You have acquired a cache of 28 miscellaneous items.

You have acquired all 30 farspeaker bracelets that form part of the matching set named: Sintar’s link.

Looting the corpses was as unappealing and tedious as I expected. Some of the equipment the thieves carried was intriguing, but ultimately nothing I looted was superior to my own gear. In fact, the most interesting items I found were the farspeaker bracelets.

My encounter with Sintar’s gang had made apparent something I’d not given much thought to before this: the vulnerabilities within the farspeaker bracelets. That the bracelets were not keyed for use by specific players meant that any enemy who got their hands on one could use it to eavesdrop on the entire network—just like I had.

Understandably, this realization made me less enthused than I otherwise would’ve been about my find.

I can’t use the bracelets, I decided despondently, not unless Safyre and Adriel can come up with an enchantment to protect them from being misused.

I wasn’t sure how it could be done, but in my mind, I was imagining something like the Sworn-locked items I’d found in the Eastern Marches. Something like a set of faction-locked bracelets. “Now those would be ideal,” I murmured. “Or even better, maybe we could—”

“Yikes!” someone exclaimed.

Turning around, I spotted Shael and Hugo entering the room.

“You weren’t kidding,” the bard said, his face devoid of color.

I frowned. “Huh?”

“I thought it an idle boast. A prideful jest.” Shael shook his head. “Never did I imagine…”

“How is it that you’re capable of all this?” Hugo whispered.

Bemused, I let my gaze drift from the shocked pair to where they looked. Was it the lurid streaks of red painting the room that had caught their interest? Or the floor full of corpses?

Probably both.

“Ah that,” I said. “That’s just combat. Walk any battlefield and you’ll see the same.”

Shael shook his head, whether in disbelief or disagreement, I couldn’t tell. Hugo was more forthright in his response. “What level are you?” he demanded bluntly.

I raised one eyebrow.

“Come now,” the priest chided. “After all this, you can’t truly expect me to believe you are ‘Henry,’ a level one hundred and thirty-two scout. No mere scout could have slain this many so easily, and certainly not one at rank thirteen! Tell me your level.”

“I’m sure you can work that out for yourself,” I replied evenly.

He tilted his head to the side. “You’re an elite?”

“Maybe,” I said, rising to my feet.

Hugo nodded. “I thought so. It’s the only explanation for whatever charm spell you used on me. Only an elite would have an ability that powerful.”

Shael eyes widened. “You’re an elite? Truly?”

I shrugged. “Like I said, maybe.” Not wanting to discuss the matter further, I changed the topic. “What do you know of this?” I asked Hugo, showing him true-seer.

The priest’s brows furrowed. “That’s Sintar’s ring.” His eyes darted to the headless corpse. “That him?”

“Yes,” I replied shortly. “So, you know about the ring. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

It was the priest’s turn to shrug. “You only asked me about their abilities,” he said, gesturing at the dead players, “not their equipment.”

My eyes narrowed. What Hugo said was true enough. I had not thought to question him directly about the gang’s gear—an oversight on my part. It was a timely reminder that as cooperative as the priest appeared at times, he was not a trusted companion. It was only the blood-binding that forced his compliance. He would obey me, but only to the letter of my instructions. And no further.

“Why would Sintar need such an item?” I asked, deciding not to pursue the matter further.

Hugo smirked. “Sintar was a thief. We all were, and in our line of work true-seeing is a necessity. You wouldn’t believe how many marks think it wise to use illusions to conceal their valuables.”

I nodded slowly. That also made sense.

“And besides, there’s also our fellow thieves to consider,” Hugo went on. “If the gang ever came into possession of a valuable enough prize, no denizen of the underworld would hesitate before robbing us. Under the right circumstances, we are all of us marks. Sintar trusted no one completely, not even Chief Dinara.”

I grimaced. I’d had a somewhat rosier picture of the underworld and had—naively, it turned out—imagined most of them to be like Nicola.

There’s truly no honor amongst thieves, it seems.

“How would a true-seeing ring be of any use to Sintar against the den chief?” Shael asked in a puzzled tone.

Hugo ignored the question.

“Answer him,” I ordered sharply.

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“Dinara is a master of stealth,” the priest replied easily and as if nothing untoward had happened. “Some say he can turn completely invisible too, though I’ve not witnessed him do so myself.”

I stiffened. “Turn invisible… you’re sure about that?”

“Like I said, I’m not,” Hugo replied. “But Sintar believed the rumors.”

Frowning, I bowed my head. I had not questioned Hugo about Dinara earlier, deeming it more prudent to focus on the immediate threat that the gang represented—another oversight—and now it seemed my plans were in danger of unraveling. I’d intended on using Hugo to lure Dinara here, then to enslave him like I had the priest.

Now, though… that appeared too risky.

“What is it, Mi—” Shael broke off and quickly corrected. “Henry, I mean. What’s wrong?”

“Dinara is an elite,” I pronounced. Raising my head, I looked straight at Hugo. “Isn’t he?”

“He is,” the priest confirmed.

“What level?” I asked softly.

“Two hundred and forty-seven,” Hugo answered. “According to the rumor mill, he’s been at that level for decades.”

“Damn,” I murmured as the priest confirmed my fears.

Shael’s eyes fixed on me waiting for me to explain the source of my unhappiness, but when I stayed silent, he turned to Hugo again. “That sounds decidedly odd. Why would he stop leveling like that?”

This time the priest didn’t wait for me to force him to answer. “Who knows? The den chief doesn’t venture out much these days. Most believe he’s retired.”

“Again, that makes no sense,” the bard said. “Why retire when you’re so close to tier six?”

I was keeping quiet, but I knew why, of course. At level two hundred and fifty, Dinara would earn the Powerful Initiate Mark whether he wanted to or not, and I was guessing the den chief very much didn’t want that. After all, why would he risk his comfortable existence for a life on the run, and with Powers for hunters, no less?

“No idea,” Hugo replied, unaware of my musings. “Again, everything I told you is just gossip. No one but Dinara knows why he does what he does.”

“Which Power has Dinara sworn himself to?” I asked, rejoining the conversation.

“No Power,” Hugo said confidently. “Dinara is beholden to no one.”

My brows drew down. “What makes you so sure?”

Hugo shrugged. “It’s not strictly speaking a requirement, but most of those who join the underworld are what you call… independent-minded. There’s no way someone like Dinara would have risen as far as he has in the underworld if he had any allegiances outside of it.”

Shael nodded. “I’ve heard much the same thing.”

I glanced at him questioningly.

“Not about the den chief, per se,” he explained. “But about the underworld’s denizens in general. They have a reputation for being aloof. Many of them scorn the Powers, even going so far as refusing to join their factions.” He paused. “It’s partly why the thieves guild is more poorly treated than say… the bounty hunters guild.”

“I see,” I murmured. That Dinara was not a Sworn was at least one thing to be thankful for. However I dealt with him, I need not fear repercussions from an angry Power.

Shael looked at me expectantly. “So, what does all this mean for us?”

I sighed. “At the very least it means I have to rethink our plans.” I couldn’t blood-bind Dinara anymore. Even if I did manage to lure the den chief away from his base, enslave wouldn’t work on him. He was too high leveled.

“If Dinara is an elite and hunting you…” The bard trailed off, leaving unsaid the rest, but I knew what he was thinking: we should leave Nexus post-haste.

“Soon,” I promised, responding to his unspoken suggestion. There were a few odds and ends to tie up first, though—like Hugo. The priest had outlived his usefulness, and it was time to deal with him.

✵ ✵ ✵

You have killed Hugo.

You have acquired a cache of miscellaneous items.

“Why did you do that?” Shael asked quietly.

The bard had sat still, watching in a kind of stunned silence as I dispassionately slew then looted the priest.

I shrugged. “I was going to kill him eventually, and sooner was better. This way there’s still a good chance the rest of the gang won’t realize how long he’s been under my spell. And the less they figure out about that the better.”

Shael studied me with a serious expression. “You still haven’t told me what spell you used on him. Nor how you managed to become an elite in such a short span of time.”

I met his gaze. “I’ll tell you everything, but first—”

“—I have to pass your tests,” he finished for me, his expression twisting. “But how am I going to do that if you keep delaying our departure from Nexus?”

I didn’t say anything for a moment. Shael had a point. I hadn’t intended on being in Nexus this long, and the way things were going, it was conceivable my departure would be delayed even further.

And I could already sense that the bard’s patience was waning. I can’t keep holding him at arm’s length, I realized. At this point, it was either cut Shael loose or trust him.

“We’ll do it here,” I said at last.

The half-elf frowned. “What?”

“We’ll conduct your final test right here and now.”

“But I thought you said we had to leave Nexus for that!”

“Things have changed,” I replied, not explaining further.

“How?” Shael demanded.

“Hugo happened for one,” I said bluntly. “His example taught me that I can force my minions to be truthful.”

Shael’s brows furrowed. “How did you not know that before?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could answer, the bard threw up his hands. “Never mind, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” He glared at me as the rest of what I said caught up with him. “So, you think I’ve been lying to you all this time?”

“I don’t,” I replied honestly. “But given the circumstances, I have to be certain that you haven’t been.”

“And to achieve this… certainty you seek, you want to interrogate me, is that it?”

“Yes,” I replied candidly. “I’m sorry Shael, but I can’t let you in on any of my secrets until I know how far I can trust you.”

For a drawn-out moment, Shael stared at me, his expression opaque. “How will you do it?” he asked finally.

“I will bewitch you the same way I did Hugo.”

“What if I refuse to be bespelled?” Shael demanded.

“Then we part ways,” I replied evenly. “Here and now.”

The half-elf exhaled unhappily. “Fine. I’ll let you conduct your bloody test. Go on, get it over with.”

I held up my hand. “Hold on. There’s a catch, something you should be aware of before we start.”

The bard looked at me sharply. “You’re going to hurt me, aren’t you? Stick me with needles or something.”

I shook my head. “Nothing like that. I’m going to question you, nothing more.” I paused. “But you’ll remember none of it.”

Consternation flickered across Shael’s face.

“The spell I’ll be using will wipe your mind when it’s done. You won’t remember anything of the time you spend bewitched.”

My explanation did nothing to assure the bard and if anything, his expression grew more baffled.

“I promise it won’t hurt,” I added.

Shael still looked unconvinced, but he waved me on anyway. “I understand… I think. Do what you must.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. Stepping forward, I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Just relax. This will all be over before you know it…”