“When I was told a willing young girl from House Ishtar was on my front step begging to see me, I had to let her in. I don't suppose that's the reason you're here, though, is it?”

Sam's handsome face enjoying an indulgent grin at my expense, as a scowl spreads across mine. Potentially could have been tempting. Superficially charming, chiseled jaw, wealthy and secure. And completely untrustworthy without a knife at his throat.

“I don't suppose there's anything I could offer to make you change your mind?” His grin widening. “Oh well, c'est la vie.” Turning to the woman standing to the side of his opulent desk - one of the things from the caravan - wearing stockings that go all the way up, a very short, frilled skirt, and a skintight top deliberately unbuttoned to show a lot of cleavage. “Could you be a darling and get that dossier we've been assembling on this one?”

“Yes, sir,” she says, heels clicking and skirt swishing with each step as she leaves the room. Not wearing panties.

“You don't seem very surprised.”

“You're wrong.” Sam affects a look of innocence. “I found the news quite surprising, but certainly not outside the realm of possibility. Out of curiosity, do you still have your virginity?”

This conversation isn't being productive at all.

“You misunderstand.” The man showing his canines, and his palms. “I'm merely thinking we might be able to auction it off. It could pull in quite the sum. I'm certain I've a number of clients who'd be interested.”

Lost to a hooker's toy in a ratty hotel by the docks. A much less ignoble fate than what may have been.

“I was wondering if I could get a list of those clients.”

“And cut me out of the arrangement? Now, now, my client's identities are kept confidential for their safety, as well as my own.” The man leaning back in his chair. “If that's going too far I may have a position for you here. I think you'd look quite good in one of my hostess outfits. Would you care to do me a favor and try one on for me?”

Keeping my emotions in check, with my anger at the forefront. Doing my best to stave off the gentle tugging, each and every one of his words lightly touched with Suggestion. If he starts humming a Lullaby this peaceful meeting is going end rather abruptly.

The door opening behind me and the woman returning with a very thin folder.

“Thank you,” says Sam. “Go make yourself busy somewhere else for about a half hour.”

“Yes, sir.” Giving me a glance on her way out.

“Hmm, not a lot here,” he says. “I guess we've only had a few days. Lucy Macarthy. I don't suppose that's your full first name? I'd appreciate if you could tell me, it would do wonders for record keeping. No? Well, we'll find out.” Pausing. “Do you mind if I call you Lucy?”

“I'd honestly prefer it.”

A surprised blink, and then a thoughtful nod. Pulling out the single page in the folder and looking it over.

“Not very much here at all. Runemage.” A glance at me, then back to the paper. “Known associations, House Ishtar. I assume that's gone to pot.” Making a face, giving him a shrug and a gesture. “And then two individuals, an Evelyn Riley and a Kate Wolfe. I suppose I should start collecting information on them, as well.”

That's a line, right there.

“Sam, I've put up with a lot from you tonight because we've known each other for a pretty long time, but if anything happens to either of them you're not going to be able to stop me. I'm going to invent new things to do to you and your people.”

“I mean absolutely nothing untoward, I assure you.” His voice, now coated with an added dose of Suggestion, only fueling my anger. You're a dead man. Sam glancing back at the paper. “That seems to be a very deep commitment you've developed in a very short period of time.”

“You try being dropped into a desperate situation and see what kind of bonds you form. A word of warning, they're not helpless.”

“Well, you, at least,” Sam's practiced ease fading, “don't seem very desperate tonight, coming in and making threats. Here I was hoping you'd come hat in hand, but I suppose this also works. What can I help you with?”

“I have a business proposal, regarding these.” Pulling out a disjuncted stone and rolling it over to him.

“And what is this?” Picking it up.

“I make those now. Been doing business with a woman here, Cynobel Inkathius, she owns a small shop near House Mink. I'm not exactly sure of the mechanics of it, but she uses those to help make magic items.”

“What sort of magic items?”

“Stuff we can't make. I delivered a letter to the brother of this woman when I was out in Tasnanca. He used to run a little shop doing the same thing out there, but now he's working for the Urasu family. I trust you're familiar with them? Good. He's the foreman in their operation. They gave me a great price on those stones.”

“So, what, you want me to help get more caravans headed out into the desert?”

“There's no reason to go all the way out there when we got the sister right here. I'm thinking you invest in her, turn her little one man operation into something more, like the Urasu family's got going out there.”

“And what are you hoping to get out of all this?”

“I'm trying to achieve some semblance of normalcy. All I really want is your protection so I can walk around town without a bullseye on my head. Shaker told all the House leadership about me and it's only a matter of time before it trickles down - you're a great example. I'm more than capable of dealing with the occasional dustup, but I'd rather avoid all out war. That said, if everything does hit the fan, I'm not going to stop. I have nothing left to lose. I'll make them regret it.”

“And only you can make these little stones?” he says, with some skepticism.

“Any Runemage can. But where are they? Not doing nothing. My master said he was starting classes back up and I've been meaning to head over. Maybe there's untapped potential. Like Empaths, if they couldn't do what they could, they'd never be cultivated like they are. Not typically combat inclined people. Or Augurs, for that matter, except they're not as in demand. Or even, to a lesser extent, people of your particular persuasion.”

Sam considering me for a long moment. “I had doubts when you first came in here, but it's really you in there, isn't it? How are you holding up?”

“Pretty well, all things considered.” Using the shield to grab his desk, briefly pulling it toward me, then releasing. The sudden flash of sound and light causing him to almost fall over backwards in his chair. “Fortunately, this situation does have some advantages. Do you think we can work together?”

“I don't know why I doubted that was you.” Collecting himself and then letting out a laugh. “Magic items we can't create - that does sound both intriguing and potentially lucrative, and not really stepping on anyone else's toes.” The man thinking for a moment. “I'll speak with her tomorrow to see what exactly she can do, and see if I can talk her into something. What was the name of the place?”

“Ink's Charms. Just her and her kid. She had wanted me to head out to the graveyard to get some materials, but due to Shaker's interdiction Wyrmsblood isn't going to let me just waltz in there. Let her know you might be able to help clear the way. I assume you can pull some strings.”

“You seem to be getting a lot out of this deal.”

“You are, too. We'll all come out ahead.”

“If I can make this happen, and that's an if, I'll put out the word that you're working for me. And then, in addition to selling me all your stones, if any jobs come up that need doing here and there, do your best to help. I'll compensate you accordingly.”

“Deal.”

***

West Gate, two days later. Eight ten. No Riley, no Wolfe, no Magpie. What time were Riley and Wolfe supposed to get here, eight or nine? Don't remember, could've said nine. But no Magpie requires retribution. Going to visit Shaker and give him a piece of my mind. And, if he's not there, try and pull the sympathy card with the wife.

Sitting, leaning against the gatehouse, a group of Stormhawk gathering a short ways away. Karson, but no Davos. Rath not in today. A number of glances at me. Curious, not hostile. Then coming from down the road, wearing a Stormhawk insignia, Everton.

“Hey, Jack, long time no see.” Getting up and walking toward him.

The guy hesitating and glancing over toward the group. Following his gaze, Karson, unconcerned, shrugging. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but his priorities, as ever, right on target. And then there's his bulging, um, arms.

“Hi Lucy, welcome back,” he said.

“Great to be back. You're fully signed up with these guys, now?”

“Yep. Evie said she was meeting you here at nine, or is she late?” Guess it was nine.

“Nah, I got up early.” Yeah, that's it, and it sounds like Evie's schedule change went through.

“Hey, who's this?” Magpie managing to sneak up on us. Startling me and making him jump.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Hey Magpie, good morning.”

“I thought you said we were meeting at eight.”

“Yeah, I messed up, I must've told them nine. It was awhile ago, cut me some slack.”

“So, who's this?”

“Magpie, this is Jack. He's Evie's,” pause, “boyfriend?” The guy confirming.

“Ah, that's a shame, thought you were bagging him,” Magpie winks. “I'm going to say hello to the rest of them.” The girl heads over.

“She's interesting,” says Everton.

“She's great. I'll let you get going. I'd consider heading over but they'll probably treat me like a leper.”

“A leper? You're at least marginally prettier than that.” The guy smirking.

“Thanks. But you know what I'm referring to.”

“We're not really taking it very serious. I'd say give it a couple cycles, and then I'll bring you by to talk to Lane after my patrol on four. He's pretty reasonable. You can probably sweet talk him.”

“I appreciate that.” It won't work, but the thought is definitely appreciated.

Heading back to take my seat against the gatehouse. The Stormhawk group leaving and Magpie coming back fresh from flirting.

“Do you really need to do that with Stormhawk?” Bitterness creeping into my voice.

“Why not? I went over to see if Sly was going out with them today, but they said he's not on duty day four,” she says, taking a seat next to me. “Besides, they're very fit. And they aren't exactly rocket scientists so they're fun to talk to. You should've come over and-” Magpie stopping short. “Oh Mac, its like I know, logically, but when I talk to you, I forget. You know?” Gauging her next words. “You aren't a dyke.” A statement, not a question.

“No, I'm not.”

“What happened with Daniel?”

“Fucking Daniel. Well, he's got magic hands, and I was hoping he was going to be my first, but that's not happening. I just wanted it to be with someone special.”

“Special? Listen to me, you probably know this, but men can be jerks.” Gesturing at myself with both hands. “So don't get too hung up on finding Mr. Perfect, because that's not going to happen - he doesn't exist - and you're only going to make yourself miserable by trying to find him. It's not worth it.”

“I hear you, and I'll try to remember that. Thank you.”

“So, these girls that are coming, what do they know?”

“Nothing about this.”

“You might want to get around to telling them, and sooner as opposed to later.”

“They know what I'm like - I haven't been pretending to be someone different around them - but I will, at some point. I owe it to them.”

Sitting in comfortable silence watching other groups leave and merchant wagons coming in. Magpie resting her eyes.

“Lucy,” A voice in the distance. Riley and Wolfe, waving. Wolfe with both arms.

“Evie, Kate.” On my feet, waving back and heading toward.

Riley, with a slight wardrobe change, a symbol, the golden outline of a key on her usual too white field outfit. Kate, with her hair different, longer, and a different setup, no shield and hammer, instead a long, wooden staff in her right hand.

I missed you's and hugs all around.

“Kate, I love what you did with your hair. It looks great.”

“Thanks,” the girl brings her hand up and gives it ruffle, “but you're one to talk, you got a lot of sun and your hair's all golden. I really like it.”

Riley giving me a meaningful look.

“Yes, Evie, I see. It looks really good, but let us mere mortals have a moment.”

“As long as you noticed,” she says, with a grin.

“I'm more interested in that.” Pointing at the symbol. “Not a bad choice. You definitely could've done far worse.”

“It seemed like she had great benefits, and more hands off than a number of the others, but I've had to spend a bunch of time in the graveyard. Which is nasty. Like, really nasty.”

“Well, we're not doing that today.” Would love to, but doubt they'd let me. “So, don't worry. Tell your thing to take five.”

“Yeah, but you're probably thinking about going down there.”

“What's wrong with down there?”

“Once was enough. And why haven't you introduced us?”

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” Once to each. “Evie, Kate, I'd like you to meet this girl I met while on the trip. She's in Ishtar. I've been kicked out, by the way. Or I guess I never made it all the way in, something like that. But anyway, that was yesterday and this is today. This is Magpie. She's great.”

Their eyebrows climbing and climbing during the explanation. Glancing back and forth between us.

“Your name is Magpie?” says Wolfe.

“Thank God you got kicked out,” says Riley.

“No, your name can't be Magpie.” Wolfe reaching out her hand. “Group up.” Pausing. “Grace, very nice to meet you, I'm Kate. What do you want me to call you?”

“Either one. They're both my name.”

Wolfe getting a look on her face, that burning desire to ask.

“Why's your name Magpie?” Riley actually says it. “And, seriously, I don't know what twisted sh-, um, behavior you did to get kicked out of that House but, whatever it was, good job.”

“I'm in that House.”

“And I'm certain you're a lovely person,” Riley's comment containing more than a hint of condescension, “but your House patron, not so much.”

Magpie's natural expression becoming more expressive.

“Evie.” Extending out the two syllables. “I don't think they feed it blood.” Probably only on special occasions.

Riley regaining a bit of her composure, “I'm sorry,” she says to Magpie.

“Mac, you fed that thing blood.”

“You did what?” Losing that little bit of composure gained.

“Why'd you call her Mac?” says Wolfe.

“It likes blood. What else was I supposed to do? I didn't want to make it mad.”

“Whose blood?” Riley squinting an eye.

“My own. What, do you think I'm going to run around trying to find a sacrifice for a dark god in order to gain power? That's crazy. The logistics alone.”

“Why'd you get kicked out?” says Riley.

“Why did you call her Mac?” Wolfe's reiteration containing something of an edge.

“It's a nickname. Short for Macarthy. Better than saying Lucilia, that would take too long.”

“I didn't get kicked out because I gave it blood. Wait, you've got to see this, I've got a number of new tricks. Evie, you're making hurt myself showing you this. I just want you to know that.”

A withering glare.

“Fine. I got kicked out because that piece of subhuman garbage Harold Shaker blackballed me. Every House. On account of he and I having words at the gala, right before that thing came and started killing people. Fortunately, though, most of the people around here don't seem very interested in doing much because of it.”

“The Director?” says Riley. Wolfe narrowing her eyes and looking past me. Staring into space.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I really pissed him off.”

“I mean, that's a plausible explanation, with you,” Riley says. Magpie failing to hold back her laugh. “Yeah, you probably know.” Looking back at me. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I'm going to talk to him, and see if he'll relent if I grovel enough.”

“I don't believe that for a second.”

“You're right, no matter how much groveling I do he probably won't. I'll ask him, but then I'm going to wait it out. It's just the House leadership, not so much the rank and file. Magpie, here, is proof of that. Ask Jack, he's knows.”

Riley starting to talk again, but cut off by Wolfe, “Lucy, it's really great you're back.” Addressing Riley. “Let's not give her the third degree.” Turning back. “Where are we headed today?”

“Well, we were going to go underground, but that has been rejected. Therefore, I have a personal question. Levels.”

“Thirteen,” Wolfe says, causing Riley to turn in surprise. “Matt's been having me join him the past couple cycles.”

“Eleven,” Riley admit, with evident shame. “I did that whole pilgrim thing and now Jack's playing with his friends on day four. I've been going out with some people from the temple on day one, and, ah, basically slacking on five.”

“Kate, what do you usually do on four? We're not interrupting your time with Matt, right?”

“It's fine. Starting next cycle he's also got something scheduled during the day. He asked me to join him, but I already have a job and I don't feel like signing up for one in here, too, and losing all my free time. A half a day with you guys, though? That's not work.”

“Kate, I appreciate that. I'm very glad to be back. Alright, I think I've got something that will satisfy everyone. We're heading to the Haunted Forest. The one north of here, not the other one.”

“That's the one north of the boars?” says Wolfe. Nodding at her. “I was there last cycle. The trees wail. It's something.”

“Mac, we're going to the western side, right?”

“Yeah, west and south.” Magpie looking relieved, and Riley having no objections. “Alright, the Haunted Forest it is. Get in a circle, hold hands.”

Me, Riley and Wolfe holding hands. Wolfe and myself reaching out for the now hesitant Magpie.

“Come on, get in, we don't have cooties.” Magpie joining up.

Riley starting her prayer. Definitely different. Cold. An arctic wind, swirling around and through, but leaving us refreshed and smelling crisp morning air.

“Evie, you just reminded me. May I have some bread?”

“Yes, you certainly may. I've got three flavors now. Olive oil and garlic, honey and herb, and pretzel.”

“No cinnamon?”

“I've been trying,” she pouts. “Just pick one of those.”

“Honey and herb sounds tempting, but I'll do olive oil and garlic, an oldie but a goodie.”

Quick chant, and then pop, fresh from heaven's ovens. Magpie seeing Riley in a new light.

“Kate, you're up,” says Riley.

“Pretzel.” Another pop.

“Alright, you,” Riley points at Magpie, “little munchkin two point oh.”

“You can just make bread?” A touch of awe.

“Magpie, some people in this world are born lucky. That is not either one of us.”

“Hurry up,” Riley giving a few snaps of her fingers, “or the kitchen will be closed.”

Magpie looking back and forth between mine and Wolfe's. “Pretzel.” With conviction. Pop.

“Here you go.” Riley hands it over. “You're Magpie? I'm Evie. Sorry I was a bit of a bitch to you.”

“Don wurry bout id,” Magpie says, mouth already full of bread.