“What kind of shakedown is this?” Gwen demanded.

The mudwoman shrugged. “Just business.”

“Highway robbery it is!” Helga yelled. “Aye, we’re on the same team.”

Pat pointed to her badge. “I am FLEA. You are not. Non-FLEA personnel who wish to use FLEA portals during an active evacuation must pay for the inconvenience to the evacuating people.”

“This be an outrage!” Helga said. Hurricane stomped in solidarity.

“Are you saying the Teeklish are going to get any part of this fee? Because I don’t believe that for a hot Sol second,” Gwen said.

“All payments made to FLEA representatives during active evacuations are used in service of the FLEA mission,” Pat said.

Gwen rolled her eyes. “To line your own filthy pockets.”

Pat pretended not to hear Gwen’s slight as she turned to check the next group of Teeklish refugees off her list. Half a dozen of them wore Urothian cow-roper hats.

“What’s the price?” Cal asked. He couldn’t believe he was about to agree to this, but what choice did he have? The world was dying and the longer they stood here quibbling about money, the less time they’d have to complete their Omega Audit. Besides, he could add the expense as a line item on their reimbursement report. That would rile Weavelord up, but hopefully he’d direct his anger toward FLEA, whom rumor had it, he hated slightly more than Cal’s team.

“Fifty gold,” Pat said.

“No way,” Gwen shot back. “That trip isn’t worth more than five! The dungeon is only about ten miles from here.”

“And you’re welcome to walk it,” Pat said.

Lightning crackled across the bruised sky, followed by thunder that shook the ground. A few of the Teeklish mewed in fright. Team Six didn’t have time to walk it and she knew it.

“By me shepherd’s best pie, this is obstruction to our duty!” Helga proclaimed.

Pat tapped her clipboard. “You are the ones trying to distract FLEA from our evacuation duties. Transporting DUDE employees is not a priority during a Withering Apocalypse. You are asking for favors. You must pay the price.”

“We pay for portal?” Kronke asked as he reached for his coin pouch.

“Not fifty gold,” Gwen said. “We won’t pay more than ten.”

“Forty,” Pat shot back.

“Twenty.”

“Thirty.”

“Twenty-five,” Gwen finished.

“Fine,” Pat said. “Shake on it.”

Gwen eyed the woman’s muddy hand. “I’d rather not. But do you have change? I didn’t have time to break mine down since we were literally racing against the end of the world.”

Pat gave an exasperated sigh but pulled out her own coin purse from her back pocket and made change for Gwen. “Red will see to you in the tent, but I’ll need your names for the record.”

“Calcannis Illudere,” Cal said. He hoped she didn’t recognize it. There was little chance his family had crossed paths with FLEA here, but there was a chance, and he didn’t want to answer questions about the Illuderati right now.

Pat didn’t seem to recognize the name, or if she did, she decided it was no concern of hers. She wrote it down and nodded him into the tent.

“Gwenivere Copperblade,” Gwen said behind him. She leaned in close to the mudwoman and pointed at the clipboard. “No, e before i. Just one r.”

Cal wondered why Gwen would care how a low-level bureaucrat from another agency spelled her name on a form that would likely never be read by anyone again, but then a suspicion dawned on him. One that he didn’t want to address until they were safely through this portal.

“Helga Kneebash,” Helga announced, somehow managing to look down on the FLEA representative with disdain even though Helga, riding Hurricane, only came to the woman’s shoulder. “And my trusty companion is Hurricane Hoofclop.”

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Kronke wrinkled his nose. “Hurricane have last name? Kronke not know this.”

“Your name, troll,” Pat demanded.

“Sir Kronke the Charming.”

“Charming?” Pat looked him up and down.

Cal had been told on multiple occasions how handsome Kronke was. The more he hung out with the big guy, the more he saw it too. You couldn’t not love Kronke. It just wasn’t always obvious on first glance at the big green troll in black armor.

“Baker blessed,” Kronke said proudly.

Pat gave him the kind of nod you give thickheaded schoolchildren. “Right. Well, keep your Blackberry Coms handy. Per the contract, I’ll berry you when we’re closing the portal.”

The deep gray sky flashed with lightning.

Cal hurried his team into the tent. Weavelord had issued him communication blackberries before they left. He’d never actually used them before in the field, only in training, but how hard could it be? And if luck was on their side, they wouldn’t even need them. They’d get to the dungeon, perform the audit, and get back here before this apocalypse got any worse.

Pat called into the tent behind them. “Red, four DUDE auditors coming your way. Get them over to the Heart Dungeon.”

“Red Reeves?” Gwen asked, recognizing the twelve-foot-tall man made entirely of rubies. One large ruby gleamed in his belly. “The Ruby Lord who destabilized the economy on Caverna?”

“That was an accident,” Red said, his voice thick like he was talking through a mouth full of marbles. Or rubies actually. “I’m making amends here.”

Kronke pointed at Cal’s staff. “Cal have Ruby Stick. Is it like Ruby Lord?”

Cal shook his head. “No. Just coincidence. Not everything is connected.” Although Cal didn’t know that much about where his staff had come from. It had been another dungeoneer’s first, and he hadn’t yet gotten it to perform the same way as its last owner.

Three ruby pedestals surrounded the Ruby Lord, and to the side of each stood a small ruby man, holding up a red crystal. The closer Cal looked, the more he thought the rubies didn’t look quite right, too shiny somehow, but then again, Cal had never been surrounded by this many gleaming gems in one place. He wasn’t a jeweler. He was an accountant—a mage accountant who could summon dazzling graphic data analyses. Lustrous jewels were not his forte.

Red Reeves, the Ruby Lord, scrunched up his jeweled face as he took in Cal’s team. “Auditors? But you’re not dungeon cores. You look like dungeoneers. Dungeoneers working for the Department of Universal Dungeon Efficiency!” He snapped his rock fingers together. “You’re Audit Team Six. Pat, didn’t you listen to that audio crystal of The Daily Node? This is Audit Team Six! They’re famous!”

Pat yelled back through the tent flap, “Come on, Red, just send them through. We don’t have time for famous. The Teeklish are waiting.”

“Uh, they can wait for this.” The Ruby Lord’s entire demeanor changed. “Hey, Ruby Tuesday, we need to post this on my Googazon page. Get ready to record in three, two, one…”

One of the ruby minions—Ruby Tuesday it seemed—lifted his crystal and it flashed. Above it appeared an image of the recording in progress.

The Ruby Lord mugged it up for the feed. “Hey guys, this is Red Reeves, saving people on Tittikaka. Kitten people, right? I just posted a picture of the little guys. So cute in their little hats! They really needed my help. Don’t forget to like and subscribe. And of course, all proceeds on my CashMeQuick page go to FLEA operations across the multiverse. But hey, just taking a little break, from, you know being a hero and saving people, and who do we have here? Oh, I’ll tell you. They don’t look like much, but they’re the auditors who saved Fidotopia and helped my old buddy Otis out with his dungeon. Say hi, guys.”

Cal put up his hands. He did not want his face posted on a social media account. If Audit Team One saw it and passed it to Weavelord, he’d accuse Team Six of derelict of duty—touting your good deeds to the world on social channels was not an enumerated responsibility listed in the dungeon auditing manual and, therefore, a waste of time in Weavelord’s opinion. Cal happened to agree with him on that one.

Gwen threw her hood over her head and tilted her head down. “Hey, Red, if you don’t post that, I won’t talk about Caverna.”

Red’s jaw tightened, and he bit down hard enough to crunch one of the rubies in his mouth. He chewed it and licked his lips. Then he forced a chuckle. “Yeah, Caverna. Nothing to hide there. I did an apology video. You must’ve seen it. Got half a billion downloads. We all make mistakes. Am I right? I mean, how was I to know pooping rubies would crash an economy. When you gotta go, you gotta go. But look at me now. I’m a hero. Saving worlds. Making it all right, right now! And I’m not like Solitaire Musky, the card mage, who only does this for money. And you can tell him I said that. But no, really, Audit Team Six, right here!”

Ruby Tuesday panned around the room. Cal kept his hands up to cover his face, and Gwen kept her hood up. But Kronke waved to the camera. “Kronke bring cookies to Teeklish.”

Helga raised her crowbar overhead and galloped Hurricane in a small circle. “Enough of this malarkey. Take us to the audit, Red Reeves! By yer ruby hero knuckles, we nay have a second to waste!”

“I’m loving these guys!” the Ruby Lord thundered. “Thanks for saving Fidotopia. Too bad you couldn’t save Tittikaka. But better luck next time! Ruby Red Reeves out! Stay ruby, my friends.”

Once the video feed stopped, Red scowled at Gwen. “Hey, not ruby bringing up Caverna. But like I said, I did that apology video. Even squeezed out some ruby-red tears. And I’ll get traffic for my dig at Solitaire Musky. And having you guys on my feed will bounce my audience.”

“Happy we could help,” Gwen deadpanned.

“You’re even spicier in person,” Ruby said, slapping her on the back with one of his rock hands, leaving an outline of red rock dust on her black leather armor. “Are we set, Ruby Rung?”

Another of the ruby men nodded.

“Okay, that’s your pedestal there in the middle. Just touch it and chango-presto, you’ll be at Mimi’s. Too bad about her really. She was definitely a MILF—Mummy I’d Live Feed. My audience would’ve loved her. But don’t take too long with your audit. If this world goes all Decaisy, we are out of here faster than you can say, ‘that’s so not ruby.’”

Cal had heard enough. He touched the middle pedestal and instantly smelled burning candy so strong he thought he might throw up.