Kelphin sighed as he looked up to the ceiling. “Please, Matthew, just try and breathe normally. We’re almost done.”

Matthew stood with his arms extended, in the middle of the ballroom. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He took a deep breath and tried to hold it. Servants were furiously pinning up his trousers and new jacket, working desperately to get him ready for the second time this morning. Kelphin, an old Elf and chief butler of the mansion, was pacing around him, lecturing even as he supervised the other staff. His voice was loud and sharp, almost frantic, but Matthew was having a hard time paying attention to them. His gaze kept sliding to the big double doors at the end of the ballroom. Just beyond them, he could hear the clink of glasses and the soft murmur of party chatter, more terrifying to him right now than any number of factory sirens.

“Now remember, greet each guest with their full names,” Kelphin stressed, fussing over him, “firm handshakes, and maintain eye contact - especially with the bankers! Don’t look away for even an instant! Believe me, they can sniff out weakness like a Kobold to rotting fruit!” He stepped in quickly and made a minute adjustment to Matthew’s collar. Kelphin was wearing his finest uniform, or at least in his grandfather’s finest uniform; a threadbare ancient suit that was more frills and cravat than actual fabric.

“Very nice. Now, do you have your speech?” he asked nervously.

“Ye-yes,” Matthew stammered.

“What about the flashcards? Let’s have another refresher!”

“Kelphin, I’m fine-” but he was already snapping his fingers. A Goblin maid rushed over, holding a stack of cards over her squatty head. Each card had a detailed drawing of a figure, usually a man, with their name, business, and a particular sum underneath it, drawn in red ink.

Kelphin cleared his throat and carefully enunciated each word. “Mr. Alan Purgue, Bank of New York. Ten thousand dollars.”

Matthew sighed and repeated. “Mr. Alan Purgue, Bank of New York, ten thousand dollars.”

The Goblin shuffled to the next card. “Mr. Richard Belks, Massachusetts Bank, fifteen thousand dollars.”

“Mr. Richard Belks, Massachusetts Bank, fifteen thousand dollars.”

The next card showed a glowering pale figure, bent and twisted with a decidedly pronounced overbite. “Barbaras the Ever-Hungry, Transalvanian Bank of the Third Circle, three thousand drams.”

Matthew shook his head. “Ugh, that was a mistake.”

“Well that mistake braved the sunlight to be here this morning, so the least you could do is be polite to him,” Kelphin snapped peevishly. He huffed for a moment, tugging at his own collar. “At least he has an excuse for not trying any of the appetizers. Do you know how much we spent on all that food? Honeycomb and cucumber sandwiches? Catoblepas meatballs? Sugar-crusted Faerie wings? No one’s touching anything!”

“The food will keep,” a harsh voice croaked. A short, wrinkled figure, gray and bent with age, hobbled over and stood admiring Matthew. She wore a simple maid’s outfit, an odd look on her tiny, wrinkled body. Her black hair, as thick as strands of rope, was gathered under a little white bun leaving her round, blue ears, like teacups, flapping in the breeze. She supported herself on a gnarled cane, giving the Elf a raised eyebrow. “You’re in a foul mood this morning, Kelphin. You pushed so much for the Auction that I’d thought you’d be excited now it’s here.”

“Well, Imi, I didn’t expect to have to fend off a hundred guests all on my own,” he remarked, glancing at Matthew. “They’ve been asking for you for more than an hour! What were you thinking, running all over the factory? And ruining your suit!”

Matthew’s head dropped guiltily, but Imi came to his rescue. “The Auction isn’t his own responsibility today,” she reminded Kelphin. “With the factory running, he’s got to be in two places at once, especially with Albert outside.”

Matthew’s head turned suddenly to the window, wincing as he felt the pins still in his collar prick at him. “Are you sure Albert’s managing okay? I don’t want anyone hurt out there, just keep things under control…”

Kelphin reached over and turned his head around again. “Don’t worry about Albert, he’s very capable. You need to focus on this morning.” He suddenly looked serious. “I won’t lie to you Matthew. It’s quite grim out there.”

Matthew flinched as if another pin had stuck him. “It is?”

The old Elf nodded somberly. “I’ve been listening out there; rumor, gossip. They know we’re in trouble, my boy. We know that they know we’re in trouble. They know that we know that they know we’re in trouble. But we know something that they don’t know! Do you know what that is?”

Matthew shook his head, a little lost.

“Why you, of course! They don’t know a single thing about you!” he said. He smiled, showing off his Glamoured teeth, almost blindingly white. “You’re a complete mystery, why most of the guests out there wouldn’t even know your name if it hadn’t been printed on the invitation.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“It’s the only thing we’ve got! So let’s use it!”

“Use it?”

“Yes! Sell yourself! Let them think that you’re brilliant! That you’re the second coming of Madelyn herself, rest her soul.”

Matthew’s eyes were wide and twitching. “I don’t think that anyone’s going to buy that.”

Kelphin waved his hands. “Don’t think so negatively. Oh! And that’s another thing. If anyone brings up something negative about yourself, spin it into a positive!”

“What?”

“For instance, if they say that you’re far too young to run a factory, just tell them that you have young man’s vigor and energy! See? You’ve got to spin your negative qualities into positives!” Kelphin was on a roll now, he couldn’t stop no matter how badly Matthew wanted him to.

“So what if you’ve never run a business before? You’re surrounded by so many people who know so much more than you do. And your total lack of magical talent, why that’s just an opportunity to focus on the business side of the business for a change.” He gave Matthew an almost manic grin. “Why don’t you try one? Pick something!”

Matthew was sweating like he was back in the fire. “I think I’m going to throw up,” he muttered.

“Not in your new suit!” Kelphin snapped, all his humor gone. “We’re not doing this a third time today.”

Imi tapped her cane on the ground. “Why don’t we give him a minute here?” she suggested, looking at Kelphin and the servants.

“We don’t have the time! The guests are expecting him-”

She shrugged, unconcerned. “Let them wait. We owe them money, they’re not going anywhere.”

Kelphin sputtered, but Imi nodded to the other servants, who gathered their things and vanished back into the small passageways in the rear of the ballroom. As Kelphin continued to pace, she hobbled closer to Matthew, looking up at him.

“Matthew, all that you can do today is be yourself,” she told him simply.

“I don’t think that’s the best suggestion,” Kelphin fretted, but she tapped her cane again, louder.

“He’s not the second coming of Madelyn, despite what you may hope,” she frowned. She looked at Matthew and smiled. “You are a brave, hard-working young man. You’ve done more than anyone could have asked, leaving school, taking on running this decrepit old company.” She pointed out the double doors. “I doubt that any of them out there could do even half as well as you have. And if that’s not enough for them, then they don’t deserve you.”

A smile flickered on Matthew’s face. He smiled and bowed his head at the old Hob. “Thank you, Miss Imi.”

She nodded to him. “We all have faith in you, Matthew. You’ll do Old Coney proud today.”

His eyes strayed out to the window again. Over the carriages and horses that were still arriving, he could just see the tops of the barricades that Albert had constructed earlier. “I wish all of Old Coney believed that,” he told her.

“Pay them no mind, Matthew,” Kelphin snapped angrily. He paced to the window and stared out, almost bristling with fury. “Outside agitators, that’s all they are. Any true son or daughter of Old Coney trusts in the Maiersons. Your family has always watched over Old Coney, and guided its best interests.” He stamped his foot. “In Maierson’s we trust!”

Imi grumbled, shaking her head. “They’ll understand in time,” she told Matthew, more contritely. “What’s important is that we get through this morning. Save the factory today” she told him. “We’ll figure out how to save the rest of Old Coney tomorrow.” He nodded, not feeling any better about it, but he understood.

“Good,” she nodded. She looked at Kelphin. “Is he ready?”

Kelphin fretted for a moment, running a hand along Matthew’s collar and plucking out a last pin or two. “I wish we had more time, but I suppose it’ll have to do.” He stepped back and gave the boy a rare smile. “You remind me of your father,” he admitted, a tear coming to his eye.

Miss Imi nodded again. “He’s ready then.” She smiled and looked towards the double doors. “It’s time.”

Matthew took a deep breath. His stomach was roiling, turning over and over. He wanted to turn around and run back to the factory, say he’d forgotten something and hide in the darkest corner he could find until everyone went away. Instead, he took a faltering step forwards, then another and another. His hands shook as he took hold of the knobs, and took one last deep breath. Then he pulled the doors open and stepped through.

The main floor of the mansion had been opened to the guests, aside from the ballroom, where the Auction was to be held, and the library. No expense had been spared in getting ready, and after weeks of preparations, Matthew hardly recognized the old place. Everything from the baseboards to the rafters had been dusted, scrubbed, polished, and painted; even the great, stuffed Griffin had had its beak buffed to a mirror shine and his shabby wings re-feathered. Gas lamp lights flickered overhead, while Polymoths flitted around the flames, their translucent, multi-colored wings sending spots of dazzling color shining down into the main hall. An Elvish quartet played softly by the stairs, while the finest of New York and abroad mingled.

Matthew tapped his feet nervously, trying to gather his nerve. “Where’s Seward?” he asked.

Kelphin stood with a grin frozen on his face. “I’m not sure. Working the crowd, I think.”

“If you see him, tell him I have to speak with him.” Laughter echoed through the hall, and Matthew flinched, not that anyone in the crowd seemed to take any notice of him. The sound was almost overwhelming, guests drifting in and out of the main hall, laughing and calling to each other, music mixing with dozens of conversations, champagne corks popping, glasses filling. One woman was strutting through the crowd, showing off a phoenix feather headdress, the tips leaving a trail of fire above her head as she moved. A few men had Elven women on their arms, their Glamoured beauty almost otherworldly as they doted on their companions. Some couples danced, others laughed, a few, very few, even admired the display cases they’d set up to whet the crowd’s appetite. It was a rare party indeed. You’d hardly know there was a near-riot going on outside.

Matthew watched them all, chewing on his fingernail. His eyes flickered around the room. Were there enough guests? Did they bring their money? Would anyone bid? Would it all work out? The questions nearly swamped him, and for a moment, he lost himself listening to the chatter of the party.

“So wonderful to see you! How are you doing? It’s been too long!”

“Have you seen what she’s wearing? A scandal! And of course he doesn’t bring his wife along to events like this.”

“Is that real gold do you think? How much will you be offering? I can’t afford to go that high!”

“Did you see that riot outside! I almost turned us around! I’ll be sure to lodge a protest with my councilman!”

“Have you seen Mr. Maierson?”

The question startled Matthew out of his reverie. It had come from directly in front of them, a bored looking man and woman with their backs to him. He was idly looking at a twisted wooden sculpture of a Dryad, shaped out of living wood, while she watched the crowd, her eyes straying from dress to dress.

The man finished his inspection and gave a bored huff. “Can’t say I have,” he admitted. “I’m beginning to wonder if he’s even real.”

“Oh?” his companion asked, sounding bored rather than curious.

“I heard that all Hag Maierson’s children died young, now all of a sudden there’s a pair of grandchildren?” He shook his head. “Maybe the Lilim just made them up.” His companion hummed, perhaps in agreement and they turned, drifting on. When they saw Matthew behind them, then gave him only the most cursory of nods, smiling politely.

It was true, Matthew realized. He turned slightly to Kelphin and muttered out the corner of his mouth. “No one has the slightest idea who I-” his voice cut off sharply as he saw Kelphin.

The old Elf’s Glamour was almost blinding. His quaffed hair was a twinkling gold, his eyes electric blue, and his skin was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. The too-beautiful face stared back at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Turn it down!” Matthew hissed. “You look younger than I do!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kelphin gasped, and his features waved. He rapidly aged decades in a matter of moments, settling into a respectable fifty or sixty. “I’m so nervous, I can’t help it.”

“Just relax!” Matthew forced himself to smile and look back out at the crowd. “It’s not you they’re here to see.”

“Mr. Maierson!”

The voice cut through the party chatter like a battle ax. Before he could blink, Matthew was rushed by a mound of red-checkered cloth, his hand seized tightly and pumped up and down vigorously.

“Salutations, salutations, sir! Oh, as I live and breathe! This is a rare treat!” An enormous, fat man in a red-checkered suit was working his hand, giving him an equally huge grin. “They say it’s luck to shake the hand of a wizard, did you know that? If it’s true, why it must be doubly lucky to shake the hand of a Maierson!”

Matthew yanked his hand free with effort. This one had definitely not been on any of their flashcards. “Thank you, sir. Welcome to the Auction, Mr…”

The man bowed like a prince, sweeping his red-checkered top-hat off with one hand. In a sea of dark suits and dinner jackets, he stood out like a sparkler. “Finnious Fink, at your service! Very much so at your service, at least, I hope.” He smiled, very much in a way that made Matthew want to take a step back.

He glanced at Kelphin and tried to regain control of the situation. “Mr. Fink. Is that really your name?”

Fink laughed uproariously, causing heads to turn. The way the patterns of his identically colored suit vest and jacket shifted and merged together confounded the eye and Matthew blink. “Why of course not, sir!” he said, still laughing. “‘Finnious Fink’, honestly. What self-respecting parent would inflict that on a child?”

“You’d be surprised,” Matthew Maierson remarked. People in the crowd were beginning to glance over, and he felt a flush of embarrassment as more and more eyes were turned his way. He could almost hear the whispers starting as they realized who he was. He flushed with embarrassment, laughing slightly. Then he saw a few faces he did recognize from his flashcards, very high numbers in fact. They were beginning to push their way through the crowd, coming his way.

“Uh, excuse me a moment,” he muttered, trying to edge his way clear. If he could make it to the landing, maybe he could start the Auction before they could reach him. Or he could always run back to the Factory, that was always an option.

Fink suddenly laid his enormous round hand over Matthew’s arm, halting him. Rings sparkled on each of his sausage-sized fingers, but his touch was as light as a pick-pockets. “The name is more of a business handle,” he said in a wheedling tone. He put himself between Matthew and the creditors who were approaching, and his sheer bulk was enough to keep them back. “I needed something to sound mysterious and just slightly disreputable. You’d be amazed how many of the wrong doors that can open for you in my particular line of business, which is what I was hoping to discuss, if you had a minute…”

“And what line of business would that be, sir?” Kelphin spoke up suddenly. He was frowning quite severely at the man, clearly distrusting him.

“Why procurement and sales of rare magical artifacts! I represent only the top collectors, the most discerning of clients,” he boasted.

Matthew nodded, looking towards the stairway landing. “Well, we’re not buying today, Mr. Fink. And we don’t need any help-”

“Oh, but you do! I think you do!” The skin on his face was thin and papery, like it belonged to a much older person, but his eyes were a bright, piercing yellow, as sharp and alert as a hawk. He glanced around the room. “I’ve had some experience with auctions before, and if you ask me, you’re looking seriously understaffed.”

“Now see here!” Kelphin started to sputter, but Matthew had to admit, he had a point. Even with more than half their workforce helping with the Auction, they’d been forced to hire on additional volunteers. Two of them were stationed nearby, an Elf and a Dryad standing in front of the Library, and though they might not have been up to the usual Maierson standard, they were pretty good at keeping the guests back. The Elf was un-Glamoured, his hair a haystack and his buck teeth protruding. He gawked shamelessly at the guests, who did their best to ignore him. The Dryad was a thin and mean looking youth, as hardy and wild as a weed growing through a crack in the sidewalk. Matthew watched him pick irritably at a twig growing from his antler-like branches, and winced as he saw him inevitably pluck it and pop it in his mouth.

“Maybe we do need a bit of help…” Matthew admitted.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Fink smiled. He threw his arm around Matthew, pulling him close. “Now, I can barker this auction for you, drive up bids, raise your take more than 50%, guaranteed, all for a small, nominal fee.”

“Wait just a moment!” Kelphin protested, trying to cut in, but Matthew raised his hand.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t just let you take over the Auction, Kelphin is perfectly capable-”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s capable of scolding the cleaning staff, but running an Auction takes more than that!” Fink seemed to swell, puffing out- well, it was either his stomach or his chest, it was hard to tell where either ended. “You’ve got to be able to think fast on your feet, smell blood in the water, prick their egos, stoke their fears!”

“I’ve-I’ve bargained with more than my fair share of ro-rogues,” Kelphin stammered, looking hurt. His Glamour slipped a bit more, and his quaffed hair receded sharply.

Fink looked pointedly at him, but Matthew shook his head. “Thank you, but Kelphin can do it,” he promised. He started to edge away again, but Fink threw his hands.

“Oh, don’t think that I’m trying to take a share of the gate! I wouldn’t dream of it, working such a prestigious event is payment enough!” He turned his head then, and his voice grew more wheedling. “Although, maybe some other, small reward might be in order? Say, my pick of something that’s not on the docket today?”

Matthew looked at him sharply, then he noticed how close the creditors were starting to get. “Uh, thank you, no. No. We’ve got everything we need. Please excuse me,” he said in a rush.

“Wait, wait!” Fink called, but Matthew was already hurrying in the opposite direction. He made a beeline for the staircase landing, pushing his way as politely as he could through the crowd. All of Kelphin’s careful coaching over the last few weeks seemed to vanish from his brain, and all he saw were random, blank faces before him. “Good morning,” he muttered. “How do you do? Wonderful to see you,” over and over again as he pushed his way through. Finally, nearly at a run, he ducked under the ropes that had been stretched across the grand staircase and climbed up onto the first landing. His vision seemed to swim for a moment as he looked over the crowd, and he felt himself go light-headed.

The crowd slowly noticed him, standing there, and the chatter began to die away. At a signal from Kelphin, the quartet went silent, and the hall was quiet at last. Matthew stared out over them, his mouth bone dry. He heard someone say, “Good Morning,” and it took a moment for him to realize that it had been him.

There was silence, and a few people nodded their heads. “Good Morning,” he said again. “My-My name is Matthew Maierson.” He couldn’t remember the rest of the speech! His mind was completely blank!

He dimly saw Uncle Paicus emerge from a side-room, watching him with surprise and sadness. Matthew blinked, shaking his head. He had to keep going, no one was going to come up and save him. He opened his mouth again, but no more words would came. The moment stretched painfully on, and the crowd began to stir. He stared out at them, unable to focus, feeling the eyes of everyone on him. Even the paintings on the wall seemed to be staring back.

They were the Maierson’s of the past, memorialized in portraits along the wall. There was Great-Uncle Morlan, standing behind the wheel of the Dark Breath, the terror of the nautical lanes in his time, or Great-Aunt Morena, encircled by her Sisters of Salem, in front of their favorite oak hanging tree, the same tree that now made up the staircase banister that Matthew stood on. Madelyn’s own grandfather, Morgan, stood resolute in his Revolutionary army uniform. They were an illustrious bunch: soldiers and explorers, criminals and scholars, sinners and saints. Their own common denominators were family, fame, and magic, of course. There were the black-sheeps of course, the occasional dentist, but no paintings hung to mark their lives. Would that be his fate?

There was one conspicuous blank space on the wall however, a large, reserved spot of honor in the middle of the room, twice as large as any other portrait nearby. A covered easel stood in front of it, waiting for the end of the day and the grand unveiling. It was no wonder to anyone who was underneath the tarp, who could possibly deserve such a space of honor. Matthew stared at the covered painting of his Grandmother, and he felt himself go still.

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You aren’t her, he reminded himself. You don’t have to be.

He opened his mouth, forgetting his worry about the speech, forgetting the speech entirely, and he just began to speak.

“I wanted to thank you all for coming out this morning. This day has been… a difficult decision for all of us to make. My family… has never been that open with the rest of the world. Some have accused us of keeping secrets, hoarding treasure, like a Dragon,” he laughed stiffly and the crowd laughed with him. “So today is a day of change, of celebration. The end of one way of doing things, and the start of another. So again, I want to thank you for gathering-”

“Welcome! Capitalist! Scum!”

Matthew froze. The voice seemed to cut through the hall, echoing from everywhere.

“My brother is mistaken! Today isn’t a day for celebration! It isn’t a day for you to put your fat, greedy hands all over our property!”

Matthew’s eyes searched desperately through the crowd. The guests were looking around in confusion, muttering. Even Uncle Paicus was looking around in a panic. Then Matthew heard someone jump down to the stairs behind him. The crowd looked up, and Matthew turned, dreading what he knew he would see.

The young girl standing behind him looked like she’d rolled out of a garbage heap. She wore heavy, scuffed engineer’s boots and a ratty old Maierson Factory uniform, almost more patches than not. Her cheeks were smudged with dirt, her fingers either stained with ink or wrapped up in make-shift bandages. Her hair was a nightmare, a gnarled, frizzy cloud that rose up from her head like there had been an explosion somewhere in the vicinity of her brain.

Matthew stared up at his younger sister and let out a small moan. “Maine.”

She reached down into a haversack that hung off her hip, stuffed to the brink of bursting. When she saw Matthew looking at her, she gave him a wide, manic grin. “Sorry to crash your party, brother! But look, I brought a present to add to the Auction!”

She pulled out a small bronze cylinder, about a foot long. The surface was weathered and ancient looking, complete with faded inscriptions. What he could see clearly though was the handles on either side of the cylinder, and the way his sister was gripping them maliciously, holding it up to the crowd.

“This is Soloman’s Sand Trap,” Maine Maierson yelled to them. “He used it more than two thousand years ago to trap a nest of ravenous desert Imps inside.” All eyes seemed to follow the trap as she waved it over her head. “Desert Imps can devour a pack of camels in minutes; they don’t even leave bones behind!” she boasted. “They’re the terror of the sands!” She raised it higher, looking out at them. “And if you don’t get out of my Grandmother’s house this instant, they’ll leave nothing of you either!” she warned them.

The guests blinked, staring up at her. Matthew was frozen, unable to think, let alone move. Would his sister do it, was she really capable of something like that?

Then, cutting the sudden silence, another voice rang out. “Yes! And this incredible artifact can be yours!”

It was Fink. The huge man was pushing his way through the crowd, gesturing grandly. “Obtained from the tomb of Khufu the Great in Egypt, if I’m not mistaken, during Madelyn’s apprenticeship under the wizard Solheim Sibeckha.” He spoke with the easy flair of a born showman, his voice ringing with emotion and tone. “In any other collection, it would be one of a kind, the very centerpiece, but here, today, ladies and gentlemen, it is but the first course!”

He was nearly at the stairs and all eyes were on him now. Maine was staring down in utter confusion, the Sand Trap forgotten. Matthew felt much the same way.

“Now, make no mistake, my friends, first course it may be, but it is a deadly one!” he warned them. “Glittering on the outside, but holding a deadly treasure! Most certainly cursed! He climbed up onto the first step and turned, looking grimly out at the crowd.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t- perhaps we dare not let this treasure out of our safe-keeping,” he said, his voice suddenly conflicted. Matthew was stunned. He actually looked torn up over it.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind anyone what happened to that ill-fated expedition,” Fink said to the crowd. “How within two years of opening that tomb, Madelyn herself was the only survivor? Before you reach for your wallets, before you even utter a word, you must first ask yourself, are you brave enough to own such an item? Are you strong enough to laugh at the danger?”

The crowd edged closer. Far from being frightened, they were almost salivating. All eyes were on Fink as he gestured to the door. “Those faint of heart be warned! You had best leave now! For if there’s one thing I can promise you today, it’s that you best expect the unexpected!”

No one moved. The crowd hardly seemed to breathe.

Fink smiled. “Now! Do I hear an opening bid?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then a voice called out across the hall. “Five hundred dollars!” Matthew looked up shocked. Maine’s jaw dropped.

“Six hundred!”

“Eight hundred!”

Matthew could hardly believe it. Was this actually going to work out?

“Wait, no!” Maine said angrily, tears nearly in her eyes. She raised the Sand Trap again, shaking it over her head. “This isn’t what I wanted! Get out!” She stamped her foot, but no one seemed to be listening to her. “Get out now!”

“Nine hundred!”

“One thousand!”

Maine was distracted, looking out over the crowd, and Matthew saw his chance. He lunged up the stairs, reaching for the Trap. She saw him coming too late and stumbled backwards. She started to fall, and his hands closed over her wrists, but she’d already let go.

The Trap tumbled past their heads, falling down the stairs. Fink saw it coming and lunged for it, but it slipped between his hands and hit the steps, once, twice, bouncing end over end. With a splintering crack it hit the floor and broke in two.

Everyone froze. Even the lamp lights seemed to stop flickering. Mathew held Maine up, neither struggling. They all watched the broken halves roll gently back and forth on the floor. Inside, something gave a dry rustle, and fell heavily. Then the pieces went still.

After a moment, in which the crowd remained unravaged, Fink eased himself forwards. He stepped cautiously around the broken pieces, and gently nudged the larger with his toe. When nothing still happened, he bent low, and picked up the two halves, peering inside.

“Hmm. Well. A slight correction is in order,” he announced. He gave a strained smile to the crowd. “For sale today, we have one, slightly damaged, Sand Trap, containing, not a horde, per se, but one mummified, perhaps very well-fed Desert Imp.”

There was a low murmur of disappointment and Fink’s smile grew more forced. “Still, a tremendous find! Note the craftsmanship!” He clicked the broken ends of the cylinder back together, dislodging another small piece. “Do I hear five hundred?” he asked desperately. “Perhaps two?” He suddenly plucked out the wrinkled, old corpse and waved it up in the air. “Now for those of you with gourmet tastes, let’s talk jerky!” He ran it under his nose, looking like he was in heaven. “Wonderful eating, I hear.”

The crowd didn’t seem ready to bite. “Fifty dollars,” someone said finally, in a charitable voice.

Fink stamped his foot. “Sold!” He started to applaud.

As the crowd joined in, Matthew stared down at his sister. “My office!” he growled at her. “Now!”

Matthew yanked her out of the hall and through the library doors, his sister kicking and yelling every step of the way.

“Of all the stupid, bone-headed stunts you’ve pulled, Maine,” he shouted, “this one really takes the cake! What were you thinking? Were you even thinking? I can’t believe this!” He grunted as he pulled her forwards.

Maine set her feet, clawing at his hand with her fingers. “What am I doing? I’m saving this family,” she said between clenched teeth. “You’re the one trying to wreck everything!”

As he pulled her towards the center of the room, servants scattered out of the way. The great library hall, a soaring, two-story structure, had been converted into temporary storage for the Auction items, and even now, the staff was hard at work on last minute preparations, giving some things a final polish and re-checking tags. Items up for sale today were spread across the tabletops, shelves, and much of the floor, leaving only a few bare lanes of space carved out for the staff to move.

Kelphin scrambled into the room after Matthew, clutching at the door. “Watch your feet!” he hissed.

Matthew danced aside, trying to avoid stepping on anything precious. “Sorry, sorry!” He glanced back and saw a few guests peering in behind Kelphin. “Shut the door!”

The Elf jumped and spun around, his Glamour flashing brightly. “So sorry,” he bowed to them. “Please go ahead and take your seats in the ballroom. The Auction will be beginning shortly.” He snapped his fingers and waved at the staff, who began ushering people back.

As he started to close the library door, an enormous hand squeezed in and held it open. Dr Paicus poked his head in. “Matthew? Matthew, what’s going on?”

“Get in!” Matthew waved at him, still struggling with Maine. The Doctor slipped in through the door, having to bow and duck his head to fit inside. As he straightened, another figure darted in behind him, which was an equally tight fit.

“Not too bad, if I do say so myself,” Fink congratulated himself. He whistled then, looking around the Library. “My oh my!”

“Mr. Fink!” Kelphin yelled. “This is not the time! And guests are not permitted to be here before-”

“Guests?” he said in shock. “Why, I’m practically part of the staff now! Didn’t you see how I just saved the Auction?” He laughed, his eyes again traveling around the room hungrily. “I’d say some kind of compensation is in order.”

“Just close the door!” Matthew yelled again.

As Paicus shut the door, Matthew turned and gave a hard look at his sister. She stared back defiantly.

“You’re supposed to be in Delaware till the end of the term,” he snapped. “What happened?”

Maine sniffed. Her clothes were filthy and torn, her hair matted and as wild as he’d ever seen it. “Did you think I was just going to sit back and school and let this happen?” she asked. “I had to leave! There’s no way I was going to let you sell all of Gran’s things!”

Matthew let go of her and threw up his hands. “Again? Argh!” He paced for a moment. “How long have you been gone from school this time?”

Kelphin spoke up hopefully. “Maybe we can get her back before anyone notices?”

Maine shook her head. “Don’t bother! I left a week ago.” She crossed her arms. “That school’s useless, they don’t teach anything interesting! Just manners, and poise, and-and- dancing!” She almost shook with fury.

Mathew pulled his hands through his hair. “Right, because manners aren’t something you’d possibly need,” he said in exasperation.

“They don’t even let us read on our own!” she protested. “I’m not going back!”

“Maine, how many schools has this been?” Paicus asked, bending down towards her. “Three now? You can’t keep running away.”

She brushed off his hand and looked pointedly away. “Then send me somewhere I want to go. Some place that’ll teach me what I need!” She suddenly fumbled at her haversack, rummaging through it. “Look! Look, look!” she said, pulling out a crumpled, torn advertisement and waved it at Matthew. He didn’t bother to take it from her and finally Kelphin had to grab it. As he pulled out a pair of spectacles to read, she began to recite it from memory.

“The New Gorham Institute of Regular Magic is looking for upstanding, moral young men interested in a career in the magical arts! Apply now by post to be a part of this exciting, magical opportunity!” She smacked her dirty, stained palm, her eyes wide with excitement. “It’s perfect for me!”

They all looked back at her dubiously. “Well,” Kelphin sniffed, adjusting his glasses. “I’ve certainly never heard of this place. Who runs it? And besides…” he trailed off, looking at her.

“You don’t exactly meet the criteria,” Paicus finished gently.

“You’re not upstanding,” her brother said.

“Or moral,” Kelphin admitted.

“Or male,” Paicus was forced to admit.

She folded her arms angrily. “I’m young!”

“That’s all you are,” Matthew snapped. He grabbed the paper out of Kelphin’s hand and stared at it. The advertisement looked like it had been cut carefully from a magazine, wrinkled and folded many times over. It showed the outline of young men, wielding staves, surrounded by runes, fighting vague, threatening shapes that to his eyes seemed more than a little to resemble Goblins, Centaurs, and maybe even Elves. He frowned, staring down at the paper. “Where did you find this?”

“It was advertised,” she explained, as if he was simple. “And I could still go! They could make an exception for me! I’m sure they would!”

Matthew laughed at her. “After you ran away from your last three schools? Why should they bother?”

Maine stamped her foot. “They didn’t teach me magic!” she yelled. She looked close to tears, her hands shaking. “If you sent me somewhere I wanted to go, I wouldn’t have run away. Like, Gran’s old school: Salem Academy!”

“Salem Academy shut down five years ago,” Kelphin reminded her sadly.

“I know,” she shook her head. “But what about somewhere else?” she asked desperately. “The School of Avalon? Hidden Briar? The Black Forest Academy?”

“Black Forest,” Kelphin stammered. “That’s all the way in Germany!”

Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. “Avalon and Hidden Briar shut down two years ago,” he told her. “And Black Forest isn’t taking on any new students. I know,” he promised, stopping her question. “I checked.”

“There just aren’t any good magical schools anymore, Maine,” Kelphin told her sadly. “The old arts just aren’t taught anymore.”

Fink nodded, looking up from his own perusal of some of the artifacts laid out for display. “A sad sign of the times,” he moaned, his hands ducking behind his back, looking suspiciously full. “A world that’s lost its appreciation for the old arts, has lost its way.”

Both the Maierson’s scowled at him, but Paicus then spoke up. “You can study magic here at home, Maine,” he pointed out. “You don’t have to go to a school for it. There are plenty of private tutors in Old Coney who’d be proud to teach you.”

“But after you’re done with school.” Matthew stressed.

She shook her head. “I can’t wait that long!”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the Factory needs me!” Maine looked scornfully at her brother. “One of us has to be able to do magic!”

Everyone froze as Matthew stared down at her. Even the staff didn’t dare move. There was a knock on the library door. Miss Imi poked her head inside. “Is everything all right in here? The guests are waiting in the ballroom. What’s taking so long?”

Kelphin fluttered his hands nervously, heading to the door. “It’s perfectly fine! No trouble!” He hurried her back out the door, following after her. “I’ll just tell them we’ll be starting shortly,” he said, glancing back fearfully at Matthew.

The door clicked shut behind them. Matthew let out a long, slow breath. “You come in here, and ruin something that took months to plan out,” he started. “Something that we needed!” Maine huffed and looked away, but he only kept going, his voice getting louder. “You don’t care or know about anything that actually goes on in the Factory! Just the flashy bits! Just the magic!” She balled her hands into fists, but Matthew didn’t notice. He was shouting now, not caring as the staff stopped to watch them. “You’re about the most ignorant, pathetic excuse for a sister I’ve ever seen, Charlie!”

Maine jumped forwards with a yell, swinging wildly. All around the library, all work paused as the staff watched the CEO roll on the floor with his sister, fighting wildly. Paicus gave a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, and moved to separate them. “Children please!” he said, lifting Maine up easily in one hand.

She swung in the air, hands still reaching out to strangle her brother. Matthew lay on the floor, red in the face and gasping. “At least I’m a real Maierson!” she taunted him. “I don’t know where Gran found you! You can’t even do a simple spell!”

“Maine!” Paicus scolded her.

“Let her go!” Matthew said, furious. “Let her go!” He looked like he was ready for another round

“Matthew!” Paicus barked. “Please try and be the adult here!”

Another door clicked open behind them. “Go back inside!” Matthew bellowed over his shoulder.

A smooth, sibilant voice answered him. “Can we save the sibling drama for another day? We have guests waiting.”

Seward stood by the office door at the other end of the Library. All the other staff instantly snapped to attention, bowing their heads fearfully. He walked towards the struggling siblings, the heels of his polished shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. He wore a dark suit, perfectly styled and fit, accented with a vibrant gold scarf that was draped around his shoulders, the color matching perfectly with his scales.

Seward’s green, snake-like eyes slid over to Paicus and his thin lips parted. “Doctor Paicus, what a pleasure to see you today,” he said, not particularly sounding like it was one. His forked tongue betrayed only the faintest of hisses. “So glad you could accept our invitation.”

“Yes,” Paicus frowned, still holding Mathew and Maine apart. “Especially since I must have missed it.”

The thin slits that passed for Seward’s nose, opened and closed. “Regardless,” he said coldly. “Your presence is always welcome here. Now, Matthew-”

He didn’t get any farther. An older man in a suit pushed past him, eyes wide with excitement. Ignoring Matthew and Maine, ignoring anything else that was going on, he ran to Paicus, staring him up and down shamelessly.

“My word! My word!” he said. “A real, live Cyclops! I’ve never seen one of your kind in the flesh before! Extraordinary!” He tugged at his long, white beard, captivated as he stared at the Doctor.

Paicus looked uncertainly back at him, clearly put off. “Good morning,” he said finally. Glancing at Matthew and Maine first to see that it was safe to let go, he extended a hand to the older gentleman. “Doctor Paicus, how do you do?”

The old man stared at his hand for a moment, astounded. “A doctor? My word,” he said again. He took the Doctor’s hand, but not to shake, turning it instead, examining his fingers and the folds in his skin. “How did you earn such a title? And what passes for medicine among your kind?”

“Probaby banging themselves with sticks and rocks,” a rude voice offered. A tall, gangly young man stood behind Seward. He wore a suit and a superious expression, a sneer almost stamped across his features.

The Doctor gently pulled his hand back. “Actually, I have a doctorate in human medicine,” he told them. “Though I specialize in several additional species. Thirty-seven at last count.”

The older man clapped his hands, delighted. “Good for you! You’re a credit to your race!” Paicus raised an eyebrow at him.

Seward bowed slightly and extended his hand, palm up. “This is Mr. Henry Tooland, from the-”

“From the Bronx Elder Appreciation Society,” Tooland said, reaching into his coat-pocket. He produced a card and thrust it at Paicus, nearly hopping up and down in excitement. “We’re an environmental group! We try to preserve Elder cultures and customs before they vanish off the face of the earth!”

Paicus took the card without much enthusiasm. “I didn’t know they were in danger of that,” he said dryly.

“Oh, indeed,” Tooland nodded. “That’s only natural with primitive cultures though.” He looked the Doctor up and down eagerly, as if sizing him up. “How would you like to join our zoo?” he asked suddenly.

The Doctor looked down at him, speechless. “I’m sorry, what?” Matthew asked.

“Our zoo!” Tooland began patting his pockets, looking around. “I’ve got a flier for it here somewhere on me. We’ve got quite a little exhibition going, you know. A few wild Imps, a Manticore, and an African Pygmy!” He finally pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, thrusting it at Matthew’s hands.

It indeed showed Imps and a Manticore in a series of cages, along with a mournful looking black man dressed in cheap leopard skins and cloth. Matthew only had the stomach to look at it for a few moments. He wanted to tear the paper up, but Paicus held out his hand for it. After a moment’s hesitation, Matthew passed it over.

“How dare you!” Maine started to sputter, but Paicus held up his hand, cutting her off.

“Oh, have no fear, it’s a top notch facility,” Tooland assured her. “Three meals a day, a rock bed, and every amenity that you’d expect to find in the wild.” He beamed with pride. “We might even be adding a Troll soon!” he let on. “Getting a Cyclops as well would put the rest of the boys over the moon!” He clapped his hands. “Oh, they’ll be so jealous I got to talk to you first!”

“I imagine they will be,” Paicus told him, his voice amazingly calm. He folded the flier neatly and Tooland held out his hand, but instead the Doctor tucked it away in his own pocket. “Well, sir, you can let them know that I happily accept your offer.”

“What?” Matthew said

“You do?” Maine asked.

Tooland’s face broke into a huge grin. “Wonderful! We’ll get you moved in-”

Paicus raised his hand. “I accept on one condition, sir. I work, well, worked,” he corrected, “at Brooklyn Hospital, a prominent teaching institution. And one thing that we’re always running short of in the hospital is volunteers.” He smiled slightly. “I’ll happily accept if you volunteer to act as instructional aid.”

Tooland stared back at him. “Volunteer? Do you mean, like work?” he asked, pronouncing the word like it was a foreign language. “But I don’t know any medicine.”

“Indeed.” Without warning he bent down and laid a hand on Tooland’s chest and stomach, probing with his fingers. “But they always need volunteers to demonstrate difficult medical procedures on,” he told him. “And you seem to have all the necessary organs.” He nodded, smiling. “Yes, quite healthy for your age. You’ll do nicely. I imagine they’ll be able to demonstrate any number of times on you, as long as they put things back where they find them.”

He smiled at the now pale and trembling man. “What do you think? Can I tell the Hospital to look forward to your call?”

“Ah, well, maybe,” Tooland stammered, his eyes darting around the room. “Maybe we can come up with a different arrangement.” He began to edge backwards, away from the Doctor. “We wouldn’t want to trouble you any.”

Paicus watched him dart back behind Seward, running to the sneering young man’s side. “Such a shame,” he said coolly.

The sneering young man laughed. “I’m Harry Trimble, the Second,” he said proudly, not waiting for an introduction. He wore a new suit, badly; cut just a little too big for his size. Regardless, he preened as if he were the best dressed man in the room, thrusting his thumbs behind his suspenders and looking down his nose at them. “You’ve probably heard of my father.”

Matthew folded his arms. “Can’t say that I have.” There was a winking, golden pin on Trimble’s chest, catching the light. It took a moment for Matthew to realize what it was, but then he saw the crossed hammer emblem. He looked suddenly at the Doctor and saw Paicus staring back at him.

“The senior Mr. Trimble,” Seward informed them, “owns a number of factories that produce women’s clothing-”

“We do not!” Trimble exploded suddenly. He folded his arms and huffed. “We produce fashionable one-piece suits and casual frocks.”

“-my mistake,” Seward corrected, and Trimble slowly settled down. “He’s made a generous offer on several items up for sale today, before the Auction starts.”

Matthew looked over in surprise. “What?”

Trimble leered at them. “My Father’s starting a collection. We only get the finest things, you know? And we don’t like bidding against anyone else.”

Matthew stared from him to Seward, who gave a small nod. He removed a small envelope from his jacket and held it up. “We’ve just finished negotiations on the final price,” he started to say.

Matthew held out his hand. “Let me see that.” Before Seward could hand it over, Fink suddenly darted forwards, snatching the envelope away.

“Oh my my my,” he said, his sharp yellow eyes scanning through the contents quickly. “What a generous offer indeed! You have quite the eye.” The young man beamed, thumbing his pin at the room again. “I had no idea you were so interested in Elder weaponry.”

“Well, we’re big game hunters, you know,” Trimble laughed. “We’re also branching out - getting out of clothes and into weapons.” He suddenly gave Matthew a very strange expression, almost hungry. “All kinds of weapons, you know? The deadlier the better!”

Matthew ignored him. “Here,” he said, taking the paper back from Fink. He ran his eyes down the page. It was quite an extensive list, and nearly all weapons: Elven knives and arrows, enchanted swords, Goblin axes and picks. The list went on and on and as his eyes came to the final figure, his jaw fell open.

“Yes,” Seward said. “His final offer was too good to pass up.” He turned and snapped his fingers. All around the library, the staff jumped to attention. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have the staff set your pieces aside.” He turned to Trimble and bowed smoothly. “They’ll be shipped out to you as soon as possible, sir. Thank you again for your patronage.”

Trimble started to smile, but Matthew cleared his throat. “Hold on a second,” he told him.

“Sir?” Seward asked. It wasn’t a question so much as a warning.

Mathew ignored it however. He took a breath and then tore the paper up into pieces, letting them fall to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “I can’t agree to this. If Mr Trimble wants these pieces, he’s going to have to bid on them just like everyone else.”

Trimble stared as the scraps of paper fell. “What the hell are you playing at, Maierson?” he exploded. “We had a deal!”

“Not with me,” Matthew told him. Trimble was a few inches taller than him, and probably outweighed him by a good twenty pounds, but Matthew jammed his finger at the man’s chest and stuck out his chin. “I’ve got final say on all arrangements. Including who we sell to!”

Trimble looked like he was about to blow. Before he could say anything, Seward suddenly stepped between them. Matthew found himself staring into those cold, reptilian eyes.

“Perhaps we could speak privately. Sir,” Seward suggested tightly, his hissing more pronounced now. He laid a scaly hand with manicured talons on Matthew’s arm, but he shook it off.

“I don’t think so,” Matthew told him. The staff around the room held their breath, watching.

There was a knock on the library door, but no one thought to open it.

Seward turned smoothly and bowed again to Trimble. “Pardon the confusion, sir,” he said, smiling once more. “If you’ll please follow me out to the ballroom, I’ll find you a choice seat where you can join the rest of the Auction. I’m sure a man of your means will still be able to-”

“No!” Matthew said. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want him bidding at all. Get him out of here.”

“What? You’ve got to be joking!” Trimble shouted.

The knock came again from the door, louder and more insistent. Paicus, turned, curious.

“You seem to be changing your mind often today, sir,” Seward hissed at Matthew. The anger in his voice was plain for all to see now. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to lie down and let me take over for you?”

“No, I think I’m good,” Matthew snarled back, not caring that the staff was listening. He adjusted his jacket and looked coldly at Trimble. “Please escort Mr Trimble and his associate from the premises,” he told Seward. “He’s not welcome here today.”

Trimble was breathing heavily. It looked for a moment like he was about to take a swing at Matthew, but finally he turned on his heels. “C’mon Toolie,” he snapped, jerking his head towards the door. “Let go.” Tooland jumped, and scurried in front of him. Trimble looked back though, giving Matthew one last, contemptuous sneer.

“Looks like my Father was right,” he remarked. “Not all rats know when to leave a sinking ship.”

Tooland pulled the door open and hurried forwards, only to jump back in sudden surprise. “My word!”

“What is it now?” Matthew shouted, looking towards the door.

Tooland backed into the room, his hands raised to the ceiling. Behind him, came a masked woman, holding a large pistol in her hands. And behind her, came several others, all masked and carrying guns.

“Good Morning, Mr Maierson,” she said to the stunned room. She pulled the hammer back on her pistol, and even though she was masked, Matthew could tell she was smiling. “We’re here to bid, on behalf of Old Coney. Want to hear our offer?”