldn¡¯t venture out into the trees, but he couldn¡¯t see a reason to do so. Without a purpose, leaving the path seemed rather, well, pointless. He could always explore later if he wanted to, but paths usually went somewhere and that could be worth exploring, too. After a few minutes strolling through the cool shade of the foliage overhead, he reached a circular plaza fifty feet across. It was lined with low stone benches and more path radiated from the edges like the spokes of a wheel. He made his way around the plaza, looking down each of the paths in turn. There were eight in total, if you included the one he¡¯d arrived by, and they seemed to be laid out like the points of a compass. The four at what Aaron assumed were the cardinal directions were wider and their routes didn¡¯t wind as much as the smaller lanes separating them. They were so broad he could see all the way to where they ended, hundreds of feet away. Each of the broad roads ran into a pair of great, iron-banded wood doors. These doors were set into walls made of massive stones, placed with such precision even the mortar seemed uniform. They were the kind of walls you might see on an ancient castle. Aaron knew what waited beyond those doors. He had no interest in going back into those hellish tunnels and dealing with whatever had been in there with him. He glanced instead up at the sky, visible only because the canopy didn¡¯t encroach far beyond the edge of the plaza. The velvet darkness of the night sky spread above him, an endless expanse of nothing. It was so vast it felt like the weight of it would pull him free of the ground if he looked too long. There were more stars in that sky than he¡¯d ever seen, except perhaps for the time he¡¯d gone to summer camp somewhere near the redwoods. It was just the number of stars that was unusual. Something else about that black sky and its pinpoints of light was alien and strange. Aaron looked, trying to figure out what it was, for several long seconds. Then he felt a kind of weightlessness settle into his body and began to sway in place. He wrenched his eyes back to the earth before he could fall down or, worse, up. That was nonsense, of course, and yet¡­ Aaron turned his attention back to the ground and the odd park around him. He had no interest in the main roads or the hassle beyond the doors at their end, but he was curious what he might find down the routes between them. There hadn¡¯t been much to see on the one he¡¯d followed to reach the plaza, but that didn¡¯t mean they were all empty. He picked one of the ordinal paths at random and began walking. After the first few slight twists in the path, it was like he was in an entirely different place. The trees had grown even closer together, their boughs lower and more dense. The shadows beneath the canopy were thicker and something like a chill had settled in the air. Ahead, a small dirt path split off from the cobblestone. A small structure stood at its end, just twenty or so feet away from the paving stones. It was barely ten feet across and not much higher, made of dark stone crawling with ivy. A wrought iron fence, waist-high, surrounded the tiny building, and an ornate archway stood over the path. Aaron knew the building was a crypt at first sight. It was the kind of iconic, stylized structure he¡¯d seen in the digital graveyards of half a dozen video games or more. He knew there¡¯d be a stairway leading down into the earth before he had stepped off the cobblestones and wasn¡¯t disappointed when he got close enough to see past the pillars framing the crypt. What he hadn¡¯t expected to find was a staircase that was blocked. After descending only half a dozen steps, the stairs reached a landing where the path was barred by a strange round wooden door. Any number of things could be waiting for him behind that unusual door. If this were a video game, anyways. He didn¡¯t know if undead hordes or bestial monsters were even a thing in the new magic world he¡¯d been thrust into. Would such creatures even pose a threat to the bullshit badassery dragons seemed to enjoy? The most curious thing, however, was the door. It was the oddest door he¡¯d ever seen. The shape reminded Aaron of a hobbit hole, like he¡¯d seen in movies, yet that was where the similarities ended. He climbed down the stairs to examine it more closely. Even without touching it, Aaron had the sense that the wood was rather¡­ thin. Not that it was fragile or brittle, necessarily, but nothing like the sense of sturdiness he expected of a door as large as this one. It was more like the bedroom door of an apartment than the front door. The whole thing had been made from a single piece of lumber, as well, instead of planks or boards worked together like you''d expect from a door as wide as it was tall. Aaron could actually see the splash of darker grain running across the entire thing. The tree needed to cut a piece of lumber that size must have been immense. That still wasn¡¯t the strangest thing about it. The edge of the door ¡ª not the frame, but the edge of the door itself ¡ª had a thick, rounded lip running its entire circumference. Moreover, there was no handle or knob as far as Aaron could see. Instead, there were four evenly-spaced holes drilled right through the wood around its center. It was the weirdest damn door Aaron had ever seen, yet it was also terribly familiar. He stood, staring at it for several minutes, trying to reconcile those two ideas. He scratched his head. He rubbed his chin. He even put his hands on his hips and rocked on the balls of his feet trying to figure it out. Finally, he reached out to touch the edge of the door, curious if he could find a way to open it. As soon as his finger touched the smooth wooden lip of the door, he knew exactly what the door was and why it was so familiar. After all, hadn¡¯t he been fiddling with the smaller cousins and siblings of the thing practically as long as he could walk? ¡°It¡¯s a damn button,¡± he said incredulously. ¡°A giant wooden button. What the hell is that about?¡± He wanted to see if he could open the wood button door and find out what was in the crypt behind it, but he stopped short when his heart leapt into his throat. Up above, in the unusually spooky forest, something was coming through the underbrush. Leaves were crunching, twigs snapping, and, beneath all of that, he could hear the huffing of an animal¡¯s breath. Whatever it was, it was coming fast. Chapter 88 - Dream, Interrupted Aaron dithered on the spot, but only for a second. Then he moved up the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could. It was tempting to stay put since the crypt provided cover from three directions. The strange, giant wooden shirt button could open behind him at any moment, though, and he also didn¡¯t know what was coming toward him through the forest. That helped him make up his mind quickly enough. At the top of the stairs, he crept around the side of the crypt, away from whatever was moving through the gloom of the woods. With a light jump, Aaron pulled himself up onto the small building. He lay, pressed flat against the sloped roof, and positioned himself until he could just barely see over its peak. He was trusting in the angle to let him watch the woods without being easily spotted. A few moments later, he caught sight of movement in the trees. It was barely more than a hint of the thing, hidden as it was in the shadows of the dense wood, but it was enough to tell that it was big. Really big. Roughly the size of a car big. It was almost too big to fit between some of the more tightly packed trees in this part of the park. It brushed against trunks and scraped across exposed roots as it prowled closer to the crypt. Even with little more than a shaded glimpse, Aaron thought he recognized it, but couldn¡¯t quite bring himself to accept what his instincts were telling him. Moreover, revealing himself was a big risk to take if he turned out to be wrong. Thankfully, he didn¡¯t have to wait long to find out. After half a minute of bumbling around in the shadows, the creature found its way onto the cobblestone path. Heavy paws slapped against the lane as it drew near, long claws clicking on the smooth rocks with each step, until finally, it emerged fully into view near the fence around the crypt. Aaron almost slid off the roof when the huge brown bear galumphed the last steps to the wrought iron gate. It looked mostly like a regular grizzly bear, with several distinctly odd differences. The ears were too wide, for one, and the fur was far too close-cropped to the body, for another. The dead giveaway, however, were the eyes, which had lids and could blink but were still the brown ringed plastic Aaron had been looking at most of his life. The dream form of Baby Bear ¡ª or this dream form, at least ¡ª stood up on its hind legs, reaching a height somewhere between nine and ten feet. He looked right at Aaron, haphazardly hidden on the roof of the crypt, and waved one massive paw at him. Then, he dropped back to all fours and ambled through the gate and down the path to the crypt. Baby Bear stood back up on his hind legs when he was beside the small stone building, resting his forepaws on the edge of the roof, and stuck his nose up over the edge, sniffing at Aaron. ¡°Hello,¡± Bear said, his voice still the small, soft, lisping version Aaron knew so well. ¡°I got a little lost on account of all the trees.¡± ¡°Uh, hi, Bear,¡± Aaron replied. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could turn into a mostly-normal bear.¡± Bear snickered softly. ¡°Me neither, but it¡¯s a dream and that¡¯s basically doing a imagination. I rule at imaginations!¡± Aaron clambered down from the roof, still feeling a bit on edge from the shock of Bear¡¯s approach. ¡°What are you doing here, Bear? Did you want to play or something?¡± ¡°Um¡­ oh yeah! I came ¡®cause I felt like something bad was happening,¡± Bear said. ¡°Is something bad happening?¡± Baby Bear swung his long head around to examine the small clearing around the crypt and Aaron couldn¡¯t help but join him. It was still a creepy tomb in the spooky forest part of the park, but nothing else stood out as being immediately wrong. Only one thing really occurred to Aaron that could be dangerous. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I was looking at this weird door down in the crypt right before I heard you coming, so maybe that¡¯s it. I¡¯d show you, but I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll fit.¡± Baby Bear dropped back onto all fours and turned until he could look down the narrow stairway cutting into the ground below the small building. The passage might have been wide enough for the huge grizzly to fit, but just barely. ¡°No problem,¡± Bear said. With a poof! and a cloud of dust practically straight out of a cartoon, the bear was suddenly much smaller, about the size of a corgi. Aaron barely had time to register the transformation before the new, minified bear started plodding down the stairs, one hop at a time. Aaron followed behind and found Baby Bear with his nose pressed against the wooden button at the bottom of the stairs. ¡°I think this is something that scares you, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the bad thing that had my fuzz standing up. Let¡¯s see if I need thumbs to work one of these things.¡± Bear reared up onto his hind legs and pressed his paws against the humongous shirt button, his claws clicking on the wood. With a funny little grunt, he leaned in and pushed. The button didn¡¯t open like a door, but split down the middle and swung inwards. A clunk and rattle accompanied the motion, sounding more like old, rusted metal than smooth, polished wood. A small, dark space waited beyond the opening, not more than ten or fifteen feet across. A sickly fog clung to the uneven dirt floor, swirling around a cylinder of well-worn stones standing in the middle of the room. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the bad thing either,¡± Baby Bear said. ¡°Although it certainly is spooky enough, whatever it is.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a well,¡± Aaron said, gesturing to the rickety bucket perched on the stone rim. ¡°Well, well, well,¡± Bear said, hopping up to lean on the stone wall with his front paws and sniffing at the well. He was only there a couple seconds before dropping back to the floor and turned towards the entrance. ¡°Someone else is here.¡± Aaron turned, his heart beating more rapidly again. He wanted to get back outside where he could move if it was a threat, but stopped himself before he went up the stairs. He knelt down beside the micro-bear and whispered, ¡°Stay out of sight unless you have absolutely no choice. Okay?¡± Bear¡¯s face scrunched up ¡ª as much as a bear¡¯s could, at any rate ¡ª but he gave Aaron a small nod and prowled to the foot of the stairs, hidden by the corner where it turned to the wood button. Knowing that Bear was as well-concealed as Aaron could make him on such short notice, he made his way back up the stairs of the crypt. Secret and safe is good, Aaron thought. Having a giant grizzly lurking out of sight, ready to back me up if there¡¯s some kind of dream fight, is pretty nice, too. When he reached the top of the stairs, Aaron¡¯s eyes were drawn upwards. He couldn¡¯t have said why, exactly, but the impulse was strong. The small plot of land around the crypt was clear of trees, so there was a break in the canopy of foliage above, allowing a mostly unobstructed view of the sky. There were two immediately obvious changes in that strange, alien expanse. First, a beam of light crossed the visible area of that dark space like a hazy gray aurora. Second, one of the stars was rapidly descending towards the ground. The core of that light was a soft green and its rim was a reddish-orange that looked more like liquid or plasma than the rays of an illuminated nimbus. The star drew closer, growing larger until it was about the size of a basketball. As the object floated towards him, the light emanating from it dimmed, revealing greater detail. The silhouette of a figure began to resolve in the heart of the light. The green core was actually two smaller points of light ¡ª the eyes of the figure in the glowing orb ¡ª and the red a flowing corona of hair. Once it had drawn close enough, Aaron recognized the star-person as Alice. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. She was clad in a gown of material so light it was little more than tissue paper, hugging her curves and exposing much of her legs as the skirts billowed around her. Her hair reached past her waist, flowing from her head like she was floating in a pool of water instead of the air. She glided to a halt, stopping when she was just ten feet above the ground. ¡°Aaron,¡± she said, breathlessly. ¡°I tried to pull you into my dream or force you to wake, but couldn¡¯t. Your defenses have certainly improved since your Emergence.¡± ¡°Thanks?¡± ¡°Some kind of magic is targeting you,¡± Alice continued. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what it does, but it started a few minutes ago. Do you know when that beam of light appeared?¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t looked up at the sky for a little while, not since I left the plaza at the heart of the park. It wasn¡¯t there a half hour ago, or however long that works out to in the waking world. I¡¯ve been snooping around this creepy-ass tomb place for the last fifteen minutes or so.¡± Alice glanced critically at the crypt behind him. ¡°It seems like that¡¯s a natural part of your dream, not whatever¡¯s targeting you from the outside. The important thing right now is that you wake up. Getting you out of the Dream is our best bet of cutting off the magic directed at you here.¡± ¡°Okay, so I need to fall. Can you haul me into the air and drop me?¡± ¡°Probably not, but I could try,¡± Alice said, biting her lower lip. ¡°Actions in dreams are laden with symbolism and flying with someone is usually a sign of a deep level of trust.¡± ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I trust you?¡± Alice directed her gaze to the ground. ¡°I think¨C I think, because of my glamour. You have an abnormally strong reaction to it. If I had to guess, I¡¯d say that some part of you resents or mistrusts the idea of being influenced. That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s not a good foundation for trust.¡± Aaron was taken aback for a moment. Her observation wasn¡¯t without merit and he had struggled with thoughts along those very same lines, but it was the remnant of a childish mistake not some nefarious ploy to manipulate his feelings. Aaron knew that, even if he didn¡¯t always feel it. Unfortunately, it was hardly the time for a bunch of introspection and self-talk to try to sort through all of that, so Aaron forced himself to focus on the problem at hand. It also gave him an excuse not to confirm or deny Alice¡¯s concerns aloud. He could say that might help soothe her worries on that front, though. ¡°It¡¯s not so bad right now, actually,¡± he offered. ¡°I think I¡¯m getting better at resisting it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a dream,¡± Alice replied. ¡°The glamour¡¯s magic is tied to my body.¡± ¡°Well shit, sounds like we¡¯ll need couples therapy to sort through that,¡± he said, then winced. ¡°Not that we¡¯re a couple or anything. Anyways, we don¡¯t have a fancy private jet on hand, but I bet we can make do without it.¡± An idea had occurred to Aaron looking around the crypt¡¯s yard. Before there was any time to dwell on that stupid couples therapy joke, he put his plan into motion. Aaron pulled himself back up onto the roof of the crypt and stood, his heels at the very edge of the stone. With a deep breath, he forced himself to lean back. And back. And back. He swayed in place briefly as his instincts tried to add their two cents into the conversation about what he did with his body. Aaron didn¡¯t know if he could overpower basic instinctual impulses, but that didn¡¯t mean he was without options. He looked up at the sky, thrusting his chin upwards as hard as he could and forcing his head backwards. One of the many seemingly inane lessons he¡¯d learned over the course of his life was that where the head went, the body would follow. Once his head tilted far enough, he started to fall in earnest. Aaron tried to swallow the monkey brained ¡ª or ape brained, anyway ¡ª panic that said falling was bad. Falling meant leaving the safety of the trees for the ground, where there were snakes and tigers and shit. He had nothing to fear from snakes or tigers and even less from a meager eight or ten foot tumble. As the fathomless darkness of the starry heavens expanded in his sight, that same cloying feeling that he might be drawn into that boundless void teamed up with his primal terror of falling until they were practically clogging his throat. The ground was rushing up to meet him. The sky was threatening to drag him into its cold, endless clutches. He had no control over his own body without something to touch, to grab, to push off of. There were barely any coherent thoughts in that long, interminable moment that surely lasted no more than a fraction of a second. Just before Aaron could slam into the hard-packed dirt around the crypt, his eyes ¡ª his real eyes ¡ª flew open and his legs flailed, helping him shoot up to a sitting position in bed. The lingering intensity of the dream was so strong, Aaron would have almost sworn he heard the sound of his own impact with the ground, a muffled thump in the dark room. ¡°Fuck me running ¡ª that sucked,¡± he swore. ¡°You¡¯re telling me?¡± Baby Bear asked from somewhere across the room. Aaron looked around and saw that Bear was dangling from a large dreamcatcher hanging over the window to the fire escape, the heavy drapes still fluttering from his impact. Maybe that thump was less in the dream that I thought, Aaron realized. ¡°Oops,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Sorry, Bear. Looks like I might¡¯ve launched you a little.¡± ¡°You think???¡± Aaron¡¯s phone buzzed from where it sat atop the dream oubliette beside his bed. It was a message from Alice telling him to shower and grab his things as quickly as he could, then come up to the roof. ¡°Sorry again, Bear, but it looks like I¡¯ve got to get moving.¡± He weathered the bear¡¯s muttered imprecations as he made his way into the bathroom to get ready for what was already shaping up to be an unfortunately exciting day. Half an hour later, Aaron was on the roof with Alice, Tia, and all four of the teams assigned to his security personnel. A phone sat on the table connecting Barrett to the meeting and a floating crystal¡­ thing was doing the same for Mallory. Alice had told everyone what she¡¯d witnessed from the roof ¡ª some kind of probe through the Dream directed right at Aaron¡¯s sleeping mind ¡ª and explained that she couldn¡¯t be sure of its origin or purpose. Although some of the security people were less than thrilled with the lack of information, the discussion quickly turned to what to do in response to this new, unknown threat. ¡°We could bunker up at HQ or get seriously remote,¡± Barrett said. ¡°That would give us a wider net to spot and intercept hostiles while minimizing risk.¡± Mallory hummed thoughtfully, the crystal vibrating slightly as he did. ¡°Your proposal is not without merit, Cordus Freeman. Removing the candidate to a vessel and remaining in transit by sea or air could impede any attempts to further target him. However, it provides no actionable path to resolving the threat of whatever magic was used.¡± Aaron had spent his own time thinking over what to do while he¡¯d showered and dressed. His first impulse would have been to agree with Barrett and Mallory ¡ª isolate and defend ¡ª but after some consideration, it felt less and less like the right move. ¡°I¡¯d like to suggest an alternative,¡± he said. ¡°As much as cruising around in international waters on a mega-yacht sounds like major fun, I think it¡¯s the wrong choice. First of all, we can¡¯t stay on the backfoot forever if we expect to accomplish anything. More importantly, I think there¡¯s a way to take advantage of this situation.¡± ¡°How, precisely, would you propose to do that?¡± Mallory¡¯s voice droned through the crystal. ¡°The most likely result of whatever magic was thrown at my dreams was to locate me, right? That information is basically useless if they don¡¯t act on it, so we have an opportunity to test its limits and turn the tables on our mystery wizard.¡± Barrett cut in. ¡°Sure, sure. We know they¡¯ll either go to the apartment ¡ª which they might not be able to find thanks to its enchantments ¡ª or make their move wherever Aaron goes. If we control both locations, we have an opportunity to identify and possibly neutralize any hostiles. It might even lead to the recovery of the book.¡± ¡°So we hunker in the bunker?¡± Griffin asked. ¡°Too risky,¡± Barrett replied. ¡°We can lose that apartment building with no real loss, but we can¡¯t risk revealing any major holdings, like the Monolith. No, I think we move the schedule up a few hours ¡ª you take Aaron into the Buttonwood Gate, as planned, and we¡¯ll make sure we have people sitting on the apartment and the entrance to the Gate.¡± Kiara cleared her throat. ¡°This is Kiara Lavign¨¦, with the security detail. I just want to make sure we all understand that none of the dungeons through the Buttonwood Gate are coterie-locked. Any pursuers who get through the Gate have a chance to make contact with us.¡± ¡°Could we send more forces into these dungeons?¡± Mallory asked. ¡°We could, but I don¡¯t think it would be especially helpful,¡± Barrett answered. ¡°If it requires a small army for our candidate just to exist in the world, we¡¯re so deep in the shit there¡¯s no way we don¡¯t get flushed. Besides, where they¡¯re going, adaptability and maneuverability are going to be key if there¡¯s enemy contact. Lavign¨¦¡¯s unit is a crack team and this is their element; best to leave it to them.¡± ¡°Besides, we¡¯ll have people outside who can come in on the flank if anyone does track us down inside,¡± Albert said. There was a long pause, then Mallory grumbled through the crystal. ¡°Very well. I acquiesce to your stratagem, Cordus Freeman. I will dispatch a runner with some additional equipment to rendezvous with the candidate¡¯s protectors at the Gate.¡± ¡°Then we¡¯re settled,¡± Barrett said, the sound of his hands clapping a single time coming through the phone. ¡°Let¡¯s get the convoy on the road. I¡¯ll be in touch with individual unit leads with further instructions.¡± Chapter 89 - The Buttonwood Gate Once they had a plan in place, the drakus didn¡¯t waste time putting it into action. While the logistics team would be staying at the apartment building to monitor for signs of its discovery, the other three security teams scattered to different parts of the building. They agreed to rendezvous out on the street in five minutes, which gave all of them just enough time for everyone to grab what they variously referred to as go bags, bug out kits, and so on. Aaron had everything he would need on him, as far as he knew, but he thought of a good use for the extra time and quietly asked Tia to join him downstairs before they left. Since their schedule had been pushed up so dramatically, he wanted to make sure Baby Bear was relocated to her apartment before he left for however many days the delve would take. Tia agreed easily enough, of course, but Bear huffed a bit about the whole thing. He wasn¡¯t happy at the whirlwind of morning activity, especially after being launched into a window and not getting any morning snuggles. Aaron let him vent for a minute or so, but then he knelt by the bed and gave his bear a hug. It only took a few somber words about the severity of the situation after that to convince Bear to hop into a bag and accompany Tia down to her apartment. Aaron went downstairs as soon as that was handled and loitered near the building¡¯s front door, waiting for the security people to step out onto the stoop. Instead of everyone coming together all at once, it was only the three delvers who met him there. They had to stay there for a couple minutes, with Griffin and Albert both keeping eye on the road outside. They waited there for a couple minutes, keeping an eye on the road outside. When a black SUV, white panel van, and two large motorcycles pulled to a stop outside, blocking the parking space where their sedan waited, the drakus made their way out to the car. ¡°Our convoy is too big not to draw attention on the Byways,¡± Griffin explained as he pulled onto the road between the van and SUV. ¡°It¡¯s early enough that traffic shouldn¡¯t be too terrible and we should make it in thirty to forty minutes.¡± ¡°How far are we going?¡± ¡°All the way Downtown,¡± Griffin replied. Griffin¡¯s prediction turned out to be spot on. There was some traffic ¡ª it was still New York City, after all ¡ª but since it was barely past six o¡¯clock, it wasn¡¯t much. They cut through Central Park, following a narrow, two-lane transverse road bordered by brick walls with the canopies of trees peaking over their lips. Knowing there might be people tracking Aaron down with unknown magics right at that moment made it feel a bit claustrophobic, but they passed through the park quickly enough. After emerging from the park, they stayed on the same road for another mile. The neighborhood they passed through was very New York, to Aaron¡¯s sensibilities, but he didn¡¯t see any landmarks that stood out to him from the back of the car. When they turned south, he got a better sense of where they were. The signs announcing FDR Drive helped, but once they were on the highway, Aaron could look across a few lanes of traffic to see the East River a couple hundred feet away, if that. It helped him get his bearings in a more tangible way than some road markers could, considering he still didn¡¯t have a ¡®feel¡¯ of the city yet. There were doubtlessly any number of fascinating things to see in Manhattan between where they turned onto the parkway and their destination, but the FDR didn¡¯t provide a very good view of much of it. In fact, a good deal of their time was spent in covered passes and tunnels until they were somewhere around Midtown. At one point, after passing from one tunnel to another, Albert pointed to the ceiling above them and said, ¡°We¡¯re passing under the United Nations right now. What a view, am I right?¡± ¡°And here I am without my passport,¡± Aaron said wryly. Somewhere around 23rd Street, they finally managed to escape the endless covered streets. It might have been earlier, but 23rd was the first sign Aaron saw on the highway after realizing they¡¯d been out in the sun for a couple minutes. Even still, there wasn¡¯t much to see but red brick buildings and the occasional flash of the river off to the left. At least the buildings were kinda tall, standing around ten storeys on average. They were nothing to write home about on their own merits, but being larger than almost everything back home in Sacramento made them remarkable nonetheless. As much as he was trying to do a bit of rubbernecking this morning, it hadn¡¯t escaped Aaron¡¯s notice that the three delvers were on high alert. He¡¯d seen them when they were expecting trouble before. He¡¯d also seen them in the lead-up to and aftermath of a deadly fight. This wasn¡¯t that. Maybe it was the unknown nature of the threat that had set them so on edge. Or maybe it was the exposure of being out on the city streets. Maybe it was having the other two security teams active in the field. Or maybe it was something else altogether. Whatever the case, he¡¯d never seen them so tense and he couldn¡¯t think of a productive way to lighten things up. Hopefully things will be more comfortable for them once we get into the dungeon, he thought, having practically forgotten his own anxiety about the imminent delve. Once they passed the Williamsburg Bridge, the view improved significantly. The waterfront of Downtown floated above the expanse of the river, great pillars of glass and steel jutting into the sky, framed by the piercing blue and granite gray of the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges. That was a sight to see, especially for the first time. Griffin actually took the off-ramp for the Brooklyn Bridge, but took a left onto a street that passed beneath its foot on their side of the river. A few blocks later, they were deep in the guts of Downtown. They didn¡¯t stay on the main roads long, turning down a series of single lane one-way streets that were little more than alleys. After several blocks wending their way through a route the security people obviously understood, they crossed a major road and pulled up to a wedge-shaped building at the intersection of three tiny lanes. Aaron had to blink several times when he saw the building to make sure he wasn¡¯t imagining things. It reminded him of another iconic building in the city, but he was pretty sure that one was quite a bit further north. ¡°Is that a smaller version of the Flatiron?¡± he asked. ¡°It is,¡± Kiara replied. ¡°It¡¯s the old Cocoa Exchange.¡± They drove along the right side of the building, the convoy rolling to a stop at the rear corner of the structure where it abutted a much smaller red brick building that housed an Irish pub. One of the suited paramilitary types stepped out of the SUV and approached their car while Aaron scrambled to follow the delvers as they piled out onto the sidewalk. The suit hopped into the driver¡¯s seat of the sedan and the convoy started to pull away again. They hadn¡¯t even been stopped for a full ten seconds. As Aaron got his bearings on the little street, he saw a familiar figure leaning against the wall beside glass double doors at the foot of the building. He was dressed in a more public-friendly version of the outfit Aaron had first met him in, but nothing could deter the wiry man from exuding the inexorable aura of an otaku edgelord. Masters had a large black duffel bag hung over his shoulder. He swung it down and held it out to Griffin, his leather trench coat flapping as he did and revealing the handles of several Japanese swords concealed beneath it. Somehow. I think he¡¯s used spatial magic to create straight-up Highlander-style hammer space, Aaron thought. ¡°Everything you should need for your delve is in the bag,¡± he said, then fixed his beady eyes on Aaron. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t normally have armed you this early, but the steel in there is barely more than a child¡¯s toy, so I made an exception due to the circumstances.¡± Aaron nodded his head in thanks. ¡°I appreciate it, instructor Masters.¡± ¡°Now get inside. I¡¯ll keep an eye out here until our people are in place. You need fear no enemy for at least another hour as I stand my vigil.¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Albert snorted derisively and pulled open the door to the building. Griffin went in first, then Kiara motioned for Aaron to follow. Within was a small, tasteful vestibule. The floors and a staircase on the right wall were made of marble ¡ª real or fake, Aaron had no clue ¡ª and a panel of metal mail slots was on the left. There was another door under the stairs, one beside the mail boxes, and a hallway leading past the rear left wall. Griffin slipped an ingot of silverish metal into the door next to the mail slots, which swung open with a click. As they passed through, Aaron glanced down the hallway and saw it was a small elevator bay with two cars and passed through to the other side of the building. Once everyone was through the door, Griffin brought them to a stop. They were in a small lobby of some sort. The decorations and furniture were bland and forgettable, but it was empty and that seemed to satisfy whatever Griffin was looking for. While Albert and Kiara took positions physically blocking the two doors into the room, Griffin set the duffel on the ground and unzipped an external pocket. From it, he withdrew several necklaces. They were made of leather thong cord and a medallion of some dark metal hung from each one. He distributed one to each of them. ¡°What¡¯re these for?¡± Aaron asked, examining his own necklace. ¡°Disguises,¡± Kiara said, slipping hers over her head and tucking it away under her shirt. Aaron followed her example and the necklace settled into position against his chest. Something like a cool mist washed over his entire body. He didn¡¯t see any difference when he looked at himself or the others, but Kiara and Griffin were giving everyone in their party the once over and they seemed satisfied with whatever they found. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s move,¡± Griffin said, shouldering the duffel again and pulling open the next door. They stepped through into a spacious room with a tall ceiling. Autumn morning sunlight shone down through a skylight, bright and clear, onto the only other feature in the room ¡ª a massive tree. Clad in grayish bark with lighter brown wood beneath, the tree had to be quite old. Well over a century, at least. The trunk was twenty feet tall and wide enough Griffin couldn¡¯t have reached across its length if he laid down and raised his arms over his head. At the top of the trunk, the tree split into half a dozen nearly-vertical branches each thick enough to qualify as the trunks of lesser trees in their own right. The branches climbed to a height well more than double the trunk base, leaning out slightly and spreading into their own impressive sub-branches. Aaron found himself staring at the tree, which simply could not exist. The room itself was too large to feasibly be located where he knew it to be and the skylight only reinforced that conclusion. But neither its size nor the room housing it were the oddest thing about the tree ¡ª a gate was set into the base trunk of the tree itself. The gate was made of wrought iron pickets crawling with ornate filigree shot through and tipped with highlights in gold. After a quick scan of the room, Griffin set the duffel bag down and began to root through it. He left most of the contents inside, but pulled out several items before zipping it back up and slinging it across his back once more. The first was a short rod made of some pale blue, opalescent stone. It was carved into several intertwined snakes, similar to the caduceus, except where the wings would be at the top were leaves bearing a bundle of grapes. Griffin passed this strange device to Albert, who slid it into a pocket. Next was a pair of kama, the blades sheathed in leather holsters with several long leather straps hanging from hardened scabbards. These were passed to Aaron, who picked them up and found his attention drawn from the tree as he tried to puzzle out what the straps were for. Finally, Griffin pulled from the duffel were four fist-sized pouches, each with drawstrings to cinch them closed. They looked like dice bags to Aaron, but the clinking of metal and obvious weight as Griffin distributed them suggested they were proper, ye olde thyme-y coin purses. Albert sidled over to Aaron and showed him how the leather straps could be tied in different ways to secure the holsters on his person. At his urging, Aaron tied them around his shoulders so the blades would lay across his shoulder blades under his hoodie. The handles hung down, framing his spine, and Albert took a couple minutes to explain how he should draw them. He told Aaron to pay special attention to not drawing them at the same time, which could cause the blades to tangle or wind up slicing his own arms. Not much of a concern with simple steel, but the smaller rogue assured him it was better to avoid bad habits from the start. With everyone set to go, they gathered around the metal gate in the tree trunk. Everyone except Aaron, who eyed the odd passage dubiously. ¡°How is this a buttonwood gate?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s clearly made of iron and that looks like a big ass old sycamore, not a- a buttonwood tree, which I¡¯ve never even heard of.¡± Griffin chuckled and knocked on the tree¡¯s thick bark. ¡°Buttonwood tree is an old name for the classic American sycamore, like this bad boy, and the name is about as literal as it gets ¡ª they used to make buttons for shirts and pants out of wood from these trees.¡± ¡°This particular tree,¡± Kiara said, ¡°has been protected and nurtured for more than two hundred years. Even though it started its life less than a thousand feet from where we¡¯re standing right now, it needed to be moved several times before it wound up here a year or two after the Cocoa Exchange was built.¡± ¡°That¡¯s kind of cool but, like¡­ why? What¡¯s so special about this tree?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not the tree itself, it¡¯s what happened under its branches in 1792 and what that has come to represent,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Spoilers,¡± Griffin complained, bumping Kiara gently with a shoulder. Kiara turned a cocked eyebrow on him, then gave him a one-armed shove the big man clearly allowed to send him stumbling a few feet away. ¡°Anyways,¡± she continued, as if there¡¯d been no interruption. ¡°This is a conceptual dungeon, as we¡¯ve said, so it won¡¯t be filled with monsters and traps in the way you might imagine it, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not without its risks. You¡¯ll have to pay attention, think on your feet, and do your best to avoid pitfalls and other dangers.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s not vaguely ominous and ominously vague or anything,¡± Aaron groused. ¡°I know right,¡± Griffin laughed, clapping a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Now let¡¯s sort out our admission and get down to it.¡± Aaron watched as the other drakus stepped up to the side of the iron gate in the tree trunk, fishing a silverish coin out of their purses. Aaron stepped up beside them and followed suit, sticking his fingers into his own pouch. From the way a single coin immediately presented itself, the purses had to be dimensional storage. The coin he pulled out had a single line engraved into its face, like Albert, Griffin, and Kiara¡¯s coins, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as lustrous. He held it up beside one of theirs to compare them. ¡°You¡¯ll want a plat, not a silver,¡± Albert told him. After reaching into his purse again and swapping coins, Aaron could definitely tell the difference. The platinum coin shone brightly in the sunlight spilling through the boughs of the great sycamore. Aaron wasn¡¯t sure if shininess was the only easily spotted difference between the two metals, but it was probably going to be easy enough to remember. Despite still being fairly new to all this eidolon stuff, Aaron felt like he had a decent grasp on how much a single platinum coin was worth, and not just in the sense of doing the math to figure out how many lumens it held. Seven hundred twenty¡­ nine, thank you very much, Aaron thought, with a good deal more smugness than was probably warranted for memorizing what nine cubed was. Passage into the Goblin Market had only cost a single lux per person ¡ª just one copper coin. Entry into Ekwiyakink had cost them an aethril each, but either Albert or Griffin had complained that was nine times the usual rate, which meant it usually cost a single gold. Their pocket dimensions had cost a little more than a platinum apiece. In fact, the only things Aaron could think of that had cost a good deal more than a single platinum were the wands Kiara¡¯s friend, Mack, sold. As far as he could tell, that put the value of a single platinum at somewhere between fifty and several hundred magical bucks. The wands were a real outlier there. So a not-so-cheap coin to get through a gate made of gilded iron that was set into a tree roughly as old as the United States which was, itself, housed in a fancy, impossible room located in the heart of the Financial District of Manhattan. It painted a picture of wealth and history that had Aaron thinking this so-called Well was probably some kind of finance or commerce-oriented dungeon. He couldn¡¯t really wrap his head around how that would even work and he didn¡¯t get the time to consider it further. Griffin stepped up to the gate and pressed his coin into a faint, rounded depression in the crossbeam of the gate. The space was easy to overlook until you knew to look for it. Then Albert and Kiara followed suit, holding their coins against the gate like quarters in an old arcade machine or jukebox. Aaron stepped forward and found a slot of his own, setting his coin and holding it in place with a finger like they were. One after another, they released the coins, which slid down into the metal plate with the clatter and clink of precious metal on wrought iron. The gate swung open, the dark metal of its two halves nearly invisible in the featureless darkness of the hollow tree trunk. I¡¯m pretty sure there was no gaping maw of the void behind that gate a second ago, Aaron thought. He nearly startled when Griffin slapped a meaty hand on his shoulder. The big man gave him a reassuring smile and stepped through the gate, immediately vanishing into the impenetrable shadows of the hollow. ¡°No dawdling,¡± Kiara told him, gesturing at the horrifying portal as if it were no more exciting than a McDonald¡¯s. Maybe it isn¡¯t, Aaron thought, shrugging. Well, what the hell. Let¡¯s find out if this ¡®Well¡¯ is what I think it is. He stepped forward and through, finally passing through the Buttonwood Gate, with only a moment to reflect on what a goofy-ass name that truly was. Chapter 90 - The Well of Greed Stepping through the Buttonwood Gate must have transported Aaron and the delvers somewhere, because he found himself standing at the head of a very wide staircase looking out over a massive room. In fact, ¡®massive¡¯ might have been an understatement. The room was cavernous, gargantuan even, standing well over fifty feet high from the bottom of the stairs to the vaulted roof above. The room was rectangular, rather than square, like an oversized football field. The half-flight of steps Aaron and the delvers stood on would have been at the corner of the left end zone. Enormous windows filled the wall to their left, starting just above them and climbing all the way up to the ceiling. Sunlight streamed through the iron-framed glass, filling the room with the morning¡¯s radiance. The wall opposite Aaron was a couple hundred feet away, while the rest of the hall stretched off to his right many times that distance. Nor was this immense space empty. Hundreds ¡ª or more likely thousands ¡ª of people filled the hall. The horde congregated into vaguely distinct clusters centered around a number of smaller, depressed floor areas. At the heart of each lower section was a circular bank of desks, with old computer monitors stacked above all the way around. They formed a kind of CRT pillar, islands of data in the sea of bustling people. The old monitors were stacked ten to fifteen feet high, each angled forward more than the one below it. By the fourth or fifth monitor at the top of the stack, it was practically dangling over the people passing on the floor below. Those people seemed more interested in the strings of numbers and letters on the monitors than any potentially falling hazard. And they were not quiet. Aaron was awash in a sea of noise. Too many conversations between too many people with far too little regard for their volume blurred together into a nearly-incomprehensible mess from which only the occasional word could be plucked. ¡°Welcome to the Well of Wealth,¡± Griffin said, clapping a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Though some call it the Well of Greed.¡± ¡°The Well of Greed is more accurate,¡± Albert sneered. ¡°Or maybe: the Wellspring of All Human Misery.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be such a sourpuss,¡± the big man chastised. ¡°This is the stock exchange, right?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°I thought it might be something related to it from everything I¡¯d seen so far, but¡­ this isn¡¯t the actual place, is it?¡± Kiara stepped forward, tossing and catching her coin pouch with a pleasant jingling clank of metal. ¡°No, not quite, although there are rumors about people figuring out ways to exploit the connection between them.¡± ¡°What kind of rumors?¡± ¡°Speculators aren¡¯t all that different from alchemists, so it¡¯s always ¡®trade secret¡¯ this, and ¡®proprietary bullshit¡¯ that,¡± Albert said. ¡°One jackass claims they found a secret method to get trades in the Well to register on the Exchange; some other wad says they found a way to read the tea leaves of commerce in here to forecast swings in the mundane market. It¡¯s all snake oil and Ponzi schemes as far as I¡¯m concerned.¡± ¡°So people come in here to be, like, fantasy finance bros?¡± Aaron asked. ¡°That¡¯s why we needed a sack of coins? I¡¯m not gonna lie, that seems¡­ kinda lame.¡± Griffin chuckled. ¡°There are plenty of folks who come in here trying to make some quick lux, for sure, and the nature of the dungeon does make it pay-to-play, but there¡¯s a lot more going on in here that makes it an¡­ interesting experience.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t love the way you said ¡®interesting¡¯ there,¡± Aaron said, giving the big man the side-eye. ¡°Well, it¡¯s all a bit metaphorical,¡± Griffin replied. ¡°Or allegorical, maybe. I¡¯m not really sure which is more appropriate.¡± ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s all too literal,¡± Albert grumbled. ¡°That¡¯s honestly one of this place¡¯s most redeeming qualities, for those who can get that far. Most don¡¯t bother.¡± ¡°Quit moralizing and let Aaron come to his own conclusions, you dinks,¡± Kiara said. ¡°He¡¯s not going to experience anything for himself if we just stand around here jerking off.¡± ¡°So how does this work?¡± Kiara pointed across the throngs of people, down the length of the room to their right. ¡°This room is one big trading floor, with its own subdivisions for specific goods and what-have-you. There are other rooms, other trading floors, as you go. To access and trade on any floor, you need a trader¡¯s badge, which costs coin and gets more expensive as you move through.¡± ¡°Each of our coin purses has a hundred platinum,¡± Griffin said, ¡°The most expensive badge only costs an aethril, so as long as you don¡¯t completely blow all your lux, you¡¯ll be able to keep trading as we progress.¡± Aaron raised a brow at Griffin. ¡°Trading? Again ¡ª and it¡¯s not that I¡¯m trying to be a buzzkill here! ¡ª but this sounds exceptionally lame.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to trade if you have enough coin to cover each badge,¡± Kiara said. ¡°We can just walk through and ignore the sales pitches. You¡¯ll probably have a better experience if you engage with the premise, though. That¡¯s a big thing with conceptual dungeons: engaging with the premise.¡± ¡°Listen, nobody hates the Well of Greed more than me,¡± Albert said. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean the place is totally worthless. There are things to learn, profits to be made, and it can even be fun. You just have to do your best to roll with it.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that what I just said?¡± Kiara demanded, giving Albert¡¯s arm a light backhand. ¡°It¡¯s your call how you want to do this,¡± Griffin assured him. ¡°You lead and we¡¯ll follow, unless there¡¯s a threat or you tell us otherwise.¡± With a shrug, Aaron conceded the point and they made their way down the steps to the edge of the trading room floor. The newel post at the base of the staircase was ostentatiously thick, a foot-wide marble post ornate enough to make it look more like a Corinthian pillar than a support for the gilded railing. A tiny person ¡ª no more than six inches tall ¡ª appeared atop the post in a puff of green smoke. He wore a top hat and tailcoat, his shiny black shoes were covered in white spats with gold buttons, and a monocle was pressed against his eye. He stroked one tip of his coiffed mustache and regarded them through his singular lens. Holy shit, Aaron thought. It¡¯s literally the Monopoly guy! The micro-mogul shoved a hand in their direction, palm up and fingers grasping. One after another, the four drakus deposited a single silver coin into his palm. In exchange, he produced and handed over a set of laminated plastic badges, each with four numbers printed on it in blocky white letters. It even had a little metal clasp they could use to affix it to their clothes. Badges in place, they stepped out onto the trading floor. When Aaron¡¯s foot hit the carpeted floor, littered with discarded scraps of paper, the indistinct babbling of voices resolved into something a bit more decipherable. He could make out the occasional word in the cacophony of the crowd ¡ª barely ¡ª but it was still too much to pick out more than bits and pieces. Engage with the premise, he reminded himself. He had a pretty good idea that something unusual was going on behind the scenes here, but all he could be sure of was that he was supposed to be buying low and selling high. Or whatever it was investment people did. Since he had nothing to sell, he needed to figure out what he could buy and how he could turn that into a profit. That meant he had to find some way to make sense out of the chaos and din that defined the trading pit. Almost everything I know about the stock market comes from either that old Eddie Murphy movie or that not-as-old Steve Carrell one, Aaron thought. Maybe I can find someone selling¡­ oranges? Or orange juice? I¡¯m pretty sure it was one of those. There was no help coming from the trio of drakus delvers. They were looking at Aaron with the smug and smirking superiority of adults watching a child try to play soccer for the first time. There was little doubt that if he asked them for any more guidance each of them would have some snippet of pithy advice that would be about as helpful as a wedgie. Aaron scanned the room one last time, trying to make sense of what was happening. The only thing that stood out was the way different groups were clustered around the banks of monitors. There were stock tickers up on the walls and even more information on the smaller screens, but Aaron couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of any of it. He took a few steps towards the nearest cluster, determined to do what he could to puzzle things out. There must have been some kind of barrier magically muffling the cries of the traders, because when Aaron got close enough words began to emerge from the babel clearly enough for him to understand. He listened to a host of different sellers, trying to entice investors. ¡°Selling shares in food!¡± a voice called. ¡°Three gold per share. Everyone has to eat, why shouldn¡¯t you profit off their biological needs?¡± ¡°Food ingredients going at two gold! Buy shares of the company that buys the stuff that gets turned into food and sells it to companies to turn it into food or food-like substances! Don¡¯t invest in products, invest in investing!¡± Another called: ¡°Farmers are greedy and stupid, but they¡¯re slightly less greedy and slightly more stupid than financiers. Buy the land food is grown on from farmers desperate to keep being farmers! Their agonized efforts to cling to a dying way of life can boost you to a better bottom line!¡± ¡°Rice! Wheat! Corn!¡± someone shouted. ¡°Endless demand means endless supply. There¡¯s so much supply, most of it will get thrown away or left to rot¨C but not until someone has already bought it! Almost as profitable as selling nothing at all.¡± Aaron winced and moved away from that section of the trading floor. The agricultural trade was just too exploitative for his tastes. Or maybe it was too depressing? It was too ¡®something,¡¯ even if that something was hard to pin down. Hopefully the next trading cluster won¡¯t be quite so¡­ grim, he thought as he weaved through the crowd. The next couple of trading sections were, perhaps, not quite as grim as investing in agriculture, but they certainly weren¡¯t the kind of thing that would make the human spirit buoyant. ¡°Money for sale! Spend money to buy money and hope the money you bought winds up being worth more than the money you bought it with. This is a perfectly legitimate economic market! A nation¡¯s catastrophes are your profit margins!¡± ¡°Debt! Get your debt here! Other people¡¯s debt! Coppers on the gold! Spend a plat and hope the economic ruin of others will turn it into an asset worth as much as a hundred!¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Aaron pressed on through the trading floor, seeking something that wouldn¡¯t make him feel sick ¡ª or filthy ¡ª for participating. Finally, he found something that wasn¡¯t horror made manifest. ¡°Gizmos! Doodads! Widgets and contraptions!¡± a trader cried. ¡°Technological innovations with the potential to make everyone¡¯s lives better. Or worse. Or both! Invest in doohickies and ride the bubble to fortune!¡± That sounds promising, Aaron thought. Especially considering some of the oddities I¡¯ve noticed around the room. During his brief journey across the trading floor, Aaron had realized that the big, old fashioned monitors weren¡¯t the only things that were out of place. The ticker boards were digital, but they used the old segmented numbers Aaron hadn¡¯t seen outside of old alarm clocks since he was a kid. The people were strange, too. Setting aside that many of them looked not-quite-human with faintly animalistic features, their fashion was dated. And that was putting it mildly. Flashy power suits, lots of pastels, and people openly snorting lines of unspecified white powder all created an impression that the Well of Greed was a place out of time. It was like something closer to his childhood ¡ª or even earlier, most likely ¡ª than the sleek arena of algorithm-controlled microtrading that dominated the stock market in the 21st century. If Aaron was right and the Well of Greed was in some way stuck in the Eighties or Nineties, then any technology would likely be an actual technological product rather than software frameworks and social media platforms. He wanted to see if he could turn a profit using his knowledge of what would be successful in the years ahead of the anachronistic dungeon. Just have to hope I don¡¯t get shot by Biff Tannen, Aaron thought with a smile. Of course, the dungeon was conceptual and not literal, so he quickly discovered he was in for a few surprises. One of the traders working the floor spotted him coming ¡ª perhaps scenting the coins in his purse like a shark smelling blood in the water ¡ª and stepped forwards to block his path. He waved a bundle of promotional materials in one hand, his sales pitch coming in hot. ¡°The Nut Buster,¡± the trader proclaimed. ¡°Patent pending. With shares priced at just a silver each, can you afford not to invest in this kind of exciting, paradigm-shaking innovation?¡± Aaron pointed to himself. ¡°Are you calling me a ¡®nut buster¡¯?¡± The trader laughed and swept the front of his bright green blazer open, placing his hands on his hips and revealing a belt with an unusually large and shiny buckle. ¡°No, friend, I was referring to this fantastic product here: the Nut Buster (patent pending). The latest innovation in social engineering. Would you or your friends care for a demonstration?¡± He gestured at Aaron and the other drakus, who were gathered loosely around him in the best version of a semicircle three people could make. A good deal of their attention was directed to watching the crowd, but they nodded, smiled, and gestured encouragingly at the trader¡¯s inquiry. Aaron eyed the trader dubiously. His instinct was to pass on the offer, but he was in the Well of Greed for the experiences it provided. You couldn¡¯t exactly gain new experiences by turning them down when offered. ¡°Alright,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll engage with the premise. Show me what you got.¡± ¡°Of course, of course,¡± the trader replied, exuberantly, raising his voice like a carnival barker. ¡°Now pay close attention or you¡¯ll miss all the innovation!¡± The trader beamed at Aaron, then something came flying out of his belt buckle. Aaron tried to flinch away, but he bumped into someone behind him ¡ª Griffin! ¡ª before he could take a full step. Whatever had ejected from the trader¡¯s belt crossed the space between them in the blink of an eye and hit Aaron right in the crotch. He winced instinctively, but there was no pain. There had been an impact ¡ª and a pretty forceful one, at that ¡ª but it hadn¡¯t been enough to cause Aaron any real harm. It looks like a dragon¡¯s nuts aren¡¯t his weak point anymore than his tongue is, Aaron realized. Still, though¡­ What the hell? ¡°What the hell, dude?¡± he demanded. The trader didn¡¯t respond. He was fully bent over, hands on his knees and loudly guffawing. Some of the other members of the crowd, having turned to see what the trader was barking about, were also laughing, slapping their knees or each others¡¯ backs. Behind Aaron, he could hear at least two of the delvers ¡ª he was pretty sure it was Albert and Griffin ¡ª snickering. Even Kiara, in the corner of his eye, seemed to have tightly pressed her lips together to hold back a smile. ¡°The Nut Buster,¡± the trader exclaimed. ¡°Patent pending. Guaranteed to provoke gut-busting laughs without busting anyone¡¯s nuts! It¡¯s got humor, it¡¯s got sex appeal, it¡¯s got an extending arm with a cartoon-ish boxing glove, and ¡ª best of all! ¡ª it¡¯s reusable. At just one silver per share, it¡¯s a bargain and sure to provide a return on investments once these babies hit the open market. And that¡¯s no joke!¡± Aaron hesitated to invest ¡ª whatever the hell that even meant in this place ¡ª on something so juvenile. If the dungeon was presenting a world before the internet, though, this kind of gag would be the sort of thing that would win a lot of friends around the playground. Or certain job sites. Plus, kids loved buying crap ¡ª or getting their parents to buy crap for them ¡ª so there was definitely a market for it. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll bite. Let me grab some coin,¡± Aaron said, fishing around in his coin purse as he did some math in his head. After a couple seconds, he figured out how much he wanted to invest, then what that would work out to with the zany magic world¡¯s nine-to-one exchange rates. Once he knew what he wanted, he felt metal pressing eagerly against his fingers and pulled a single coin out of the purse. Looks like silver as far as I can tell, except I know it¡¯s platinum, he thought as he examined the gleaming coin. The coin was engraved with four intersecting lines which formed an eight-pointed star, which was surrounded by a circle. The circle was what identified it as a five platinum piece instead of four. It wasn¡¯t the metal that gave the coin value among the eidolons, though, it was how much aether or quintessence was packed into it. Because of the arcane thresholds and limitations on how aetheric density worked with the various precious metals, all the different coins were basically the same size and weight regardless of their composition or value. So a one lumen copper coin would feel pretty much the same in the hand as a five platinum piece. Even the plaques, which were used for densities from factors of six through nine, were only about twice the weight of the coins and were basically indistinguishable from each other. What a mystically whimsical pain in the ass this stuff is, Aaron thought. Thank god for predictive magic storage pockets, otherwise you¡¯d have to dig through all these different lumps of metal, pull out and appraise each one, then do the stupid nine-sided math every time you wanted to buy a fizzy lifting drink. Do they have those? Something to look into. Thanks to his own pocket dimension, Aaron had a five platinum piece in hand. No muss, no fuss. Since a single platinum was worth nine gold and a single gold was worth nine silver, a single platinum was worth eighty one silver. The coin in Aaron¡¯s hand was worth five times that, or four hundred five silver. ¡°I¡¯ll take four hundred shares,¡± he told the trader, handing over the coin. ¡°You can keep the extra five silver if you can give me demo products of equal value.¡± The trader was only too glad to take that deal and Aaron walked away wearing a ridiculous new belt and stuffing four more into his pocket dimension. There were some grumblings from Albert about sharing, but Aaron simply spun on his heel and, loudly, said, ¡°Hey, check this out!¡± When the so-called Nut Buster had been used on him, Aaron had been completely unprepared and it had caught him off guard. Despite that, his post-Emergence reflexes had let him detect and respond to it better than he ever could have before. Now that he knew it was coming, he was able to get a better look at the novelty belt. Sure enough, when he activated it, a little boxing glove on a scissor-type extension arm came flying out of the buckle, heading unerringly for Albert¡¯s groin. That wasn¡¯t the only thing he noticed, however. He wasn¡¯t the only one benefitting from enhanced drakus reaction times. Aaron was pretty sure Albert saw the gag coming his way and decided to let it hit him. He also noticed that Griffin and Kiara tensed slightly when the boxing glove was launched. It was almost imperceptible, the way their eyes immediately homed in on the prank then went right back to scanning the crowd for threats or signs of danger. When the little boxing glove made contact, Albert played along with it. His eyes crossed, his knees buckled, and he made a sound Aaron thought would have been better suited to some slapstick black and white film from the Forties. The small man wheezed, puffed out his cheeks, and sank down onto his knees. His feet kicked frantically at the carpet. ¡°Jeez, man, way to sell,¡± Aaron whispered, mostly to himself. It was unlikely anybody heard his quiet compliment since, all around them, the crowd was howling with mirth. Many of the brokers and traders had glanced their way when Aaron called out to them and, perhaps even more predictably, they had burst into uproarious laughter after seeing Albert take a nutshot. Of course, the traders were, for the most part, men. Dudes, Aaron thought, with a roll of his eyes. We are so stupid, sometimes. I could probably make a god damned fortune here if I had an endless supply of really good sticks. A bell began to chime, ringing at a furious rate and filling the entire hall with a nearly discordant clang. A new cheer ¡ª one unrelated to Albert¡¯s testicle-related woes ¡ª filled the hall. Aaron looked around, trying to get some idea of what was going on. Griffin leaned in to explain in a quiet voice. ¡°That¡¯s the closing bell,¡± he said. ¡°End of trades, margin call, all that finance stuff.¡± ¡°What? But it¡¯s not even eight o¡¯clock in the morning,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Each trading ¡®day¡¯ only lasts ninety minutes on this trading floor, with fifteen-minute intermissions on either end,¡± Kiara explained. ¡°It¡¯s probably so brief to reflect the impact of newer technology causing faster and faster trading. It¡¯s not nearly as truncated on the other floors.¡± Albert rose to his feet as if nothing had happened, punching Aaron gently on the arm. ¡°Clever move with the belt, by the way, that should pay real dividends. Or returns. Whatever finance bro shit it¡¯s supposed to be and-or do.¡± As if summoned by Albert¡¯s words, the trader Aaron had invested with earlier came rushing up to him, so giddy he was sweating. ¡°There you are friend,¡± he exclaimed. ¡°Quarterlies on our Nut Buster (patent pending) are doing gangbusters! We did so well another, larger company bought a controlling interest, fired everyone but the executives, and shipped all the manufacturing overseas. Here¡¯s your totally-not-an-income money!¡± He thrust a small pile of metal into Aaron¡¯s hands, winked conspiratorially, and ran off whooping over his good fortune. Aaron looked down and found he had been given back his initial investment of a five platinum coin, but it was set atop a stack of five platinum ingots. The ingots were each marked with an eight-pointed star, like the coin, though not surrounded by a circle. ¡°That symbol is a¡­ four,¡± Aaron mused, working it out in his head. ¡°So an ingot with a four on it would be, uh¡­ six, seven, eight, nine. I invested five platinum and got back fifty?¡± Aaron looked through the pile of lux again. ¡°That can¡¯t be right, can it? A five hundred percent return?¡± ¡°Commerce!¡± Griffin said enthusiastically. ¡°No, come on; be serious,¡± Aaron insisted. ¡°A near-immediate five hundred percent increase in share value on what was, frankly, a childishly stupid practical joke?¡± ¡°You have to remember that his place is based on concepts,¡± Kiara said. ¡°Things can be very exaggerated. This was pretty tame compared to some of the stuff you can see in here.¡± ¡°Plus, you put your thumb on the scales by getting people to see you use it on me,¡± Albert added. ¡°Manipulating markets is very much a part of the game in the Well of Greed. You wouldn¡¯t believe the shit you can get away with, not unless you already know a good deal about the world of finance.¡± ¡°So engaging with the premise isn¡¯t just a way to have a better experience in a conceptual dungeon, it can have a huge influence on what you can achieve in them,¡± Aaron said. ¡°Now you¡¯re getting the idea,¡± Kiara said. Griffin checked an antique pocket watch he pulled from somewhere. ¡°We should move on to the next trading floor before these yuppies start a snowball fight with pure Colombian blow.¡± ¡°Lead the way,¡± Kiara said. As they made their way towards the wall farthest from their entrance and the next trading floor, Aaron dropped his new lux into the coin purse Griffin had given him earlier. Exhilarating as it was to get such a lucrative windfall, he didn¡¯t really feel like he¡¯d earned it. Maybe it was just his nature or lingering self-doubt. Maybe it was that he didn¡¯t feel like he had genuinely engaged with the premise and had just phoned it in. Or maybe it was just that the nature of finance and investment disagreed with him. Whatever the case, Aaron couldn¡¯t say it hadn¡¯t been entertaining. He was excited to see what the other trading floors had to offer. Some of Albert¡¯s more cynical comments had nestled into the back of his thoughts, but he tried his best not to let them draw too much of his attention. This whole trip was supposed to be fun, after all. Wasn¡¯t it? Chapter 91 - Feeling the Flow A bank of sturdy wooden doors, decorated with large panels and etched brass fittings, let the four drakus into the second trading floor where they found themselves once again at the top of another wide stairway. It looked an awful lot like the staircase from the first trading floor at first glance. At second glance, Aaron realized it was identical, only with much better carpeting. The cavernous hall that held the trading floor was also much the same as the last, though slightly smaller. That still made for an absurdly huge open space, similar in scope to a major travel hub. The structure itself seemed largely the same. The great wall of windowed panes taking up most of the high wall to the left of the stairs was proof enough of that. But other transitory features, like the decor, presented a stark difference between the two floors. Like the bank of doors, the aesthetic of the space was a touch more ostentatious, replacing the familiar sleek metallic and plastic fixtures of the late twentieth century. Polished wood, gleaming brass, and ornate cut glass were the rule of the day in both the furnishing and fixtures, much of it intricately detailed. Scrollwork, beveling, and other decorations embellished most of the pieces, showcasing a level of craftsmanship and grandeur that was rare in Aaron¡¯s time. The light fixtures, in particular, drew his attention; thick, etched glass panels and ornate stepped or fanned designs, each emitting a softer, fuzzier light that modern bulbs. It reminds me of the old lamps my grandpa had, he thought. Only much nicer and the color isn¡¯t quite so orangey-brown. Where round banks of workstations stacked with clunky CRT monitors had formed the anchor of trading clusters on the last floor, the hubs on this one were built from more antiquated features. Shallow desks topped with columns of cubbies and drawers formed the base of the trading anchors with large blackboards perched above them, their slates cluttered with a spreadsheet of incomprehensible data. The dry, cloying scent of blackboard and chalk dust was strong enough to tickle Aaron¡¯s nose, even from more than a dozen feet away, searching for the vulnerable to draw sneezes and nosebleeds out of. Desk lamps with glass shades nearly as lavish as the wall fixtures perched on desks besides old cradle telephones, which leapt and moved in a constant dance that kept the hands and ears of the traders busy. A row of complicated clockwork devices, about the size of a toaster oven, sat on a slightly raised shelf at the rear of the desktops. Their internal workings moved without cease, visible through a glass metal dome on top of each machine, and their endless tick-tick-ticking produced a thin paper strip that poured out of each contraption like an archaic printer. That¡¯s an old stock ticker machine, Aaron realized, recognizing them from old cartoons more than any personal experience. Furniture and technology weren¡¯t the only things drastically changed from one floor to the next. The crowd of traders was more muted, as well. Not in terms of volume ¡ª though they were a bit more of an orderly crowd down here ¡ª but in the very fashion they wore. Suits were ubiquitous, but they were almost uniformly dark. There were none of the bright, flamboyant hues that dotted the throngs above, these were all somber blacks, blues, and grays. They were cut differently, as well, giving them a hang that looked more comfortable and roomy but with a weight that said they¡¯d be miserable to wear anytime other than a cool autumn. There was also, for some reason, a marked increase in hats. The rounded crowns of bowlers and homburgs could be found in the crowd, if you looked, but the vast majority were fedoras. Proper fedoras, not its narrower cousin, the trilby. The fashion made it easier to spot that everyone ¡ª or nearly everyone ¡ª on this floor were men. Not mostly men. Not the seventy five to eighty percent ratio of the previous crowd, but almost entirely male. Women on this floor were few and far between and, in each instance Aaron spotted, they were behind tall counters around the edges of the broader trading floor. That¡¯s weird, right? he thought. Finance has always been bro bullshit, but this seems like an excessive amount of sausage at the picnic. At the bottom of the stairs, the six-inch tall caricature of a capitalist appeared atop a marble post in another puff of smoke, though the cloud was darker this time and had an acrid, sulfuric musk. The fee for a trader¡¯s badge had also increased from a single silver coin to a gold, which they each handed over before stepping down onto the floor. There, Aaron noticed another significant change between the floors ¡ª this one dealt in products that were generally much more tangible and mundane. Or maybe they¡¯re less loaded with metaphor would be a better way to describe it, he thought. Rather than selling outrageous gizmos or investing based on the idea that farmers were greedy morons, the traders here were selling things like coal, oil, steel, pork, and so on. Some sold shares in companies that dealt in those commodities while others sold the products directly. Or a kind of contract or promissory note for a certain amount of a specific product, anyways. Despite his knowledge of the stock market being largely drawn from the occasional movie and skimming the news around whatever financial calamity Wall Street was dumping on an unsuspecting America, Aaron was pretty sure shares in companies and physical products were different types of trades and generally weren¡¯t handled in the same place at the same time. This is a conceptual dungeon, though, Aaron reminded himself. There are going to be things that won¡¯t be literal or translate one-to-one with the world outside. Best to roll with it as best as I can. Engage with the premise, like Kiara said. Keeping this new perspective in mind, he began to look for solid investments he could turn a nice profit from. The prices here were a bit higher than they¡¯d been on the previous floor, which was counterintuitive to moving further into the past, but it wasn¡¯t enough to be prohibitive. Trading for gold instead of silver might be a big step up in value, but Aaron wasn¡¯t particularly worried about losses. Everything he¡¯d seen on the last floor suggested it had been a representation of either the eighties or nineties ¡ª more likely the former ¡ª and this floor was clearly a few decades before that. There were very few scenarios where steel and coal wouldn¡¯t be profitable, especially for someone with enough cash to weather any economic storms. Another advantage was that the trading ¡®day¡¯ wasn¡¯t dilated to the same extreme degree it had been on the Eighties Floor. Instead of a new round of trading starting every other hour, there was only a risk of margin calls every four or six hours. None of the delvers were entirely certain about which it was, but they had several hours until the next one either way. The greatest benefit of foreknowledge was that Aaron could filter out a lot of extraneous information. Having some idea of what he was looking to invest in helped keep him from being overwhelmed by information overload. That was a real boon because, as he quickly learned, there was something else ¡ª something altogether peculiar ¡ª happening out there among the traders. Large, mostly-stationary crowds tend to move in a certain way. Without a destination, a crowd will generally swell and contract as if breathing, the edges bulging and condensing like a misshapen heart but the whole remaining relatively still. That was the norm on the trading floor as far as Aaron had seen, both on the Eighties Floor and this one, but there were some very strange exceptions here. Thanks to knowing what he was looking for, Aaron was free to pay a little more attention to what was going on around him. Otherwise, he might not have noticed the most unusual thing going on around the trading floor. Occasionally, and for reasons he couldn¡¯t fathom, specific sections of the trading floor would start to move in a very different fashion from the breathing masses of a loitering throng. From what he could make out at a distance, it was almost like entire trading pits around individual trade anchors would start moving in circles. But that was an oversimplification. The way people were moving in those unusual crowds was noteworthy in its own right. It was like something was rushing through the crowd, lifting, pushing, or dragging people along in its wake. And the traders were throwing things at it, as well, although Aaron could tell what. Even their voices rose, though the obscuring effects around the trading anchors made it impossible to get a better sense of what they were saying, or why, or even how they felt about whatever was happening. To further complicate matters, sometimes one of the delvers would disappear into the crowd and return a short while later without comment. It might have been his imagination, but Aaron thought Griffin¡¯s clothes looked a bit disheveled after coming back from one of these mysterious excursions. None of the delvers would tell him what they were up to, of course, shrugging off his questions with the smug, enigmatic smile that was becoming all-too-familiar in this stupid dungeon. That means it¡¯s probably something they want me to figure out on my own, he thought. Or they¡¯re trying to make sure we avoid it ¡ª whatever it is ¡ª but that seems less likely. Figuring it out should be more interesting than avoiding it, and you can¡¯t engage with a premise by ducking it, so¡­ let¡¯s see if we can figure it out. They¡¯ll probably wave me off if they don¡¯t want me chasing the mystery. None of the delvers tried to stop him as he started angling towards the disturbances as soon as he spotted them. Even with free rein to pursue the mystery, It took nearly an hour for Aaron to catch his first glimpse up close. Whatever was disrupting the crowds was happening fast, starting and stopping within a few minutes. Making his way closer was an exercise in frustration. He wasn¡¯t alone in chasing the commotion, so whenever he started getting closer he¡¯d find a veritable wall of other traders trying to head in the same direction and effectively blocking him out. The frustrated groans of traders whenever a disturbance petered out told him it was definitely something worth getting involved with. When he finally managed to get within a hundred feet, Aaron wasn¡¯t sure he believed what his eyes were telling him. Something was definitely churning through the crowd and knocking the traders around, but he also thought he saw someone throw a lasso over the other traders¡¯ heads. An honest to god lasso, like a cowboy at a rodeo! The loop of rope rose above the crowd for just a second then fell back out of sight. Whether it wrangled anything or not he had no clue, but it gave him something to keep an eye out for. His next abortive attempts to finagle a position near a disturbance might have been a bust, but he was confident people in those crowds were throwing lassos around. For some reason. ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± he asked the delvers, perplexed. Kiara had a stone-cold poker face and Griffin only offered him a big, dopey grin, but Albert clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, ¡°You should always bring a decent length of rope into a dungeon, buddy, I thought you knew that. Didn¡¯t you say you¡¯d played D&D before?¡± ¡°I have played D&D and even if I had brought a rope, I don¡¯t know how to tie or throw a damned lasso,¡± Aaron replied. ¡°Well, whatever. I¡¯m gonna make my way to one of these things eventually, then we¡¯ll see what¡¯s what.¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Exhaling hard through his nose to vent a little frustration, Aaron thought about his next steps. He was getting nowhere trying to chase after the disturbances, so he needed a way to get ahead of them. If there was a pattern, he hadn¡¯t been able to figure it out. That didn¡¯t really mean much; the sheer size of the entire trading floor made it likely he was missing more than he was seeing. Nor had he seen any obvious indicators, like guys wearing chaps and big hats striding through the floor with coils of rope in hand. Pretty sure I would¡¯ve noticed a proper cowboy, even with a crowd this size, he thought. But there¡¯s got to be some way to anticipate this¡­ whatever it is. Albert, Griffin, and Kiara all seem to be able to find them, which tells me I¡¯m looking at this the wrong way. Aaron let his eyes unfocus and his gaze wander across the room. There was something he was missing. Ignoring the details would let him see the bigger picture and take stock of what he knew without being distracted. A broader perspective could make something jump out at him, something he¡¯d noticed but hadn¡¯t fully processed, perhaps, or something hidden in the noise of the bustling trading floor. Since the trading floor was a representation of the New York Stock Exchange at some point in the past ¡ª the thirties or forties was Aaron¡¯s current guess ¡ª then whatever was going on was more likely than not to have something to do with stocks. That fit with the premise a lot better than looking for cowboys and cattle. He could figure out the whole lasso thing once he managed to get close enough. He went to the nearest trading anchor and positioned himself to watch the stock tickers lined up along the rear of the desks. The endless strips of paper each ticker spat out carried a tremendous amount of data ¡ª abbreviated stock names and their fluctuating values, combining to tell a story of the market in action ¡ª that was far too arcane for Aaron to suss out, but he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d need to. As he¡¯d wandered the trading floor in his quest to find the disturbance, he¡¯d realized that each bunker was dedicated to one of four major products: foodstuffs like crops, meat, and coffee; fuel sources including coal, gas, and unrefined petroleum; metal, both raw ore and processed material; and what Aaron thought of as utility products, like rubber, glass, and textiles. Each trading anchor traded exclusively in goods that belonged to one of those four categories, and usually in closely related product clusters. And, as best as Aaron could tell, each stock ticker tracked the trades of specific anchors around the floor. The disturbances had all been connected to specific trade anchors so far, so he figured there would be some sign of it in the tickers. Hopefully with enough time in advance for him to find the appropriate bunker before he was blocked out again. After just a couple minutes watching, one of the stock tickers started spitting out tape much faster than the others. Aaron didn¡¯t know precisely what it meant, but surely it meant something. It didn¡¯t take an MBA from the Wharton School of Being a Dickhead to figure that much out. The hyperactive ticker was labeled for one of the trading anchors the drakus had passed earlier, one that Aaron had marked in his mind at the time. He had been pretty sure he could get excellent returns there, assuming he was right about the era this trading floor was mimicking. Wish I had brought some rope, even if I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s supposed to be for, he mused as he made his way towards the anchor. As he got closer, he noticed that the traders around his destination had a different kind of vibe about them. They were more active than others on the trading floor, agitated even. They flashed their complicated hand gestures at one another at breakneck ¡ª breakwrist? ¡ª speeds and crammed trading slips into their pockets as fast as they could fill them out. There was a frantic energy to the trading, beyond simple excitement. Their faces and body language reminded Aaron of other people he¡¯d seen before, people in the grips of addiction or mania. It was a dangerous kind of energy. Unsustainable. Reckless, even. He recognized it and knew well enough that he should steer clear, but he was there to find out what was behind it. He was there to experience something, dammit, even if he didn¡¯t know what that something was. Even if his instincts were telling him to get the hell out of Dodge. Sometimes all you need to get a home run is to take a swing, as long as you¡¯re in the ballpark, Aaron thought, pulling out four of the platinum ingots he¡¯d earned in his last trade. Or some other sports metaphor if that one doesn¡¯t happen to be true. Fuck if I know. Anyways, here we go. His tour of the floor had given him a rough idea of how trades were made. He couldn¡¯t decipher all the gestures the trades used to accompany their deals, but he¡¯d seen enough to know what a couple meant and that they weren¡¯t strictly necessary. Taking a breath, he let the voices of the traders wash over him. The calls created such a cacophony most words were lost in the confused din, but Aaron only needed to hear two things: a product and a price. He had two or three things in mind he thought would guarantee a profit, which was to his advantage. If he waded in blind, he was likely to drown just trying to stay with the currents. It didn¡¯t take long to hear what he was looking for, even through the chaos. ¡°Selling steel, three gold!¡± a voice called. Aaron swiveled towards the voice, raising a hand and fanning it towards himself, as if beckoning the unknown trader over. ¡°Buy ¡®em! Buying at three!¡± A small, furtive-looking man was standing in front of Aaron almost before he finished calling his bid. He had practically materialized out of the crowd and was hunched over, furiously scribbling on a notepad. He spoke so quickly the words practically ran together. ¡°Howmanyyawant?¡± Ah yes, Aaron thought ruefully. Math. ¡°I¡¯ll take, uh¡­ I¡¯ll take¨C¡± ¡°T-t-take your time, pal,¡± the trader said, affecting a mocking stutter. ¡°S¡¯not like chewin¡¯ the fat ain¡¯t chock-full of profit and I got all day to gab like a dozy dame.¡± ¡°Twenty seven,¡± Aaron spat out, fumbling one of the ingots out of the pile and holding it up. ¡°I¡¯ll take twenty seven.¡± The trader hardly bothered to look at the platinum ingot. In a flurry of fingers made deft by practice, he tore a paper slip from his pad, thrust it into Aaron¡¯s solar plexus, snatched the ingot, and deposited it somewhere on his person. With neither a second word or glance, the trader disappeared back into the crowd. Even in a mild daze after enduring the trader¡¯s idea of customer service, Aaron was gratified to hear he was on the right track; the calls for steel out in the pit were already up to five gold, not even a minute after he¡¯d finished his trade. Griffin leaned in and asked, ¡°You gonna keep going for steel?¡± Aaron shook his head but didn¡¯t reply. He was listening for something else in the tumult of the trading pit. Something that, if he was right about the time period, would make him a fortune. It¡¯s a gamble, but everything just screams the thirties or forties, Aaron thought. I guess all speculative trading is a gamble, that¡¯s why it keeps crashing out. Armed with foreknowledge ¡ª or a close approximation of it ¡ª the biggest risk was that Aaron would sell a little too early or too late, leaving money on the metaphorical table. As long as the trading followed the rough arc of real world history, it should be a no-lose situation. Then again, he had no idea what the strange disturbances were. There was no sign of it around the anchor yet, but that ¡®yet¡¯ was doing a lot of heavy lifting. Aaron was pretty sure it would show up and had no idea what it was or what it would do. Since he had to pass the time waiting for it, he might as well do some trading. Besides, it seemed like the strange occurrences were connected to trading. Engage with the premise, and all that! The press of bodies around the anchor was frenetic as traders jockeyed to buy and sell, but Aaron¡¯s prodigious drakus strength let him wade through the crowd with relative ease. The brokers were trading mostly in metal, but he hadn¡¯t heard the one he wanted yet, so he kept moving. As he worked his way through the crowd, he caught sight of the edges of a few errant newspapers. They were folded up in that way real newspaper fiends had and tucked into jacket pockets, but enough was exposed that he was able to pick out the occasional word in the bold type of a headline. Those little scraps of information were enough to tell him his idea about the time period of the floor was just about dead-on. It took a few minutes of making his way through the masses as gently as he could, but he finally heard someone calling the trade he wanted. ¡°Selling aluminum, four¨C make that five gold!¡± Aluminum won¡¯t stay priced at five for long, Aaron thought. Better to do the math at six. I¡¯ve got three ingots I¡¯m willing to invest. At eighty one gold each, that¡¯s¡­ two hundred forty three. So four times six, then add a zero. I can buy forty shares of aluminum and have three gold in change coming. But I need to move before it goes up. Aaron muscled his way closer to the trader, careful to use enough strength to get through the throng but not so much that anyone went stumbling or flying at his touch. His fine control of his drakus strength was improving, which was for the best. He didn¡¯t need to get excited and break something or, worse, hurt somebody! It turned out his prediction was right. In the handful of seconds it took to get close enough that Aaron felt comfortable offering a bid, the trader¡¯s asking price had gone up to six gold. ¡°Buy it,¡± Aaron called, waving his hand in the beckoning gesture again. ¡°Buying aluminum at six!¡± He made eye contact with the trader, who beckoned him over impatiently and began scribbling on his notepad. Aaron and the delvers made their way over despite the press of the crowd. When he got to the trader, he found a couple other people trying to convince him to sell to them at six gold a share. All they got in reply was a dismissive smirk. ¡°Should¡¯ve bought when it was on the table, you vultures,¡± he chastised them. ¡°If you¡¯re so interested in buying, let¡¯s see where the price lands after this transaction, fellas. Now, give me some space so I can complete my trade, see?¡± The trader cut off their complaints with a wave of a hand, turning his attention to Aaron. ¡°How many shares?¡± he asked. ¡°Forty,¡± Aaron replied, holding up his three platinum ingots. ¡°Forty, eh? A real butter-and-egg man, you are, and that order ain¡¯t no brodie, pal. I bet it¡¯s gonna push the index and open the gates.¡± What a fresh and exciting bunch of old time-y gibberish, Aaron thought. I wonder how often the dungeon gets super immersive with archaic speech. Hopefully not too much or it¡¯ll get real god damned annoying real god damned quick. There wasn¡¯t enough time to puzzle out what all the euphemisms might have meant because the trader finished with his notepad and ripped a slip off. Aaron traded him three nine-platinum ingots for the trading slip and a gold coin marked with a six-pointed star. The trader pocketed the ingots and turned to the desk, leaning over to watch the stock tickers and rubbing his hands together with undisguised avarice. ¡°Watch this, hot shot,¡± he said. ¡°This joint¡¯s about to juke.¡± Aaron turned his attention to the desk, as well, where the stock tickers were churning out tape furiously. He had no idea what he was supposed to be looking at but soon learned the ticker didn¡¯t really matter. Faintly, at first, but quickly growing stronger, the floor began to rumble beneath his feet. A quick glance around revealed no obvious source of the commotion, but the crowd of traders had gone still. Mostly. Several began producing lengths of rope ¡ª from dimensional storages, most likely, given there had been no sign of them previously ¡ª each ending in a wide lasso loop. Now that he was closer, Aaron saw that most, possibly all, of the lassoes had paper tags attached to them near the knot. The tags were too small for him to read them, but they must have been significant. The traders¡¯ faces shone with anticipation. All of them had turned to the mass of desks that formed the core of the trading anchor when the floor began to rumble, so Aaron kept his eyes there, as well. Griffin leaned in and put a hand on Aaron¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Clench your sphincter,¡± the big man said quietly. ¡°Shit is about to get wild.¡± Chapter 92 - Working It The tremors continued, sending vibrations through the floor and into Aaron¡¯s feet. The pace was steady but the intensity swiftly grew, until he could feel them running up through his calves. A sound accompanied tremors. Faintly. So faintly Aaron thought he was imagining it before its volume increased. The sound was crisp and clean, almost sharp, the rhythmic tinkling of metal, more like jangling spurs than a ringing bell. Its timing and power matched the juddering in the ground. Ching! Cha. Ching! Cha. Ching! Cha-ching! Cha-ching! Chaching chaching chaching! A section of the trading anchor flew open with a tremendous clash, two sections of desk flung wide. The opening was less than ten feet from where Aaron stood and a massive form emerged from the murky shadows within. Nearly as tall as Aaron and much wider, its flesh was a rich and deep brown that glowed with a muted lustre. From its broad head to its powerful flanks, the entire creature was made of the same bronze. Only its upswept horns ¡ª which were coming straight for Aaron! ¡ª were different; they were silver at the base and seamlessly transitioned to gleaming gold at the tips. The great bronze bull burst out of the trading anchor at a full charge. Its powerful stride jangled as metallic hooves crashed into the marble floor and just one was long enough to cover the entire distance between it and Aaron. He hardly had time to think before a great crashing step brought the beast within inches of him. There was no time to get the hell out of the way and he wasn¡¯t about to test his new drakus strength against a huge, bronze, bull-shaped golem running at him full bore. The thing likely weighed several tons and it had momentum behind it, so even world record-shattering strength probably wouldn¡¯t cut it. Instead, he acted on the first idea that popped into his head ¡ª he tried to jump onto the damned thing. It worked, but it didn¡¯t exactly go well. Aaron wound up plastered to the bull¡¯s head, folded over its skull like a cartoon damsel thrown over a villain¡¯s shoulder. His jump fell well short of clearing the beast and it drove its thick skull right into his midsection. It left him a bit winded, but otherwise unhurt. Good enough to be getting on with, I suppose, he thought. Let¡¯s see if I can figure out what the hell this bullshit is all about. Heh. Bullshit. Even with a passenger, the bull continued to run around the trading pit, threatening to dislodge its passenger with every jangling step. Aaron grabbed onto the beast¡¯s horns and ¡ª with no small amount of clumsiness ¡ª managed to pull, hoist, and swing himself around until he was straddling the bull¡¯s neck. His butt and thighs bounced on its powerful shoulders with each step as it charged. Even if he had the most thunderous of thighs, no amount of squeezing his knees together was going to keep Aaron on the bucking statue. He needed to maintain his position some other way. He grabbed the horns as close to their base as he could, making sure to set both an over- and underhand grip on the slick metal in hopes it would provide a better chance of staying on his unwilling mount. With a bit of extra stability, Aaron could take in his surroundings again. The traders weren¡¯t throwing their lassoes to wrangle the bull, it seemed, but hurling them like a game of ring toss, aiming to land the loops over its horns or massive head but let the rope dangle loose. It was such an odd thing to do; it left Aaron temporarily stymied. Then he saw little slips of paper were attached to the ropes near the loop, flapping in the breeze of the bull¡¯s movements. Perched on the golem¡¯s neck, he was close enough to make out what the slips of paper were ¡ª trading orders, not unlike the ones he¡¯d have shoved into his stomach a few times already. Only these were much more complicated. They invoked arcane secrets of financial wizardry with words of speculative power, calling for long or short positions, limits and stops, calls and puts. That was all investment jargon Aaron had heard in passing, but it might as well have been gibberish. Still, he could divine some meaning from the chaos of commerce. The first thing he noted was that every order he got his eyes on had much higher prices than he¡¯d seen trading around this anchor. He¡¯d made his way over in the first place because tickers suggested trading was picking up speed, which meant prices were rising faster than normal. The traders were also frantically chasing the bronze animal around the pit, so desperate to get their orders hooked on its horns they were literally throwing them. Together, it told Aaron that the charging bull represented a major upswing in the market, a frenzied tide of rising prices and buying. Oh, of course! It¡¯s a bull market, he realized. I¡¯ve definitely heard that phrase before. The real question is: what the hell am I supposed to do about it? They said the key to making a profit in the market was to buy low and sell high. With prices shooting up, Aaron had already managed the first half. The second part would be easy, in theory, and difficult to put into practice. He lacked the knowledge to place a complicated speculative order like the other traders. Even if he hadn¡¯t, he had neither a rope to make a lasso nor blank trading slips to record his bets. What he did have was two trading slips for the aluminum and steel he¡¯d already bought. Reselling them through open call could be the ticket to huge profits, but there was another obstacle he had to consider. Market booms didn¡¯t last forever ¡ª the financial catastrophes that had peppered Aaron¡¯s life were proof enough of that ¡ª so he knew the only thing you could count on a bubble to do was burst. Having a feel for when it was coming and getting out before it did were the kinds of instincts traders spent their careers honing. Aaron didn¡¯t have that kind of expertise or the time to develop it. If he held on too long, the market could tank and leave him holding the figurative bag. As if to illustrate that very point, the huge bronze bull stumbled. It trod over several traders and dropped to one of its knees. It was so sudden, Aaron was nearly launched over the golem¡¯s broad head. He only kept his position thanks to his preternatural drakus strength. A small groan rose among the traders as the bull lost its footing, but only a few of them. The rest were milling around nearby, lassoes at the ready and licking their lips. Some were quickly scribbling adjustments on their order slips. Aaron glanced at the slate board, his eyes sweeping down the list of stocks and goods. Even at only four letters each, there weren¡¯t enough goods being traded around this anchor to make picking out what he needed difficult. Steel was written as STEE and was up to fifteen gold, while aluminum, written as ALUM, was up to twenty. A three hundred percent increase would be amazing out in the real world, Aaron thought. Compared to the gains in the last trading room, it¡¯s not much, but if this bull doesn¡¯t get back up and start moving again soon, it¡¯s better than I¡¯m likely to get in the end. If this place was built on metaphor, it had to be exaggerated one way or another. Otherwise, why wouldn¡¯t it be a perfectly accurate recreation? He decided to hold on through this stumble and trust that the bull would keep charging. He only had to wait a couple seconds ¡ª though it felt much longer, anxiously watching prices starting to get marked down on the big slates ¡ª before the bull was back on its feet and moving again. He tried not to interfere with the lassoes coming for the bull¡¯s horns as it finished standing, then the golem resumed its mad dash around the anchor with Aaron clinging to its back as best as he could. It wasn¡¯t the only time the bull stumbled as it careened through the crowd. There were several more stuttering starts and stops over the next few minutes. Each time, prices up on the big slate boards would dip and some traders would lose their nerve and cash out. They rarely fell enough to scare off most of the speculators, though. Or maybe it was and they were being replaced by new traders showing up to chase the bull market. Whatever the economics of it, Aaron¡¯s struggle was like theirs ¡ª more mental than physical. The bronze bull was physically powerful and it was a balancing act to staying mounted, but it was never enough to dislodge the resolute drakus. No, the problem was judging when to sell to squeeze out as much profit as possible before the market normalized or corrected, or whatever it did. When prices for both steel and aluminum had climbed to more than fifteen times the prices Aaron had bought at, his nerves started fraying, telling him to take the cash and bail. Another part of his mind argued that there was no indication the market was ready to turn. If I¡¯m right and this trading floor roughly reflects the years leading to World War II, then this is when the foundation for America becoming a superpower was laid, he thought. And that foundation was made of tanks, boats, and airplanes. All things, in short, that required tons of steel and aluminum. Literally. Even if the metals were relatively cheap by weight compared to other goods, so much of it would be needed for the war that turning a profit would be easy. The trick, as he saw it, was finding a good time to sell and cash out that wouldn¡¯t be leaving a pile of lux on the table. The other three drakus were no help, of course. Aaron would see them in the crowd now and then, like parents watching a child on a rampaging merry-go-round. They¡¯d smile, wave, even throw the occasional lazy lasso over the bull¡¯s horns. Albert even winked at him once as the bull went bounding by, slipped, and nearly rolled over onto a scrambling Aaron¡¯s leg. But they offered neither help nor insight, only emanating a kind of benign amusement at his antics. With no warning, the bull lowered its head, pulling Aaron forward hard enough he almost didn¡¯t stop himself from tumbling over the horns. It stamped a foot and charged, right for a cluster of traders. Some tried to avoid the crushing onslaught, but they were too tightly packed to allow much room to move. The people being bowled over, knocked aside, or trampled was horrific, but Aaron was much more disturbed by how many grinning traders pushed forward, eager to risk being trampled to hang more than one lasso on the bull¡¯s horns in one fell swoop. A cheer went up as the bronze beast stomped and bucked, more lassoes flying than ever before and from even farther away. Though it wasn¡¯t exactly easy to keep himself mounted, Aaron¡¯s strength was more than enough for the task, allowing him to glance up at the big slate boards. Prices were up. Way up. The value on aluminum and steel had nearly doubled from when he¡¯d last checked. That seemed¡­ extreme. The passage of time on this trading floor was much faster than the real world events it mimicked, but it wasn¡¯t supposed to be contracted to the same degree as it had been on the last floor. It would be decades before the trading floor was dominated by cocaine and computer code, so the changes he was seeing had to be a reflection of huge market swings happening very quickly. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The bull grew increasingly vicious and erratic over the next few minutes. It was definitely aiming right for the traders, rather than moving and turning as a threat. It bowled right into, over, and through tightly packed groups and it felt, to Aaron, like it was making an effort to kick and stomp anyone who got near its hooves. Despite the growing violence, there never seemed to be any kind of major injuries among the trampled. It must be some kind of magic tied into the dungeon¡¯s concept, Aaron guessed. What is it supposed to mean, though? Prices go down with each stumble, but does the aggression towards the traders represent market volatility or something else? Even as the bull grew more aggressive, it became less surefooted. The stumbles started to come more frequently. At one point, the great bronze beast¡¯s hooves slipped out from under it in a turn and it skidded along the floor on its side. Aaron barely avoided having his leg mangled once more and had no clear understanding of what he¡¯d done to avoid getting smashed or dislodged while the golem flailed trying to get itself back upright. The fluctuations in the price of each stock were becoming more extreme, as well. The drops were sharper and deeper while the rebounds were climbing to increasing heights. More traders were groaning and cursing with each stutter, stumble, or slip of the bull¡¯s hooves and the ones coming to the pit this late in the game had a deranged gleam in their eyes more often than not. This can¡¯t be a good sign, Aaron thought. I should probably cash out before the market does whatever it is the market does that always seems to screw over the people who couldn¡¯t afford to play this little game in the first place. Lassoes were beginning to slip off the rampaging bull¡¯s horns. The slips of paper ¡ª order slips ¡ª had acted like knots, or a clip, holding the loop¡¯s shape. Occasionally, they would detach and flutter away, leaving nothing more than a loosely draped rope, free to slide limply to the floor. More lassoes came to take their place, so the traders hadn¡¯t completely abandoned the enraged ¡ª and profitable! ¡ª bull just yet, but Aaron obviously wasn¡¯t alone in thinking the good times weren¡¯t going to be rolling much longer. But how could he get the hell out while the getting was still good? He didn¡¯t have a rope to make a lasso, an order slip to cinch it with, or a good idea of what to put on one if he did. All he had were the two slips recording his earlier trades, twenty seven shares for steel and forty for aluminum. Maybe they were called options, futures, or something else, but it all boiled down to the same thing ¡ª a record of the amount of metal he theoretically owned. Could he do something with that? He tightened his grips ¡ª knees and hands ¡ª and straightened his back, craning his neck to look out over the crowd. Further from the bull¡¯s wake, far enough there was little chance of landing a lasso, some traders were still gesticulating and shouting at each other and recording trades on their notepads. It looks like open call trading is still an option, which gives me a way to sell what I¡¯ve got, he thought. I can¡¯t record the trades myself, but any buyers will probably give me a copy of their order slips. Staying on the bull might make selling his shares more difficult, but jumping off the thing into a crowd of hapless traders struck Aaron as pure foolishness. Besides, the crowd was motivated and clever. If they wanted his goods, they¡¯d figure something out. There was nothing for it but to do it. Worrying over whether it was the right call only increased the odds of the bubble bursting. Besides, the stakes here were about as low as they could get. It was a lot of fancy wizard money, but only as Aaron reckoned it. A properly acclimated drakus probably wouldn¡¯t think of this as anything more than pocket change. Probably. He adjusted his grip with one hand, tightened his knees against the statue''s flanks, and took a deep breath. ¡°Selling forty shares of aluminum at, uh¨C¡± He glanced up at the slate to make sure he had the current price and did some quick division in his head. The eyes of several of the traders in the crowd were fixed on him, waiting to hear his price. He cleared his throat and started over. ¡°Selling forty shares of aluminum, going at twenty platinum each! Selling twenty seven shares of steel at sixty gold each!¡± There was a rasping flutter and several things flew through the air, headed right for Aaron¡¯s face. He almost flinched away before he recognized that they were lassoes. Just like the ones dangling from the bull¡¯s horns and neck, only angled to fall over his own head. A couple of the lassoes on the bull actually disentangled themselves and slithered up his body to settle on his shoulders with the others from the crowd, forming a kind of hempen mantle. Now that¡¯s working smarter, not harder, Aaron thought. Am I gonna have to count all these slips to know when all my shares are sold? As if in answer to his question, a few of the ropes hanging from the bull flapped their tails towards him tentatively then went limp again. It was as good a sign as any that he wouldn¡¯t be able to fill those orders and that meant it was time for his wild ride to end. The next time the bull started to stumble, Aaron took the opportunity to jump off. He didn¡¯t quite stick the landing and nearly fell when his feet hit the carpeted floor, but it could have been worse. By the time he came to a full stop and stood up, a small gaggle of traders had gathered around him, notepads in hand and eyes filled with capitalist fervor. Albert, Griffin, and Kiara were there, as well, though they lingered at the back of the scrum. ¡°Let¡¯s move the edge of the pit,¡± Griffin called over the clamor. ¡°Less chance of getting trampled away from the heart of the action.¡± There were some grumbles from the traders, who wanted their orders filled and noted without delay, but the bull came by on another pass and nearly rolled over the lot of them as they were arguing. That settled the matter and they followed in the wake the delvers made through the crowd. After some light haranguing and the distribution of guff about preparedness, the traders made copies of their trading slips so Aaron would have a copy. It only took a few minutes to record and fill all the orders, each one accompanied by a lasso releasing its loop and slithering back to its owner. When the last order was filled, Aaron stepped up out of the trading pit and looked back at the crowd. The bull was truly in its death throes now, going down frequently and lashing out viciously at anyone and anything near it. The prices on the slates were swinging wildly. ¡°I think I could have made a bigger profit, in theory,¡± Aaron ventured. ¡°It would¡¯ve been risky, though, so I think I got out at the right time.¡± ¡°You did fine,¡± Griffin reassured him, clapping a meaty hand on his shoulder. ¡°So is this what each floor of the dungeon is like? Riding a bull was entertaining and all, but if I¡¯d come prepared with trading slips and some of those magic lassoes the whole experience would¡¯ve been pretty lame.¡± ¡°Profit-seeking is a major theme of the dungeon,¡± Albert said. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do any trading, though. We can walk through and pay for a badge on each floor without engaging with¡­ whatever¡¯s going on.¡± Kiara cleared her throat. ¡°We can do that, but the Well is more than just commerce and speculative trading; it¡¯s a living history of the City and, thus, the nation. It¡¯s worth paying attention to, especially for your first time.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s set aside the fact you just said ¡®thus¡¯ unironically,¡± Aaron said. ¡°When you say it¡¯s a ¡®living history,¡¯ do you mean all those traders are real, living people?¡± ¡°No, not exactly,¡± she replied. ¡°Not in the sense that we would think of it, anyways. They¡¯re not necessarily sapient, or even sentient. It¡¯s the dungeon itself that¡¯s the living history. The Well has been active a long time and it can change and grow. The first floor we came through wasn¡¯t always like it is now, for example. It wasn¡¯t even always the first floor!¡± ¡°It¡¯s a big complicated shitshow, that¡¯s for sure,¡± Albert said, poking Aaron in the side. ¡°Anyways! How much lux did you rake in, Mother Courage?¡± Aaron flipped through his order slips, trying to keep the numbers straight in his head. ¡°I invested four of the nine-platinum ingots I got in the first floor, minus three gold, so that¡¯s thirty six platinum. Then times nine is, uh, it¡¯s three hundred twenty four gold. Is gold the standard? Anyway, then I bought steel with one ingot and aluminum with another. No, wait, I¡¯m not doing all that math. Hold on.¡± He flipped through the slips again. ¡°So I started with thirty six platinum. I sold my steel for, uhm, at sixty gold each, so that¡¯s, uh¡­ eighteen hundred minus one eighty, which is sixteen twenty and that adds up to nine so it¡¯s divisible by nine. That would be, uh, it would be¡­¡± He growled in frustration. ¡°Sorry, I can¡¯t keep numbers in my head like this. My brain just won¡¯t hold onto them.¡± ¡°That¡¯s alright, I got you,¡± Albert replied. ¡°You sold steel for twenty times your bid and aluminum was thirty. All told, you cleared a bit under nine hundred plat profit on a thirty six plat investment. Not too shabby, Colonel Mustard.¡± ¡°I knew it was a good chunk of change, but I didn¡¯t realize it was that much.¡± ¡°You did the bull dance, man,¡± Albert added. ¡°You were feelin¡¯ the flow, workin¡¯ it. Workin¡¯ it. Let¡¯s get your winnings and crawl deeper down this rabbit hole. Sound good, Daddy Warbucks?¡± There were a host of questions fluttering around Aaron¡¯s thoughts ¡ª and a not-so-mild urge to respond to Albert¡¯s nicknames; did he think Aaron wouldn¡¯t get the references? ¡ª but he set them aside for the time being. There was more to see in the Well of Greed and things seemed like they were barely starting to get wild. He wanted to see how the dungeon developed and, perhaps more than that, he was burning with curiosity to find out more about the echo dungeons that were supposed to be hidden near the end of the dungeon. If the Well itself isn¡¯t enough to be considered an echo of the past, the echo dungeons must be something to see, Aaron reasoned. On their way to the wall that would lead them to the next floor, the four drakus stopped at a cashier¡¯s window where Aaron could turn in his trading slips. The young lady behind the brass bars took them and placed several stacks of gleaming platinum ingots on the counter. Each ingot was stamped with an eight-pointed star, marking their value at nine platinum. There were ten columns of ingots, stacked ten high. Two more ingots sat atop the pile topped by a single platinum coin. Each was stamped with the same eight-pointed star, though none had a circle around them. That made for a total of one hundred and two nine-platinum ingots with an additional four-platinum coin, worth nine hundred twenty two platinum all told. That was a good bit more than four times what his Greater Wand of the Elements had cost. He set the coin aside and scooped up four ingots from the pile, dropping them into his coin purse. He had a plan for the coin, but the ingots put his initial investment for this floor back in his hands, leaving ninety nine ingots shining in the room¡¯s soft light. Should I exchange some of this for aether? Aaron wondered. Or will that encourage me to be less cautious with the money? ¡°I¡¯d like to exchange these for something smaller, please,¡± he said, pushing eight of the stacks forward then adding one more ingot on top of the pile. He slid the remaining fifteen platinum ingots into his coin purse. The cashier could count and she was obviously more familiar with lux exchanges than Aaron, so it only took a moment for her to pull the platinum back behind the cashier window and replace them with a single new ingot. This one was stamped with the increasingly familiar eight-pointed star, but it didn¡¯t look like any metal Aaron had ever seen. It was a pale blue, so light it was nearly back to being dull silver, only it had an opalescent sheen and seemed to reflect a light that wasn¡¯t there. When Aaron¡¯s fingers touched the nine-aether ingot, he thought he could almost feel the mystic energy of the quintessence that currency had been forged from. It hummed, it thrummed, and it roiled against his skin, yet it was so faint it could have easily been his imagination. He dropped into his purse with the rest of his lux rather than dwell on the sensation too long. ¡°Thank you,¡± he told the cashier, picking up the coin from the desk and turning back towards the ornate doors that would take them to the next level of the Well of Greed. He rubbed the coin between his fingers as they walked towards the wall. Griffin patted him on the back. ¡°You walked in with a hundred plat and after only two floors, you¡¯re up to over a thousand. Not too shabby!¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Aaron said, holding up the coin. ¡°I think I¡¯m getting a feel for the place. I¡¯m guessing this will be enough to cover all of us on the next floor. Right?¡± In his peripheral vision, Aaron saw Griffin hesitate and shoot a glance to the other delvers. He knew they didn¡¯t want to give too much away about what he might find in the Well of Greed, but the nagging feeling he¡¯d had about the dungeon was growing. That glance practically confirmed it wasn¡¯t all funny metaphors and whimsical allegories waiting for them ahead. ¡°You nailed it, dude,¡± Griffin said, laughing and tapping a finger to his nose. ¡°One silver, one gold, one platinum, and so on. Well spotted, bud.¡± ¡°Well, let¡¯s see what more there is to see, then,¡± Aaron replied as they reached the doors leading to the next floor. He pushed them open and walked through, determined not to hesitate. The past was what it was. No matter how ugly it might be, you had to be willing to look at it for exactly that: what it was. Nothing more, nothing less. I think it¡¯s going to get real fucking ugly, though, he thought as he took another step deeper into the history of New York City and, of course, America.