Across Raxal Ian and Vale secured a carriage together with Mal getting off a few blocks before the law firm. Mal stuck to the shadows while they milled about on the street acting like tourists. Ian had even procured a map and they asked a few passersby for directions all the while surveilling the entrances of the office building. They watched as their stout, horned companion entered the building signaling them it was time to go.

They crossed the street heading into another building that was currently undergoing renovations. Which also meant it was deserted this time of day. The trio slipped into the alleyway and reached the back door. After a swift check Vale found no magical locks in place. She pulled out one of her blades and made two swift cuts then kicked the door in. The locked knob stayed where it was but the door swung in around it. She gestured Ian inside while spinning and flipping her blade back into its sheath. Ian glanced at the cuts as he walked past and judged that her blades must have some magical properties. There was no way she’d have been able to cut through the door so easily; it was three inches thick and made of solid wood. Inside a standard office layout greeted them. The floors and walls were lined with tarps and tools for construction including a few wands.

“Well, this will make things easier,” Ian commented as he headed for the floortal.

“Stay. Guard.” She said giving Mal a scratch. He nuzzled her hand and then melted into the shadows.

“Damn, looks like the power’s out,” Ian said as he jabbed his finger at the call button.

“I do not see what strength has to do with floortal movement…” Vale said before she realized what he’d meant. “Oh, you mean the flow? Yes, it looks like the flow is out. We’ll have to walk. Let’s go, we don’t want to be late.”

The pair dashed up the stairs. With the building undergoing renovations spots were torn up or missing the floor entirely. They were forced to leap, climb, and improvise their way up the floors. It was oddly familiar to Ian. D.C., like most major U.S. cities was under an infinite cycle of improvement. And in his flatfoot days Ian had chased more than his fair share of suspects through construction sites. Ander’s, on more than one occasion, had lost his temper with Ian when the younger detective dove over holes or hauled himself up a broken staircase in pursuit of a suspect. The memory of Anders admonishment brought a bitter smile to Ian’s lips.

They breached the roof as the sun dipped below the wall that encompassed the city. Sweat dripped from Ian’s brow and Vale looked like she was ready for a modeling shoot. She pulled a long coil of silk rope and dropped it on the roof. Ian grabbed one end tying it off to an exhaust pipe while Vale secured the other end to an arrow. She nocked the arrow and cast a glance back to Ian.

“Okay, fire away,” Ian said, giving her a thumbs up.

The arrow sailed out into the settling dusk and struck the door frame on the law firm’s rooftop. Ian pulled the rope taut and tied it off again. He took a glance over the edge and regretted the decision.

Twenty stories below them people were pouring out of buildings as the workday ended. If it weren’t for the martial weapons, pointed wizard hats, and suits of armor it would’ve looked like any other downtown end of a shift. He leaned back and checked his gun for the umpteenth time slipping it back into his holster with satisfaction. The ivy had not returned since he’d cut it away with his survival card at the smithy back in Landorei. The card was becoming worth its weight in gold on his journey.

Roland stood on the sidewalk making idle conversation with a Bogkin vendor. Presently they were in a deep discussion about what the goblin used to season the meat. Every once in a while a flick of his violet eyes aimed skyward and then back to the vendor. The spell he needed was locked in his mind. His slight sway and fermented breath revealed his state of readiness.

“In case this doesn’t work, I want to say thank you. For everything,” Ian said as Vale joined him at the lip of the roof. The sun was now merely a sliver of fiery red peeking over the city wall. Vale caught the last glint of sunlight on a small metal disc signaling Roland on the street below. The mage excused himself and walked away from the vendor.

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“You have nothing to thank me for, Ian,” Vale said as she slipped the disc away, “Ready?”

Ian let out a long slow breath a vain attempt to calm his nerves, “Yeah, let’s do this.”

“We’ll be fine. Just don’t look down,” Vale said.

Ian flashed her a thanks-for-the-obvious look and the pair marched across the roof. He knelt himself into the position of a runner ready to start the race. On an unspoken command they took off. Gravel crunched under their feet as they raced to the edge and vaulted over it, Vale first and Ian close behind. Their lives now in the hands of a drunk.

Gravity kicked in as Ian stretched out for the rope. He felt his stomach drop and panic rise. Roland had explained the spell he was going to use required the recipient to actually be falling. At the time Ian had agreed to it, he’d been confident in Roland’s skill. Now, out of the mage’s presence and confronted with the distinct possibility of becoming a crater, Ian questioned his sanity. A faint blue glow surrounded him and his downward momentum vanished. Ian hovered in the air beside the rope; the sudden change in velocity stunned him.

“The rope!” Vale hissed.

Ian scrambled and snatched onto the rope before he sank below it. Ahead of him, Vale pulled herself along the silken cord. Her legs scissor kicking along as though she were swimming. Ian followed suit.

They swam headlong towards the roof of Justiciar Law. As they crossed over the bricks that ringed the rooftop, the weightless feeling faded away. Vale helped Ian over the lip of the building and he touched down on solid ground. When they regained their balance, or more accurately, when Ian regained his, they headed towards the roof access door.

Below, Roland kept up his chant until he saw Ian and Vale vanish on the opposite rooftop. Satisfied they’d made the journey unharmed, he pushed off from his leaning post and moved down the street. He tapped his robes and as swift as a blink, they changed into the deep purple colors of the Arcanum Adjustment Guild. He sauntered down the street humming a rendition of Dragon went Down to Bastion.

The mage reached into the depths of his robe and withdrew several poles. Each one four feet in height and had no right fitting in such a space. He walked out into the center of the street holding up a hand as carriage drivers started yelling at him. He set the pole into the street and smiled.

“Mallegi,” He uttered. A hammer materialized above the pole and with a swift smack drove it into the ground. He repeated the process with the second pole in the other lane. Then muttered the activation phrase and the poles lit up projecting a bright neon blue sign a few feet into the air.

Each sign was written in origin and warned about a loose Gromble in the area. Grombles were nasty little creatures that loved to eat shiny objects, specifically gold. And as if that weren’t enough of a reason to hate them, they also were capable of cursing anyone they came across with horrible luck. The job of removing said creature was traditionally a punishment for a member of the Arcanum Adjustment Guild. But that didn’t make it any less necessary as one of the little monsters could wreak untold havoc. People fled in an orderly and calm fashion. Some scrambling to hide their rings and jewelry as they vacated the street.

When the last person left, he cast a deterrent spell for good measure. He wanted to provide as much privacy and time as he could for his new acquaintances. With his tasks finished he headed towards the building Ian and Vale had leapt from. He changed his robes back to the preferred azure shade once inside.

Mal slithered up from the shadows beside him.

“Hey there Fluffy, looks like it’s you and me for now,” Roland said taking a drink from his flask. Roland cast a few spells on the back door and a few more at random intervals leading up to where he was going to stand watch. At the very least the noise from the traps would alert him to unwelcome guests. He celebrated his cleverness by enjoying another drink from his flask.

Mal snorted in displeasure.

“Vis’cane’tium,” Roland said with a flourishing hand wave. A square wall panel filled four image squares, each one a different view of the street. The view capture spells he’d created earlier were in fine working order not that he was surprised.

“In and out. This should be a quick in and out job, right Wolfy?” Roland said to himself, not expecting any kind of response from Mal.

Mal snorted in a way that conveyed his disbelief that anything was easy and nipped Roland in the hand for the nickname.