Cyros narrows his eyes. “Blackcloak?”

Oops. Right. He never really told me the name of the organization he worked for. That was insider knowledge from Echo. I gotta get better at tracking what I am and am not supposed to know.

“That’s the group you’re a part of, right?” I ask, scrambling to make something up. “I heard people talking about them in Fairwood. Unless you’re gonna tell me you’re part of some other super-secret assassin guild.”

“You shouldn’t have heard about us at all,” Cyros says, frowning.

“So that means you are part of the Blackcloaks?” I ask brightly.

Cyros winces. He knows I got him. “I thought you said assassins were immoral.”

I fold my arms. “So?” He can’t dodge my questions forever.

“So why the change of heart?” he asks. “You only told me that two days ago, but now you’re singing a very different tune.”

I grimace, wondering if I should tell him about Maru’s mark. “Things just got a whole lot more pressing, alright? I need to train my body and magic as fast as I can, and the best way to do that is through your guild.”

“We don’t just let anyone in, you know,” he says. “It’s invite only.”

“And you invited me,” I point out. “So let me have that chance! Look, if I don’t figure out a way to kill a demigod in the next three weeks, I’m dead.”

“You shouldn’t say that aloud,” Cyros warns with a frown. “But what you want to do…”

“I know.” I roll my eyes. “It’s impossible.”

“Technically, only highly improbable,” he says. “The chances of success are exceptionally low.”

“So help me increase them!” I say. “You’re not the one who’ll be in danger here—I will be. Cyros, please.”

He freezes. “What did you say?”

“Please,” I sigh, hating that I have to resort to begging, but I’m out of options. “I’ll do anything.”

“No,” he says, eyes narrowing. “What did you call me?”

Crap, I did it again! I’m not supposed to know his name. “Uhhh, I said Toshi. No, I mean, Shoti. No wait…”

He’s not buying it at all. “Say it again. What you actually said.”

I sigh. The jig is up. “Cyros.”

“How do you know my name?” A knife is suddenly in his hand, his stance defensive and tense. “First the Blackcloaks, now this. Who are you really?”

“I’m Sal!” I object, raising my hands. “Just Sal, I promise! And it’s, uh, it’s this kind of magic I have. It tells me information about people.”

“What kind of information?” he demands.

“Just basic stuff,” I say. “Name, species, level.”

He frowns. “Level?”

Gah! “I mean, how strong you are. It quantifies it.”

“What kind of magic is that?” he asks. “I thought you had a Poison affinity.”

“I do,” I say. “This is different.”

“Two affinities?”

Echo had said that was less common, but not unheard of. “I guess so. Look, I don’t know much about it myself. That’s why I need your help.”

Somehow, none of what I’ve said appears to mollify him. “How can I trust you?”

I snort. “Dude, you’re the assassin here.”

The shadows in the alley move.

“An excellent point,” the figure says, appearing to stride right out of the wall of the building. I jump back, but Cyros doesn’t appear fazed. If anything, the person’s presence only makes him grimace. “After all, she had the opportunity to expose both of our identities to the city guards but didn’t. Isn’t that right?”

I take a hesitant step back, giving the figure a Check.

[Nieve,] Echo says. [Felis shadow assassin, Level 52]

Last time I’d seen them they appeared to be a female elf. The person standing before me is anything but.

In the place of pointy elf ears are two black cat ears, and likewise a tail swishes impatiently behind them. Their face and attire are androgynous, though it’s their bright blue eyes, slitted like a cat’s, that I can’t look away from. They stare at me, not with a frown, but intense and unsettling nevertheless.

“Tell me,” the felis says. “What’s my name?”

I swallow. “Nieve.”

“There.” They turn to Cyros, gesturing back toward me. “You see? She’s kept our secret this long. Most interesting.”

I straighten up, trying to appear more confident than I look. “You’re Cyros’s mentor?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Nieve says.

It doesn’t escape me that Cyros has gone totally silent, letting Nieve take over the conversation.

“Will you let me join your guild?” I ask. “Cyros invited me.”

Nieve smiles mildly, and Cyros seems to shrink into himself. “Cyros knows we don’t accept just anyone into our fold. Nor is he, himself, ready to be training new recruits.”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts. “I was just trying to help her out.”

“You were just hoping I wouldn’t notice your unexplained absences,” Nieve corrects him. They don’t seem particularly bothered by it, however. The felis turns back to me. “The timing of your ask is conspicuous. I don’t suppose your desire to join our ranks has anything to do with the commotion that happened at the arena today?”

My gut sours, but I try not to react. “What do you mean?”

They’ve closed the space between us before I even have a chance to blink. Their hand reaches out and I flinch back—there’s a tug at my temple, and then my headband is in their hands.

I slap a hand to my forehead, covering up the mark. “Hey!”

“What was that?” Cyros asks.

“The mark of a tournament contestant,” Nieve says passively.

“Give that back,” I growl, still covering my forehead.

They shrug, handing it over. “Covering it won’t make it go away.”

“I know,” I spit, slipping it back on. I can still feel it there, as if it will burn its way through the headband. “But that’s why I need your help.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“We don’t dabble in the matters of the gods,” Nieve says. “That would be sure to draw unwanted attention.”

I open my mouth to object, but they hold up a hand. “However, you are lucky that you interest me in other ways. This identification magic of yours, for instance, has many practical uses in our line of work. Not to mention, given you already know our secret, it would be unwise to let you simply wander off. If Captain Enrold didn’t wield the competence of an exceptionally intelligent toad, we might have actually been in some trouble.”

Hope flutters in me. “Then you’ll let me in? You’ll train me?”

“You will be given an opportunity to prove your commitment,” Nieve says. “The rest is in your hands.”

“Thank you!” I cry. “Thank—hey, wait up!”

Nieve hadn’t even let me finish talking before they started to stroll away—into the alley instead of out of it. Cyros hurries after them, and it’s all I can do to dash after both and try to keep up. My legs and arms are already screaming at me, both from Cyros’s “bodily awareness” training session, and the earlier abuse I’d experienced at the hands of Maru this morning. I Check my health as I catch up: [71/90]. I groan. The passive healing is helping me, but it’ll still be another day before I’m fully recovered, and only another 20 days beyond that until the tournament.

Not fast enough, I think. I need to move faster.

As I catch up, Nieve casts a glance over their shoulder, then flicks a finger at me and Cyros.

[The spell Shadow Walk has been cast on you,] Echo says.

“What?” I ask. “Hey, what did you just do?”

“You noticed?” Nieve asks, raising an eyebrow.

Well, no, but Echo did, so close enough.

“You cast a spell on us,” I say.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Nieve says. “If you’re serious about joining the Guild, don’t stop now.”

Wow, super enlightening, thanks. Echo? I ask, still walking quickly to keep pace with Nieve’s long strides. What does the spell do?

[Shadow Walk,] Echo recites. [So long as the user continues to move, the spell persists. While in effect, the user is difficult to perceive, appearing like a disembodied shadow to those unaffected by the spell.]

Guess that’s why she told me not to stop. Seems like a great ninja spell though. Echo, can I learn this spell?

[Negative,] Echo says. [Shadow Walk requires ocular arcana to cast.]

I pout. Figures. I don’t get access to any of the cool magic.

Now mostly invisible to the outside world, Nieve leads us on a winding route through the city that thoroughly rids me of any sense of direction. We cross a couple bridges, but the path more closely keeps to clustered buildings lashed together with vines; sometimes we walk over the top of them, where impromptu footpaths spread across the rooftops like a path along rolling hills, and sometimes we cut through the buildings, themselves often opening directly into each other, creating large indoor spaces which feel more underground than amidst the trees. Once, Nieve even has us jump a gap between two bridges. They don’t look back to make sure I don’t slip and plunge to my death. I jump across anyway. I’m not going to let them leave me behind. Not after coming this far.

Finally, they slow at the trunk of an enormous tree, one similar to the four that mark the entrance to the city itself. The bridge we’re currently on dead-ends at the tree trunk, although we’re hardly remote; plenty of businesses are strung about us, and the people who walk (or fly) these parts all seem to be dressed rather respectably. If I had to guess, I’d say we were in some kind of financial district.

“Here we are,” Nieve says, taking us around the side of the tree. The gnarled trunk bulges out and in, causing the path to weave around the uneven face of the tree. In one such alcove, Nieve steps forward and disappears.

I stop. “What?”

But as soon as I hesitate, I realize my mistake: Cyros vanishes as Echo says, [Shadow Step spell expired.]

An invisible hand grabs my wrist.

“Come on,” Cyros’s voice says as he tugs me forward. “They told you not to stop: you can’t just stand around out here. You’ll give away the entrance.”

I’m not sure what entrance he’s talking about, because there’s just more tree in front of me—which the invisible grip is pulling me directly toward. I raise my free hand before my face, flinching back and squeezing my eyes shut. But a moment later my ears pop, the air around me feels warmer and stuffy, and suddenly there’s voices all around me. I crack an eye back open.

My first impression is the City Guard’s hall. My second impression is an occultist thrift shop.

Dozens of people are lounging around, chatting, and bartering inside a room that must be larger than the tree itself. Several tables and chairs fill the middle of the room, and nearly half of the circular space is taken up by shelves of bottles, lining the wall from the ceiling to the floor. There’s jars full of eyeballs, vials filled with salt and herbs, baskets of dried plants—hundreds, maybe thousands more ingredients than I’ve had a chance to work with.

“Is that bone thistle?” I ask, stepping toward the wall. Belatedly, I realize all the bottles are tucked behind a curved counter that similarly runs around half the room. There’s a hooded dryad behind the counter, and even as I watch he raises a hand, vines sprouting from about his wrist to pluck four items from the upper shelves to hand over to someone at the counter.

“I need some,” I say, turning to Cyros, whom I can now see. Nieve is also standing nearby. “How much do they cost? Can anyone buy some? Can I take out a loan?”

“Any member of the guild can purchase from or sell to our stock,” Nieve says. “However, you are still a guest. If you desire full membership, then you’ll need to earn it, first. Come, this way.”

“They really let anyone in here?” I ask Cyros as Nieve leads us across the room. Stairs wind up the wall to another floor above, and I suspect there’s likely a staircase that disappeared somewhere through the floor as well. Just how big is this place?

“Not exactly,” he says. “As I said before, it’s invite only.”

“Doesn’t seem terribly secure,” I note, still turning my head every which way in awe. “I mean, what if a guest doesn’t become a member? Now your secret’s out.” I pause. “Wait, you don’t mind-wipe people, do you?”

“No,” Cyros repeats, hesitating. “But we don’t have guests, either. If the invited individual fails to commit to membership, they’re taken care of in a different way.”

“Different how?” I ask.

Cyros shrugs helplessly.

“Cyros, different, how?” I ask again, this time a little alarmed.

“Just don’t fail the test,” Cyros says.

“Test?!”

“Yes,” Nieve says, coming to a stop. “The first step of which is right here.” They gesture to the wall we’ve stopped before—or, more specifically, the board that’s mounted to the wall.

My alarm quickly melts into awe as I gawk at the hundreds of notes stuck to the wall. “Is this a quest board? A real quest board?!”

“Uh, they’re jobs,” Cyros says.

“That’s close enough.” Hell yeah! Now we’re talking. This is the kind of stuff I signed up for.

I mean, not that I really signed up to die and get isekaied to a fantasy land with crap magic powers, homicidal gods, and a system that wants to drive me insane. But hey, at least there are quests!

“Once you’re a member of the guild, you may choose to complete any of these jobs at your leisure and be compensated as the post indicates,” Nieve says. “Or, if you’d rather, you can simply make use of the trading hub or various training rooms. There’s equipment for potion making that may be rented out as well.”

Potion making? I mean, that’s exactly what I need, but how much exactly does Nieve know about me and my magic? Maybe they were hanging around eavesdropping on Cyros and I longer than I’d thought.

“Pick one,” Nieve says, sweeping a hand to the job posts. “To demonstrate your commitment to the Guild, you must first complete one job—without claiming its reward. Instead, entrance into our ranks will be your payment.”

“No problem,” I say, stepping up to get a closer look. “This’ll be a cinch.”

“Take your time,” Nieve says. “There’s no rush.”

I start reading through some of the jobs. There’s the low-level stuff you might expect, like harvesting some herbs or hunting some creatures and bringing back various materials that would be sold to the guild directly. Those all have decent payment—some of them offering a lot better payment than the couple of coins I’d managed to scrape together working at the Starlight Inn—but the big money is with the more dangerous jobs. Stealing something from a noble, gathering intel on individuals. A couple of these don’t even offer money as the reward, but rather valuable and magical items.

And then, of course, there’s the hits. People who someone wants dead for some reason or another. The idea still leaves a somewhat sour taste in my mouth, but I try to ignore it. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? It’s kill or be killed. And I’ll have to get practice at some point.

But which to choose for my guild entrance? Something easy would probably be best to guarantee I won’t fail. I’ve already identified a couple herb quests I could complete in a day or two; I know where I can find those ingredients back in the woods near the Starlight.

But something Cyros had said gives me pause. He told me not to fail the test. I initially assumed he was referring to completing one of these jobs. But Nieve had said the first step was here. Maybe the kind of job I pick is just as important as completing it.

I can’t risk going with one of the easy ones then. Intel might not be too bad with Echo’s insight. And I could maybe steal something—my inventory would sure help with that. I’m leaning toward one of the cat burglar type quests when a different note catches my eye.

I grab the paper and rip it from the wall. “This one,” I say. “This is the job I’ll do.”

Cyros’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you sure? That won’t be easy—not even for me.”

But Nieve is smiling faintly, so I think I picked right. “Interesting choice. But Cyros is right. There is a significant likelihood you’ll fail. I won’t hold it against you if you want to switch to an easier job.”

I shake my head, anger burning in my gut, my mind already made up. “No. This is what I want.”

“Very well, then,” Nieve says, holding out their hand for the paper. “I will mark this job as claimed. You have two weeks to complete the job before it will be returned to the general pool, at which point your application to join the Blackcloaks will be considered expired. In the meantime, you may access our facilities with the accompaniment of Cyros or myself. Do you accept these terms?”

“Yes,” I say, nerves, excitement, and revenge all warring within me. “I accept.”

[Quest Obtained,] Echo says, summarizing the information on the note.

Hah! I knew it was a quest.

[Reward: 1000 Gold Crescents]

[Scope: The night before the last Council session of the month, the target is to be drugged with a poison of the user’s choosing and put out of commission for a minimum of three days.]

[Report: Anonymous. Report completion through The Guild.]

[Target: Captain Enrold]