CHAPTER 6

The hooded young man guided Vax through the back alleys of Westruun, swaying back and forth and mumbling incoherently. He sounded sad and defensive, though it was impossible to make out what he said, exactly. Every time someone passed them, Vax hid his daggers and pretended to be worried about his drunken friend. As soon as the coast was clear, he grabbed his weapons again. He didn’t think the wretch would be much of a threat in this state, but he also didn’t want to underestimate him. Especially when they entered a maze of narrow streets, where the man guided him through a set of double doors into a basement underneath a small, unappealing flower shop.

The shop itself was closed up for the night. The cellar doors were unlocked. When Vax climbed down the stairs, he found a dimly lit basement that spread out underneath the building and far beyond.

“Be quiet here,” his unwilling guide murmured. “Being watched.”

Vax ran a thumb along the cross guard of a dagger and scanned the room. If anyone else was here he couldn’t see them. On either side of the basement, alcoves were hewn into the walls, and most of the storage space was filled with wooden crates and casks. Globules of soft, magical light drifted near the arched roof, and while they illuminated the space with enough light to walk by, they also created deep pockets of shadow where others could easily hide.

They went deeper into the basement, down another set of steps, into another room, where the air became colder and slightly damp. It smelled of mold and sewage, and the light from above didn’t extend past the first few yards. The stone under Vax’s feet felt smooth and slippery, and he had to walk gently to keep from falling.

“What is this place?” he hissed.

“Hush.” His wounded foe walked with his hand along the wall, slightly leaning into the touch and leaving traces of blood behind. It wasn’t just a matter of support. His fingers were also tracing the stones—or counting. The stonework was rough and uneven, and although it was too dark to see color, it was clear there were various shades here on the walls.

They passed two narrow openings that might have been alcoves or perhaps tunnels, but the young man kept walking, disregarding them. Vax peeked inside both times, semi-convinced he’d find onlookers there. That part, at least, had fallen into place once the other man had mentioned the Clasp. In the years of traveling around with his sister and doing odd jobs in all sorts of places, he’d come across many stories and legends about the organization: a powerful guild of thieves, smugglers, assassins, and spies that spread out all across Tal’Dorei. Some of the fences he worked with were sure to be members too, though up until this point he’d simply tried to keep his distance and not encroach on their territory too much. With his sister’s safety in mind, it seemed like the best of all possible options. They were better off on their own than bound to anyone.

Ironic to think that was what brought him here now.

After a handful of minutes and a continuous walk deeper into underground rooms and tunnels, the silver-eyed man paused and seemed to hesitate. The same interplay of light and shadows made it hard to get a decent look at the room they were in now. It was big enough that Vax couldn’t see the walls. And it was cold enough that they were likely a fair way underground.

Next to his guide, there appeared to be a third narrow opening, and with a soft groan the man reached higher on the wall. His fingers curved around a stone ledge, and Vax took a step back, ready to fight if the other pulled a weapon on him.

The moment he did, two sharp points poked into his sides. “No farther, stranger,” a deep, resonant voice said. “Best let go of those blades. Lyre, what is your play here?”

Half a dozen possible scenarios echoed through Vax’s head. He’d known from the start that asking his adversary—Lyre—to do this might mean he was walking into a trap. What if they were simply both killed? What if Lyre claimed he’d thought Vax was his target all along? He’d seemed genuinely surprised his mark was one of a pair.

Vax knew it had been the right play to let Vex get away—he would never want to bring his sister right to this den of thieves targeting her—but he felt vulnerable and exposed without her by his side, and he tightened his grip on his daggers.

“Visitor for Spireling Gideor,” Lyre managed. He swayed and a smaller figure moved out from the shadows toward him. A halfling woman with brown skin and hair that lay in waves across her shoulders. She wore the same inconspicuous clothing that Lyre wore but for the mask and hood. She used a slender wheelchair in shades of midnight blue.

She sighed. “One night without anyone doing something ridiculous. Is that so much to ask?” She reached for his hand, and when they touched her own hand glowed bright copper for a moment.

Lyre stumbled. “M’sorry.”

The woman looked around. “Can someone bring this hapless excuse for a thief to Elisen? He needs to get those wounds looked at before we decide what to do with him. And clean up his blood.”

“Of course, Ro.” A third figure walked past Vax and toward Lyre. She grabbed him by the arm and not-so-gently offered him aid, marching him through the narrow opening and up a flight of stairs.

Vax leaned forward to get a better look when the weapons in his back dug deeper.

“Not so fast,” the halfling woman said. She turned around to face him. “Don’t expect you can walk up there without an explanation and with weapons. Hand over those blades.” She looked him over as if to determine any other hidden weapons.

Vax met her gaze. He didn’t want to hand over his daggers, but he expected he wouldn’t get in until he did. He flipped the weapons over and held them out to her, hilts first.

She kept waiting, and with some hesitation, he also took a dagger from his boot. “Will I get them back?”

Ro tilted her head and grinned. “If you’re very good.”

She snapped her fingers and the pressure of the blades against his back eased. A figure the size of two men stacked on top of each other reached for Vax’s daggers, smiling broadly to show a row of sharp and pointy teeth.

“Now, Lyre mentioned you’re a visitor for our Spireling Gideor, eh?” Ro asked. “It’s not often that visitors are brought in through the back entrance. Does the not-very-esteemed gentleman know that you’re coming?”

Vax straightened. He felt naked without his blades, but he was determined. “I’ve come to find out who put a price on my sister’s head, and to make sure no one else will try to take that contract.”

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Ro sniffed, as if she had her own feelings about people who came to bargain for the lives of others. “It’s been a while since we had someone come in here looking for charity. Well, I’m sure Gideor will be thrilled to see you. He always takes a special interest in the hopeless cases. Besides, if Lyre gave you his word, who am I to renege on it?”

“What will happen to him?” Vax asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

Vax considered his words, not entirely sure himself. Then he settled on the closest thing he had to the truth. “I forced him to come back here.” He didn’t regret it, but he was curious.

Ro shrugged. “That foolish boy would’ve been in far more trouble if he’d tried to disappear. His luck was going to run out one of these days. What happens to him is up to the spireling to decide.”

“So Spireling Gideor is the one in charge of everything here?” Vax pried.

“Gods, no. Not the only one. There are three of them on good days.” Ro patted his arm. “But nights like tonight? It’s only Gideor. So keep that in mind when you meet him and act accordingly, stranger. I’m just sorry we can’t offer you the scenic route.”

She snapped her fingers once more, and the world around Vax went dark.

HE CAME TO IN A comfortably lit office, propped up in a tall, leather chair. Around him, the walls were covered in paintings in all sorts of styles, and all the shelves and cabinets were lined with trinkets. From gems to jewelry to gaudy-looking boxes. On the mantel above the fireplace stood a small silver wolf, the craftsmanship exquisite.

In another chair, one that looked like a throne with all its riches and carvings, sat a stout dwarf with deep-set untrusting eyes and a braided blond beard. He wore a finely tailored blue coat with golden embroidery and emerald decorations that looked as gaudy as some of his collection of curiosities. He had his fingers tented as he smiled at Vax. “So you are the one who outsmarted one of our fine trackers. A remarkable feat, if I do say so.”

The fact that the dwarf didn’t have weapons visible on him didn’t make him any less dangerous. He was all edges. Sharp words, sharp smiles, sharp knives. He exuded power.

“You must be Spireling Gideor,” Vax said. He cracked his neck and reached for his daggers out of habit, before remembering he’d had to hand those over.

“I must be,” Gideor said. “And you go by the name Vax’ildan, or so I’ve heard. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Would you care for something to drink?” Without waiting for the answer, he took a large glass carafe and poured an amber liquid into two glasses. He passed one to Vax and kept the other for himself. On his left index finger, he wore a gold signet ring with—Vax assumed—the symbol of the Clasp etched into it. It looked like a stylized rapier with a crescent shape in front, and it was also pressed in gold filigree on the spines of several books on a shelf behind the spireling.

The dwarf saluted him with his glass. “To your continued good health. Tell me, what can I or the Clasp do for you?”

Vax set his glass aside without taking a sip, thrown by what the man seemed to know about him. “I want to know who put a contract out on my sister,” he said, without preamble. “And I want to know how to break it.”

“I will give you an answer to your first question,” Gideor said. “As a gesture of goodwill. The man who offered the contract is a minor nobleman who has requested our services before. He thinks himself important, and unfortunately he has a habit of acting on that instinct. It’s a foul business, I admit, but he is a good customer. You may have met him. Or if not you, then perhaps your sister? Regrettably, I cannot tell you his name.” It was only a half answer, and Vax was in no position to demand more. After Vex’s tale the night before, he could venture a guess. Perhaps the lordling hadn’t been entirely incompetent, but he certainly was full of himself.

“And my second question?” Vax insisted.

Gideor smiled and it sent a shiver down Vax’s spine. He held his glass in one hand and swirled the liquid back and forth. “You must understand, we are not in the habit of breaking contracts. It’s terribly bad for business. But,” he continued, before Vax could interrupt, “we might be in the business of amending them. For the right price, of course.”

Vax folded his arms. “Such as what?”

“Well, since our friend Lyre was so kind as to bring you to me, and it is clear to me you fight for a good cause, you present me with an interesting opportunity. Say, a simple assignment on my terms.” The glow of the fireplace and the soft crackling of the fire created a comfortable, pleasant atmosphere in the office, but it did nothing to dull the spireling’s edges. He studied Vax carefully to see how he would react. “A casual heist, nothing more. You’ve been asking around for work. Consider this a job offer.”

Vax hesitated. “You seem to know a great deal about me.” The disparity in knowledge was keeping him on his toes and he hated it. This was something Vex was far better at.

Gideor raised an eyebrow. “I make it my business to know what goes on in my town. Or who, as the case may be. Information is as valuable as gold in my profession.”

“And yet you didn’t tell Lyre that my sister and I come as a pair,” Vax countered.

The spireling considered that. “Much like gold, information must be earned. I expect my people to be able to handle their jobs with a certain sense of … shall we say, flexibility and creativity, even when they don’t have all the details. It’s good to know how people handle the unexpected and whether or not they can turn unforeseen circumstances into opportunities.” He nodded at Vax to underscore his point.

Vax clenched his jaw. “So what’s the job?”

“I would like you to retrieve by any means necessary a ring from Jorenn Village, a small town at the foot of the Umbra Hills. It’s an easy matter. As it is a few days’ worth of travel, it will also get you and your sister out of Westruun while we handle the contract—and your nobleman friend.” Gideor emptied his glass, and his eyes sparkled with a dangerous sort of humor. “Additionally, if you prove to be valuable assets in the long run, the Clasp can provide for you and your sister. We have plenty of other contracts for you to fulfill, and I promise you we pay better than whatever petty jobs you can cobble together.”

Vax pushed his glass in the direction of the spireling. Tendrils of worry snaked through him. “What’s the catch? What are you not telling me?”

Gideor smiled. “How delightfully distrustful. Why would I withhold anything?”

“Because information must be earned.” Vax shifted in his seat. “And you have no reason to trust me.”

“But I do. You’ll swear your allegiance to the Clasp, of course,” Gideor said, like it was a foregone conclusion. “And we know where to find your sister if you don’t.”

When the full extent of his impossible position became clear, Vax swallowed. Lyre had warned him that oath breaking didn’t come cheap, but he hadn’t thought beyond the immediate danger. Still, it was the immediate danger that needed solving, and he’d find a way to deal with whatever would come next, later. “How?”

“How what?”

“How will you handle the contract? How do I know someone else won’t come after my sister the moment we leave to go find that ring for you?”

Spireling Gideor set down his glass and got to his feet. He straightened his rich coat and smoothed his beard. And though Vax physically towered over him, it was the dwarf whose presence dominated the room. “Come, I’ll show you.”

SPIRELING GIDEOR LED VAX OUT of his office. Next to the door stood a half-orc in equally colorful attire, picking at his nails with a dagger. He looked up when the two of them exited. “Need anything, boss?”

The dwarf waved generously. “Carry on.”

The walk through the building was the complete opposite of sneaking down the city under the cover of night. Everything was brightly lit and colorful here. The walls were covered in rich tapestries and wooden paneling, with light fixtures on either side of every door: some lanterns, but more often than not decorative gems that were imbued with bright magical light that flowed through the hallways. A decadent use of magic, and a none-too-subtle reminder of the Clasp’s wealth—and power.

Although the hallways weren’t crowded, Clasp members were scattered about. Few wore the rich, hooded cloaks that Lyre and Ro had worn, with most instead preferring the rich, tailored outfits that Gideor showcased, while others dressed in simple yet elegant traveler’s gear. Everyone stepped aside when the spireling walked through, even if some of them—distracted, it seemed, by sensitive business deals—had to be convinced with sharp nudges or hissed reminders.

Down two sets of stairs, the spireling guided Vax to a door that was guarded by a tall human man on one side and a distractible halfling on the other. The man carried a morningstar on his belt while the halfling was juggling with fairy lights. He wore a bright-blue shirt that fell loose around his shoulders and revealed the edges of a branding scar curving between his shoulder blades, showing the same stylized Clasp symbol that Spireling Gideor wore etched in his ring.

“Is Culwen back from his assignment?” Gideor asked the halfling, tossing him a small pouch of something or other. The halfling caught it and kept up juggling.

“Not seen him yet, boss. Probably still in Turst Fields or wherever that assignment took him.”

“Good.” Gideor passed them and pushed open the door, a wave of sound cascaded out, and the dwarf nodded. Something in his stance relaxed as if, despite all the fineries and appearances, this was where he felt most at home.

He stepped through a back door into a wide tavern, filled with two dozen tables, patrons around them all, a crowded bar, and a trio of halfling women singing in the corner. The sound lulled for a second when the spireling entered, but immediately picked up again.

The tavern looked like any other tavern in Westruun, except that the patrons all seemed to be preternaturally attentive. Half a dozen people were playing a card game at one of the far tables, and they all kept their weapons within hand’s reach. A dwarf emptied out a small pouch of gems on a table while a human woman in front of him investigated every single one of them carefully. A halfling boy, seemingly too young to be this drunk, swayed to the sound of the trio’s singing. But the second another patron bumped into him, he had his knives out. In any other place, a move like that would’ve led to a brawl, but the other patron laughed and said something Vax couldn’t overhear and the boy simply went back to dancing without any sense of rhythm whatsoever.

The relaxed atmosphere of the room and the pleasant buzz of voices wrapped around Vax as he followed Gideor, as if to remind him that perhaps the Clasp wasn’t so bad an ally to have. That perhaps there was something to the spireling’s words after all. Vax regarded it all warily, recognizing how the tavern functioned as both a lure and a mask for the dangers that lay underneath.

“We take care of our own, my boy,” Spireling Gideor said, like he could read Vax’s thoughts. “Our organization would be a poor one indeed if we didn’t. Hold your duty to us, and we’ll hold ours to you.”

“And if anyone fails to do so?” Vax asked.

Gideor nodded toward the far end of the room. “Come, follow me.”

At the bar sat Lyre, a large tankard of ale in front of him, and his head on his arms. His shoulders and arms were bandaged up anew, while tension rippled down his back. He sat on his own, with empty chairs on either side that stood out compared to the crowded place. He glanced behind him and immediately buried his head in his arms again, clearly trying to will himself to be invisible.

Undeterred by this, Gideor walked up to him and slapped his shoulder, causing the young man to flinch. “Our friend Lyre here will be the answer to all of your questions.”

Lyre turned to face him, one hand clinging to the tankard and the other trembling fiercely in his lap. “Spireling Gideor, sir, I can—I will do better with my next contract. I nearly had the girl too. My rats were on her. If I hadn’t been interrupted, if my darts had been properly spelled, but I … I thought you should hear what her brother had to say.”

He cringed away from Vax’s angry scowl, and the hand that was holding the tankard was now trembling so hard that the ale inside sloshed over the rim.

Spireling Gideor offered Lyre the same casual smile he’d shown Vax, and again it didn’t convey any sort of humor or amusement. “Unless I lost count, this isn’t the first contact you messed up. Did I lose count, Lyre?”

“No, sir.” Lyre’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was audible in the room, because all the conversations around them had fallen quiet.

“Feel free to jog my memory, but wasn’t there the business with that young girl in the Shields some time ago? And a sizable sum of gold owed by a certain bookseller?”

Lyre shrank in on himself, and he looked to be on the verge of crying. “I swear I can do better.”

“I know, I know.” Spireling Gideor patted Lyre’s back and sounded entirely reasonable. “That’s why you’re going to help us with this bit of nasty business. Walk with us.”

Behind the bar, a young woman was cleaning glasses with a disinterested look on her face. The spireling nodded at her and tapped the ring on his finger. When he asked her something in a guttural language Vax didn’t understand, she reached underneath the bar and pulled some kind of lever, which opened up a door to a back room.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” he said.

His charming attitude dropped the moment he closed the door behind Vax and Lyre, and the three of them were alone. A triangular table was set up in the middle of the room, with three high-backed chairs all draped with moss-green covers showing the Clasp symbol embroidered in shimmering gold. There were thick curtains in front of what Vax assumed was a window, and cabinets on two of the walls.

This must be a meeting room for the three spirelings, like Ro had mentioned. Three powerful—and likely power-hungry—figures in charge of a guild of thieves and smugglers. Vax wondered what those meetings looked like.

Gideor opened up two lanterns to light up the room and softly traced a finger along the back of one of the chairs until Vax heard the faintest of clicks. The spireling nodded. He took a key from a necklace and opened up the tall cabinet on the right side of the room. He reached in and took out a short staff, roughly the size of his forearm. He held it for a moment, looking at it in rapt fascination. The staff, which appeared to be made from leather or skin or flesh, twisted and coiled in Gideor’s hand like it was a living thing.

“Vax’ildan.” The spireling turned to Vax and held out the staff. From closer up, it wasn’t flesh but entirely made up out of tongues that were shivering and curling, and Vax stared at the staff in mute horror. “I owed you an answer as to how I plan to fulfill my deal with you while not antagonizing our previous contractor. I believe far better than to tell you is to show you.”

Gideor ran a fingernail along the staff and shifted his attention to the third person in the room. “You know that the Clasp—my Clasp does not suffer failures, Lyre.”

Lyre trembled all over and dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s—”

“Shhh.” Spireling Gideor held out the staff toward the sobbing figure in front of him, and before Vax could wrap his mind around what was happening—before he could do anything—Lyre’s form began to shimmer. He clawed at his face and his protests became louder—

Until his voice broke and changed.

His features twisted, warping perversely. His shoulders narrowed and his arms snapped like they were breaking. His torso crumpled and unfurled. His messy hair grew out, falling in long brown strands around his face. His terrified silver eyes gradually darkened.

In front of Vax, Lyre was turned into a perverted copy of his sister and lay on the floor clutching her throat, moaning in that exact same voice Vax would always recognize, no matter where they were.

When Lyre opened his mouth to cry out, his voice—Vex’s voice—cracking at the edges, Gideor reached out, grabbed the thief’s tongue, and yanked. With a nauseating snap, the tongue came loose, and Lyre roared helplessly. Tears streamed down his face and mingled with the blood that coated his chin and chest.

Vax stumbled toward the table because his legs threatened to give out. He was going to be sick. He was going to claw out his own eyes and find a way to undo what happened.

Spireling Gideor still held on to the staff, and he held the bloodied tongue up to it. The other tongues immediately lapped up the blood, and the staff shivered and expanded to make room for a new addition to its collection. Gideor studied it curiously. “What a marvelous thing indeed.”

“It’s horrifying,” Vax managed. He had to stop himself from putting his hands over his ears to block out Lyre’s broken cries. He couldn’t even look at him.

Spireling Gideor raised his eyebrows. “You asked me how I would handle our nobleman, and this is my answer. We provide him with a decoy.”

“How long?” Vax asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“For as long as our gentleman contractor has use of him.” Gideor walked over to the cabinet and returned the staff, locking the doors carefully. He looked down on Lyre. “I could have and should have demanded your life, Lyre. Instead you’ll have one last chance to serve the Clasp. Wouldn’t you consider that merciful after those many mistakes you made?”

He didn’t wait for a reply before he walked up to Vax. “You see, I prefer working together based on mutual agreement.” He spoke comfortably. “But please understand that I consider us to be in contract now too. And while I have shown myself flexible because I believed it to be in both our interests, do not think I make it a habit of accepting anything but the results we’ve agreed upon.”

Vax felt his stomach twist and turn inside him, and their inn’s terrible lumpy food threatened to crawl up his throat. If he didn’t find a way out of here soon, out of this room with a cursed copy of his sister and the unmoving demands of the dwarf in front of him, he was going to be sick.

“Do we have an understanding?” Spireling Gideor asked.

“We do,” Vax croaked.

“Wonderful. I’m so pleased to hear that. Come, I will see to it that you get your weapons back and that you have all the information you need.” The dwarf straightened his coat, and the twinkle in his eyes was lethal. The tight-lipped smile he threw Lyre’s way was the first true smile Vax had seen since he met the dwarf.

When Spireling Gideor reached out to him to take his arm, Vax had to fight not to flinch away.