Spire's Spite

As it turned out the silver Hound bones were a fantastic material for a hilt and Bruce said so with gusto.

"Where'd you get moonsilver from?" He demanded before he shook his head and said, "Never mind, don't want to know I suppose."

"Oh, it's moonsilver is it? Never heard of it, what does it do?" Fritz stated, not wanting to seem too overeager lest he let something slip about his own bones.

"Well it's sturdier than steel for one, and it has some purification properties which means it's resistant to rust and acid. I heard it also dilutes poisons that come into contact with it. Which can be useful for armour or jewellery. That and it can be made very sharp, it's good for...clean cuts," Bruce explained.

Fritz forced out a chuckle, suspecting that the last comment was some terrible pun, Bert might like the joke though.

"And as a hilt?" Fritz inquired.

"It'll keep your hands safe, some creatures have some nasty blood that can corrode steel or poison you. With moonsilver you won't have to worry as much from the bloody runoff after stabbing something. That and it looks very nice and I'm sure, Sir, can appreciate that."

"Hmm," Fritz said pretending to think and letting the man carry on about his obvious passion.

"I don't know much about runes but as it's a magic material it'll take them far better than normal steel, I think moonsilver is particularly partial to light-based enchantments," Bruce explained.

“Does it work well with shadow?” Fritz asked, a little too quickly. He nearly slapped himself for giving away that he had shadow aligned Abilities.

Bruce glanced up at the question and a knowing grin stretched over one side of his weathered face.

“If it were sunsteel or something of the like you’d be outa luck, but moonsilver works well with both. Its one of those odd substances that works well with ephemeral, intangible alignments but doesn’t take well to elemental or physical ones, excepting metal enhancements,” Bruce espoused.

Interesting, Fritz thought.

“That doesn’t mean it can’t be done,” Bruce added when he saw Fritz’s pensive look and mistook it for disappointment. “It’ll just be a little more work for the inscriber and the efficiency and power won’t be quite as good as something it’s properly aligned to.”

"Any armourers you'd recommend?" Fritz asked struck with an idea.

"I can do armour," Bruce offered. "My speciality."

"Then why isn't there any displayed?" Fritz asked.

"Armour's for wearin' not displayin'," Bruce stated. "Custom made only, you have to get armour perfect or people die in it."

"Doesn't seem to stop other armourers," Fritz said.

"They produce slop for the desperate," Bruce said with a scowl. "They don't care if it saves a life or not, only that it's sold. A little advice, if a craftsman doesn't put their stamp on their work then they're not proud of it. And if they're not proud of it, it's likely rubbish."

"Wonderful, can I get the hilt by tomorrow then? I want to be Climbing the Mer Spire by noon," Fritz stated.

The sweeping in the forge paused for a moment, then resumed.

"Best I can do is the morning the day after tomorrow, one gold triad due to the rush," Bruce offered.

Fritz was a little disappointed at the wait but he realised he may be rushing somewhat in his attempt to get stronger as quickly as possible. But he also felt that any moment a part of their ruse could fall apart, that they’d be exposed and Nic would come for them. So they had to act now while there was still some doubt as to the danger they posed to the Nightshark.

Not that he wanted to hurt the Nightshark’s operations of course but he knew that, eventually things would come to a head, and he better be as ready and powerful as possible.

Fritz snapped back to the present only to find Bruce staring at him expectantly.

"That's fine, day after tomorrow it is," He said with some resignation, reaching for his triad purse. "As for the armour, well, here's what I want."

-

Fritz strode from the smithy feeling much lighter, eleven gold and all his Hound bones lighter to be precise. With a skip in his step, he found his way to a leather worker and bought himself a set of well-made monster hide armour complete with thick leather bracers and a holster for his bone dagger, it set him back another six gold but to him it was well spent. He didn't want a repeat of the Sunken Spire, wearing only whatever they could cobble together.

No, he wanted to go in prepared.

Apparently, the mottled, dark-green monster leather had belonged to some kind of swamp-buck that dwelled on one of the more commonly reoccurring floors of the Rain Spire. Fritz had gone with this particular set over the less expensive and sturdier grey leathers due mostly to the freedom of movement they provided. Being both softer and lighter, they also lessened the strain on his currently overworking muscles and let him sneak around without having to worry about his overly heavy footfalls.

The dark green didn't quite match the black of his magic boots, but that was something he could live with, for now.

While he was wandering the steam district he got to thinking about what else he might need for his next Climb and who would join his team. His immediate ideas were to fill the holes in the roster. With Bert as a Defender and himself as a Scout, they had two of the harder to fill roles covered which means they'd need a Striker and maybe a Controller. They would have to be able to do without a healer, as most teams did with the rarity of healing magic in Rain City.

Though maybe he was going about this the wrong way, he could always grab some leveless hopefuls and carry them up the Mer Spire. Fritz felt he was strong enough for some dead weight, after all he had completed a Gold Climb, something even the monstrous Nic hadn't achieved.

It's not like they would be useless either. Give them some spears and shields. Bert and I can handle the 'hard' stuff and have them carry our loot, He mused.

The more he thought about it the more it made sense to him. He'd have to run it by Bert but he was sure his friend would agree.

Fritz did, however, get the feeling he was taking advantage of the poor and desperate, just as the gangs did, but he shook that feeling away quickly. They weren't going to indenture the leveless or hold the tax over their head. That and they weren't going to force anyone to join them or throw them into a freezing lake for that matter. They were better. They were different.

His mind made, Fritz went to search for Bert in the Upper Ring to tell him of his plan.

Whilst making his way towards the gate he ran across a grimy face from just the day before. A stroke of luck or perhaps some strange fate?

"Fancy running into you again, Carter," Fritz said with a violently polite smile.

Carter turned, his eyes went wide as he took in Fritz's immaculate clothes and regal posture.

"Sir!" Carter spluttered and scraped out the least competent bow Fritz had had the misfortune to lay eyes on. "I, I, didn't know you were a lord. I'm sorry if I offended you yesterday. Please, have mercy on me."

"Now, now. That's all behind us," Fritz said magnanimously, leaning into his naturally noble cadences. "I have an opportunity for you."

"An opportunity?" Carted said suspicion leaking into his placating voice.

"Would you like to Climb?" Fritz offered.

"Climb?" Carter said dumbly.

"Yes. Climb. Are you a simpleton?" Fritz asked, perhaps leaning a little too hard into his noble persona.

"No, Sir. I mean yes, Sir," Carter said.

"Which is it?" Fritz asked with a scowl.

"I want to Climb," Carter clarified.

Fritz smiled and broke his facade, not wanting to torture the poor man anymore, "Good, meet me tomorrow at noon, just outside of Tallies Trawler. You know the place?"

Carter nodded.

"Right, see you there then," Fritz said and strode off without another look back at the man's confused expression.

With at least one new recruit, if the man turned up, and his business in the district done for now Fritz strolled into the Upper Ring with little in the way of objectives. He did however have a vague sense that he should be looking for bargains or other opportunities. He decided to peruse some stores looking for anything he could conceive as useful and considered what would have saved them some hassle and pain on each floor.

What could of helped them on the first floor? Maybe some better armour and weapons? Flint and steel to light a fire faster? How about on the second? Maybe water? It did seem to run low while we trained. As for the third, nothing but more power and trusty companions would have helped us there.

Fritz went through his recollections and quickly came to the conclusion that they would need more sacks, packs, bedrolls and blankets along with a lot more healing supplies. He felt that once he had Quicksilver back he wouldn't require much more in the way of weapons, but a belt of throwing daggers might be a useful addition to his fighting style, he'd ask Bruce about it when he next saw him.

A crossbow wouldn't go amiss either, but they were fairly expensive and difficult to reload, requiring diligent maintenance and specialised bolts. That and the bigger ones would be a chore to lug around and the smaller ones could be finicky. Or so he'd heard. One day maybe, he'd get an inscribed or imbued crossbow, but right now he just needed the basics and a couple of tricks.

Fritz had to avert his eyes whenever he strode past an Inscriber or a Treasure Store. He couldn't afford their wares, and any good Treasures were usually traded or auctioned away at the King's Treasury. What was left for these small shops were generally minor Treasures like his boots or anything non-magical made by the Spires like Sid's bow. As for inscribing, or enchanting, he heard it was a lot of triads for marginal benefit, even if you didn't just get scammed by one of the more unscrupulous purveyors.

Still, his curiosity got the better of him and he entered a small, well-kept shop and browsed its 'Treasures." He was somewhat taken aback, the prices were large but not as large as he'd been expecting. His kindled surprise was quickly doused with disappointment as most of the items had very little in the way of useful combat effects.

Though, there were several things that caught his eye, like a fist-sized hunk of flint that was always warm to the touch, a brown canvas tent that could take on some of the surrounding's colouring like a painting of shoddy camouflage.

It could be very useful on a cloak as well and Fritz said so offhandedly to which the clerk following him with her watchful green eyes replied, "That would go straight to the King's Treasury, they'd pay a good price for it."

"Got anything useful for a scout?" He asked her while looking over a strange carved stick.

"What you're holding there might help a scout," She said. "It's a Door Dowsing Wand. It finds Doors," She added after seeing Fritz's inquisitive expression.

"Really? Wouldn't the Guides Guild be all over this thing then?" Fritz asked a little incredulous.

"Sure, if they weren't only one-use objects, and somewhat imprecise," She agreed smoothly.

"Should you be downplaying its abilities? Don't you want to sell it?" Fritz asked.

She just smiled and tucked a strand of her wavy, dark-brown hair behind her ear and the store's hired guard merely shook his head and sighed. Apparently this was a regular behaviour.

"Father's store?" Fritz asked motioning to the tidy shelves around him.

"Mother's," The lady corrected.

Fritz nodded getting the gist of her situation and making a note of the listlessness in her stance. He looked her over, she was young, but probably older than himself and through her striking, pretty, polite smile, he could see some small envy and bitter annoyance. A doll's painted smile over cold steel.

"Ah, I see," Fritz said simply.

She nodded once but didn't say another word as he browsed the rest of the store's contents. He only found a couple more things he was interested in.

There was a set of paired Message Stones, that for one mana could send one-word messages to its partner. Something that would be wonderful for a scout when they searched ahead of a group, even if it would spend gold like water. Unfortunately, this imbued stone, while a common Treasure, was still out of his price range at one hundred gold triads.

The next magical item was something he could reasonably afford, at twenty-five gold triads. Though that price felt exorbitant as well. That much gold could easily buy you a set of decent half-plate armour or a shoddy set of full-plate.

The magical object in question was a pale blue waterskin that had the texture of a frog's hide and when Fritz asked about it said it would slowly refill itself with fresh water over a couple of hours. The reason such an item was so 'cheap' she explained was that 'it's Rain City' and 'water producing Treasures are as common as thieves in the districts'.

She wasn't exactly wrong with her comment about the thieves, but Fritz found her disdain for the districts somewhat irksome.

The magical flask would solve some of the water problems when Climbing so decided to buy it. Unfortunately, he didn't have the gold on him at the moment so he’d have to come back tomorrow to get it, that’s if if nothing else caught his fancy.

"I'm a little light of funds at the moment. I'll be back tomorrow," Fritz said.

"I'll be pleased to have your patronage tomorrow then," She said blandly, but Fritz could tell she found him interesting by the way her eyes glittered. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking, she was rather lovely.

Fritz took his leave and was back in the thoroughfare market looking and listening for Bert.

He eventually found his friend chatting away with some rough-looking Climbers outside the Ceph outpost and was alarmed by the sight.

What alarmed him wasn't the roughness of his company, as he was rough company himself, but rather the transformation his friend had undergone.

Bert had changed out of his Imbued vest and pants and was wearing a fine black coat with extravagant gold trim, with equally dark trousers, a white shirt, and a golden vest to match the trim. He was clean-shaven and his wild mop had been tamed into silky-smooth waves of gold that reached down to his shoulders.

Approaching the group circuitously, Fritz listened in on what they were chatting boisterously about. Bert seemed to be listening to some tall tale about an enormous eel; with scales that arced with lightning and whose breath was boiling clouds.

"How did you slay the beast?" Bert asked eagerly.

"We didn't! The Eel would have slaughtered us all! We just ran around its pool, planting spears and ducking behind trees to catch its lightning," A woman with a strange clipped accent explained with a laugh.

She was tall, blonde and broad, covered with armour of furs and hide and carrying a spear while letting an oval shield rest on her leg as she stood.

"I lost three of my spare swords!" A small man exclaimed. He had skin darker than any man Fritz had met and was wrapped in some sort of dull-red battle robe with stitched with a yellow swirl over his heart. Instead of a staff or wand, he bore two forearm-length straight swords in brown-scaled sheaths on one hip.

The last of the rough group was a tan, average-sized man with a wild bushy black beard streaked with grey and cold, cruel, eyes as black as a beetle's shell. He was also armoured in hides and fur though one of his bared arms was covered in small green tattoos. A litany of lettering written in some script Fritz didn't know and couldn’t read, the very sight of which made him feel uneasy.

Those predatory black eyes were first to swivel to Fritz as he strode up behind Bert and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Bert, my old friend, how are you?" Fritz said as if they hadn't split up only a couple of hours before.

"Ah, Fritz, I'm currently enjoying some good company, let me introduce you," Bert said attempting to mimic Fritz's aristocratic manners. "This is Therima, she's from the north somewhere near the Ice Spire I presume."

The woman nodded and her light brown eyes twinkled as she looked Fritz over.

"And this is Sertine," Bert continued motioning at the swordsman who gave a quick, regimented bow.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," He said in a light, rough voice, like he had an endlessly dry throat.

Fritz returned the bow with a shallow but polite one of his own and Bert turned to the last man, saying, "You're part of Therima's team, right? But I don't think I heard your name."

"Because I didn't speak it, whelp," The bearded man growled. If he had fangs Fritz suspected the man would have gnashed them.

"Vaa'gur, behave, we're in Rain City," Therima scolded.

"They're weak, the Commands-" Vaa'gur began to say before she cut him off with a hard punch to the face and an even harder glare when his hand went to a hatchet looped to his belt.

He was rocked by the sudden blow but he remained standing and spat a bloody glob into the rainy street.

"We're in Rain City," She repeated.

A shiver went down Fritz's spine, and he hid his horror as he surreptitiously searched the man and the woman before him for anything… unnatural. He also tried to play it off as if he hadn't heard or had no idea what the 'Commands' were, and who followed them.

Her glare more than her fist seemed to quell the man's outwardly vicious demeanour and he quieted. Though his eyes never lost their dark fury.

With a cough, Fritz said his greetings while wisely, pointedly, avoiding engaging the bearded man in conversation and angering him any further.

The other two of the group were more than enough for good conversation though, Therima was gregarious and Sertine had a mischievous wit. The topic of Spire's and climbing plans came up quickly as they tended to in most talk with other Climbers. Or at least that's what he had heard from his father.

"So, Bert says you're going to Climb that rookie Spire in a couple of days?" Therima asked, "Got a Guide or have you been up before?"

"Up before," Fritz supplied. "Only to the second level though," he added keeping their cover close to what they had told Nic.

"Not even Pathers," Vaa'gur grumbled under his breath while he continued his glare.

"We were actually looking for more people for our team, would any of you be interested?" Fritz asked with his most ingratiating smile. Thinking that people who looked as tough as these three did would be a great boon to their team.

"Sadly no," Therima said. "We've already got what we could from it. We're Climbing the Rain Spire soon," She said pulling out a small badge, the size of her thumb, from a pouch and displaying it in all its glittering glory.

It was made of silver that encircled and outlined a faceted clear teardrop the filled with a blue glow that seemed to encompass clouds, wind, water and sky. Fritz knew that small stone to be a Rainstone one of the premier materials found within the Rain Spire. He'd seen a badge like this before, his father had one and he would often let Fritz look and wonder at it even if he wouldn't him hold it.

Bert however had never seen one and with avaricious awe, he proclaimed, "What's that?"

"It's the badge to enter the Rain Spire," Therima said. "Expensive and extremely annoying to acquire, but your 'king' decrees it must be shown before Climbing. And one must do what a 'king' says," She added with something of a sour smile.

"A waste of time," Vaa'gur grumbled. "We're Journeyman, we don't need permission to climb a Lesser Spire."

"This 'king' is a rather greedy one," The swordsman added "I would have thought him a dragon-kin before one of the merfolk on account of how much he loves his gold and taxes."

It was the first unkind thing Fritz had heard the jovial Sertine say about anything, so it came as quite the surprise when he did so.

"Are other kings unlike ours then?" Fritz endeavoured.

"Not really, but they're not usually so strict about a measly Lesser Spire," Sertine expanded. "Though, maybe it's because you've only got the two and they're both weak, that he keeps his grip so tight. How else is one supposed to afford the luxuries from the mainland?"

Fritz thought that Sertine had a point but didn't dare besmirch the king as he did. At least not openly. It was one thing for a foreigner to do so, as they were strong and strange, but a local could get in all sorts of strife with a bad word about the king, or his men.

With casual grace, Fritz attempted to excuse him and Bert from the slightly treasonous conversation. It wasn't because of the light treason though, no, the ‘Commands’ comment from earlier still rattled in his mind and had him on edge. He wanted to get as far from Vaa'gur as possible. That and the man stared at him as if he were a hare he'd like to hunt.

The Climbers accepted his excuses easily, saying that they also had some lunch to grab.

"Good luck on your climb," Therima said gripping Fritz's forearm in some sort of warrior's farewell. Her hand was like an iron vice and he returned the grip as hard as he could, which elicited a wink from the powerful woman. Then she did the same with Bert who seemed to thoroughly enjoy the struggle.

There’s no accounting for taste.

In contrast Sertine merely gave them bows which they reciprocated before turning to leave.

The last of the group ignored them and they him.

But as he strode away down the street, Fritz could feel Vaa'gur's eyes on his back. He didn't look back but increased his pace just in case. Nearly pulling Bert along he ducked into a warm tea shop and led them to an empty table. They sat in the plush chairs and he ordered tea for both of them at random, hoping to be out of the servant's hearing as soon as possible.

The other patrons chattered and Bert looked at Fritz quizzically, "Why are we getting tea? Don't we have better things to do?"

"Need to talk. Quietly," Fritz explained softly.

"Couldn't we talk in the street?" Bert asked, matching his whisper.

"Perhaps, but I don't want to be overheard, especially by that Vaa'gur fellow," Fritz said.

"Why? I know he was a dumb arsehole, but what's got you spooked?" Bert asked with some concern.

"They were Krakosi, or at least Therima and Vaa'gur were, and Sertine knew," Fritz said.

"What!?" Bert burst out before quieting himself. "Krakosi raiders, here? In Rain City?"

"Vaa'gur mentioned 'The Commands'," Fritz explained.

"What's that mean?" Bert asked.

"Well, my father always said: 'Pay attention to the laws a man follows," Fritz recalled, then intoned a rhyme he had found in some dusty book in his old library.

"Priests have the scripture, Guides have a code,

Lenders will always, take back what they're owed.

Knights give their oaths, monks take the vows,

Where ever there's wealth the thieves will be roused,

There are many laws that rule minds and lands,

But only the worst heed the Krakosi Commands."

"Very pretty, but what's it mean?" Bert asked with some impatience.

"Not much really. But the important part is that the Krakosi raiders follow some set of laws they call the 'Commands'," Fritz stated.

"What are these Commands?" Bert replied apparently interested in something outside of drinking and fighting.

"I don't know I'm not a raider, pillager or corrupted monster," Fritz said. "Probably some brutal laws that justify their pillaging, looting and raping. Anyway, they’re trouble, especially Vaa'gur. He was glaring at me the whole time."

"Maybe he just likes the look of you," Bert said offhandedly, obviously not convinced or that concerned.

"I don't think it was that," Fritz said as their tea arrived. Then he paused to sip on the dark, steaming liquid. The feeling of being followed faded and he sighed in relief.

It wasn't bad but it wasn't as good as the tea Colette had provided. Thinking about the clothier, his mind wandered to clothes. He then turned his attention to Bert and complemented his outfit.

"Thank you, I make quite the fine noble don't I?" Bert preened as he slurped his tea, getting many dirty looks from the other clientele.

"More like a rough butler. Or a fancy bodyguard," Fritz informed him.

"What!?" Bert said as he drank down the last of his tea and exhaled loudly. "What's giving me away?" He asked earnestly.

"It's…everything," Fritz stated, motioning vaguely at his friend's entire being. "Not a shed of dignity or poise. You trudge like a labourer and you slump your shoulders like you're carrying a sack of squid guts. Smell like it too," he added for good measure.

"Oh, is that all," Bert said mildly as he sat back and relaxed in his comfy chair. "I'll work on that then."

"Speaking of work, what do we tell Nic tonight?" Fritz asked.

Bert shrugged, "That we want to climb the Mer Spire. That we had the triads stashed away and were waiting on our sixth Toll when we were grabbed."

Fritz nodded. It was plausible enough, and if they played their cards right Nic might even help them out with some advice or information.

Fritz relaxed a little, then asked his friend, "Find any recruits?"

"No, apparently, down in the districts we have a ‘reputation’. They think we’re mad, can you believe that?" Bert replied, acting offended about something they already knew.

“How dare they,” Fritz stated with a bland smile, playing along.

He knew that this was likely to be the case, most of the folk down in the districts just didn’t want any trouble, and Fritz always seemed to find himself in trouble. He blamed Bert, the man was a wild wind who couldn’t help but whip up strife.

“You would think they’d know by now that we’re great geniuses, brimming with untamed excellence,” Fritz expounded.

“You’d think that, but no. They think you’re some kind of shifty, scheming bastard, while I’m your loyal, but rabid, hound,” Bert explained with a flash of a grin.

Fritz suspected as much but smiled, and continued, “Well its their loss. We can’t be blamed for being so far beyond the petty limits of their dull, dreary minds.”

Bert grinned back and after some moments of contemplative silence he asked, “Did you find anyone?”

"Yeah, same guy I had pull that cart around for me, named him Carter," Fritz said lazily.

"Good name," Bert nodded sagely.

"And some interesting prospects if my instincts are right," Fritz said. "If not there's always people outside the Spire who might have a last minute problems. Either cold feet or accidental or not so accidental injury."

Bert sipped his tea then and said, "Well I can leave that all up to you. You always were better with people."

"Hardly," Fritz disagreed. "It must just be the new clothes. People can't afford to offend a lordling, like I appear to be."

"True as the rain," Bert agreed. "Very dashing by the way."

"Thank you," Fritz said.

They fell into a companionable quiet, enjoying the tea and each others reassuring presence.

They ordered one more batch of tea each before they left the shop. Mostly to make sure that they wouldn't run into Vaa'gur, but also because it was actually quite nice to sit and chat for a while like they had nothing to do. Fritz paid with a full gold triad, a mighty bonus for the waitress serving them.

With resigned sighs they reluctantly got up to go finish their errands then change into something more appropriate for the Bluestone district and the inevitably dingy 'Bitter Ends' tavern.

All in all, it had been a great day, Fritz mused.

-

All in all, it had been a terrible day, and it was only going to get worse, Nic suspected.

He sighed wearily, he was really gonna get it from his sister, even though he had told her that the lout was only gonna get hurt in this line of work.

He had been right. Kev had gone missing, he had finally got himself murdered, if the blood stain covering the stone were anything to go by.

Nic searched the area for anything that could lead to the killer or killers, but he didn't look that hard. He didn't have much in the way of Perception aligned so it would be a task better suited for another.

If anyone cares, he thought as he ran a hand down this scarred face and peered off into the distance, his eyes drawn to the Sunken Spire, burning as malevolently as it ever had.

Was this the work of the newest murderer roaming the poor districts? They’d been finding, or rather not finding, many of the more vicious and cruel gangs disappearing. Maimed and mangled judging by the high splatters and sprays of blood left behind in their hideouts and haunts.

He didn’t feel any grief for those bastards, far from it, as some were slated to be taken care of by himself for some insult or overstep of the Nightshark’s laws. Abyss, the others pushing the boundaries would think it was the underground’s 'justice' coming for them anyway, so no harm there. But too much chaos and carnage was likely to bring down the attention of the drizzlers, and no one wanted them poking around in the underbelly of the city.

He hadn’t been tasked to find this massacring menace, yet, but he knew that eventually the order would come down from the Nightshark to put them down.

Another headache, another chore.

He rubbed his notched skull, then with a shrug Nic ordered one of his thugs to take the boat back out to the Spire and deal with the clean up too.

It wouldn't do to have blood running over and down the cliff, would be bad for morale it would.

Having places to be, specifically Bitter Ends and hopefully the bottom of a bottle. Nic left for the tavern.

He had a meeting, with the two levelers that, he hated to admit, had some potential. If they got the right training and experience. And survived, that is. But there had been another problem that had come up when checking their story. When they went looking for that Toby and Jane, he was annoyed to learn that they were currently Climbing the Mer Spire, with the Nightshark's backing and blessing. So he'd have to wait to have a chat to them.

It couldn't be helped, the girl had gained a healing Path and the boy had something like an assassin's Path, which could both prove very useful to the Nightshark.

Much like the two idiots he had to meet at dusk, which was soon. Too soon.

I should talk to them about Kev while I'm at it. They had plenty of reason to do him in too, Nic remembered.

So many problems all piling up in his lap.

Another, another, and another.

Nic spat and stretched his stiff shoulders.

The walk to Bitter Ends was a blur of routine, through the tunnels, up the trapdoor, into the common room, to the bar.

"Some of the hard stuff, again, Henry," Nic intoned as he had been doing more often these days. The barman gave him a nod, a glass and a clear bottle of amber liquid.

With an ache building in his skull and suspicion coiling in his heart, Nic carried his bottle of bitter relief to a secluded booth and sat, waiting.

Drinking and waiting.

Those bastards better not be late.