Bernt headed downhill toward the docks and his tenement, leaving Jori to her own devices. She was making new friends and quickly developing more of her own interests, which he supposed was a good thing. He’d considered trying to find Therion to see what he made of the situation, but thought better of it. Unexpected free time was too valuable to waste on trading gossip. Finally, Jori was relatively safe, the dragon was gone, and he had his first investiture. Unless the Duergar meant to violate their new armistice immediately, he wouldn’t be forced to risk his or Jori’s life again for at least a little while. That meant he could take the day to work on his development and finally study that journal and the cold fire spell he still had sitting on his shelf. Who knows what kind of secrets he might be able to uncover?

Bernt’s stomach rumbled, and he responded by making a short detour to a well-traveled street corner, where he found a familiar face standing behind a steaming food cart.

“Bernt, how’s it going down there?” Cal said as he loaded up a pair of wraps for him. “I heard you guys went into the dungeon with the army! I didn’t think they could just pull you into a fight like that! Did you have to fight the dragon?!”

Bernt snorted. “Nah. I’m not going anywhere near that thing if I can help it. As far as I heard, it’s not even down there anymore.” He grimaced. “We ran into some pretty mean gray dwarves, though—that was bad enough, if I’m being honest. But it sounds like the fighting’s done for now.”

Cal handed him the wraps. “Well, things can’t stay interesting forever, right? Somebody’s gotta keep the city running, after all.”

Bernt huffed a laugh and waved. He wouldn’t mind going back to business as usual, but he very much doubted things would ever be the same after this. Not for him.

Besides, there was still that rogue warlock to worry about, maybe. He would have to ask the Solicitors for an update about that. Would they even tell him if they found him?

He also still needed to work on his spellcasting. For that matter, he still had to finish memorizing the health and safety regulations for the alchemists’ guild. Ugh.

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

Bernt was so lost in his own thoughts, trying to decide exactly what he should focus on first, that he didn’t realize anything was wrong until he tried to unlock his door.

His key didn’t fit.

Stupidly, he tried again as if jamming the key in harder would solve the problem. Nothing happened.

What?

Only then did he see the note lying on the ground. There was a tack lying next to it, as if someone had halfheartedly tried to pin it to the door and not bothered to fix it when it didn’t hold.

Heart sinking, Bernt picked it up and turned it over, revealing the short message it contained.

Bernt,

Your lease is hereby terminated effective immediately.

I warned you repeatedly about practicing dark magic in my house! Did you think I don’t hear news and rumors here? This is a respectable establishment, and I have a duty to my tenants!

You can recover your belongings from my office, after which you will no longer be permitted in the building.

- Rina

Bernt groaned.

Shit.

***

Deep beneath the earth, a massive scrying window winked out, cutting off Conperion’s view of one of the tunnels in his former home. The surface dwellers had met the deep dwarves and spilled the blood of their demons.

With his mind focused on the future, the ancient dragon cast a clawful of bones selected from some of the less interesting prisoners who had been foolish enough to invade his lair. He leaned down to examine the patterns they made as they fell onto the black sands of the shore beneath his feet. Twisting his head around on his long neck, he checked them again from another perspective, and then again, one more time, just to be sure.

With a deep, gratified rumble in his chest, he gathered up the bones and dropped them on a narrow stone shelf that jutted from the cavern wall beside him. Teasing the strands of fate into their proper order—his order—always gave him a unique sense of satisfaction. His bonded kobolds would need a little time to recover their numbers, but it was a small sacrifice to make, all things considered.

Breathing in the pleasantly briny air, he dipped his tail into the waters of the Midnight Sea and settled down to rest.