The soft taps of my footsteps echo throughout the vast hall on the second level of the black market. Though some people remain, and deals continue to be struck, in the time spent gathering the materials necessary to experiment with my purchase, many the well-dressed patron of this establishment concluded their business and left.

The tailor was right. Access to this market is worth far more than money. Herbs, metals, bones, skin, and organs of powerful Tension beasts. Anything and everything one could possibly need in the crafting of weapons, tools, potions and sealed Arts exist in abundance within this market.

If not for the limitation of what Olivia and I could carry, I would have gone stall to stall, emptying my gold to buy everything here that my eyes can see, perhaps even a few items that they cannot.

Even without my full resources, the coin Goat gave me was more than enough to fund the acquisition of many useful items. The sharp clink of glass pricks at my ears as I feel the collection of potions, bottled liquids, and jars filled with miscellaneous roots, leaves, and berries shift in my satchel. Placing my hand on my bag, I steady the content therein and continue walking towards the market stalls lining the side of the foyer.

'Sir, how can I help you?'

'Farsight, I've been well informed that you have a means of interfering with its effects.' The man bends down. He searches a shelf beneath his stall. Shifting bottles and what sounds like rocks to the side, the tone of triumph slips from behind his mask as he returns to standing, holding a small, clear bottle filled with a silver liquid.

'Luck is on your side, my friend; this is my last bottle. This perfume will prevent all but the most powerful of investigators from detecting your movements. One spray will last twenty-four hours.' The man lifts the bottle to where his eyes would be if not for the mask covering his face, places it onto his counter and returns his face to me. 'Assuming daily use, this bottle should last at least two months.'

Two months?

It's impossible to say how long I'll be in this city. If this was just a matter of killing Geo and retrieving Rachel, I doubt it would take me much longer than the perfume would allow, but now, with the opportunity to infiltrate a Clan's stronghold…

I'll need more time than two months.

'The recipe?'

'I'm afraid I can't share that with you, no matter the price. My perfume is the basis of my livelihood. Demand is only so high because I control the supply. I hope you can understand.'

A fire ignites in the pit of my stomach; it spreads, urging my muscles to action. Instinctually, my hand moves to my side and grasps for a sword not present. My instincts denied, the vendor's head remains secured to his neck.

If Father could see me now, he would be so disappointed. He taught me to take what I want when I want. Mercilessly, definitively, without hesitation or remorse. The fear of consequences is for the weak; the strong fear no man's reprisals. If Father were here, this city would already be in flames. Rivers of blood would run down the streets, all would cry out, but he would silence their screams, and everything this place has to offer would be ours. I don't share Father's strength, but I share his greed. He made sure of that...

"The world and all that it has, I want it all."

As do I, Father.

'One-hundred-and-fifty gold, not a coin less. I don't mean to be rude, my friend, but there's little point in trying to negotiate the price down. I know what I have and what it's worth. More to the point, I know what it's worth to anyone who needs it.'

Reaching into my satchel, I withdraw two sackcloth pouches. I place one on the man's counter and open the other. Removing coin after coin from the bag, I assemble five rows of ten coins on the stall. The man opens the pouch. He stacks further rows of coins until sixteen rows stand side by side.

'Sir, it would seem that you've overpaid.'

'No, the ten gold is for a further service.'

'Oh? What further service can I help you with?'

'You're an information broker, are you not?' The man crouches behind his counter; I hear, once more, the shifting of glass and the scraping of stones. Returning to full height, in his hand, the man holds a small, white candlestick. He places the candle on his table, slips a hand into the inside pocket of his blazer, and withdraws a matchbox. With a push of his thumb, the box opens. The man draws a match from its box; striking the wood on the side of its container, the tip bursts into flames. With it, he lights the candle.

Tension rushes into the fire, transforming its gentle flicker into a roaring flame. As if carved by an invisible quill, runes start to line the base of the candle. One by one, they blink into luminosity, radiating a soft, emerald glow. Emanating from the candle, a barrier comes into being. Growing and spreading rapidly, the translucent field expands from the small bubble of its origins into a dome covering the vendor, myself, and the two women standing beside me. Raising his hand, the man points to Olivia and my attendant in turn.

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'If you ladies could please stand behind the dome. Information is charged per customer.'

'Of course.' The woman in black walks around me and stands beside Olivia. She places a hand on her shoulder, only to have it shrugged, forcefully, off.

'I can walk for myself.' Abruptly turning, Olivia walks from the boundaries of the dome. The woman in black turns her face to me; releasing from behind her mask a tuneful chuckle, she shrugs her shoulders, turns, and leaves.

'So, you require information? What is it, exactly, that I can help you with? Depending on the value of the information you require, we may need to negotiate the price.'

'I need to know everything you can tell me about Geo VI along with the Blackshire Clan.' The man strokes his chin behind his mask. He lifts a row of coins from the table before allowing them to chink on top of each other as they fall the short distance back to the wood beneath.

'I believe you have paid a fair price for this information. I'll start with Geo. He's considered by many as something of a hero in this city. He's the leader of a resistance movement against the three main Clans that rule over Gandel.' The man pauses. He taps his fingers on his desk and hums gently to himself. 'How much do you know about how this city operates?'

'This place is a breeding farm.'

'You're half right. Those born with the ability to use Tension are considered to be worthwhile breeding stock, but do you know what happens to the mortals?'

'I was told they live in the slums.' A single chuckle escapes the vendor's mask; it conveys no humour, but rather… Something else.

Guilt, maybe?

Shame?

Fear?

I can't tell. Without seeing the man's face, it's difficult to interpret the solitary note, but whatever it is, for the man, at least, it's not a laughing matter.

'They don't live in the slums, my friend; they wait there. The Clans allow them to grow, allow them to breed, allow them to mature and ready themselves for the harvest.'

The harvest?

I don't understand. What benefit is there in harvesting mor..tals...

Impossible!

Like lightning crashing through my brain, the realisation of the three Clan's intentions penetrates my mind.

A spirit tree…

To cultivate beyond the mortal realms of Tension Mastery, there are few paths one can take. Advancing into the peak of rank-five is far from sufficient to trigger an awakening.

But a spirit tree…

Breaking me free from the twisting labyrinth of my own thoughts, the vendor clears his throat. 'The Clans are readying themselves to go to war with the Dread Mother and her sect. As things stand, they would be slaughtered-'

'Unless they can advance beyond the mortal realms.' An audible gasp slithers past the man's mask. Sitting in silence, the broker begins to nod his head.

'You are knowledgeable, my friend. Yes, they use the mortals to fertilise a spirit tree. Once the tree has reached maturity, the Clan leaders ruling over this city will absorb its essence and breakthrough into the awakened realm.'

With their new power, even with the World Witch's blessing, the Dread Mother will be no match for them…

'How long have they been harvesting mortals?' I ask.

'Since the Dread Mother's attack, three-hundred years ago.'

Shit…

Shit…

Shit!

At the longest, it'll take another ten years before the tree reaches full maturity. At that time, they'll plunge the entirety of Aspire into war.

Escape?

Maybe…

A battle between three awakened ones and a woman with the blessing of a transcendent being cannot possibly be anything other than calamitous. The five ruling Clans will, no doubt, become involved. There's even a chance that their gods will intervene…

Laughter breaks from my lips. Lifting my face to the ceiling, I allow my mirth to tumble from my mouth.

'My friend, are you okay?'

'I'm just fine. Please, continue.'

'Geo opposes the Clans. Though he's never directly attacked them, he provides shelter to those in this city who wish to avoid their fates. He's known to recruit Tension Masters from time to time, anyone that seems to show resistance to the Clan's dominion over this city. I have heard rumours that he's building an army, readying himself for a nameless rebellion.'

'Do you know where he is?' Shaking his head at my words, the merchant beings to chuckle.

'His hideout is a well-kept secret. If it were not, the clans would have long ago driven from the face of Aspire. If you want to find him, you'll have to let him find you.'

Perhaps there's a way to kill two birds with one stone…

'So then, what about the Blackshire Clan?'

'There's not much to say that you don't already know. I suppose I have heard rumours of a marriage that is to take place between one of the young maidens in the Clan and a Tension Master from another Clan. From what I understand, the young man should arrive in the city in a matter of days from now.'

So that's the tailor's plan? Capture the young noble and have me infiltrate the Blackshire stronghold wearing his face? With his status as an oncoming member of the Clan, I should have little difficulty in locating the fruit of Idunn along with anything else that catches my eye.

'It's worth noting that while the leadership of the three Clans are working towards the same goal, the younger generations in each Clan do not consider themselves to be allies. Their disputes often turn violent.'

My lips lift to a smile. Hidden behind my mask, the manifestation of my machinations remains concealed from the vendor's sight.

There are many pieces in play, many to moves to be made, many players vying for their own benefit. This game will not be easily won…

But I'm going to win nonetheless.

Reaching into my satchel, I extract a further bag of coins and drop them on the vendor's table.

'What is this for?' The merchant asks.

'I want you to reserve another bottle of your perfume for when I return.' The man weighs the bag in his hand. Untying the string around the top, he looks inside.

'My friend, I will be happy to keep a bottle aside for you. It will take me two weeks to prepare, but by the time of the next market, It will certainly be ready.' With his index finger and thumb, the man pinches the wick of the candle, extinguishing the flame. Without another word, I turn and walk towards Olivia and the woman in black.

'I'm ready to leave.' Following the woman's graceful strides, Olivia and I are guided through the hall and down two flights of stairs to the exit of the building. Pausing at the door, the woman turns to face us.

'I hope your stay in this establishment was to your satisfaction.'

'More than you could possibly know.'