Rinny Jetters woke up at precisely six in the morning. She did her morning routine, taking her shower, fixing up her locs, washing her face, making sure she was applying her daily medicine to her one, single eye – the weather on Melmaen was awful for cyclopes, so one of her guildmates had prescribed to her an eyedrop to help with the bad allergies.

After this, she set out her single mat in the center of the small apartment that Lord Iridos had provided for her on her arrival to the plane three weeks ago. She did her morning stretches, and she felt loose and ready as she pulled on her leather jacket. The wind whipped around her as she felt the jacket's enchantment activate, her feet lifting on the ground for a brief moment. She took stock of the rest of her magical items, choosing to take her spellslinger for the day, along with her wand bracer and a scroll of healing. All items designed for combat, but she had a kick in her gut that told her to bring them along. Besides, the spellslinger looked intimidating, a six-shooter that was more advanced than the powder and flint affairs that the people of Melmaen were used to. It would help, if anyone gave her trouble.

Krishyar Zon, her guildmate, was waiting outside the door. He was an insect – a locust, or perhaps a grasshopper, bent into a humanoid shape, he wore the faded white sash of an apparent ascetic and little else, his exoskeleton shining primly in the morning's light. His spear, a beautiful piece he had wielded for as long as Rinny could remember, was slung over his shoulders. His mandibles (which, to Rinny's amusement, were arrayed naturally to resemble a mustache) chittered and adjusted as she walked out.

“Top o' the morning,” Krishyar said, “Hope you had a good night?”

“It was alright,” Rinny said, “You?”

“Rubbish,” Krishyar said, a bit clipped, “They told me, again, that they would provide a bamboo carpet, like I had asked. But they didn’t. Poppycock, I say. Absolute poppycock.”

“I hear that bamboo doesn't grow on Melmaen,” Rinny said. She began taking their conversation outside her door and down the hall, “Lord Iridos would probably have to import it.”

“I knew I should have brought mine from home,” Krishyar said. The insect's mandibles chittered, “Ah, well. Enough bellyaching, I've had unpleasant nights before.”

Rinny smiled at him. Together, the two of them grabbed a couple of danishes in the lobby and walked out into Stellaluna proper. They avoided a couple of cars as they drove by, walking out into the main plaza.

“What's the agenda today, again?” Rinny asked.

“Nothing major,” Krishyar replied, “A spot of breakfast with Iridos, a look around the museum, and then a nap.”

“And then,” Rinny said, “Night time.”

They both shuddered a bit. Their overnight patrols through the Museum of Unnatural History had been long, and boring, and had turned them into nocturnal creatures. Even after a few days off, they grimaced at the shining sun above.

“Only a few more weeks,” Krishyar said.

“God,” Rinny said, “Remind me never to take one of these kinds of jobs again.”

“Don't have to tell me twice,” Krishyar said, “I say, after we get back to Imran, we go to Lou's. Get drunk.”

Rinny suppressed a snort. Krishyar never drank.

“Deal,” she said, “But you're buying.”

“With the bonus I'm demanding after this is over?” Krishyar chuckled, “I'm buying the whole damn bar.”

***

Broon woke up early in the morning, making sure not to accidentally wake Ezel as he rose out of their bed. He walked out onto the balcony overlooking Stellaluna, watching as it woke up around him. Much of the city was dedicated to the arts, or to history, or to education. Students were heading to breakfast at the cafe neighboring the inn. An artist on the balcony opposite Broon had opened up the window, taking in a deep breath of the morning, the room behind her ready for a day of painting. An airship with the flag of the Julianisan Empire flew overhead, landing at a port at Stellaluna's edge.

Broon's eyes narrowed at that. He went back inside for a moment. Ezel was waking up, rubbing her eyes and looking at him blearily as he started opening his bag.

“Something up?” she asked.

“Ship's docked,” Broon said.

“Think it's them?”

Broon fished out the telescope he had been looking for, extending it out with his teeth.

“Maybe,” he said, “Only one way to know for sure.”

The demigod followed him out onto the balcony, resting her head on his shoulder as he looked out. Sailors were unloading cargo, and a rather foppish-looking wizard, some noble from the Empire proper, was following after them, bickering and bothering at them to put the crates down gently.

Ye gods, he could practically hear the magician's whine from here.

“Nothing,” Broon said, “But I wouldn't be surprised if they came here today.”

“We can cover the docks in shifts,” Ezel said, “Want me to wake up Mallory?”

For a moment, he was tempted to. But as he saw one of the sailors punch the wizard's lights out, wiping him out cold, he gave a shrug.

“Plenty of time in the day,” he said, smiling to Ezel, “Just let her sleep in.”

***

Lord Iridos von Gronheim was a portly fellow from the province of Acaditzwehl, a rather prosperous region of the Julianisan Empire known for its vineyards and music. He was a soft man as a result, looking much like an overgrown child in his nice, purple velvet suit and his cream-colored pants, with a strawberry blush to his face and a bald head that reflected the sun's light as they took breakfast on the balcony of his estate here on Stellaluna. He always wore a smile on his face, and Rinny could not help but like the guy as he tucked into a plate of eggs benedict and hash.

“I'm so glad you could make it this morning,” he said to Krishyar and Rinny, “Seriously, I know things have been rather difficult for you, these past couple weeks.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Krishyar said, “It's of no concern to us, dear fellow. Just us doing our jobs.”

“But a jewel thief!” Lord Iridos said, “Attempting to rob the gallery? Truly, a reprehensible situation.”

“It's nothing major,” Rinny said, “We've run into worse before.”

“Well, all the same,” Lord Iridos said, “You have my endless gratitude. Your guild has proven to be quite reliable. Perhaps I'll be hiring you in the future.”

He gave them a cherubic smile before cutting into his breakfast again, taking an overly large bite of hash and eggs that kept him chewing for a moment. He closed his eyes in childish delight, shaking to himself.

Rinny and Krishyar stole glances at each other. Both of them wished never to work a job like this again, even if Lord Iridos was kinder than a chicken's egg.

A servant walked over to Lord Iridos, whispering quickly in his ear. The portly man swallowed dramatically and nodded.

“Ah, good, good,” he said, “Very well, bring him in. He can join us for breakfast.”

The servant gave a quick bow, and went back inside. Lord Iridos leaned in conspiratorially.

“I hope you've heard the rumors, yes?” he said, practically whispering, “About the Anuté and Inweth exhibit?”

“I have not, no,” Krishyar said.

“They're sarcophagi, perhaps you've seen them on your nightly patrols,” Lord Iridos said, “But not just any sarcophagi. Metahuman sarcophagi. Dating back to the days of Epochia.”

Rinny's brow furrowed. Krishyar, however, looked impressed. Or perhaps he was playing his reaction up for their client's benefit.

“Oh?” the insect said, “I had no idea.”

“Apparently the patron of the exhibit, some multiplanar corporate fib-and-fob's been getting worried about it,” Iridos said, “He's sent over a guard. Another guild. Pantheon.”

Both of them knew of Pantheon.

Both of their stomachs fell.

Especially when they realized that Iridos had invited the Pantheon member to have breakfast with them today.

“Ah!” he said, “Krishyar, my dear Rinny, allow me to introduce you to Sir Ahklahan. You hail from Tsaeyaru, correct, sir?”

As they both turned around, both Krishyar and Rinny had the same thought.

This guy was bad news.

He was from Tsaeyaru, already a plane known for its violent history. Worse, by the armor that he was wearing, Akhlahan looked to be a crusader of some sort. His armor was vehicle parts that had been hammered into gauntlets, greaves, a cuirass. A chain ran across his torso in an 'X' shape, its hooked end swinging behind him like a tail. Lord Iridos was stupid enough to allow weapons in his vicinity, and the crusader carried his – a chainsaw, with its grip modified to be held in two hands like a sword. A chainsaw blade. Common, to the crusaders of Tsaeyaru.

Akhlahan pushed back his long, stringy, dark hair to get a better look at them. At the sight of the two Disciples of Aether, his nose curled.

“Please, sir,” Iridos said, “Sit down. Do you like eggs?”

“I do not eat the unborn,” Ahklahan said. His voice was accented, as though he came from Kievan Rus'.

“They... aren't fertilized,” Lord Iridos said, and he gave out a nervous chuckle, “But! I can see you have your principles. Does hash work? Bacon?”

“Both are agreeable,” the crusader said.

He sat down, and a servant scooped some hash and bacon onto his plate. Ahklahan began eating, shoveling food into his mouth using his spoon.

“So!” Lord Iridos said, “I trust you had a fine journey here to Stellaluna?”

Ahklahan ignored him, continuing to eat.

“Have you had a chance to look at the Museum of Unnatural History?” Iridos said, “You could join the tour I'm hosting today.”

Ahklahan poured some water into a glass, drained it.

“I say, my good fellow,” Krishyar said, “You seem rather intent on eating, don't you?”

The crusader looked up at the insect for a moment. Then looked down, and spooned in another mouthful.

“Good food, I suppose,” Krishyar said, more to himself than anyone else, “My cheers to the chef.”

“My condolences, too,” Rinny muttered, wrinkling her nose at the sight of Ahklahan wolfing down his food, “He's destroying it.”

“Ha, I suppose he is,” Lord Iridos said. He was presenting a good cheer, but his eyes betrayed regret, “Err, have you had a chance to look at the Anuté and Inweth exhibit...?”

At that, Ahklahan looked up from the corpse of his meal. His face was set and dark.

“Metahuman sarcophagi,” he clipped, “The coffins of demons concern me little. I do not guard out of any love for such blasphemies.”

He speared the last bit of bacon from his plate, and stuffed it into his mouth. His beard was dribbled with fat and hash.

“I guard only what I am told to,” he finished. With that, he rose from his seat, “I must go. Do not invite me again.”

With that, he turned and left. Krishyar eyed the remains of the crusader's dish, and politely put his fork and knife parallel to each other on his plate. His mandibles twitched in subtle revulsion.

“Nice guy, isn't he?” Lord Iridos said, “All the way from Pantheon, can you imagine?”

“Indeed,” Krishyar drawled, “Quite the charmer.”

***

The ship crested higher and higher into the sky as the day wore on. The world below was an ocean – at this time of year, Stellaluna was traveling between continents, and the open sea was her only companion. Phineas sequestered himself in the hold, reading his dark tome and the last of his magazines. Rosemary and Joseph, however, hung out on the top deck, the wind whipping around them, through their hair and billowing up Rosemary's cloak. Sailors worked on the deck, adjusting the sails, keeping lookout for potential dangers.

“Nice day of it, yeah?” Rosemary said.

“Hmm,” Joseph said, only half paying attention.

“Almost there.”

“Yeah.”

Rosemary looked over at Joseph. He was sitting on a crate, leaning against the ship's rail, his gaze set on the horizon. His fingers were tapping against his knee in anticipation. After a few more tries at conversation, Rosemary wilted a bit, and joined him in watching the sky.

Soon enough, Stellaluna appeared. First as a gray dot on the blue sky, and then looming into a floating island, spired buildings rising from its surface, along with a cathedral at its center. A small city, it had been colonized by the Julianisan Empire some two hundred years ago, serving as both an observation platform for their holdings across Melmaen and also as a center of learning.

For Stellaluna had once been alien to Melmaen. Brought here just barely after the grand magocracies of the past had nuked the plane back to the stone age.

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No one knew where Stellaluna's old home had been. Some theorized it to be a rock of metahuman origin, like the floating cities of Chliofrond. Others thought it to be something from Methuselah, brought forth by that plane's ancestors during the ancient spellwars with the Federation. Astute astronomers noted that the minerals within Stellaluna closely aligned with the space rock of the Silver Eye, and surmised the island to be a nomad asteroid from the Roimis Belt in the galaxy's Inner Reach.

Whatever the case, the Julianisan Empire had conquered it from their rival, Kievan Rus', during the Hundred Years' War. The place attracted merchants, scholars, and teachers from across the face of Melmaen and beyond. Ships flew around the island as it rolled across the sky like a stone cloud.

By this time, it was the afternoon, just after lunch. The ship lurched its way towards the docks. The sailors shouting to one another, a magician walking out onto the deck, her arms spread as though in supplication, to help ease the vessel's runes as it pulled up to the plankway.

They quickly paid the captain, stepping off and onto Stellaluna, dodging past sailors and fellow travelers, and into the city itself. The roads were cobblestone, and there were only a few carriages and magitek cars about. Most of the people of Stellaluna made their way through the city on their own two legs. So the three of them walked, assimilating into the crowd of wizards, students, merchants, and even other guildfolk.

Phineas stopped at a certain point, sniffing the air. He looked around, then up.

Towards an inn near the edge of the city. He blinked for a few moments, gave an awkward wave.

“Phineas,” Rosemary said, “Don't get separated from us, yeah?”

“Yes,” Phineas said, “I should warn you, though. They are here.”

***

“They're here,” Mallory said.

She had joined Broon and Ezel in their room, leaning against the balcony's railings with the telescope in hand, chewing gum she had bought in Ladeth. Broon was polishing Kilnriv, the blade on his lap. Ezel was reading a book. Both of them looked up at her.

“You sure?” Broon said.

“Phineas literally just waved to me,” Mallory said, “They're here.”

“Right,” Broon said, “We'll catch up to them once we get to the museum's entrance.”

“You don't want to find them now?” Mallory asked.

“No point,” Broon said, “Look around. Do you still see them?”

The Steamer took another look through the telescope, then cursed to herself.

“No,” she said.

“We'd lose them if we tried getting to them now,” Broon said, “Crowd's too thick.”

“So, we ambush them right as they get to the museum,” Mallory said, “Since we know they're going there.”

“Exactly,” Broon said, “Let's go.”

He rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders for a moment and hearing an uncomfortable pop somewhere on his back. He grimaced at that.

“Hate it when that happens,” he said, “Going to throw my back out, one of these days. Mark my words.”

“Nonsense,” Ezel said, “You're still young.”

“Ha!” Broon said, chuckling, “I see the gray hairs when I look in the mirror. I won't be 'young' for much longer.”

“And when that happens, I'll still be here,” Ezel said. She picked up Kilnriv's scabbard, helping the half-orc tie it to his belt.

“Hmm,” Broon said, “Aye, that's true.”

He gave her a fond smile.

“I'd say get a room,” Mallory said, “But you already did.”

***

The Museum of Unnatural History was founded fifty years ago by some enterprising noble fool with far too much money and far too little sense, and the latter destroyed the former. It had been about to go under when an off-plane investor, OzTech, had swooped in and pumped enough money into the museum to make it an influential player in the world of interplanar archaeology.

It was situated in the Foreign Plaza, a center in Stellaluna dedicated to extraplanar activities. There was not much here, save for a couple nondescript houses, annex buildings from the local Royal Academy of Stellaluna. No, the primary reason one came here was for the museum itself, a solid, rectangular building of off-color marble, one statue depicting an Alu'eer, the other an Elven lord in robes, a gnarled staff in hand. It reminded Joseph, as they approached, somewhat of a Greek temple.

The crowd thinned as they approached. A gaggle of students from the Academy were waiting outside, talking to one another, a few of them holding books for studying when they went inside. A portly nobleman, flanked by a dark-skinned cyclops and an insect-person, came down the stairs to greet them. The nobleman's voice, high and reedy, echoed through the plaza as he welcomed them in.

“Alright,” Rosemary said, “We're here.”

“Yeah,” Joseph said.

There was a moment of quiet as he stared at the museum.

Somewhere in there was the sarcophagus that had brought him out into the multiverse. All of his problems were in that building. All of his experiences since he had been stranded out here. All of the catalysts. The death he had seen. That he had delivered.

All of it, came from a coffin that was connected to his Nai Nai's house.

He took a shaky breath.

“Let's go.”

He took a step.

And heard a voice behind him.

“Joseph.”

His heart fell as he turned. Broon was there. So was Ezel. Mallory, the Steamer chewing a wad of gum, blowing out a hot pink bubble. Joseph's eyes narrowed. Broon's hand was resting, casually, against the pommel of his sword.

“'Sup,” Joseph said.

“Glad to see you're safe,” Ezel said.

“When Phineas said that you all were here, I was expecting maybe Contort,” Rosemary said, “Not all three of you.”

“Wakeling sent three of us, for three of you,” Ezel said, “She was... rather upset, about you leaving.”

“It's my choice,” Joseph said, “Nothing about it.”

“It's not about your choice to leave, Joe,” Broon said, “It's more the fact that you went to Rithmound about it.”

“So what about Rithmound?” Joseph said.

“Wakeling put two and two together,” Mallory said, “You traded information about Sunala to them, didn't you? To get passage on one of their ships.”

“Like it helped,” Joseph muttered darkly.

“That was my idea, Mallory,” Rosemary said, “It was me who had the idea. Not Joseph.”

“It doesn't matter whose idea it was, Rose,” Broon said, “What matters is that you traded it. Revealed information about a client about a job that was supposed to be kept close to the chest.”

“Even if that client is someone like Sunala?” Rosemary said.

“Even someone like her,” Broon said.

Rosemary bit her lip for a moment, steeling herself.

“Even,” she said, “If that client was a member of an Elven supremacist group?”

“Sunala?” Broon said, “...Is she?”

“Verdant Reclamation, Broon,” Rosemary said, “She's... You should have heard what she said to me. The company she keeps. I…”

She wilted.

“I couldn’t be with her anymore, Broon. I know what she’s planning. She wants all of us, all of us gone.”

Broon swore under his breath. His face painted a dozen emotions, all of them negative. Ezel grimaced.

“Explains a lot,” Mallory muttered.

“So,” Broon said, “You think that, by trading information to Rithmound, he could pull the necessary strings to stop her.”

“That's... not what I was thinking,” Rosemary said.

“Well, were you thinking?” Broon asked.

“I was,” Rosemary said, “I was thinking about Joseph.”

Broon sagged at that. Ezel took over.

“I appreciate the intentions behind that,” she said, “And if what you say about Sunala is true, then we should bring that up with Wakeling. See what our options are.”

Joseph rolled his eyes at that. As though the hag would do anything about that.

“We need to be unified when we work against those of Sunala’s ideology,” Ezel continued, “...But that doesn't erase the fact that you're here. Wakeling sent us here to bring you home.”

“Home's the other way, Ezel,” Joseph said, jamming a thumb at the museum.

“You know the rules, Joseph,” Broon said, “We don't mess with Agrippa. And that museum's owned by him in all but name.”

“Like with Ichabod?” Joseph snapped, “He and Becenti, they messed with Agrippa. They got a whole damn team to do it, too.”

For a moment, Broon grimaced. He evidently had not heard the complete details of the mission that Ichabod had gone on.

“And you think you’re going to do better?” Mallory said, pointing a finger at Joseph, “Three of them are MIA, Vicenorn’s reduced to just being a brain. They went through hell.”

“Maybe,” Joseph said, “But from what I heard, they were dealing with the home base there. I highly doubt that they've got security like that here. Besides.”

His hand fluttered blue, claw forming out.

“I've handled worse before.”

“This is all rather much,” Phineas commented.

“Doesn't matter if you can handle it, Joe,” Broon said, “What matters are the repercussions.”

“Damn the repercussions,” Joseph said.

“You would do that to us, Joseph?” Ezel said, “Even if you head home, even if you get back to Earth, the consequences fall on us. Agrippa's reprisal could ruin us.”

At that, Joseph went quiet. Rosemary and Phineas were both looking at him. And he knew that he didn’t have an answer to that. He opened his mouth, but faltered.

“I...”

“Look, Joseph,” Broon said, “I'm going to be honest with you, here. Wakeling ordered us to bring the three of you back to Londoa. No matter what.”

At that, his fingers curled around his sword's handle.

“You do know what that means, right?” he said, “Please, Joseph. Don't make us...”

“So that's why there's three of you, then,” Joseph said, “Three for three. A regular ol' brawl.”

He looked hard at Broon. His hand was still caked in electricity. Broon’s face was set, but Joseph noticed small changes in the half-orc’s stance. He was positioning himself, ready to deflect a clawing slash.

“I do not wish to harm my guildmates,” Phineas said, “I will not fight.”

All five heads turned to him. The Deep One was scratching at his arm nervously.

“When we came here, it was to help Joseph get home. To look at Anuté and Inweth. I did not come here to face Broon, or harm Ezel.”

“We don't want to hurt you either, Phineas,” Ezel's voice was soft.

Phineas looked genuinely apologetic.

“I am sorry, Joseph,” he said.

The world was silent.

Then, Joseph sighed.

“It's... It's alright, man,” he said, “You don't have to do anything. Rosemary?”

Rosemary herself seemed torn, eyes darting from Joseph to Broon.

Then, she wilted.

“Sorry, Joe,” she said, “I'm not willing to hurt the people I love.”

“Didn't expect you to,” Joseph said, “Didn't want you to.”

He turned back to Broon, Mallory, and Ezel. The Steamer had taken out a thermos full of water, and had started drinking from it. The demigod simply looked sad, though Joseph could see droplets of water start to form in the air.

He would not be able to win against them, three to one.

“Alright,” Joseph said, his voice bitter, “I won't fight.”

All three of them relaxed. Broon walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I know that you want to go home,” he said, “But this isn't the way.”

Joseph was quiet.

“We'll charter a ship out of here, alright?” Broon said, “We'll head back to Castle Belenus. Maybe there's a book there you haven't read. Maybe you can talk to Wakeling more. Apologize.”

“Apologize?” Joseph growled, “For fucking what?”

His voice was dangerous. Venomous. Broon let his hand fall. He rose to his full height, looking down at Joseph.

Warning him.

“We're going home, Amber Foundation,” he said.

***

They had to remain in Stellaluna for the time being, for the island's port had gone quiet for the night, the sailors turning in and getting drunk at the bars that dotted the docks. So while Broon managed to secure passage for the six of them to the Traveling Point at New Kondris, for the night, they had to turn in. One last night at Stellaluna. Broon turned from the counter as he finished ordering dinner, turning to look at his five guildmates sitting at a table. Rosemary was awkwardly making conversation with Mallory.

“So, they kicked you off the ship?” the Steamer was asking, “That's messed up.”

“I know,” Rosemary said, “Soon as they saw he was metahuman. You ever been kicked off before?”

“Plenty of times,” Mallory said, and her voice went dark, “A lot of times, actually. Mostly back home.”

Phineas had returned to reading a book, a magazine that he was poring over. Ezel was next to him, looking over his shoulder and murmuring to herself every so often.

“That's not how it works,” she said, “Gilgamesh was a lot less muscular.”

“It is the card art,” Phineas said, “An interpretation.”

“Yes,” Ezel said, “A bad one.”

“You have met Gilgamesh before?”

“A few times,” Ezel said, “Back when I still lived on Prime. I saw Marduk, too.”

She pointed a finger at a picture in the magazine.

“Not nearly as handsome, in my opinion. And he has four eyes.”

“I see,” Phineas said.

The demigod noted that Broon was watching them, and gave him a wink. Broon smiled back at that. Then his gaze shifted over to Joseph. The young metahuman had a blank, subtly morose look on his face as he stared down at the table. He hadn't spoken since giving in to Broon, but his hands were balled into fists.

For a moment, he looked up, locking eyes with Broon before shifting them to the wall.

Broon's heart fell. He knew that look. Joseph was hiding something.

But…

But the half-orc didn’t want to believe that. He’d given Joseph his warning glare. The metahuman wouldn’t put them all into danger. He knew what would happen if he sneaked out.

Right?

Broon chose to believe that.

(And, perhaps, he was wrong to.)

He was quiet as they ate. They all were, the conversation dying away with the day.

When they returned to their rooms, Broon looked at them. Then gave a nod.

“Right,” he said, “Joseph, you and Phineas are with me. Ezel, look after Mal and Rose.”

He and the demigod traded looks to each other, a silent communication running between them. So he would take two of them, she and Mallory would guard Rosemary. Just in case.

They went into their rooms, and bedded down. Phineas quickly rushed underneath one of the beds, and Broon claimed its top. Joseph sat down at the foot of the bed.

“Joseph,” Broon said.

The metahuman looked over. The half-orc opened his mouth, then closed it.

“What?” Joseph said, “You watchin' me? Make sure I don't try anything funny?”

“Not like that,” Broon said.

“Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Broon,” Joseph said.

He took a shaky breath.

“It's fine,” he said, “Really. I'm tired, anyways. It's been a long day.”

“Hmm,” Broon said, “Alright. Sleep well, Joseph.”

“And you, Broon.”

***

The world passed on, stars wheeling in the sky, the Three Moons hanging like ornaments from a tree. Joseph waited, wide awake, his entire body buzzing with energy. He tried his hardest to keep his soul from pumping, from letting ozone leak out of his body and into the room. He turned his head to watch Broon slowly fall asleep. From experience, he knew that the half-orc was a light sleeper. If Joseph tried raising his voice too loud, he would wake up.

So he quietly leaned over, letting his arm slip off the bed and hang for a moment, and he scratched a finger against the wood floor.

At once, Phineas's eyes opened up beneath Broon's bed. The Deep One crawled out, quietly and slowly.

“Phin,” Joseph's voice was so low he could hardly hear it.

Broon shifted in the bed. Joseph winced.

But then the half-orc settled back down.

“What, Joseph?” Phineas whispered.

“I need,” Joseph thought, “I need one last favor, Phin.”

“I cannot do that,” Phineas said, “We are going home.”

“That's true, Phin. Only I'm going to my home, and you're going to yours.”

The Deep One was quiet. He looked conflicted. Unsure.

“Phin,” Joseph said, “I'm leaving the guild. Left it. If they catch me, I'll just be some random interloper. You wouldn't even have to look for me if I got caught.”

“I would still try,” Phineas said.

“I need you to put Broon into an even deeper sleep,” Joseph whispered, “Can you do that?”

“I told you,” Phineas said, “I would not harm my guildmates. My friends.”

“It isn't hurting him, is it?” Joseph said, “He probably needs the sleep, anyways. I mean, look at him. It's been a busy few days.”

Phineas stood up to look at the half-orc. Then, he lowered back down, and nodded.

“True,” he murmured. Then, he went back beneath the bed. For a moment, Joseph thought that the Deep One had decided to deny his request, and gone back to sleep.

Then, he came back out with his tome, opening it up, a spell weaving in his hands. Mist curled around his webbed fingers, then began rising up to Broon's face. The half-orc looked about to sneeze, nose wrinkling up. Then he simmered back down, his breathing becoming quiet and regular.

“There,” Phineas said.

Joseph climbed out of bed. Pulled on his jacket and shoes. He opened the door to the balcony carefully, despite the fact that Broon was out like a light. The night was cold. Very cold. Joseph shivered in spite of himself. He walked over to the edge of the balcony, and threw himself over the railing, manifesting his soul at the last moment to cushion his fall, great form thudding into the cobblestone. He was surprised the road didn't crack.

He looked up, extinguishing the azure light. But no one from either of the two rooms came walking out. Good. He didn't want them involved with this. Rosemary and Phineas had gotten him this far, and Broon was right – if they made a move in the museum, it could come down on the guild's head.

No. Joseph was alone for this.

As he had, truly, always been. He just hadn't seen it.

He dwelled on that thought for a moment. Let it wash over him.

Then, he looked up, and started his way to the museum.