Harry's heart was pounding, just a little. He was meditating in a fountain. Not on the bench next to the fountain, but he actually had climbed inside the stone bowl and sat in the water. Every now and then a little red fish would jump over his lap, taking to this new obstacle course with joy.

  In the fountain next to his sat Jane. Unlike Harry, she was actually meditating. Her eyes were closed, her body still, and there was a magic bolt hovering in the air in front of her. It was almost frozen in place, as Jane was trying to move it as slowly as possible. Neither of them knew if it would help, but that was what the academy was all about—they would try anything to see if they could unlock more magic-related skills.

  "Cure."

  Harry didn't need to say it out loud, but it helped to vocalize the spell. His hands flashed white, showing that the magic did activate. But nothing happened. Harry was targeting himself, and there was no disease to cure. No illness that fell within the bounds of this spell. Why then, did he feel queasy? Why the heart thudding in his chest? Harry closed his eyes, trying to calm his nerves. He took a deep breath, and starting choking and coughing when some water from the fountain went into his lungs.

  "Harry! You ok?"

  Jane hurried over to check on her friend.

  "I'm—I'm ok," Harry spluttered. He hacked and coughed some more. Not the best impression. It did bring her over, however, so... maybe? Somewhat successful? Harry stepped out of the fountain, wiping water off his face.

  "H-hey Jane, um, I was wanting to ask you something."

  "Oh? What is it?"

  "Um, I wish I was wearing dry clothes, heh, but um, would...youliketogotothedancewithme?"

  "Huh?"

  "Would you like to go to the dance with me? I don't usually go, but I was thinking..."

  "Oh."

  "Yea."

  "Oh, um, sorry Harry. I was going to go with Gutters."

  "Oh! Right, of course."

  "Yea, nothing romantic, just that I'm the only one he knows, and—"

  "Yea, totally, makes sense. I'll just—I'm gonna go dry off."

  "Ok, see you later Harry!"

  Jane went back to her fountain, settling back in to a seated position. A jet of water arced over her, and a small fish landed on her forehead, giving her a light slap before falling back to the pool below. She watched Harry half-walk, half-run around the corner and disappear. She sighed.

  Jints gave Zig a piece of paper.

  "What's this?"

  "Our current balance with the bank of Liston, mister Zig."

  Zig looked back at the paper. He'd learned numbers, but he just wanted to make sure.

  "Does this symbol here mean 'thousand'? We have almost two thousand gold?"

  Jints nodded his head, trying to stay professional.

  "We certainly do, mister Zig. That was quite the pile of ore we brought in. Not to mention the further contracts with a local sawmill to take all the trees we cut down. We also have contracts ready to rent out Red Mine to another mining company. Nothing signed yet, but if you, er, get bored of it, as it were, then we can continue to earn gold without having to take any further action in the mines ourselves."

  "That's what you've been doing in Liston? Slowly taking over the economy? Jints I'm starting to suspect you are the most powerful Red Dagger."

  "One might see things that way, mister Zig." Jints bowed in appreciation. "There is also a 'final meeting' of sorts with the Alchemist. All the local captains will bring their highest value plants, we can buy them all up and hopefully double our money in one night. That's scheduled at the docks for tomorrow night."

  Zig wondered, if left alone for a few months, whether Jints would end up running the country.

  "Jints, I don't know how to thank you enough. We'll have to play it right this time. Not too much blood. Not too weak-looking, we don't want to provoke a fight. Not too scary, we don't want them running off."

  "Well said, mister Zig. And after this one last sale, I think we're best suited to other business. These deals at the docks are too volatile."

  "Hey Jints, remember those bandits we met on the road to Liston, and you kept us safe with some kind of contract skill? How come we don't use that?"

  "Perhaps we should have, from the beginning mister Zig. Rough types tend to react badly toward any kind of contract skills. Like the way you feel about blood contracts, I would presume."

  Zig felt a spike of adrenaline just at the mention of the word.

  "Ah, yea I can see that. Ok, well, one more deal at the docks. Double our money. How bad could it be?"

  Gutters was walking down a wide corridor. It really was wide. Easily enough for two people to pass each other. Why, then, did that student smack into him with his shoulder?

  "Watch it, freak."

  Ah, that's why.

  Gutters didn't feel too bad, as he picked himself up. That was how he'd been treated his whole life. Better, actually. The guy actually touched him. When he was living in trash piles, the local public would never do such a thing. Gutters smiled.

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  I'm moving up in the world.

  He brushed at his cape. It was a pure red color and he loved it. A little dirty now, but Gutters never minded a little dirt. He turned sharply and strode off, just so, in the perfect way, so that the cape twirled and billowed into the air. The movement was perfect. Gutters jumped into the air. He couldn't help it. When he got happy—really happy—he jumped. It was something in the troglodyte people. The reason people called them "frogs". Gutters touched the ceiling of the tall corridor, about two or three times the height of a normal person, before falling back to the earth, landing lightly on his feet. His cape trailing behind him.

  What a lovely day.

  Gutters kept walking—with the occasional jump—up to Jane's room. He knocked on the door three times, then stepped back.

  "Oh, hey Gutters! I guess you heard?"

  "My lady Jane," Gutters bowed politely, "I do believe we are filthy rich. Quite the step up from being just filthy. Shall we go to the library and purchase some magic?"

  Gutters proffered his arm and Jane took it with a smile. Linked arms as they were, Gutters was careful not to jump. It was tempting, though.

  They arrived at the library, and went straight to the counter where all the spell scrolls were stored. The thin old man, mister Lent, watched them approach. He smiled at Jane, but looked with a puzzled frown at Gutters.

  "Good evening lady Jane, are you looking to purchase a new spell?"

  "Lots of new spells actually, mister Lent. Let's see. Could we start with seven scrolls of Cure?"

  The smile faltered on Lent's face.

  "Ah. My lady, I suspect from such an order that you might be buying on behalf of others."

  The man said "others" like it was the dirtiest word in the world.

  "The entrance requirements are strict, and only students of the academy may learn the spells we have here. I am actually surprised your... 'friend' managed to become a student."

  Lent slightly shifted his head toward Gutters' direction, without actually looking at the boy.

  "Huh... you people are quite awful, aren't you."

  Lent raised an eyebrow.

  "Are you here to purchase something, lady Jane, or just insult this administration?"

  Jane bit back a few choice words, and managed to bring an eye-roll down to just a twitch.

  "We would... like to buy some scrolls. Two of—" Jane looked at the selection available one more time, adding sums in her head.

  "Two of everything."

  Blackhook breathed a sigh of relief when the latest ship pulled into the docks. He didn't like calling in favors. But this mess was getting out of hand. He couldn't believe his luck with the latest news. The Alchemist was coming to visit them? All of the captains? What an idiot.

  The final problem was the horse.

  The solution stepped off the gangplank. No heavy boots, thudding down the wooden platform. Instead they wore soft leather that barely disturbed the dust they walked on. The four men that came up to Blackhook were the real deal. They didn't wear black, as amateurs often did. Their clothes were the same shades and colors as the world around them. The browns of the docks and the ships. The cream of the sails and the clouds. The greens of the hills and the trees. They'd put the sailor's stealthy walk through the forest to shame. They were unnoticeable. Blackhook felt his eyes sliding off the leading man, struggling to stay focused. Slippery bastards.

  "Blackhook," the leader said softly. Somehow the sound carried farther than it should, reaching Blackhook's ears. The captain wondered if that sound was only reaching him specifically. He inclined his head in a rare respectful nod.

  "Eels. Good to know a favor is honored among you."

  "A favor is a favor, captain. I do have one request, however. Given the nature of this task."

  Blackhook sighed inwardly. There was always something.

  "Nothing too much, is it? What do the mighty Night Eels want from all this? Surely there's nothing Liston has to offer."

  "The horse itself. We want the kill, we want the parts."

  "One might say that's its own reward, and the favor would still stand."

  "Few would say such things to a Night Eel."

  Blackhook nodded slowly. He'd lose a lot of money, and whoever got that horse might gain a class shift and skills to rival the rewards for the Alchemist himself. But he expected something like this, and he wasn't equipped to deal with horse and man together. It was a good deal.

  "Done. The horse's owner will be at the docks tomorrow night. Can you keep the horse away?"

  The man paused, then nodded.

  "Not enough time to set traps, but I think we can play it by ear."

  Just four men, and they can take an Extreme fanged horse 'by ear'.

  Blackhook felt a little bit out of his depth. It was surreal. He hadn't felt this way for a long, long time.

  "One little thing, since we're adding conditions to this favor."

  The man looked at him, waiting for the captain to continue. It was hard to read these people.

  "The little captain. Ironbeard's boy. He's going to die in the fight. But if he doesn't..."

  The leader of the Night Eels nodded their understanding. It would be done.

  There was a party at the Broken Leg.

  They'd spent the day loading up the sled with everything of value they'd found in Red Mine. Teeth seemed to thoroughly enjoy the workout, dragging the sled across the now very firm dirt road. Jints received the goods and directed men to sort it into piles and cart it off to various places for smelting. Another team started cutting up all the fallen trees lying around in the forest, reducing them to piles of wood that they carried off on regular carts. No fancy sleds for them. Their horses didn't even have fangs. Zig shook his head at their misfortune.

  At some point a runner had come up to let them know that Jane and Gutters had bought a big stockpile of spell scrolls, enough for every member of the Red Daggers to receive at least one. Spirits were high, and Zig had shouted to anyone he crossed that day that there would be free drinks at the Broken Leg.

  The inn was packed. Lutor the owner was red in the face and covered in sweat as he rushed around, trying to fulfill orders. His wife was at the counter, furiously scribbling down in a book every drink and snack they sold, keeping a tally to present to the Red Daggers at the end. Zig wondered if they'd level up a skill from this.

  He looked around the room. Someone had brought out a three-stringed violin, and another was thumping a beat with his fist on the table. The music was lively. Somehow the thumps had a deep bass to them, Zig could feel it running through his chest. The violin also felt strange. If Zig listened carefully, only one note was playing at a time, but if he turned his attention elsewhere, he could swear that his mind was filling in the gaps. Imaginary violins joined in to harmonize, and if Zig were blind he'd say there were perhaps four of the instruments in the room.

  People were dancing, or trying to in the crowded space. The only part of the inn not so crowded was the fireplace. There was a small group of people there, some with tears running down their cheeks. They toasted one another and confessed things that were absolutely too private for Zig to listen for long. He hoped that this was some cathartic breakthrough that led to healing for all the people there, instead of traumatizing them with weaponized emotional fire.

  "Ho, Zig! Try this."

  Zig turned around and saw Gretta holding up a mug for him.

  "What is it?"

  "Mother-in-law. It's the strongest drink in Liston, I heard it's illegal to sell to anyone who doesn't have a drinking-related skill."

  "How come you've got it?"

  "I'm a dwarf."

  "Ah."

  "Also, it's not for me. I wouldn't touch the stuff."

  Gretta pressed the mug into Zig's hands.

  "I know you've been basically immune to every drink you've tried so far. Here's hoping this is finally something to knock you over."

  Zig smiled at that.

  "Thank you, Gretta, for searching the whole town to find a poison that works on me. Nobody else would do such a thing."

  He took the mug, held it in the air and shouted.

  "To the Red Daggers!"

  There was an echoing cheer as everyone heard the name of the group paying for their drinks.

  Zig put the mug to his lips and drained the whole thing. He stood there, waiting for it to hit him. His hopeful smile wobbled a bit. He waited. Eventually he sighed and gave the empty cup back to Gretta.

  "Thanks Gretta, it was worth a try."

  "Nothing at all? I mixed literal poison into it."

  "You what? You didn't think to mention that when you handed it to me?"

  "I didn't want to trigger your skill, who knows, maybe knowing beforehand would ruin it? How about the paralytic, are you feeling any numbness? Anything at all?"

  "Well I'm kinda glad it didn't work now! Gretta you can't just go around poisoning people."

  "Ugh. This is the last time I do something nice for you."

  The dwarf stormed off to consider how to get her hands on more expensive poisons.