I knew I had to have the dagger from the moment the dwarf held it up in her malformed hand, points of light shining atop the golden cloisonne that held the diamond sun together and shimmering across the onyx crossguard, the blade alive with writhing lines of silver that slid as she turned it this way and that. Even before she said it’s name I knew that dagger was my kindred- a missing part of me.

So I sent the Arachne in my stead. The dwarves gasped and backed away as it appeared, crawling over the jungle of glass atop the ravine, the lesser spiders scuttling back in awe and fear of their leader. All of them flinched except the girl.

“I am Suffi Halfhand. Do you speak for the Dungeon?” She asked.

“Yes…” The Arachne’s voice was soft as silk, deep as the dark below the earth. It loomed over her as it reached for the dagger.

“Wait. One thing first.” She took the dagger and slid it along the wrinkled, waxy skin of her two-fingered hand, drawing a line of rich red. Taking the cup she squeezed the hand into a fist and let the blood drip down in ruby threads. “Take this. Make a Contract with me. You won’t regret it.

“We dwarves know how to do business. We know how to keep our bargains and honor loyalty. All I ask is Attunement, and in exchange for that, I’ll be your partner on the surface. Anything you need I can get.”

She held the blade out and the Arachne lifted it. I reveled in the weight, the delicate feel of the lattice hilt and the balanced heft in my creation’s hands, relayed to me through the shard and our connection. Beneath the metal and jewels I felt the movement, the life, of a masterpiece of spellwork. It called to me.

“Beautiful. I’ll miss it, I know.” The girl smiled, recognizing something reverential in the way the Arachne touched the work, the way his armored fingers brushed over the delicate frames of spun gold that held the jewels in place and examined the finest details, the grain of the blade. “But it seems like its in good hands.”

He, too, was spellbound. Something clicked in his mind, and it was like the gemstones and jewels sung out to him.

“Do you have a name?”

To my surprise, he answered on his own. “Cabochon.”

“Well Cabochon, why don’t you tell me what your master wants, and I can get it for you.” She grinned.

And you know, I didn’t like her one bit. She was coaxing, manipulative. Everything she had showed me was a facade. I could say the same as Trivelin, but with him there was always a sense you were in on the joke. That manipulation was his truest self and he couldn’t be honest except by lying.

No, I had no idea who this Suffi was, but I did know one thing: I could use her and her amibitons.

“There will be an auction in three days time, at the Silent Market. Send a messenger and say your payment was stolen from you in an ambush on the way. Accuse the Immer the pirate captain of the crime.” Cabochon said, echoing my commands. “Prepare for violence.”

“Is that all?” She asked.

“For now.” The Arachne retreated, the guards breathing a sigh of relief. The leader of them stepped forward to bandage Suffi’s wound.

And like that, they retreated.

I didn’t like her but she had brought me a great profit and asked for little. The cup alone was enough to contain twenty points of Mana, boosting my income by a sizable notch, while the dagger was already laden with spellwork I would have to spend time deciphering. More importantly, that knife was family.

The Arachne laid them both in Argent’s lair, which was burrowed into the side of the long diagonal tunnel that led to Vaulder Claith’s shop. I had carved numerous dens into the walls for the rats to occupy, finally giving them their own area, and for good measure I seeded a small garden of the delicious bloody cup mushrooms behind an obstacle course. It never hurt to give your minions incentive to perform.

It was Vaulder I needed to speak to next, and I sent the Arachne to fetch him.

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While I waited I began to work. The stolen clothes I had dressed Adamant in, once, would have a life of their own now. My Argent affixed a gem to the inner pocket of the cloak and I wove the fabric over it, creating a concealed pouch to hold the core of what would become a cloth golem. I spread tendrils of Mana through every article of clothing, silently weaving them together with connective threads to allow for an unbroken flow of energy like the veins of a living being.

My understanding of spellcraft was improving with every golem I made, and the webways of energy I wove for this one were on another level due to the multiple components involved. As I finished, exhausted, the pile of clothes wriggled and awkwardly stood, twisting in a boneless way. Then it flopped over.

I had perhaps underestimated how hard it would be to make a golem out of multiple parts. Each different material conducted energy in different ways, making the Mana veins too thin in places and too wide, almost frayed, in others.

But Adamant had been clumsy too, at first.

It was painful how this task kept leading back to him.

I dismissed the golem to stumble away and explore the gardens, Cabochon returning with Vaulder now. The silly creature was shaking in his boots. It was strange, because besides Trivelin, he was the one human who I was least likely to kill.

“H-h-how may I serve, o’ great and mighty Dungeon?” He stammered out, having apparently figured out what I was. He’d also learned to make more pleasing noises, such as groveling and boot-licking.

“The Maker wishes for you to find out everything about earth elements and golem-crafting. Bring every book on the subject to him.”

“Those books will be e-expensive and-”

Cabochon cut him off, placing a hand atop his head and tilting it upwards. Pale and colorless lights were gathering in the air above them, will-o-the-wisps formed from condensing Mana. They blobbed into ever brighter coagulations, spinning like a forming galaxy, and finally collapsed into physical form.

Three golden fruits bounced across the floor.

“Will this be enough?” Cabochon asked calmly.

The human knelt down, lifting up the fruits in trembling hands and examining them. He was so in awe he forgot to stutter. “These are full of Mana. Yes! More than enough!”

“Good. Now, where do adventurers like to gather?” I asked through my mouthpiece.

“In… taverns?” The question seemed to catch him off-guard, and I could see the calculations behind his eyes as he tried to figure out where this was going.

“Then convert your shop into a tavern, and report on the adventurers who come there.” The Arachne waved him away, dismissing him.

“Me, a barkeep?” He actually laughed, incredulously. For a second he forgot all about his situation as an incredulous sneer spread across his face. “I-”

Even before the Contract could cut him short Cabochon caught him by the throat. His fingers were so sharp he couldn’t apply the slightest force without slicing the little runt’s head off, but the message was received.

“Do it.”

As soon as he was let go the coward went scrambling back up the tunnel, clutching his prizes in one hand.

I was left with silence. Blessed silence, where the best ideas were forged. I had long ago expanded my domain to extend through the floodwater tunnels and into the river that flowed beneath Caltern. Now I could take advantage of that fact.

I had no idea how to build a boat, how to join the boards and rudder, the mast and the riggings. I didn’t try to learn. Instead, I built something new. The hull was a single continuous piece of wood, living wood, given a waxy outer layer to protect it from the seawater. The mast was a tree rising from the deck, with a single enormous leaf that, from a distance, might pass as a green sail. Oars jutted in two rows from the sides, but there was no space for rowers, the ship sleek and trim, streamlined.

All this time I was drawing from the flower the Messenger was left behind. I needed the added push to my reserves so I could properly weave the complex strings of energy that would animate this ship, making it more than a simple vessel. The flower was intended to give me enough Mana to make a proper gift for the goddess. In a way, by using it in aid of stealing the unicorn, I could claim to be fulfilling that directive. For now I would continue to play nice with the gods.

I had hidden my thoughts, so it would be self-defeating to go around announcing my vendetta. I would make peace and prepare for war.

Soon the craft was beautiful and prepared to sail. Its rudder was another leafy protrusion, this one given the ability to bend and turn, making the boat as agile in the water as a fish. I had lined the railings and armored hull with bronze covered by a mottled green patina, contrasting the blood-red of the timbre I had used. Altogether these affects created a grisly, haunted appearance, making sure it would never be mistaken for a vessel from the realm of men. It looked like it might be the fabled ship that carried sailors to the afterlife.

But most striking of all, the masthead was an enormous chunk of nightvein, taking by far the longest and most Mana to create. Worth every moment. I gave it the image of a medusa, fair-faced with serpent hair. Carved from the smoky gray stone with veins of pure black it struck a fearsome image.

Argent carried the stone I would use to make the ship-golem whole, a fat diamond from the jeweler’s shop she had robbed. I waited for it to be set in place to finally bridge together the disparate lines of Mana flowing through the ship, weaving them into a single circulatory system that would give life to my grand creation.

The cup of blood sat on a table of stone in the gardens, waiting for my decision.

A small owl settled beside it, hooting for my attention.