Dalthan sedately strolled beside Sylvia as the two browsed through the goods on display at Murray’s Magnificent Mercantile. After Murray’s aggressive introduction, the alchemist had left his customers to their own devices. Dal had immediately taken the opportunity to drag the [Druid] down an aisle that smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg, and other spices he’d never encountered before.

“Did you see the quest?” Dal’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as he leaned toward the nymph. Casual as could be, the thief lifted a small glass container from the shelf beside her. He uncorked the tiny vial labeled ‘cumin’ and brought it to his nose.

He immediately reeled back as the strong scent assaulted his nasal cavities.

Bemused, Sylvia watched while the thief struggled to contain a sneeze. “You mean the enormous message that appeared right in front of my eyes?” Dal gave her, and her sarcasm, a baleful look as he fumbled the stopper back into the spice vial. “Nope,” the nymph continued, “I didn’t even notice it.”

Dalthan glowered, turning his attention from the pungent spices to the jars of two different kinds of sugar. His sour look turned to one of amazement when he moved to examine the one that claimed to be ‘brown sugar.’ “Why would they stop refining the sugar halfway?” Sugar was one of the few agricultural exports that Wavecrest produced. Many nobles had made their fortune in the sugar trade, meaning that many thieves had as well.

Sylvia daintily plucked the jar of brown powder from his hand. “You’ve never cooked with brown sugar? I thought your home was a trendsetter in the culinary arts.”

Dalthan blanched. “There’s no art in serving inferior ingredients. I wouldn’t try to feed you fish that’d been half-cooked.”

The criticism was plain in her amber eyes as they swept over the [Rogue]. “I think you’ve got a lot to learn, Dalthan.” Her playfully disappointed tone made his eyes narrow.

At least, he was pretty sure she was being playful. Who could ever be disappointed in him?

He adjusted the brim of his hat before turning to lead the way toward the far end of the aisle. “It’s a good thing that you’re here to teach me then.” The [Rogue] flashed her a winsome smile. “We need to figure out what to do about this quest. But first, let’s take a moment to talk about why you’re here. Tell me about the System.”

Sylvia took the sudden subject change in stride. A smooth step took her to his side where she casually linked her arm with his. “That’s a relatively broad topic. You’re going to have to be a bit more specific unless you want me to spend all day talking about numbers and feats.”

Dal shook his head. “None of the numbers and stuff. I’ll figure all that out on my own.” The skeptical look she gave him nearly made him change his mind. But he’d already given some careful thought to the best way to find out what he needed to know. This seemed like the most effective, and safest, tactic he could come up with.

So, instead of withering beneath Sylvia’s disdainful stare, Dal forced himself to stay the course. “All this talk about angels has me wondering about their system. It could be important if we have to fight this Rimewyrd. The system Balerik created for the Hub is based on the one they use, right?”

“Lord Balerik,” Sylvia corrected absently while she studied the rogue with a bit more scrutiny than Dalthan was comfortable with. It would take more than discomfort to shatter his sunny smile or dim the innocent curiosity that sparkled in the depths of his green eyes. He was a con man, after all, and quite proud of his ability to obfuscate his true intentions when it mattered.

After the [Druid] gave him a long look, her slender shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. “I know that the celestials have access to a method of cultivating growth among their people in a way similar to how our System allows us to accrue powers and abilities.”

Dal caught a glimpse of ivory teeth as she distractedly nibbled on her lip before continuing. “But I’m more of a guide than a historian, Dalthan. I can answer some broad questions about how the System came to be, but I’m not much more knowledgeable about those things than an average citizen.”

The duo swung around the end of the aisle and blindly turned down the next one. Their new path was lined on both sides with various samples of metalwork. Nails, sewing needles, and horseshoes were only the first items Dal’s curious gaze swept across.

“Surely you must have some inside information, right?” The thief’s hand twitched as they strode past a jar holding a handful of brass buttons. It would be so easy to snatch it right off the shelf. He forced himself to behave, keeping his attention focused on the much larger prizes of Sylvia’s knowledge and Shale’s quest.

The nymph’s steps came to a halt as she examined a gardening trowel with the critical eye of an experienced farmer. “When I was first learning my role in the Guild of Experience and Levels, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of skills and feats that our System can bestow.” As she spoke, she lifted the tool from its shelf to test its weight. “My teacher told me that we were lucky Lord Balerik had created such a flexible system because our enemies were stuck with a much more rigid system. Where we have six stats that express our abilities, they only have three. Mind, body, and spirit. We have feats and skills that further allow us to specialize our individual path, but they only have intrinsic powers.” Her brows furrowed as she placed the trowel back on the shelf. “That’s not right. Master Malachai didn’t call them powers. They were blessings? Gifts?”

“Perks,” Dalthan absently corrected, his thoughts focused more on this new tidbit of information than the woman at his side.

“That’s it!” Sylvia’s laughter could have coaxed a frozen field to bloom in the middle of winter. “How did you know that?”

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The [Rogue] gave her a crooked half-smile. “That’s really what they’re called? It was just a lucky guess.” Dal shook his head with a chuckle that he hoped didn’t sound as forced as it felt.

“Lucky is right,” Sylvia said. She tilted her head to lay it comfortably against his shoulder before she continued. “I don’t think this Rimewyrd is anything to worry about. I think it’d take more than a few lizardfolk to keep him contained if he were truly dangerous.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” the nymph continued hastily. “I think it’s fantastic that you’re treating all this seriously. For once. But we have more immediate concerns. Like finishing our shopping. And taking care of Shale.”

She pointedly turned to look at the [Stone Golem] that stood to one side of the store’s entrance. Shale stood so still that a passing glance could have mistaken him for a pile of misshapen stones. Fortunately, there was no fear of the golem’s presence surprising any other patrons because the store’s only customers were Dal’s team.

“Do you think he saw the quest?” The thief’s steps slowed while he looked over the silent golem with a look of consideration.

He couldn’t see Sylvia roll her eyes, but he could hear the gentle derision dripping from her voice like morning dew sliding down a rose petal. “This again. Do you often ignore giant signs that leap into your vision?”

Dalthan scowled and tugged her down the next aisle. “He doesn’t seem very interested in it. I’d have thought it would react somehow.”

“Shale is a rock, Dalthan.” Sylvia’s voice managed to somehow sound equal parts patient and exasperated. “What exactly did you expect?”

“Fine,” the thief sulked, his eyes flickering across samples of oats, flour, and rice. There were other powders that the thief didn’t immediately recognize, though he assumed they were more ingredients in food preparation. Of course, the fact that one of the jars was clearly labeled ‘baking powder’ certainly took most of the guesswork out of his hypothesis.

Uninterested in the cooking products, the thief never slowed as he led them to the far end of the aisle. “What do you think we should do?”

After a brief pause, Sylvia replied. “I think we should get back to the Goblet and talk things over with Keysha and Zap before we make any definitive plans.”

“Makes sense,” Dalthan agreed. The corner of the thief’s lips twisted into a frown. “You know, it may have been a mistake to leave them behind with the other crew. There’s no telling what sort of plots they could be hatching.”

The [Druid] gently untangled herself from his arm so she could lean back and look him in the eye. “Come on, Dalthan. What are you so worried about? Do you think they’re going to double-cross us?”

Dal blinked as if she’d just asked him if he thought water was wet. “Sylvia,” the thief began in a tone normally reserved for instructing toddlers, “they tried to kill me.” The unconvinced look in her eyes drew a groan from his lips. “You know all about this! I cut Zap’s fucking finger off because of it and I know that prick is still holding a grudge. He should be sucking me off for not cutting his throat!”

One of her eyebrows arched. “Do you often think about Zaplixel sucking you off?”

Dalthan blanched as he shook his finger at her the way he would scold a misbehaving cat. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t,” Sylvia deadpanned. Dal’s horrified expression caused a giggle to bubble past her lips. “I think you’re worried over nothing. Even if Zap is thinking about stabbing you in the back, Keysha will keep him in line.”

“If you say so,” Dal mumbled as he recalled the feeling of having his dagger pressed against the [Sharpshooter]’s throat.

Before he could argue his case any further, a dry, raspy voice intruded on their private discussion.

“Are you having any difficulties finding the supplies you need?” Murray shuffled his way down the aisle toward them, a large leather-bound tome slung underneath one withered arm.

Sharing a look, an unspoken agreement passed between the two adventurers. A moment later, Dal stepped forward to intercept the old man. “Honestly, I’m a bit disappointed by the variety of goods that I see. With the caravan recently arrived, I’d have thought that your store would be flush with fresh products.”

The old man’s white, wispy hair lazily swayed through the air as he shook his head. “I haven’t added the newest delivery to our stock yet. The damn thri-kreen spent all day yesterday transferring most of the military hardware. You’d think that kind of labor would suit the bugs, but it would have gone faster if I’d loaned them my assistant.”

Murray turned his head to cough into the long, loose sleeve of his blue robe. Dalthan diplomatically chose to ignore the gooey smear he left on his clothes when he wiped his mouth. “The bugs taking their sweet time put the entire unloading operation behind by an entire day,” the old man continued after dabbing once more at his lips. “Now I’ll have to spend all night going over the delivery to make sure everything is accounted for. My assistant will handle the unloading, of course, but such a late start means it’ll be dawn before the job is finished.”

“Sounds like a long, lonely night for your assistant.” As he spoke, Dal nodded toward the exquisitely carved marble statue that was dutifully dusting the shelves at the far end of the aisle.

Murray’s frown looked positively terrifying upon his heavily scarred features. “Golems don’t get lonely, nor do they perceive time the same way we do. You should correct your thinking, young man, before you end up with a rogue magical construct on your hands.”

Dal’s lips pursed in a show of obvious displeasure, but it was Sylvia that stepped forward to respond. “I'll keep a close eye on him, Master Murray.” The warmth of the nymph’s smile could have melted a glacier. “We’ve found most of what we require, but we’ll wait on purchasing anything till we can come back tomorrow to browse through your new merchandise.”

Murray’s only working eye lingered on Sylvia for a beat longer than Dalthan was comfortable with. “See that you do,” the prick finally said. “On both accounts. It will take ages to find buyers for some of the high-end goods that I ordered if I only have the local riffraff for customers. As luck would have it, I got the shipment at a tremendous discount so there’s plenty of room to cut you a deal that we can both be happy with.”

“Then we shall look forward to doing business with you on the morrow, good sir.” Dal gallantly swept his hat off his head with a flourish as he offered the proprietor a half bow.

“Do be careful, though,” the thief added as he returned his wide-brimmed hat to its artfully skewed perch atop his head. “This is a warzone. It would be tragic if anything should happen while you toil through the evening.”

Murray flapped a hand dismissively. “I’ll be finished not long after sundown, I should think. Fortunately, my assistant will be there should any of the local vagabonds try to reach beyond their station.”

“Yes,” Dalthan said, his emerald eyes gleaming like the dancing flames of a funeral pyre. “It’s very fortunate that they’ll be with you.”