We arrive at Vardi’s tavern in the same manner we came the first time: me roleplaying as a potion bottle on Zyneth’s belt, and all my void hidden within his cloak. Still not wild about that, but here we are.

Zyneth pauses outside the door. There’s light from inside the windows, and a wooden scraping sound of heavy furniture being dragged across the floor. Zyneth’s hand falters for a moment, then he pushes the door open and steps inside.

“We’re closed,” a woman’s voice says. I can’t see much from my vantage point, so I switch the sight on in a piece of glass that’s fixed to the front of Zyneth’s cloak, doubling as a pin.

Vardi is an elf. She’s a little taller than Noli, with pale skin and dark hair, woven back in complex loops and braids. She grabs one of the upturned benches that’s sitting on a table and, with a grunt, moves it back down to the floor.

“I’m not here for a drink,” Zyneth says.

Vardi wheels around. The look of surprise on her face is almost comical. “You’re alive!”

Zyneth leans against one of the tables, folding his arms. “You called in a job on a dead man?”

Vardi’s brief look of surprise vanishes in an instant, an impassive mask slipping quickly into place. “I’d only assumed you were dead when you didn’t report after the first month.”

“So then why not end the request?” Zyneth asks.

Vardi shrugs. “If you were dead, it didn’t matter. If you were alive, you’d eventually show.” She turns around, flicking a hand over her shoulder. “Come. We can speak in my office.”

Zyneth’s shoulders rise and fall in a silent sigh as he follows her.

I hadn’t visited the office last time; Zyneth had been the one to explore this part of the tavern. It’s weirdly normal. A bookshelf in the back and a large wooden desk in the middle, covered in ledgers, writing utensils, and something like an abacus. Even Vardi isn’t the black-market gangster type I had pictured. She takes a seat behind the desk and gestures for Zyneth to sit across from her.

“Forgive me that I was unprepared for your arrival,” Vardi says, bending down behind her desk to pull out a drawer. “I had business in Dunmora I couldn’t postpone. You know how they are about their telepads.” Green light flashes behind her desk, and I hear the click of something unlocking. “Ah, here we are.”

Vardi withdraws a small wooden box and blank slip of paper, and sets them down on the desk.

“What’s this?” Zyneth asks.

“What you’ll need for the job.”

Zyneth doesn’t move. “I haven’t selected my job yet.”

“There is only one I’m offering.”

“What?” Zyneth leans forward. “What do you mean? I’m afforded three choices.”

“Unless, per the stipulations of the contract, a sufficient level of compensation is provided,” Vardi says. “In this case, the single job is worth triple the debt once completed.”

Zyneth is silent. I can’t tell if he’s stunned, from this vantage point, or sizing her up.

“Why would you be willing to triple the debt payout?” he finally asks.

“Money. Obviously.” Vardi raises an eyebrow. “The completion of this job will make me exceptionally rich. Which is partially why I let the job call continue this long.”

“No.” Zyneth sits back. “I’ll take the incurred interest. Whatever you’re asking me to do can’t be worth it.”

Vardi waves a dismissive hand as if dispelling an acrid smell. “Don’t be so dramatic. At least take a look at it first? It’s your area of expertise. A simple retrieval and delivery mission.”

“It’s never simple with you,” he says.

Vardi laughs. “Fair enough. The target artifact is in a Ruin. But if you refuse this job and incur debt, it will also be at triple the interest.”

Zyneth again lapses into silence. For a minute, I think he’s about to get up and walk. I know that can’t be good for the amount of debt he owes, but something about this is clearly bothering him. Maybe he’s just irritated by the lack of choices.

“Alright, then.” Blowing air out his nose, Zyneth holds out his arm and rolls up the sleeve. “Let’s see it.”

Vardi reaches out to the gold snake tattoo on Zyneth’s arm and taps it. As she draws her hand back, the snake lifts from his arm as if stuck to her finger. Vardi appears to scribble something in the air, and the tattoo streaks after her fingertips. Then she pulls her hand back. The tattoo remains suspended, unraveling into words that write themselves across the air.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The job brief is, well, brief:

Recover a hidden relic from the Drifting Isles within one month of job acquisition.

Deliver the relic to the attached address within one week of retrieval.

The provided artifact will assist with locating the relic once it is within the Ruins.

“That’s it?” Zyneth says, echoing my thoughts. He flicks a finger through the air, and the words shimmer, shifting to the delivery address and instructions: the provided paper is a pre-addressed letter to be sent to the client notifying them when the job is complete. He flicks it back to the job overview. “That’s rather concise.”

Vardi shrugs. “I told you it was a simple retrieval and delivery mission. And judging by how much I’ll get paid when you deliver, the relic in question is extremely valuable.”

Zyneth sits back, scratching his chin. “If it’s so valuable, and the client already had an object that could lead them to the artifact, then why did they need me?”

“It’s the Drifting Isles,” Vardi says. “Why do you think?”

“Others have attempted to recover this artifact before?” he asks.

“I would be shocked to learn if they hadn’t.”

“Good to know I’m merely cannon fodder.” Zyneth sighs, reaching for the wooden box.

Vardi puts a finger on it before he can take it. “Does that mean you accept?”

“Not until I see what it is I’m dealing with,” Zyneth says.

Vardi holds his gaze a moment, then slides the box toward him. “Alright. Though I doubt it will provide you with many answers.”

Zyneth takes the small wooden box, pauses for a moment as a flicker of magic glows from his fingers, then carefully pries the lid open.

He pauses. “Well, you’re right about that.”

Zyneth surreptitiously tips the box so I can see its contents as well.

It’s a torn piece of cloth. I Check it, and receive the helpful descriptor, [Cloth Scrap.]

“Is this meant to be the focus for a tracking spell?” Zyneth wonders.

“I would assume so,” Vardi says. “It’s non magical, so far as I can tell. The note that it will help only when you’re in the Ruins seems to indicate it’s distance dependent. So then.” She sits back. “What do you say?”

Zyneth closes the box and sets it back on the desk. “This job would remove over half my debt.”

“Closer to two thirds, if my math is right,” Vardi remarks.

“And if I refused…”

“It would increase by thirty percent,” Vardi says. “In that scenario, I’ve got another cambion in mind who would certainly be up for the challenge.”

Zyneth goes still, and when he next speaks, his voice is brittle. “You wouldn’t.”

Vardi doesn’t reply. She just smiles, unkindly.

Zyneth sits for a minute in silence. It’s a long minute. Vardi waits, saying nothing.

“Alright,” he finally agrees, his voice tight. “I accept.”

“Excellent.” Vardi reaches out to touch the floating words, and Zyneth does as well. The gold writing turns black, then the ink spirals back down to Zyneth’s arm once more to reform its previous shape. This time, the snake has eaten more of its links away.

Zyneth and Vardi both stand. “Pleasure doing business, as always,” Vardi says cheerfully.

“I wish I could say the same.” Zyneth takes the box and letter and tucks them into a pocket. Vardi shows him to the door, and without another exchange, we’re back on the street.

Huh. No fight. No traps. None of… whatever it was that Zyneth was worried about. If anything, this seems like a more standard job offer than what I’d witnessed before with Gillow. Guess I wasn’t really needed for this deal after all. But Zyneth appears bothered.

“Who was she talking about?” I ask when I think no one is around. Not that a disembodied voice coming from Zyneth’s pocket is likely to get us into trouble, but better safe than sorry.

“My sister,” Zyneth says with a sigh. “She’s nearly gotten involved with Vardi before. I intervened. I suspect Vardi was bluffing, but I also wouldn’t put it past her to try something. I wasn’t willing to risk it.”

“What do you think about the job?” I ask. I know nothing about the Drifting Isles, except from their name, which I’d read along with other Ruins when I was researching Emrox.

“It seems standard,” Zyneth says. “The brief was strangely short, but the contents themselves don’t raise any red flags.” He’s silent for a moment. “But that itself makes me feel uneasy.”

“You’re suspicious that it doesn’t seem suspicious?”

He chuckles. “I suppose so. Just… the circumstances around all of this remain odd. She had an answer to each of my questions, yet they don’t satisfy my skepticism. To not recall a job after so long is highly unusual. Typically, my employers are more than happy to end a job call after the minimum required window closes in order to extend my debt. Either Vardi really wanted me to answer, or, more likely, whoever it was that contracted her really wanted me to answer.”

“Do you think they’re desperate for the artifact to be retrieved?” I ask. “Or desperate for you to retrieve the artifact?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “But I am concerned it’s the latter.”

That is concerning. “Vardi said others probably tried to recover it before you and failed.”

“Possibly,” Zyneth agrees. “Which would mean obtaining it is highly dangerous and all previous sell-swords hired for the job failed. But I also suspect no one has gone looking for this relic before. I couldn’t tell you why, exactly. Just the look in Vardi’s eyes…” He sighs. “It could have been in my head. Either way, I’m not sure which premise is more concerning.”

“So where do we go from here?” I ask.

“The provided window is short,” Zyneth says. “I need to prepare for the trip—pick up a few items in town. I’ll have to leave in the next day or two.”

“You mean we will need to leave in the next day or two.”

He smiles and pats my core. From anyone else I might have found that condescending, but from Zyneth, it makes me feel safe.

“Of course. Though if you come with me, you’ll miss the gods tournament.”

Ah, that’s right. But I’m certainly not about to let Zyneth embark on this almost-certainly-dangerous quest alone. “There’s another one scheduled a few weeks out. I can wait.”

Zyneth nods. “Although, Noli and Rezira…”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to convince them not to come, even if you wanted to,” I say.

“I also suspected as much,” he says with a tight smile. “I’m allowed to be concerned about all of your safety regardless. Emrox should give you a taste of what we’ll be facing. These Ruins are dangerous.”

“What are the Drifting Isles like?” I wonder. “Have you been there before?”

“Actually, no,” Zyneth says. “I’d rather it have been somewhere I’m already familiar with. This will make traversing it even more dangerous. The Drifting Isles are connected to the Gyre. It’s the source of Storm arcana.”

“Storm,” I say, thinking back. “Water, lightning and… wind. Oh.” I’m starting to guess where the Ruins might get their name.

“Oh, indeed,” Zyneth says. “The Ruins are not stationary, though they’re well tracked. Before anything else, we’re going to need to find a map.”

“A map?” I repeat. “I think I know a guy.”