I briefly debated getting a rideshare to the fence gate Boddy had discovered, but decided against it. I didn’t want to be seen showing up to some random person’s house when a digital paper trail could lead back to me in case they reported trespassing. I’m not a criminal mastermind, but I have my moments.

We ended up walking. Boddy said it would be about three miles on foot, which meant about one hour; less if I kept a good hoof. The neighborhood between the hotel and where he said the fence was wasn’t exactly top notch for safety; I could see padlocks on some of the fences and at least two deadbolts on most front doors. But in other yards there were childrens’ toys and bicycles left unattended. One yard even had two children running around, though I could see that the window had been left open; clearly mom and dad were within earshot and probably within eyeline of the kids.

After a few blocks, maybe two miles, the not-safe not-rough neighborhood houses started to give way to a shopping district. There were all the standards there. Fast food, big chain stores, little chain stores, chain stores pretending to be edgy boutiques. There were more sidewalks here, which was good ‘cause there were more cars here, too. I stopped at an intersection in front of a coffee chain. “Boddy, did I take a wrong turn? Something tells me that there aren’t going to be a lot of picket fences where there aren’t any houses.”

“Nope.” buzzed Boddy from my shoulder. “Straight ahead. The shop with the big red sign, looks kinda like a flower.”

I checked. There was a big red sign in the shape of a gear. “A home improvement store?”

“I’m not sure what that is. They had a big shelf of fencing and fence gates. Some of them were white picket. It’ll let us onto the Lane.”

I shrugged, realizing too late that it might be a bit inconsiderate when my only friend and literal bodyguard was riding around on my shoulder, then I took the necessary sequence of crosswalks and jaywalking to get to the store Boddy had indicated.

It turned out that there was in fact a large section for home fencing. Well, garden fencing, at least. Though none of the fences on display was any taller than four feet, one of them was a perfect miniature of a white picket fence like out of some 1950s parable of domestic bliss. I pulled a gate off a stack of gates. It wasn’t made of wood. I hoped that didn’t matter. Propping it up against the edge of the aisle, I tensed. “Ready?”

In answer, I heard the tiny click of a revolver hammer being drawn back. I turned to look, which required a certain amount of craning my neck. Boddy was still a bee. He was still riding on my shoulder. There was no revolver in sight. Incredible.

I opened the picket fence, locked my mind on the House of Inheritance, and stepped through. The House was much as I had left it yesterday morning. The yard’s various statuary was as eclectic and random as before. Suddenly, Boddy was at my elbow wearing hob shape, his revolver leveled at something off to my right.

The only voice I heard every day greeted me. “Hello, Daniel,” Rookie said, followed by the rack of a shotgun. “I’m glad you could join us. You have a job to complete.”

In an instant, before I even realized what I was doing, my heavy forge hammer dropped into my waiting hand. I felt it vanish from my mindscape, t hough it was so miniscule that I was otherwise unaware of it unless I manifested there myself.

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Rookie grinned. I hoped I didn’t look like that when I grinned, because I very much wanted to smash his mouth into a more appropriate expression. Like pain. “Ooh, looks like you’ve already figured out the basics. Shame you didn’t make a proper weapon, like mine. Or his.”

I risked a glance in the other direction. Sure enough, there was Maps. He had procured a crossbow at some point. Not like an old school knights and dragons crossbow, either. It was a sleek modern weapon made of some sort of shiny black material that I guessed was probably like…carbon fiber or something. It was very definitely loaded with a very sharp looking arrow, though. And it was pointed roughly at me.

Well, the hammer was the only tool I had managed to make. Boddy and I had briefly discussed what we would do in the event of an ambush. I was slow off the line, but when Boddy’s revolver nearly deafened me with its BLAM, I made a diving roll towards Maps, hammer in my hand. I should probably have taken a tumbling class or something first. At least I managed to wind up facing the right direction. And mostly on my feet. The crossbow’s arrow was missing, and Maps was pulling on some kind of lever. I hoped Boddy hadn’t been hit. I was sprinting at Maps before I was fully steady on my feet, but he had left a good-sized gap. He managed to get the string back and locked before I reached him. In a rush of energy, I hurled my hammer at him.

The hammer flew like I had built it for that purpose. And like I knew how to throw a throwing hammer. It turned on a perfect pivot as it arced through the air to precisely smash into the crossbow, breaking one of the arms and snapping the string. Loosed from its tension, the string whipped up and tore a gash across Maps’s chin, and he dropped the now-ruined crossbow in response.

A blink later, the hammer was back in my hand. I walked up to Maps, trying to seem menacing while also keeping aware of the gunfight between Boddy and Rookie going on somewhere behind me. They had both reached statues and were taking only occasional shots at each other. I’d deal with them after Maps was detained.

I didn’t have anything to detain him, though. He didn’t resist as I patted down his pockets and quiver, carefully removing anything that seemed like it could be a weapon. His pack, with all its supplies and cooking set, was missing; I guessed he had left it up at the House. None of it was usable as a rope or handcuffs. I rolled him onto his front and held him down with one arm twisted behind him. There was nothing else for it, I supposed. I didn’t want to kill, and I was pretty sure trying to knock him out with a hammer to the back of the head would kill.

I pulled off his jacket, leaving him in just a road-worn shirt underneath. Tearing the sleeves off, I twisted them until they were tough and rugged. I wasn’t sure what material Maps’s suit had been made up of, but hopefully it made good ropes. Using knots that I almost managed to remember learning about in my childhood, I tied one sleeve around Maps’s hands and another around his elbows, still behind him. Then I took off his travel shoes and used the laces to tie his ankles together. I let him keep his pants, for now.

Maps didn’t resist the entire time, inappropriately smug about something. I cautiously kept checking behind me to see that Rookie was still losing his gunfight against Boddy. Well, Rookie had only ever had my shooting skills to learn from. I knew which way was up, but that was about it.

Boddy fired a shot from his revolver that clipped the sleeves of the statue Rookie was hiding behind, nearly blinding the thought construct. I started to circle around so I could approach from outside the firing lines and hopefully distract or flush out Rookie. Maybe even reintegrate him, though I didn’t have high hopes since I hadn’t ever decided to manifest him.

I was interrupted as I slunk behind a statue by a heavy club swung into my knees. It hurt. As I crashed down to the ground, I saw the owner of the club, hiding between the legs of a particularly large lion statue. He wore green, head to toe, and his skin was the metallic tone of polished gold. I took in the shockingly red hair and the short stature, and it all fell together.

A leprechaun. I had been blindsided by a leprechaun with a club. The House of Opulence hadn’t forgotten they had a stake in this, too.