“One copper per horse, per day,” the stable master said firmly as Tsuta presented four sets of reins.

  The bald monk precisely spaced four coins on the counter, tapping each one in succession.

  “Cheers,” the man acknowledged with a nod, sweeping the coins from the rough wooden surface. “I’m here until just after sunset. If you need them before sunup, knock on the stable door around back and Gern can let you in.”

  Tsuta thanked him before he and Lunish stepped back into the street.

  “Where do we start?” Lunish asked, squinting against the morning sun.

  “You’re the spy,” he reminded her, his gaze scanning the bustling thoroughfare. “You tell me, spy girl.”

  She let out a deep sigh, dragging her toe across the cobblestone curb. “Yeah. You’d think I’d be better at this. It’s never really sat right with me, quite honestly. We got no training and only had three jobs before nearly getting caught here last time.”

  “Noooo…” he drawled, barely containing a grin. “I don’t believe that for a minute, Braids. I thought you loved your work!”

  The gnome looked up at him in surprise before recognizing the sarcasm. She twitched a smirk before leveling a playful punch into his hip. “Shut up! I swear I can never tell when you’re being serious.”

  Tsuta winced from the contact, the smile escaping to his lips. “So why did you take the job then?”

  Lunish shrugged. “Glynnie and Grym thought it would be fun, and the pay’s really good, so I just went along.”

  He nodded, his hand sliding down his staff. “Well, between the two of us, you’re still the more experienced.” He swept his open palm across the street’s landscape. “What would you suggest?”

  The gnome’s brow wrinkled as she considered their options. “Pubs are always a good place to start. I’ve never met a solicitor who didn’t like to bend the elbow…But I have another idea that might be even better.” She pointed across the road, up the block toward a storefront.

  “The stationer?” Tsuta questioned.

  “Sure. Solicitors write documents for a living. So, it makes sense that he would need a lot of parchment, ink, and quills, right?” She studied his reaction with a sidelong glance.

  The bald elf raised one eyebrow in thought before dipping his head in her direction. “That is a good idea.” He didn’t notice her grin with pride as he stepped across the street toward the shop.

  The druid hurried after him. “I have another idea that I’ve wanted to try, but Glynnie would never do it.”

  He stopped at the opposite curb, turning to face her as she caught up. “Well, let’s hear it.”

  “What do you think about me wildshaping into a mouse? That way, after you ask about Ferrier, I can stick around and see if anyone does anything suspicious after you leave.”

  “That sounds pretty clever to me,” Tsuta agreed. “But how will I know if you see something hinky if you’re in mouse form? You can’t speak, and you also can’t keep shifting back and forth. Also, I can’t burn my sending spells on this—we need them to message the others if we find him.”

  “That is a problem.” She thought for a moment. “What if you wait for me to show myself after you leave. If I go back in, that means there’s more going on than you saw. If everything is normal, I’ll move with you to the next stop.”

  “And what if I mistake some other mouse for you? There are certainly enough of them around here.” He gestured to the trash heaps piled between the buildings. “I might end up chasing random vermin down the alley.” His nose wrinkled in distaste.

  After a long pause, her face brightened as she grabbed a braid, twirling it in a circle between them. “I can give myself a red tail!”

  He looked at her suspiciously. “Who said you were a bad spy?”

  Lunish felt her cheeks flush despite having her back to the sun, and her gaze instantly dropped to examine the cobblestone. “My ideas always get dismissed. Those two preferred to charge in, without thinking things through first,” she muttered.

  “You should stand your ground more,” the bald monk stated matter-of-factly, his face emotionless. “Stop doubting the value of your contribution.”

  “You really don’t have any filter, do you?” She observed.

  Tsuta’s face contorted with confusion before Lunish quickly changed the subject. “So, we’ll hit the stationer, then work those two pubs on this side of the street before crossing over for the other two?”

  “Building on your idea with the stationer, we could also try the chandler, over there.” He tipped his head towards the south gate.

  “Yes! Solicitors also often work late into the night and would burn through a lot of candles. I like it!” The druid casually glanced over both shoulders. “Can we just step into the alley for a moment? I don’t want the whole town to watch me shift.”

  The monk shot her a confused look. “Why? It’s not like you’re getting naked.”

  She rose to her full height, shoulders squared with newfound resolve. “No, but we don’t want to tip our hand to anyone who might already be watching, do we?”

  Tsuta’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as his head snapped up, scrutinizing people and establishments in rapid succession. “Fair point,” he conceded.

  The two stepped casually into the alley between the stationer and the bakery next door. A pile of broken crates and pallets masked Lunish’s magical transformation from prying eyes on the street. A moment later, a small brown mouse stepped out from behind the refuse, looking at Tsuta before turning around and deliberately shaking its hind quarters. A tail the same color as the druid’s hair waggled in the monk’s direction.

  “Yes, I see it, Braids. Red tail. Got it!” he muttered. “I’ll give you a minute to find a way in before entering.”

  With a squeak, the mouse scurried off toward the rear of the building. Tsuta turned back toward the street and started getting into character. I might have to lean on some of these people. I need to be ready. The monk considered his options before trying out several ‘moves’ in front of the largely ambivalent thoroughfare.

  Forcing an almost comical scowl onto his face, he made a sudden flinch, feigning a head butt. “Don’t lie to me, innkeeper, I know he’s been here.” He unconsciously slid his hand over his bald head before catching himself. Don’t rub your head! Whiskers says no one looks threatening while scratching their head! He reset. The grimace still in place, he quickly spun his staff into a blur before stopping it abruptly at eye level in front of him. “Last chance, oytugh! Start talking or face my staff!” He dropped the pose, shaking his head. That sounds ridiculous, even to me. Once more. Adopting a fighting stance, Tsuta summoned his Ki. Both fists sparkled with white arcane energy as he curled his lip into a sneer. Hold it for three heartbeats. “As Gond is my witness, I will strike you dead where you stand!” Relaxing his posture, the monk let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping. It’s just not who I am.

  Turning on his heel, Tsuta rounded the corner from the alley mouth, headed for the stationery shop just in time to catch two middle-aged human women taking a wide berth around his position, having witnessed his solo performance during their approach.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Good afternoon,” he said with a smile and a nod. The two shoppers didn’t reply. Instead, they veered into the street to preserve the distance, shooting him a suspicious side-eye, while one clutched her satchel with heightened vigilance. Unperturbed, Tsuta entered the shop, an overhead bell announcing his arrival. Hopefully, his partner had found a suitable vantage point.

  “Good afternoon!” a muffled voice greeted him from the left before a beaming dwarven face rose from behind the shelves. “Sorry, I was just taking the opportunity to restock. How can I help you?”

  “Good afternoon.” Tsuta tipped his head in the man’s direction. “I’m looking for a solicitor.”

  The shopkeeper looked him over from head to toe and back before responding. “Well, you won’t find one here, laddie. This is a stationery shop. There are a couple in town, though. If you go down–,” he raised his arm, gesturing toward the south gate, before Tsuta cut him off.

  “No, I’ve already tried the two registered with the commerce council. They said they had heard about another staying in town, that wasn’t registered. His name is Garret Ferrier. Any chance you’ve heard of him?”

  The dwarf’s face squinted in confusion. “Can’t say I have, but not sure why you think I would.”

  Tsuta winced in frustration. “I thought he might be a recent customer, since solicitors use a lot of paper.”

  “Oh, aye.” The dwarf raised his chin. “I see your logic. Come to think of it, there has been one fella in here several times over the last month or so, and I hadn’t seen him before, never got his name though.”

  “That might be him!” The monk’s voice rose excitedly. “What did he look like?” In his peripheral vision, Tsuta spied the red-tailed mouse scurrying behind a stack of parchment.

  The shopkeeper paused, glancing at the ceiling as his eyes narrowed. “Human, older, not very big. Come to think of it, he looked a little twitchy, you know?”

  “Twitchy?” Tsuta parroted.

  “Aye. His eyes were always darting around, and his face was a bit pinched, like there was constantly a small, smelly turd right under his nose.” He held his finger under his own nose before squinching his face in distaste, glancing rapidly around the room in demonstration.

  “Any idea how I might find him? Did he place any special orders or request delivery?” Tsuta pressed.

  The dwarf shook his head. “Sorry, all cash and carry.”

  The monk nodded, sliding his hand over his bald head. “When was he last here?”

  “Maybe three days back,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry, I can’t tell you much more…except, he kept calling me ‘son’.”

  “Like he was your father or something?”

  “Aye, pretty rude considering I’m one hundred and seventy-eight, and he couldn’t have been more than fifty.”

  “That is a little odd,” Tsuta agreed. “Thank you, this has been helpful.”

  “Good luck!” the dwarf called after him as he left the shop, pausing in front of the alley to magically relay the description to the others and wait for Lunish.

  Before long, the red-tailed mouse stepped into view. Tsuta took a few tentative steps in the direction of the chandler. When the mouse skirted the broken pallets, moving along with him, he shifted his attention to the next target.

  The chandler, a young, disinterested elven woman, was less than helpful. Despite now being armed with a physical description to go along with the name, Tsuta’s inquiries came up empty. As his mouse companion emerged from the shop, the monk took the first few steps across the street.

  “I guess it’s time to ask around at the pubs,” he said loud enough for her to hear.

  Monk and mouse repeated their inquiries at three pubs, including the Smashed Skull, working their way from one end of the main street to the south gate, all to no avail. No one admitted to knowing Garret Ferrier or recognized the man’s description. Lunish’s post-interview observation also yielded nothing out of the ordinary.

  At the fourth watering hole, a dingy place called the Broken Spoke, things changed. After ordering a horn of water, Tsuta made the same inquiry he had elsewhere, repeating his need for a solicitor, dropping Ferrier’s name, and even describing the man. The proprietor—a plump, middle-aged human woman—offered a blank stare and a head shake before disappearing back into the kitchen. Tsuta didn’t notice the three sets of eyes watching him intently from a table in the corner. He didn’t even hear the tallest of the three approach him at the bar until the elf spoke.

  “You’re looking for Ferrier?” he said quietly behind Tsuta’s left shoulder, his gaze straight ahead.

  The monk turned. “That’s right, do you know him?”

  The elf made a shushing noise, cautiously glancing around at the other occupied tables before offering a faint, affirming nod. “Not here, too many ears.” He flicked his eyes over the monk’s shoulder. “Especially that table of gnomes.” Tsuta turned to see four gnomish miners, their clothes and faces blackened with soot and dust, deeply involved in an animated game of bones. Taking advantage of his distraction, the elf slid a vial from his sleeve, emptying its contents into the monk’s water. “Give me a one-minute head start, then meet me in the alley behind the Spoke. Don’t make it obvious, finish your drink first.” The elf emptied his ale horn and slid it across the bar before strolling into the street without another word.

  I’ve got a lead! Straightening his shoulders, he glanced casually back at the gnomes. Fully engrossed in their gambling, none of them had even looked up. They must be exceptionally skilled spies, highly trained. Sipping from his horn, Tsuta took in the rest of the Spoke’s occupants, moving only his eyes to practice his own subtlety, counting the seconds in his head.

  He saw a halfling couple canoodling in the dim bar light, a pair of human men in the corner, staring silently into their pints, and a lone goliath perched atop a stool that threatened to surrender under his size at any moment. When he reached sixty, the monk finished his horn and headed for the door. As it swung closed, the two humans in the corner got to their feet and slowly followed.

  Around the right side of the building, Tsuta threaded his way through the piles of refuse before peering around the back of the building to find the elf standing at the far end of the alley. His stomach did a nauseous somersault as he closed the distance between them.

  “Did anyone see you leave?” the stranger asked as he approached.

  “No, I was careful, even finished my drink like you suggested. So, what can you tell me about Ferrier?” He felt his head start to spin, but he centered himself and pushed past it.

  The elf chuckled, shaking his head. “How have you survived this long being that clueless?” The sound of metal scraping stone behind him caused the monk to turn. The two humans from the bar sauntered toward him, swords drawn. The one on the left dragged the tip of his blade on the cobblestones as he walked forward, its foreboding whisper joining the slow clop of his advancing boots.

  “You need to learn not to poke around in other people’s business, Baldy,” the stranger hissed, also stepping forward. Tsuta fell to one knee, his disorientation growing as they closed in from both sides.

  “You gotta love Torpol,” the elf called to his co-conspirators. “I told you he’d be as timid as a lamb by the time we got him around back.”

  The bald monk felt a sheen of sweat bead instantly on his forehead, his body trying in vain to resist the poison. His world spun faster. His ears registered a responding chuckle from the two approaching from the rear and the ring of the stranger’s sword being drawn. His chest heaved as he gulped for fresh oxygen. Closing one eye to control his spiraling universe, Tsuta summoned his divine tether. Willing his fingers to recite the pattern, he was barely able to mutter the words before he lost consciousness.

  As he fell backwards onto the cobblestones, a loud crack of thunder echoed off the nearby garrison walls. A wave of force rushed out in all directions from his position just before he hit the ground.

  The three attackers were thrown backwards like rag dolls by the force of the thunder wave. The sword-dragger came to rest on the end of a board, protruding from a broken pallet, blood streaming from his chest. The second lay unmoving on the cobblestones. The elven stranger groaned, pushing himself to his knees before wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

  “You sneaky prick! Had a little magic up your sleeve, did ya? No matter, you’ll meet your deity regardless.” Getting to his feet, he hobbled toward the incapacitated monk.

  Unseen, a red-tailed mouse scurried around the corner, racing toward her downed friend. She barely heard the shouts from the top of the wall, followed by the familiar peal of the garrison bells. The elf raised his sword to strike before the tiny creature caught his attention. Glancing up, he was greeted by a flash of green as Lunish returned to her gnomish form, leaping over Tsuta’s still body. A second arcane flash transformed her again. In mid-air, her limbs stretched, rippling muscles covered in brown fur replaced her gnomish arms and legs. Delicate hands became ham-sized paws tipped with black claws. A snout full of thumb-sized, flashing teeth replaced her slender facial features.

  Caught by surprise, the charging bear bowled him over backwards, its claws raking his chest. The elf tried to bring his hands up, but it was too late. The bear’s jaws snapped shut around his throat, and his eyes went blank; a wet gurgle became his final breath.

  “Now there’s a bear loose in the south quarter!” someone called from the top of the wall. Lunish heard the whine of the iron gates from the garrison swinging open. They’ll be here in seconds. There’s no time to get him out!

  The bear’s hindquarters rippled with each lumbering jump as she lurched around the corner of the building. Shielded from the lookout on the garrison wall, she dropped the bear form before risking a glance back into the alley. The clatter of metal armor preceded four soldiers spilling into view around the far corner. Presented with the carnage of the scene, they came to a sudden halt.

  Lunish took one last look at the elf, flat on his back, head tilted away, pooling blood swelling in front of his open throat. What’s that on the back of his neck? A tattoo she recognized immediately. The line with a circle below it—the mark of the Crimson Dominion. With a gasp, she turned and fled down the alley, unfocused and overwhelmed. Amid the chaos, her mind pinged with a response from Snuggles:

  Sweetheart, devastating but valuable news. Double pay at next stop. Irdri is the CD stronghold. Agent there – code name Sugarplum, inhabits woods south of city.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma and The Siremirian Conundrum?

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