We skirted the edge of the lake, heading for the stream that would go upriver.

The sorcerer, as it turned out, lived in a bathhouse. Or at least, that's what Gabriel and Kirin agreed we were looking at when we described the structure to them. It was a long, low, thatched building made of wood with beautifully carved doorposts and lintels. There was a chimney sticking out of the top, smoking away merrily.

It was built on a small pond, maybe a tenth the size of the one where we had met the Rusalka, and completely free of reeds. Lush grass lined the pond, with little star-like flowers peeking out from behind the blades. There was a herbal smell in the air, like things my grandmother would use for cooking. And another spicy scent, with almost a lemon undertone.

The stream ran right out of the house itself. Several large wooden barrels lined the edge of the house, and a stack of buckets stood by the door. I studied the building. It could have a dozen or more people inside.

"Let's try flying your drone around and see if we can get a look inside any of the windows," I told Jones as we stayed back just inside the tree line a good thirty yards away from the house. He sent his drone, the mechanical falcon, swooping in. It circled the house.

He shared out its vision to me so I could see through its eyes. The windows were shuttered. Steam snuck out from around the cracks in the walls. It was definitely warm and wet inside.

"This isn't going to be like a Norwegian sauna," Gabriel told me. "I've visited the old country a couple of times, and if the bathhouse tradition in the southern Slavic areas is a match, it's going to be a lot of warm, wet smoke. The fire heat being on the inside is a good clue."

"That's right," I said, thinking. "Saunas are more like a sweat lodge, right, where you heat up rocks and then splash water over them, keeping the steam in a small enclosed area. That place is way too big for a bunch of hot rocks to do a good job."

I had never actually been invited to participate in a sweat lodge ceremony. I wasn't sure whether or not Grandpa had either. Despite having enrolled on the list of the local Ute band a decade ago, back when he got custody of me and Sage, he had usually avoided having anything to do with the reservation.

I wasn't particularly connected to my ancestral spiritual ways on any side. Grandpa wore a medicine bag but had never offered to make one for me. Abuela had baptized my mom, and my dad's people were fundamental LDS, which is a whole 'nother can of worms. I'd never had any interest in joining anything but the U.S. Army.

“Is there a spiritual aspect to these bathhouses?”

“Probably,” Gabriel said, “but I'm Buddhist so if there was it went over my head. Mostly just lying on wooden shelves letting the steam open your pores up and the bathhouse attendant would come around with a birch broom and hit you with it if you wanted.”

"Why would anyone want that?" Sage asked.

"It helps open up the pores, plus the brooms usually have herbs woven into them. Smells good," Gabriel said. "I don't know, it's a whole experience. I wasn't really comfortable with the whole thing, but my dad said we needed to experience family traditions. He didn't like it when I insisted on wearing my swim trunks.”

I laughed. "All right, well, that's helpful, maybe?" The drone returned, settling onto Jones’s wrist.

I thought about the next step. "No," Sage said as I opened my mouth.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "You were about to suggest that you run in there, get a look at what's going on, and when they inevitably kill you, you'll just respawn back at base." I closed my mouth. "That's what you were going to suggest, isn't it?"

"Maybe.”

“That's always your plan, Shad, and it's a dumb plan.”

“It's worked every time I've tried it.”

“It's gotten you killed every time you've tried it."

I stopped myself saying So you've got a better one. That might be how Shad Williams spoke to his little sister, but it was not the way Captain Williams spoke to a soldier under his command, even a soldier as non-regulation as Sage. "I am open to suggestions," I said stiffly.

Frank holstered his gun. He stared at the place. "I do have an idea," he said. "I think it's time for a search warrant."

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"What?”

“You thought you guys were the only ones to level up?" Frank demanded.

"Uh, no.” I hadn’t really thought about it.

“I got a class evolution. I am now, as far as the system is concerned, a full-on, no kidding, Coconino County Sheriff," he said proudly.

I managed not to laugh. Sage clapped her hands. "Congratulations!"

"I don't know how authentic it is," he said, “Seeing as sheriff's an elected position and this here system didn't seem to ask for any votes. Point is, it came with a couple of abilities that I didn't have before, one of them being Search Warrant.”

“So how's it work?"

He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "We walk over there. I knock on the door. I show my badge and the warrant and they have to let us in.”

“That's it?"

"Well, they can start violence, but if they do, they get an Administrative Leave debuff. They’ll just have to stand there and watch while we do what we like. It’s broken by violence, though, so it’s only useful as a delay, like that duelling move of yours.”

“Sounds good. Anything else?”

“Just this.” He snapped his fingers.

I felt a new buff settle over me and checked my log just as Frank explained. "You four have all been deputized."

I read the description of the buff. [Deputized. For the next hour, you are now a deputy minion of Sheriff Frank Young. While deputized, any attack made against you will be considered an attack against Sheriff Young and Coconino County in Arizona. You also receive a buff to your perception and to any search-related talents you may have.]

"Well, I like that," Annie said cheerfully. "Most of the time, I've been on the other side of a search warrant."

Frank eyed her suspiciously, but I nodded. "All right, so let's get in there and find out."

"No provoking them, Shad," Sage warned. "I don't care what this buff says. We're here for information, right? So let's get in there and see what we can find."

I followed Frank up to the door. He knocked three times, nice and loud, very officious sounding. There was no answer. He knocked again, then raised his voice. “Coconino County Sheriff," he called. “By the power vested in me by Coconino County, Arizona, United States of America, I order you to open up. We've got a search warrant."

The door swung open. A pair of beautiful young women stood there. They were clearly more Rusalki. These ones weren't wet, though. Their skin looked parched and cracking. When they spoke, it was a rasping, coughing sound. "The master says be gone.”

“I’m here to serve a duly sworn-out search warrant," Frank said, hooking his thumbs through his belt. He was clearly in his element here. "Got a warrant to search the whole premises.” He held up a piece of paper.

The Rusalki stared at it and shook their heads. "You have no power here."

"I've got jurisdiction," Frank insisted. He stepped over the threshold. The women shrank back as he held out the paper in front of him like a shield.

We followed him in. There was a little antechamber where we stood. Hooks hung on the wall. Some held towels. The others, clothing.

Bright blue cloaks concealed something heavier behind them. I nudged one cloak aside. There was a full set of discarded plate mail, armor there, complete with heavy boots and a sword and shield leaned against the wall. The shield was facing away from me. I tried to peer at it, see if there was any kind of design on it, but I didn't want to move any of this stuff just in case that could be taken as provocation.

There were four blue cloaks and I assumed four sets of armor. I relayed everything I saw back to Kieran, who was working with Arjun to build up a picture of what we were up against.

"You may not enter any farther clothed like that," the Rusalki rasped. "Take off your clothes and the master will permit you entrance."

"Uh-uh," Frank said, looking as stubborn as I remembered him from my misspent youth. "An officer on duty does not remove his uniform. You stand aside or I'll have to arrest you for obstruction of justice."

The Rusalki looked at each other, clearly not knowing what to do, then finally retreated, stepping through a bead curtain that separated the antechamber from the rest of the house.

Frank followed them through. I was hot on his tail. The inner chamber was about ten by ten. Shelves lined the wall stacked two high, wide enough for someone to lie on them. There were 12 shelves altogether, two stacks on each of the three walls other than the one with the door on it.

A small metal stove stood in the far corner of the room, pumping out heat. The stream ran right through the center of the room in a stone-lined trough that cut diagonally from one corner to the opposite.

Three short little men dressed in loinclothes scurried away as the Rusalki entered, disappearing farther into the room. Steam obscured my view. I could make out the stove and the fact that the shelves were there and that some of them had people on them, but not details. The room smelled sweet, like hot herbal tea.

I sidled away a little bit to get a better look around the room. I approached the first stack of shelves. There was someone lying on the bottom shelf, flat on his stomach. The steam cleared enough for me to see he was tan, muscular, taller than me, and definitely naked.

He lifted his head. A pair of sharp, dark eyes met mine. He was bearded. It was neatly trimmed into a goatee, and he had a mustache that came down into points. He looked to be about 35 years old and had a scar across his cheek. Everything about him screamed "Danger!" I resisted the urge to take a step back or reach for my gun.

"You there, villain," he said, "who disturbs my bath?"

I didn't answer. The man went up on one arm, lifting his shoulder so I could see his well-shaped pecs and abs. He did not look like someone I wanted to mess with. "Master?"

A dark shape materialized from out of the steam. This man looked even taller, and he was dressed wearing dark robes. He had a pointed cloth hat on his head, black with golden decals, and clutched what I thought was a staff until I saw it was topped with a spray of branches. Greenery was worked into the broom.

"Who intrudes on Podaga's bathhouse?" the man demanded. He was a little older looking than the naked steambather on my right. His beard was longer and gray, streaked with darker black. He had a hooked nose and a pair of slate-gray eyes over top of them. "I am not open to the public at the moment. When the Vitezovi have finished, I will welcome you and yours."

"We're just here to see about the complaint," Frank said, stepping forward through the steam. "So, you're Podaga the Enchanter. You are the owner of this fine establishment?"