When the City Guard came to knock on their door in the morning before sunrise, Bernt feared the worst. Uriah’s bed was still undisturbed, his small pack leaning against it exactly as he’d left it. But Uriah came walking through the door a moment later, looking stiff and pale. His robes were covered in crusted blood. One of the guards behind him was holding his staff for him.

  “What in the hells happened to you?” Nirlig asked, aghast.

  Uriah didn't answer immediately, staring into the middle distance before his eyes suddenly focused on Nirlig as if just realizing that he'd spoken. “A... uh... a demon, I think. Unless the Duergar have mind mages that can sneak into the city. I was attacked last night at the enchanter’s shop. The enchanter’s dead.” He paused, getting a faraway look in his eye. Then he was back. “It was in my head, somehow. But somebody saw, and it... ran.”

  “We took him to the Temple of Eyeli,” the guard explained from the door when Uriah trailed off. “The thing stabbed him pretty good a couple times. Had to wait before they’d see him and then we had to get all the details down and file a report. They summoned a scryer detective from the Mages’ Guild out of bed – it was a whole thing. She found evidence of mind magic that corroborates your friend’s story, so we can release him now. The commander thought we'd better bring him over. He's... well, you've got eyes. He should get some sleep. You shouldn’t leave him alone. Not if something’s after him. Haven’t had a murder in this city in nearly a year, I don’t want to see two right on top of each other, you hear?”

  “I’ll watch him,” Torvald volunteered. “I need a bit of a break anyway – a lazy day will do me good. Don’t worry, we’ll take it from here.”

  The guard nodded, handed Bernt the staff and left . The runes were still damaged. They’d have to find someone else to repair it.

  “Alright.” Bernt said, “We’ll bring you back some breakfast, alright? Both of you.”

  “Oh, I’m not hungry.” Uriah said weakly as he collapsed down onto his bed. “Wouldn’t mind some water, though.”

  “You can’t feel it because of the blood loss, probably. Thirst always feels more urgent.” Nirlig scolded him, digging out a canteen of stale water from his pack and handing it to the dehydrated hydromancer. “You still need food.”

  Uriah drank blearily and then nodded. “Fine.”

  Bernt grabbed the damaged staff and moved for the door, Nirlig already waiting in the hall when Uriah spoke again.

  “It was trying to find you, I think. Because of your damned imp, probably. Shouldn’t have gotten yourself involved with that thing. Godsdamned demons... you need to watch out, you hear?”

  Bernt bit back his retort and took a breath. He wasn’t going to change Uriah’s perspective on Jori – not now, and not soon. He needed to be patient. The guy had been through a few things. Finally, he nodded.

  “We’ll keep an eye out.”

  ***

  Bernt stuffed the bundle of dried yarrow and chamomile into the pocket of his robes, feeling a little self-conscious as Nirlig looked on. It had been a few days since he'd last "fed" the infused robes, so he'd stopped to pick up a few things from a little marketplace that they passed. But the goblin didn't say anything, so Bernt didn't explain. He would know what it was about, right? This was normal for goblins.

  Before they could find somewhere to get the staff repaired, they needed to go to the bank. He was supposed to continue to receive his salary, plus a stipend from the crown for the duration of his appointment as a legitimator. They’d only been on the road for a single pay cycle, but Bernt hoped it would be enough. Enchanters were expensive, and who knew how much a legitimator made?

  “Hey, how are you covering your expenses?” Bernt asked Nirlig as they approached the large, opulent building. “You won’t get paid until we’re back in Halfbridge, right? I mean, it could take months.”

  Nirlig laughed. “They don’t pay us as well in the Underkeepers as you, but it’s still pretty good. I made more than twice as much as I did doing manual labor out on the farms before. I’ve got savings. I was even thinking about borrowing a bit from my dad and getting an alchemical enhancement before joining up with the adventurers, but he talked me out of it. Invested gear is a better value, and the Alchemists’ Guild in Halfbridge doesn’t like us, anyway.”

  “Goblins, or Underkeepers?”

  “Goblins and Underkeepers.”

  Bernt grunted in acknowledgement. He certainly hadn’t bought anything from the alchemists before leaving. He’d bought the minor healing potions in his pack at a small markup, courtesy of the City Guard quartermaster. Palina had referred him. Now that he was away, he’d need to track down a local alchemist for a higher quality potion – it always paid to have something fast-acting for emergencies, despite the cost.

  “Besides, this way I don’t have to worry about food or supplies for a while.” Nirlig continued. “Unless we get robbed, anyway.”

  Bernt laughed. “I don’t think that’s a huge risk, all things considered.” Bandits generally knew better than to mess with an obvious group of adventurers. While more dangerous bands with deserters or disgruntled mercenaries formed occasionally, they didn’t tend to last long. Regular bandits were a municipal issue, but legitimately dangerous armed groups drew down the attention of the military.

  The bank was a large building built in the same over-the-top style as the Mages’ Guild, with marble columns and tall, arched ceilings. Unlike the guild, though, the bank was bustling with activity. Tellers sat behind long counters that ran the length of the room on both sides, protected by a tastefully decorative wrought-iron grate with enchantments so potent they made Bernt’s teeth buzz from the door.

  It took a moment to find a free bank employee, but things progressed smoothly from there. Bernt was required to produce a writ confirming his identity from Narald’s castellan. Then they demanded a sample of either his blood or mana, which could be used to positively identify him and scry his location in the event of any “issue”. Cheating a bank to its face had serious consequences.

  They left the building just ten minutes later. Bernt kept his hand clutched around the coins in his pocket. He hadn’t thought to bring his bag, which was relatively safe from pickpockets due to the sheer size of its enchanted interior.

  “Did you know how much you were getting paid?” Nirlig asked, appearing shocked.

  Bernt shook his head dumbly. It had been a lot – nearly twenty gold marks in total. The “stipend and expenses” for being a legitimator was, by itself, nearly double what he’d earned as an Underkeeper.

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  “Let’s just get our other errands done before the streets get too crowded. I don’t want to stay out here too long with this much money in my pocket.”

  “You think someone’s going to steal from a mage?” Nirlig asked curiously.

  “Nobody’s going to rob me with a knife,” Bernt allowed, “but pickpockets don’t expect to get caught. Watch my back, alright? Let's go spend some of this.”

  ***

  Nirlig unloaded a bag full of the various breakfast foods that they’d collected on their way back and pulled out some kind of deep fried fruit to show Torvald, who was just waking up Uriah for breakfast.

  “Did you find an enchanter?” the hydromancer asked blearily.

  “Yeah. Got a good price, though I'll get reimbursed anyway. I think he probably doesn’t know that his biggest competitor just got murdered. That, or he isn’t very good.” Bernt shrugged. They couldn’t really afford to be picky right now, anyway. He pulled out a letter and waved it in the air. “We’ve got news from home, too.”

  Unfolding it, Bernt scanned the message.

  Legitimator Bernard,

  Please inform the Invigilation representatives in your group that we have determined the approximate location of the Duergar capital. The so-called “Seat of Molten Stone”, is about a league beneath the southern tip of the Sunset Range, where the Kallrix, Illuria and Madzhur meet. I expect that information should be of some use, regardless of what they end up deciding. I’ve already informed the crown.

  As I expect you already know, Archmage Thurdred has returned to Halfbridge. I understand your hesitancy to be open about your ability to communicate with your imp, but would encourage you to place greater trust in the knowledge and experience of your mentors in the future. Please keep me apprised of any relevant information that you may acquire about activities in the hells going forward, especially as it may pertain to Duergar movements on our plane.

  Regards,

  Archmage Iriala

  Bernt cleared his throat and looked up. Right. He’d talked to Jori last night, but he hadn’t shared the news yet. He hadn’t wanted to say anything in front of Olias, and it had slipped his mind this morning with the demonic murder attempts and errands to run.

  “What is it?” Torvald asked.

  “Ed is back in Halfbridge! I just got confirmation from Archmage Iriala.”

  Uriah sat up. “What? How?”

  “Jori brought him back.” Bernt said, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. “Just like she said she would.”

  Uriah let out a breath and lay back down. “Well. I guess that’s something, at least.”

  Leaving out the parts directed at him personally, Bernt summarized the contents of the letter. Torvald perked up when he learned about the location of the Duergar Capital.

  “Well, if nothing else gets done, at least we won’t be stuck fighting them by ourselves. After Loamfurth, the governments of Kallrix and Madzhur are going to want clarity on this whole issue. They won’t be able to ignore it if they’re right below their feet.”

  The location in question was relatively close to major cities in both Kallrix and Madzhur. It also bordered on the Phoenix Reaches, which was technically under Illurian administration, but likely wouldn’t concern them nearly as much. The place was uninhabited, and their “rule” was more a matter of treaty than actual occupation. That said, they did attempt to restrict access to “foreigners”, both in the name of safety and to prevent others from accessing the potent elemental materials that could be gathered there.

  Bernt nodded and got up, heading for the door with the letter in hand. “I need to go find the high priests. They’ll want to know about this and probably send messages ahead to the temples at the Sacral Peaks.”

  ***

  Drudnik completed the summoning, whispering a name as he pricked his finger and squeezed a drop of blood down onto the circle in front of him. The ease with which the knife cut into his skin worried him. He was careful to pronounce it exactly right to make sure that he summoned the correct imp. He hated lengthy chanting, trying to get the name just right, so it was a point of pride for him to get it right the first time instead. “Maladzhoth, attend me!”

  He couldn’t believe he’d been reduced to summoning imps, like a novice. But his pacted fiend had been out of contact for too long. Its orders had been to report back to him every three days at the latest. It had been nearly five now, and something felt wrong. He was weaker. His skin felt thin, somehow and he’d burned his tongue on his mushroom Chaga this morning. Burned it!

  His novices couldn’t learn of this failure – they might report it behind his back. Drudnik's master was not an understanding man. If Tallash had somehow been captured, or worse, if the sunwalkers had managed to extract information from him somehow, he would be killed for his failure. Worse, he might find himself gifted for possession to empower one of King Grundrik’s Elect. No, he needed to solve this by himself, and he needed to do it quickly.

  Soon, he would run out of time. His peers, Arith and Kurill, would be resummoning their own demons, a shade and a hag. They had already confirmed with lesser demons that both had been destroyed in the fight. Soon, they would be reborn and summoned again. He needed to know what happened before then, and be ready to defend his actions before their master.

  The bundle of herbs smoldering in a brazier next to him went out.

  “Agh!” a high scratchy, high pitched voice yelped. “What?! What do you want?”

  “Imp,” Drudnik said impatiently. “I have been unable to contact your superior, Tallash. Is he still pursuing the sunwalkers?”

  His cadre of warlocks had sent out their pacted demons alongside a small army of their lesser thralls to destroy a convoy of sunwalkers. Kurill’s shade had discovered that they were a diplomatic delegation meant to gather more of their kind to stand against Grundrik’s armies, and to seek the support of their unnatural gods. It should have been a simple job, despite the presence of multiple of their priests.

  The creature spat and the circle flared, its protections catching the noxious projectile with a hiss. Had the creature somehow just spat a wad of hellfire? The Duergar warlock narrowed his eyes at it, trying to decide how to react.

  “Tallash is dead,” the accursed creature purred. “I don’t have to talk to you. Send me back!”

  “I will not. How long ago was Tallash killed? When will we be able to resummon him? Report!”

  The imp glared angrily. “Tallash is dead. He is not coming back. My obligation to him is erased and I owe you nothing. I don’t have a pact with you, and I’m not making one, either!”

  “He can’t be dead – he is a demon!” Drudnik clenched his jaw in frustration. “I will keep you here until you answer my questions.”

  Demons could be destroyed on their home plane, certainly – but a third tier demon with masters as powerful as Tallash had? Not a chance. Who would dare? But… he could feel his pacted resilience, his resistance to fire diminish by the hour. He was in denial.

  The imp scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You can’t hold me. We don’t have a pact. Last chance!”

  “No!”

  The creature disappeared in a burst of hellfire that turned the small room into an oven. The hot air reeked of sulfur and Drudnik coughed, cursing all the while. He needed to summon another imp. He had to salvage all this, somehow. What were their names? He hadn’t memorized them all. If he couldn’t get one to cooperate with him, he was finished.

  Behind him, the door opened.

  “Drudnik,” his master said, his voice smooth. “I have received some disturbing news regarding your task here. Zijeregh tells me you have acted recklessly, and potentially cost him one of his own.” His eyes narrowed. “You have incurred a debt.”