From her vantage across the concourse, Joyassa watched as the gnome closed his shop. The plan was working so far, although so far, it was in the initial setup stages where there wasn’t really anything that could go wrong. The only difference was that somehow, Shaphine had won at Wing Tooth Claw and got to be the one hiding on the inside, instead of her.

It was most annoying, as Joy had been cheating at the time and had still lost. And you don’t make friends by accusing someone of cheating better than you in front of the others.

She didn’t make cheating a habit, but when it was important, like being the one to make the collar, it was hard to not act on the little wisps of thought that people extruded. It was part of her heritage, a gift from the crystal dragons in her blood. One of the benefits of being one of the Vs'shtakvi, the children of dragons.

Joyassa didn’t mind being called a Vishy, unlike some of her cousins. The full word was a snoutful, even for a language with many words that were bigger than they needed to be. The big word led to big ego, as if the four syllables provided wings and a tail, bridging the gap even further. But the difference was artificial to Joyassa. Growing up among children of merchants and customers alike had shown her there wasn’t much of a difference. Sure, she possessed some draconic traits, but it didn’t make her better than others. If anything, she had more to prove.

It had been awkward when she was assigned as senior partner over Shaphine. She hadn’t asked for sure, but she suspected that Shaphine had been in the CSF for decades. Having a junior placed over you for reasons of racial politics probably rankled. But Shaph had been nothing but professional, with no thought of complaint leaking out where Joy could intercept, accidentally or not.

But, if Shaph could throw claw when she was thinking of throwing tooth, well, who knows what thoughts were lurking behind that placid elven face?

The streetwizard, Netheroak, was another one who was hard to read. His leaking thoughts were absorbed into his connection to the golden pseudodragon he called Hinderance, leaving nothing for her to scavenge. And the darling little creature was loud with its own emotions, drowning out any remaining residue.

Without a line into his thoughts, there was no way to see how genuine his words were. His embarrassing confessions with that spell certainly indicated he’d have no trouble trying to lie, and everything he said before and after solidified it. If Mytair wanted a salesman to fill an empty shop, he was a much better choice than she was. In a short round of haggling, he had somehow gotten his compensation for this job right up to the upper edge of what Captain Stone had permitted. Eighty gold was a lot of coin, when all he had to do was hide with them and maintain an illusion on the nights they were on stakeout.

Admittedly, it was a really good illusion. She couldn’t tell by sight, and could only believe that Balick hadn’t brought out a new set of Night Panther cloaks when her hand went right through them.

That had been the plan they had brought to Captain Stone. Normally, an investigation was done entirely with interior resources. Hiring a unvetted spellcaster who was known for his trickery required permission. Especially when the spellcaster was one the CSF had been building a case against for a while. He made a meager living, buying junk from salvage shops, cleaning it up and repairing it, all of which was above board, even if he was using magic for it. The uncouth part was using a clever bit of illusion to make it seem like he had something valuable when he went to resell.

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Such grift would usually be easy to regulate, spreading the word from shop to shop that he was a conman. But he added a wrinkle that he would act ignorant, as if he didn’t know how much it was worth, and allow the clever merchant to take it off his hands for something close to its actual value.

Was tricking a merchant into paying a fair price a crime? Well, as there was only one true law in Maulkir, obviously not, but the merchants who would normally band together about the injustice didn’t want the greedy part of the story to get shared, so the case on Netheroak had been brought to their attention slowly, rumor scrap by rumor scrap.

All of which they had thrown away in a single afternoon in soliciting his help. It was the better move, politically. Without catching the criminals, or even discovering how they did it, Brannonth couldn’t count this as a completed favor to Mytair. And the exchange of a favor was worth far more than a casefile that could one day be brought against a petty conman who inconvenienced a handful of greedy merchants.

Yeah, the reasoning behind the exchange was clear, but to Joyassa and her merchant heritage, it rankled, just a bit. She could deal with it, but she felt no need to treat Netheroak with pleasantries. Annoyingly, he treated HER like she was always courteous and polite, no matter how rude she actually was.

Maybe it was better that she was out here, instead of having to be inside with him.

Traffic along the concourse was dwindling. The Market never truly closed, but as the evening drew on, more and more of the shops closed their gates, locking them from the inside in most cases, but a few merchants had homes away from the Market. As shops reached their closing time, astute customers knew that their errands may have to wait until the next business day.

Not everything was closed. Uncle Uulmith’s tavern was open, as were a few other buildings that depended more on the late night clientele. But for the most part, it was quieting down.

Which made it all the easier to see the pair as they approached.

There were two of them, wearing Night Panther cloaks. Both looked human, lean builds, the first had silver hair, the second more of a sandy blonde. They were professionals, no obvious looking around, or moving guiltily. If it wasn’t for the cloaks, or the way they moved right up to the Dapper Dragon even though it was obviously closed.

<> Joyassa sent to her partner. There was no response, not that there would be. Joya was only a little telepathic, and her psionic messages were a bit iffy without line-of-sight. They were also distinctly one way. But if she could silently alert Shaphine, well, it was worth the effort.

The blonde turned around, scanning the area. His eyes lingered on Joya for a second, but moved on. Her distinctive CSF armor and insignia had been set aside for a non-descript set of leathers. Less protective, but utterly forgettable. Idly leaning on the wall flipping a knife made her look more like a street thug than a security officer.

That was the plan, at least, and it seemed to have worked. The dagger had been suggested by Netheroak and Joyassa sneered a little at the thought of him helping her disguise.

The silver-haired man reached to his belt, pulled out something that Joya couldn’t see from this angle, and vanished into a cloud of mist that drifted into the Dapper Dragon. Evidence enough to make the pair worth securing.

The watcher turned at a yell from the shop and Joyassa made her move.