Two days later, I cringed as Maphen hit the hard floor of the Warrior’s Round for what had to be the dozenth time.

“You’re having trouble,” I said. The comment was meant to be a neutral one, a simple statement of fact, but Maphen glared at me like I was making the experience worse, and Aldric snorted a laugh.

“He’s getting trounced, that’s what he is,” my brother said. He squatted off to the side, growing the sharp crystals on his hands before letting them slough off and then forming them again.

Tamra was also with us, practicing sword forms on the other side of the Round. She hadn’t learned any new ones from Voshra yet, but we had all spent a decade under grizzled Eileen, the Crim’s Master at Arms, so Tamra had plenty of patterns to slash and spin her bonded sword through.

“This isn’t working,” Maphen said, his shoulders slumped and head tilted toward the floor. He looked utterly defeated, bruised and covered in sweat.

It was hard to disagree with him. Maphen had faced all three of us a few times, and the results had been unanimously the same: an easy thrashing, like Aldric had said.

“Try again,” I encouraged, ignoring my misgivings. “You used to knock me down with barely any effort.”

Maphen growled in frustration, but I beckoned him forward, and the move pulled at his old self enough to get him lumbering toward me. He threw a jab at my face, which I pulled away from. I wasn’t using my Toughened Skin because we had learned right away that including our masteries made the fights even more impossible for Maphen. That meant I wasn’t getting very good training myself right now, building habits I’d need to get rid of later, but that was okay. I wasn’t in danger of being stripped of my calling, while Maphen was.

Maphen followed the attack surprisingly fast for how exhausted he must be, lifting a leg as if he would kick my shin or side. I shifted to block with the meat of my thigh or my shoulder if he went high, but he dropped the leg, and pushed off with his planted back foot, putting him in range to clock me on the opposite side of the face with his fist. Much like when Orm had hit me during the Melee, it felt like a mild slap and barely pushed my head back.

“Really?” Maphen said, half dropping his guard. “That’s it?”

It seemed his exhaustion was eating at him in a different way.

“Don’t give up,” I told him. “It was a good hit, and against other Orders it might have defeated them.”

Maphen growled again, raising his fists, and we went through a few more exchanges, him avoiding my punches while landing another to my ribs which I felt even less than the one to my face. While I was registering that blow, he stepped closer, putting one foot behind my right leg and shoving his shoulder into my chest.

This was the real trouble. Maphen was skilled at not only landing precise strikes with his fists and feet, but he was also a master at recognizing when his opponent was overbalanced and exploiting that opportunity – or at least that’s what I had always thought of his skill. However, with the added strength of our Warrior’s Mantle bolstering our legs and back, he just couldn’t seem to budge us. I took the shoulder hit with a soft grunt and didn’t fall, which left him in a position to be soundly punched in the face by my mantle enhanced arm, which would hurt him much worse than he could me.

I didn’t bother to hit him, and he slumped again as soon as I didn’t go to the ground.

“Like I said,” Maphen grumbled as he backed away from me, “this isn’t working.”

I frowned, still not wanting to give up. “Maybe if you wore the ring – ”

“Already tried that,” Aldric said. He wasn’t even looking at us, entranced by his crystals, but he was correct. I had given Maphen the ring to wear at the start of training, but it had only urged him to ‘jog’ or ‘rest’, which he claimed was because there obviously must not be anything to learn with what we were doing. Aldric was wearing the twisted metal now, and as I watched him, he exclaimed, “Oho, I hadn’t thought to try that!” The crystal he was growing now looked the same as the ones before, but I was sure he’d show me what he had discovered later.

I looked back at Maphen, and saw he was wiping his face down with the bottom of his gray shirt. He didn’t even have a proper colored tunic, which frustrated me in a way I wasn’t used to. I viewed all the teachers in the Crim as my parents, and even Turplane, the sourest of the bunch, had always seemed to have our best interest at heart under his caustic exterior. Why then was Maphen’s own father, his actual flesh and blood, having him treated so horribly? I couldn't understand it, but I could help him.

I just needed to figure out how.

Gimit and Hyro chose that moment to enter the Round through the low archway, the pair laughing over some shared joke, which turned all of our heads.

“Sorry, friends,” Aldric said, rising from his crouch, “but the champion here reserved the Round for us. Tower rules.” He was smiling broadly as he said it, lording the fact over them more than I liked. “Ask any of the Devouts and they’ll tell you. Not sure they’ll thank you for bothering them though.”

“We can leave,” Maphen said. “This isn’t helping anyone.”

Tamra surprised me by walking by, her sword sheathed.

“I’m going to the Steams,” she declared, referring to the heated bathing chamber that was connected to the Round’s other exit.

I could feel Maphen’s chances slipping away as our group fractured, and thank The Seven, an idea popped into my mind without the aid of the ring.

“Let’s all go for a trip,” I countered.

“Where?” Tamra asked, giving me a skeptical look. She wasn’t the only one: Aldric sighed, and Maphen looked like a man condemned.

“You’ll see,” I said with a grin. This would work.

***

The Artisan Hall was completely unlike the Warrior’s Hall. For one, they didn’t call it a “Hall” but “Artisan Lane.” That made sense because the chamber was long, with chains holding metal lanterns that gave off a pleasant amber light instead of entombed demon bodies. As far as I could tell, the metal frame of each lantern had been forged differently, and the lengths at which they hung went from low to high to low again, which varied the height of the ceiling in an eye-catching way – not that there wasn’t plenty to see below them. Their light illuminated parallel booths that the members of the Artisan order used to display the various goods they had crafted. Where they all slept was another place entirely, and that I imagined they actually referred to as their “Hall.”

I had heard much about this place from members of my Order in the Mess and on our walks to the Round. Quite a few of them had visited to purchase weapons with what teeth they had for the next Melee. Tamra, of course, had no need with her personally forged sword, and Aldric was satisfied for the time with his crystals, and I hadn’t decided on one yet.

That just meant I had plenty of teeth to spend on Maphen.

Like I had heard, the first booths after entering the Lane through its grand entryway doors were for Neophytes. However, there was only one of those remaining now, Iles, but she had taken advantage of that fact, taking over a long section on the right, while the left remained dormant, a stone counter covered in nothing more than dust.

She greeted the four of us when we entered. Not as warmly or with as much enthusiasm as someone like Shanel might, but still friendly in her more reserved way. I didn’t think we’d be buying from her, but I didn’t wish to be rude, so I slowed, and the others did with me. Both Tamra and Aldric had acted like they might go their own way when it finally became obvious where I was taking them, but neither had left yet, their curiosity getting the better of them I was sure.

“How goes it?” I asked Iles.

“Good,” she said, her quick eyes darting between us, taking note of what each of us was drawn to among her wares. She had a number of swords, some leather work, and a few steel caps on display. “I just sold one of those swords to a boy from your Order, Deq.”

“I’m impressed you could make so much so quickly,” I told her. There wasn’t a workshop behind her. Instead, beneath our feet, also as I had heard, the smooth stone was somehow clear, letting us see forge fires and multiple Acolytes pounding away on hunks glowing metal or working on intricate cogged devices in a chamber just as long as the level we stood on.

“Our mantle helps,” she said, answering my question as I watched the labor below for a moment.

“What does it do?” Maphen asked. I was sure he didn’t mean to, but the way he posed the question made him sound like a starving man asking after how food tasted.

Iles blinked, focusing all of her attention on him. “You don’t have one, do you? I’ve heard that.”

“So they're talking about me now?” Maphen said, more to himself than us. “Wonderful...”

I wanted Maphen to feel included, not reminded of how he stood apart, so I did my best to change the subject. “Ours increases our strength and stamina,” I told Iles. “We have access to masteries that let us refine those things further, but the Warrior’s Mantle our base level is well above most.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Unfairly so,” Maphen grumbled to the side.

“That would explain my experience in the Melee,” Iles said, a hint of darkness clouding her face but then it passed. “Ours has refined my mental acuity and spatial cognition. I rarely need to map out my designs anymore, and none of the Acolytes do: they can see it all in their mind perfectly, down to the millimeter.”

“Doesn’t sound very useful,” Aldric said, having returned from where he had been looking at some boots of hers.

“For punching people, no,” Iles responded with a bit of a smirk. “For helping you do it or survive long enough so you can, very.”

“Well, I’m good for now,” he said with a noncommittal shrug. I knew he had spent his Melee winnings on extra food at the Mess, but no one else needed that information

“Are you sure?” she asked. “My Mastery lets me make things more durable. The items here will last twice as long as anything you’ve ever owned before, and no one else here has prices as low as mine.”

Each of her wares had little tags on them and most seemed to range from five to eight teeth. With my twenty I hoped to buy something from an Acolyte for Maphen, and assuming their prices weren’t too much higher than hers, I should be able to.

“Maybe later,” I said, which Aldric and Maphen took as a cue to leave; Tamra meanwhile had left us after taking a cursory glance at the swords, delving deeper into the Lane.

Despite what I had said, I hung back, another idea coming to me. “Iles, we came looking for something that could help Maphen perform well in the next Melee. Armor or a weapon, maybe, but something…bigger would probably be best. Can you think of anything like that?” I had considered taking us all to the Alchemist shops instead, as there was no denying how effectively the Assassin Ender had used them in the Devout Melee. However, I was inclined to agree with the Artisan Elder; I’d rather spend my money on something that would last for Maphen if we could.

“Hmm,” Iles said, and I appreciated that she took the time to consider my question seriously even though we hadn’t purchased anything from her.

“I know you like gadgets,” I added in case it helped, referring to how expertly she had bested the contraption that had been our final test in the Threshing. “So I thought you might know.”

“I do but I don’t have the resources to make my own yet,” she said while she tapped her chin in thought. “We only get so much to start and then more based on our sales. I almost tried to recreate that teleporting sphere from our first day, but our Deacon told me it would be too big a risk. So here I am peddling the basics.”

Even if she had chosen to make it, I wasn’t sure if an item that could jump Maphen locations would do the trick. However, it was nice that she immediately knew the type of thing I was asking about.

“Henric’s your best bet,” she said. “He has a few different things that might do the trick, but they’re not cheap. How much do you have?”

“Twenty five” I said, feeling the twenty small, hard bodies through the pouch at my waist with one hand to assure myself that they were still there. The other five would be from Maphen, which he had won playing Chop – that had been a fun story on our walk here.

She sucked air through her teeth. “Might be enough. You’ll probably need to haggle him down.”

I had seen that done a few times in the Misfell marketplace but had never tried it myself. Today was as good as any to start.

“Thanks, I owe you one,” I told her, dashing off to catch up to my friend.

“Tell the rest of your Order about me,” she shouted, and I called back that I would.

I found Maphen not long after, standing alone in front of a much bigger store. Aldric it seemed had gone off in search of Tamra, which struck me differently after the revel and reveal a few nights back, but I tried not to think about that. Instead, I joined Maphen in looking at some beautiful weapons, the metal crafted in such a way that infused into their silvery surface were wavy lines that were practically hypnotic to the eyes. His despondent expression told me that he couldn’t afford them, and at eighteen to twenty teeth, I barely could. A weapon might help him beat a few people, but after how easily he had lost to the three of us without our masteries, I was convinced he needed more if was going to make it into the top five of the Melee like he said he had to.

“Come on,” I said, jerking my head forward. “Iles told me of a place up here we need to check out.”

We passed a few other shops that I didn’t bother to examine, but then I caught sight of a shield out of the corner of my eye, and my feet slowed of their own accord. It was longer than it was wide, and bumped out in the center to deflect attacks to the side. Its angular planes seemed to promise that it would let me protect those around me, like I had told Voshra about, and I immediately wanted to strap it onto my arm.

“You find something?” Maphen asked, when he noticed I wasn’t following.

I shook my head. “No,” I told him, walking away from the pull of the shield. “This isn’t the place either.” I’d worry about myself later.

Henric’s shop turned out to be halfway down the lane. Here, the sellers had much more than a simple, straight counter. For some it curved and had various heights to display more wares, and others were actually two stories. Henric’s had a roof of metal that extended past his counter, giving his shop a darker, more mysterious feel than the others. This sensation was enhanced by two, tall cylindrical lanterns that burned blue, casting everything he had in an otherworldly glow. His tan hair was pulled back from a rather severe face, and he was helping someone from the Beast-Kin Order, likely another Acolyte judging from their size.

When they had concluded their business, and he turned toward, his expression if anything became harder.

“What can I do for you two, Tower Turds.”

I hadn’t been called names by strangers too often in my life, but always found the experience unpleasant, and Maphen didn’t look particularly happy about it either. However, he didn’t say anything back, letting me take lead – he’d been doing that more of late, and I wasn’t entirely used to it yet. As for the insult, it was just words, and if letting the Acolyte speak to us that way would save Maphen, we could certainly weather them.

“My friend Iles told me that you might have some things that could make a big difference in a Melee,” I said to the taller boy. “We were hoping you could show us.”

“Did she now?” he asked, not looking particularly pleased. In fact, he looked like he’d be telling her later not to send people his way that would just waste his time.

“I have money,” I assured him. “I won the last Melee.”

“You don’t say,” he said, leaning on his high counter. He looked much more interested now, if not exactly friendly.

“It’s true,” Maphen said. “Held on near the top even after he was dead.”

Henric made a sound in his throat like he didn’t believe that, but he disappeared behind his counter for a time, rummaging around I assumed. When returned, he held three things: a dark narrow tube, like a flute but only with holes circling around the middle; a metal box the size of a fist, which reminded me a great deal of what we had first pulled out of the demon’s body in the Thresher; and lastly, a flat, cream colored disc that looked to made from pottery.

“First up,” he said, pointing to the long one, “I call it a Screech Rod. You blow in here and you burst the eardrums of everyone within ten meters.”

Maphen and I shared a look. If we could get enough people clumped around him, that could take out most of the competition.

“Based it on a later Warrior Mastery, actually,” Henric said. “Not that either of you, Nothing Neos, would know about that yet.” He moved to the next item. “Pulling Box. You press here and here, and throw it away from you. Five seconds later it activates, pulling everything around it close.”

Despite the insults, I couldn’t help but be impressed, not only with the magical qualities of these items but how Henric was showing us things back-to-back that would obviously work exceptionally well together.

He slid his finger over to the last one. “Light Plate. You stand on it, and you vanish.” He demonstrated by putting his hand palm down on the plate and suddenly his arm up to the elbow disappeared except for a slight bend in the air, the same as Voshra’s chain sword.

It wouldn’t help Maphen remove anyone, but if he could hide long enough he could still be top five. One of these could certainly get the job done.

“How much?” I asked since none of the items had the same sort of tags Iles had used.

“Thirty-two, twenty-nine, and forty,” Henric answered, in the same order he had shown us.

Maphen who for the briefest moment had seemed hopeful, blanched. “It’s too much, Sett,” he said. “I can’t have you spending all the money on me.”

I waved his concern away, trying to figure out our best option. I didn’t think there was any way that Henric would drop his price as much as we’d need for the Light Plate, but he might come down on one of the other two.

“Can you go a bit cheaper?” I asked. “We only have twenty-five.”

“Of course,” Henric said, angrily stuffing the Light Plate back under the counter. “Should have known.”

“We could work something out I’m sure. We could carry things for you, clean up maybe.”

Henric was shaking his head the whole time. He took the box away with one hand and pointed back the way we had come.

“Get down the Lane where you belong.”

When he reached for the Screech Rod, I took a chance and grabbed his wrist. His level of Acolyte made him bigger than me, but with my Warrior Mantle I might actually be stronger. Not that I was trying to wrestle him, just buy us another moment and his consideration.

“Please,” I said, “this exchange could determine my friend’s future and the Everwar to come.”

Instead of pulling away or scoffing, Henric squinted down at my arm.

“You’ve got the Toughened Skin Mastery?”

“I do,” I said, releasing him to see where he’d take the question.

He rubbed his chin, eyeing me. “Huh, you willing to do some tests?”

“What sort of tests?” Maphen asked.

“Trial some new items,” Henric said, waving a hand as if it was no big concern.

“That would be fine,” I told him. Pulling the teeth from my pouch and putting them on the counter before the Acolyte changed his mind.

“Seven times,” Henric said. “One for each tooth I’m giving you off if you’re getting the Rod.”

“More than fair,” I told him while motioning for Maphen to add his own to the pile.

“Well then,” Henric said, looking the cheeriest I’d seen him. “Word of warning to the user: when you blow into the Rod, you’ll feel weakened for a time. That’s it pulling on your mantle to activate.”

Maphen froze in the act of transferring his teeth to the counter, and I felt a ball of dread land in my gut.

“Mantle?” I said. “Why would it need that?”

Henric sighed. “Your mantle, and masteries, come from the Tower,” he said, his tone making it obvious he was annoyed at having to explain something he viewed as childishly simple to us. “Raw magic flowing through you, and the Rod uses some of that to work. It’s worth the exchange, I promise you, and you’ll be back to normal in a few minutes.”

“I don’t have a mantle or a mastery…” Maphen said, the words nearly a whisper.

“You don’t have what now?” Henric said, actually recoiling from Maphen like he bore something contagious.

“Maybe you have an item that doesn’t require a mantle?” I said, thinking of how the transport sphere had worked before we had mantles or masteries. “My friend would be able to use that.”

“Of course I don’t, you brats,” he said with a sneer. “No one here does. You want a conduit of magic, you need magic to fuel it.” He took the rod off the counter and then turned away, going deeper into his shop, muttering to himself.

I was debating on whether me using one of the items for Maphen would work, but with the Rod at least, I wouldn’t be able to use it and stand near to protect him. Maybe the box?

“There you are,” a familiar voice said, and I turned to see Tamra and Aldric.

“It’s hopeless, Sett,” Maphen said, his face long. He had finished taking his few teeth back, and he drifted away from Henric’s shop, looking more defeated than he had all day.

“I’m glad one of you could finally come to the obvious conclusion,” Tamra said, giving me a pointed look and then setting off back down the Lane.

Aldric shrugged apologetically and followed after, leaving me alone with a well of frustration and a stack of teeth that were apparently just as useless as they looked.