Brock’s family den looked suddenly small to him, crowded as it was with familiar faces. Fel and Nirav were there, sitting upon a small sofa, while Liza paced the room and Fife leaned against a bookshelf. His mother had initially asked that they leave their boots by the door, but when she’d seen the state of Fife’s filthy feet, she’d changed her mind.

“Nice place,” Fife said, taking a handful of small quiches from a tray Brock’s mom had set out.

“Easy. They’re called finger foods,” Brock said. “Not palm meals.”

“I’ve got five fingers, haven’t I?” He shoved a few of the pastries into his mouth, then said, “Unflike fome adfenturersf.”

“So, who’s in charge?” Liza asked.

Brock smirked at her. “The fact that you even ask that question means it’s you.”

She gave a prim nod. “Let’s get started, then. Welcome, everyone, to the first official meeting of the Adventurers Guild’s shadow team.”

“Ooh,” Fel said, clapping.

“Our actions must not be traced back to Guildmistress Frond,” continued Liza. “Given the severity of the crimes that Hexam is accused of and the absolute certainty the king has shown in his guilt, the consequences for her and for the whole guild could be disastrous. So if anyone asks—if we’re caught—we’re working on our own. Got it?”

“Now I get why I’m here,” Fife said. “I’m very good at taking the credit.”

“Let’s hope it’s credit and not blame,” Brock said. “But you’re here because, according to the Stewards Guild’s records, you’re not an adventurer.”

Fife nearly choked on a sixth quiche. “I’m not?”

“I learned a lot of things while I was spying on you all. For instance, Frond actually recruited Syd, but you, Fife, sort of just…followed him into the guild. No one was going to turn you away, but apparently you never filed the paperwork to make it official.”

Fife continued choking. “Paperwork?” he asked in horror.

“Paperwork,” Brock said. “The same paperwork that says Nirav is legally dead.”

“That’s how I like it.” Nirav flashed a smile. “Because dead men pay no taxes, baby.”

“As for me, I’m not a citizen of Freestone,” Fel said. “I haven’t been through a Guildculling. The Sea of Stars is my home, but I am not under Frond’s legal authority. I am a proud subject of Llethanyl’s queen.”

“We all know I’m no longer associated with the guild,” Brock said. “But what about you, Liza? Are you sure your involvement won’t get Frond in trouble?”

“If I have to, I can spin it,” Liza answered. “I stormed out earlier today after a public argument with Frond.”

“Oh yeah?” Brock waggled his eyebrows. “And what was that argument about?”

“Not everything is about you, Brock.”

“That was, though,” Fel put in. “I was there. The argument was about Brock.”

Brock grinned devilishly.

“Anyway,” Liza said. “Yes. I’m in.”

“Good. Because I have a feeling that sword of yours will come in handy.” He turned to address the others. “We’re attempting something no one has ever done before—breaking into Silverglow Tower, then making it out again without raising any alarms.”

“Didn’t you two already do that?” Nirav asked. “When you defended the focus from Brenner?”

Liza shook her head. “The focus is technically beneath the tower, but we accessed it through a doorway hidden in a nearby shop. The cells aren’t connected, and it’s unlikely we could use that same route again anyway.”

“And that time, our success hinged on brute force,” Brock said. “I’ve got something a little more elegant in mind for tonight, but it’ll take all six of us working together.”

“Six?” Liza said. Fife started counting out on his fingers.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our most valuable asset.” Brock smiled, inclining his head toward Fel—and toward the cat sitting on her lap. “Mousebane is the key to everything.”

As if she had some sense of what was coming, Mousebane mewled pitifully.

“Members of the Mages Guild use their tokens—the ones they receive at Guildculling—as all-access passes to the tower,” Brock explained. They were huddled at the end of an alleyway with a clear view of the base of Silverglow Tower. Like everything else intown, the alley was immaculate. “Hexam was given a loaner, but it was confiscated, and Jayna had to turn hers over when Frond drafted her. It might be possible to replicate the spell they use, but we’re lacking in magical talent at the moment. All of which means we need to get our hands on a current mage’s token.” The door to the tower opened, and a young man in robes stepped outside. “And there’s our poor sucker Sulba now. Nirav, you’re up.”

Nirav sighed. “For the record, I don’t feel great about this,” he said. “But Sulba was always a bit of a louse.”

“And we can apologize to him,” Brock said. “After everyone is safe.”

Nirav nodded, then stepped out of the alley and made for Sulba. Brock strained his ears to listen.

“I got your note,” Sulba said. The boy was already irritated. “I’m happy you’ve returned to us, Nirav, but I don’t think now’s the best time for a mage and an adventurer to be seen together. This mess with Hexam …”

“But that’s why I needed to see you tonight,” Nirav said. “Without Hexam, there’s no one in my whole guild who can help me with this.” Nirav pulled back his sleeve to reveal a gray forearm covered in brittle stone flakes.

Sulba gasped.

“The cure is failing,” Nirav said. “And it’s failing fast. This started out as a spot the size of coin.”

Sulba shook his head mournfully. “Nirav…we tried already. After Frond brought you back, the mages pored over every book we have, looking for a cure. There’s nothing.”

“But the elves worked it out,” Nirav said. “They found a temporary cure, at least. I think the formula might be in one of the books they left behind with us, but I can’t make sense of any of it. Even Jayna’s stumped.”

“Oh really?” Sulba smirked. “Wasn’t she supposed to be the most magically gifted apprentice in our year?”

“This is no time for your little rivalry,” said Nirav. “Although…if you were the one to figure it out, that would be pretty big for you, wouldn’t it?”

Sulba’s eyes went wide. He looked over his shoulder, biting his lip. Brock could swear the boy was practically bouncing on his toes at the thought of receiving credit for bringing a lost bit of elven magic to the Mages Guild.

They had him right where they wanted him, and all it had taken was a bit of old plaster.

“All right, but we can’t do it here,” Sulba said. “Take me to these books of yours. Careful not to touch me, though. You know, just in case.”

“Thanks, Sulba,” Nirav said flatly. “Your concern is quite moving.”

Brock pulled back into the alley, staying out of view. He listened for their approaching footfalls, and when the sounds of boots on cobblestone were just around the corner, he stepped from the alley—and right into Sulba’s path.

The boys collided, and Sulba cursed. “Watch where you’re going, fey-brain!” he spat.

“Sorry!” Brock cried, but he kept moving and kept his hood up. If Sulba recognized him, it could complicate things.

But Nirav led Sulba onward, and they had soon disappeared in the direction of outtown.

“So?” Liza said, peeling away from the shadows.

Brock grinned. He opened his hand to reveal a Mages Guild token.

“Phase one is complete,” he said. “As if there were ever any doubt.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Liza warned. “That was the easy part.”

“Nobody look,” Fife said. “I’m changing clothes back here.”

“Fife!” said Fel, averting her eyes. “You can wear the robe over your clothes!” She covered Mousebane’s eyes for good measure.

“Say the words, Liza,” Brock said. “Help us get into character.”

Liza tossed a blue robe into Brock’s waiting hands. “Brock Dunderfel,” she said. “I hereby claim you for the Mages Guild.”

The token got them into the tower without an issue; the hidden door opened for them as if they belonged there. Brock held his breath, and he didn’t exhale until he saw that the entrance chamber was empty.

“Okay,” he said. “We have to make some assumptions from here, but I think they’re good ones. First is that the cells are underground. Second is that they wouldn’t lock dark wizards up anywhere near the guild mages.”

“Third,” Fel said. “When a group of knights drags a prisoner inside, they don’t leave their boots at the door like a proper apprentice.” She held Mousebane to her chest and scanned the stone floor. “The dirt trail says we go that way.”

“Fife, you stand guard at the juncture,” Brock said. “If anyone heads our way …”

“I dissect them,” he said. “I know. I got it.”

“No, you—I said you need to distract them.”

Fife shrugged. “You’re telling me that wouldn’t do the trick?”

Liza sighed. “Let’s just hurry. These robes your mom stitched together from old curtains might fool people from a distance, but if a mage gets a good look at us, we’re done.”

Whereas the direction Sulba had led them days before had curved around the tower, this path ended quickly at a door.

“If this is the right place,” Fel said, “then it’ll be locked.”

Brock produced his lockpicks with a flourish.

“I mean locked by that,” she clarified, pointing at a circular, luminous sigil right where a doorknob should be.

“Oh,” Brock said, deflating a little. “Okay, give me a minute.”

But Liza simply pierced the sigil with her sword. It flashed and faded, and the door creaked open.

“Always with the brute force!” Brock complained. Liza primly shushed him.

“I’ll wait here,” Fel said. She handed Mousebane over to Brock. “Good luck. I know you’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” Brock said, shifting Mousebane into the crook of his arm. “Oh, wait. You were talking to the cat, weren’t you?”

Fel smiled in a patronizing way. “I’m sure you’ll do great, too, Brock.”

They descended a winding stairway dimly lit with magelight globes. Brock didn’t know whether the globes were low on mana or if the mages kept this path gloomy for atmospheric reasons. It certainly gave him the creeps.

He counted 130 steps before they reached the bottom—where an armored Stone Son sat blocking their path.

This was the real reason for the disguises. While the mages were few enough in number that they would all know one another, Brock assumed a visiting guard wouldn’t look past the blue robes. Everything depended on him being right about that.

He projected confidence. Confidence, and superiority.

“Wake up, man,” he said. “Or do you want Brent to know you were sleeping on the job?”

“I’m not sleeping,” the knight said crossly, but he stood quickly as if caught slacking.

“Here,” Brock said, and he held Mousebane out in front of him. The Stone Son gave him a confused look, and Brock waved the cat around impatiently. “Come on. I haven’t got all day.”

“Yeah, but…why are you waving that cat at me?”

“Cat?” Brock echoed. “Have you been paying any attention?”

“I—I thought so, but—”

Brock had to suppress a grin. The Stone Son was completely off-balance, afraid he’d missed something…and ready to swallow any crazy story they gave him.

“That ‘cat,’ as you so naively called it,” Liza said, her voice sharper than he’d ever heard it, “is a parasitic, poison-spewing monstrosity from the realm of Fie. It’s also the traitorous warlock’s familiar, as I’m sure was explained to you when you reported for duty. We’re done examining it, and we’d like to deposit it back in its cage.” She sucked her teeth. “Immediately would be good, if you’re done gaping?”

Brock snuck her a look from beneath his hood. Nice, he mouthed.

Liza didn’t break character to respond, but Brock thought
he saw an appreciative twinkle in her eye.

“Uh, does it go in with the prisoner, or…?”

“What do you think? Of course it does,” Brock said. He watched carefully as the knight produced a single iron key from his belt. As soon as the man turned away to unlock the door at his back, Brock cried out in pain.

“Ow!” he said, dropping Mousebane to the ground.

Liza quickly stamped her foot, scaring the cat into fleeing up the stairs.

The Stone Son turned his bovine eyes back to them. “What happened?”

Brock gripped his hand as if wounded. “It’s gotten loose! After it, after it! Up the stairs.”

The knight, to his credit, leaped into action, not stopping to think what he’d do with a fiendish cat should he catch it.

But he wouldn’t catch Mousebane. Fel was waiting right upstairs to scoop up the cat and exit the tower. Fife would stay behind long enough to urge the knight deeper into the tower’s winding hallway.

By the time the knight realized Brock had palmed his key, they’d all be a safe distance away.

“I had no idea you were such a good liar,” he said as he turned the key. The door came open with a heavy thunk. “Tell me the truth. You’ve been waiting for your chance to get into some mischief, haven’t you?”

Liza didn’t go along with the joke. As her eyes fell upon the man within the cell, she uttered a single gasp. Her hands flew to her mouth, and she hesitated at the threshold.

Hexam was in bad shape. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and he had crusty blood in his beard, just beneath his nose. His hands were wrapped in bloody bandages. Brock took an involuntary step back as he caught the reek of sour sweat and urine coming from the cell.

“Oh Hexam,” Liza said. “What did they do to you?”

Hexam squinted into the light. It took a long moment before recognition dawned on his features. “Liza? Brock? Why…why are you here?”

Brock had thought he’d be happier to see them. Then he remembered how their last meeting had ended. “We’re here to rescue you,” he said.

“I’m…I’m absolved, then?” Hexam asked.

Brock looked warily over his shoulder. “We’ll, ah, figure that part out eventually. Right now we need to get you out of here quietly.”

“Drink,” Liza said, and she held a waterskin to his lips. As he drank, she took in the state of his hands, then gave Brock a worried look.

“Hexam, can you cast?” Brock asked. “I know it’s asking a lot right now. But we need to get you out of here, and if anyone sees you …”

Hexam wiped his lips. He moved his fingers, wincing.

“It won’t be easy,” he said. “No more than a spell or two.”

“Invisibility?” Liza asked.

He shook his head. “Not on all of us.”

“Liza and I can manage,” Brock said. “We’ve made it this far. Can you make yourself invisible?”

Hexam nodded. “Yes. But it’s a fragile spell. I’ll have to move very slowly.”

“Great,” Brock said. “Good thing we’re not trespassing or committing treason or anything that would require speed.”

Liza slapped him in the back of the head. “Do it, Hexam. We’ll go slow.”

The walk upstairs was excruciating. At every bend, Brock fought the urge to break out into a run. They were so close to making a clean escape. …

But at the top of the stairs, the way forward was blocked. The knight stood a few paces down the hallway, and he looked ready to run Fife through with his drawn sword.

Fife, however, appeared unconcerned. “How would you describe the sheen of its fur, though?”

“Oh, for—What does that matter?!” cried the guard. “Just tell me whether you’ve seen a blasted cat or not!”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a cat,” Fife countered.

The knight gurgled in frustration before he caught sight of Brock and Liza. “This one’s no help,” he said. “I need you two to go to the archmagus and—” The knight’s eyes went wide. “What in Fie is that?”

Brock spun around and saw the air behind him was rippling, like the surface of a puddle in the wind. Only this puddle was in the shape of a man.

Hexam’s spell was failing.

The knight advanced with his sword raised. “Get down!” he cried.

“Wait wait wait,” Brock said, his palms up. He had to come up with a lie, something to buy them time. …

“Seraphina’s Splendent Prism!” Hexam’s voice was accompanied by a focused burst of light. It struck the knight full in the face with all the force of a physical thing. The man recoiled, nearly toppling backward in his desperation to escape the light. In the moments following the attack, as Brock blinked to clear his own vision, the knight stumbled in place, rubbing furiously at his eyes.

Before he could recover, Fife came up behind the man and put him in a headlock. “Fife’s Coziest Hug!” he said, and though the knight was the larger of the two, Fife’s grip held. In a matter of seconds, the man slumped unconscious to the floor.

Fel stepped from a shadowed alcove, Mousebane in her arms. “That was very exciting,” Fel said, but her good humor fell away immediately as she registered Hexam’s ragged appearance. “Oh, dear Hexam,” she said. “What did they do to you?”

The invisibility spell had fallen away, and Hexam stood panting, physically exhausted by the spell-casting and the long, slow walk up the stairs.

“This is hopeless,” he said. “They won’t stop hunting me. Nowhere in Freestone is safe.”

“We have no intention of hiding you in Freestone,” Brock said. “We’re taking you where no one will ever look—the nearest wayshelter. Halfling’s Hollow.”

Hexam shook his head. “I’ll never make it that far.”

Brock wanted to argue with the man. He looked to Liza, willing the girl to produce one of her vaguely fearsome motivational speeches. But the forlorn look in her eyes reflected his own fear back at him. This wasn’t going to work.

“Unless …” Fel began. “Hexam. What if we could take a shortcut? The mages confiscated the mythril orb. …”

“The focus to the demiplane!” Hexam said. “Of course! If the mages took it, I know just where it will be.” For the first time, the mage smiled. Brock couldn’t help but wonder whether Hexam was more excited by the promise of escape…or the opportunity to use such powerful and ancient magic to do it.

They pulled the unconscious guard into the shadowy alcove, then hurried down the curving corridor to an imposing iron door. Brock had seen it once before. “This is the vault,” he said.

“It’s where Grima keeps dangerous artifacts that are too powerful to destroy,” Hexam explained. “That focus fits the bill. They told me all about it when they…questioned me, and I’m certain Grima wouldn’t allow it to be housed anywhere else.”

Brock pulled his lockpick tools from his sleeve. “Then allow me.”

Hexam gave him a pitying look. “That door is thick with enchantments, son. By all means, give it a go—if you don’t mind electric shocks, boils on your tongue, or forgetting your own name.”

Brock sighed, putting his tools away once more. “I guess I wouldn’t mind forgetting my middle name,” he grumbled. “Do you have a way to get in?”

Hexam put his hand against the stone wall beside the door. “Knock, knock,” he said, and the wall exploded inward.

“Careful!” Brock cried. He waved his hand in front of his face as dust and pulverized stone rose up in a thick cloud.

“Not to worry,” Hexam said. “We’re leaving a mess behind, but as I told you—everything here is practically indestructible.”

“I think he’s more worried about the noise,” Liza said, and she cast an anxious look over her shoulder. “Get what you need and let’s go.”

Hexam’s eyes fell immediately on what he was looking for. “The orb—it’s in my chest. The one I bought to store my letters,” he said sadly. “Who did this to me? Why?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Brock promised. “But right now, you have to go where they can’t reach you.”

“I’ll go with you,” Fel said, hoisting Mousebane onto her shoulder. “We’ll have to travel through the night. But you’ll be safe in the wayshelter for as long as it takes.”

“Thank you,” Hexam said, his voice husky. He turned from Fel to the others, holding their eyes, one after another. “Thank you, all. I…don’t have the words.”

Brock nodded somberly, and Liza pulled a satchel of food from beneath her cloak, handing it over. Fife’s stomach grumbled at the sight. “Go easy on the quiches,” he warned.

Then Hexam and Fel touched the orb in tandem, and they folded out of sight.

Brock strained his ears for signs of pursuit. They’d ditched their blue robes in an alleyway and split up, Fife heading north and Brock and Liza going south. They walked quickly along the streets of intown—but not so quickly as to arouse suspicion.

He didn’t breathe easy until they’d made it to his parents’ block. Even then, he buzzed with adrenaline. If he went home now, he’d be crawling the walls. “I’ll walk you back to the guildhall,” he offered.

“I’ll walk myself back,” Liza said. She took his hand and pulled him along the road. “But you may accompany me.”

Brock grinned, basking in the pleasure of a job well done and the company of the girl he’d thought, earlier that very day, might never talk to him again. He wished the evening could last forever, that all the problems still ahead of them could be put off and forgotten.

But as soon as the Sea of Stars guildhall was in sight, Jett and Jayna came barreling toward them.

“Fie!” the dwarf cried. “Liza, where have you been? I’ve been all the way to intown and back looking for you.”

“Liza,” Jayna began, “there’s been an accident—”

“It was no accident,” Jett said crossly.

“Slow down,” Liza said, her features clouding with worry. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Micah,” Jayna said. “He’s been hurt.”

“He’s been attacked.” Jett seemed to register Brock’s presence then, glancing over at him for a moment before saying, “Zed stabbed him.”

Brock could scarcely process the words. He felt as if he were underwater; everything was gibberish, and his lungs burned, until he realized he’d stopped breathing.

“—doesn’t make sense,” he heard Liza say.

“It must—he must have been acting in self-defense,” he said, and Liza immediately dropped his hand.

“Self-defense?” she said. Her eyes were furious. “What exactly are you accusing Micah of?”

“I—nothing, I’m just—”

Jett shook his head sadly. “Brock, I’m sorry. Zed…he came after me, too. If you’d seen what I saw. The…madness in his eyes. There was blood all over him, and he just…disappeared.”

“Where is Micah?” Liza asked.

“They’ve taken him to the healers,” Jayna said. “We should go right now. Liza, it…it looks bad.”

Liza wiped at the corners of her eyes. “Let’s go.” She grabbed Brock’s tunic and pulled.

“Liza, wait,” Brock said. He refused to budge, and slipped from her grip.

She and Jayna were already moving in the direction of the temple. “I can’t,” she said. “You’re not coming?”

Brock shook his head. “I have to look for him…for Zed. I’m sorry.”

Liza was gone before the apology had left his lips.