“I’m sure your rats have told you about my recent delve into the undercity and how I returned with the unconscious Cold Fire Sorcerer and an unconscious Elder Wyrmkin.”

“I was told the Wyrmkin was dead,” Mister Grey commented.

If that’s the general consensus, it explains why the coven or city guard didn’t send anyone after us. Then again, Penelope and I have been challenging to find.

“Almost. We nursed him back to health and interrogated him. There is a coven of witches in Iskander. I haven’t figured out their purpose, but they employed Kelpie and her followers to smuggle the Elder Wyrmin into the city.” Lukas lowered his volume and leaned closer as he continued. “They used the secret docks and your slave tunnels.

“Penelope and I took out the Wyrmkin, their camp, and ritual laboratory. The news got out. Now, the coven is silencing everyone in the know. Kelpie. Rats. Guardsmen. Assassins sent after Penelope and me. Almost all who served them died the same way.”

“Almost?” Mister Grey raised a bushy eyebrow, his beady eyes burning with rage. Lukas was half worried the man would take his anger out on him. But he intended to use the giant, and he currently seemed like the lesser evil. “You mean there are people who served them and still breathe?”

“It seems they branded all who agreed to serve them except one person: Guard Captain Stefan Santana.”

“And why are you telling me this now?” Mister Grey demanded, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. He didn’t appear any less threatening.

“Honestly? I wasn’t going to tell you until tomorrow. The sorcerer and the Shadow Seekers are currently raiding the coven’s base: the Nightingale’s Rest. They intend to kill most of the witches and maybe capture a couple for questioning. I hoped to tell you only after I have good news, so you wouldn’t look at me as you are now and not crush my skull.” Lukas sighed, nodding at the witch’s box. “But I sensed one of them here. She’s the one who’s been fighting you for the vestige items. Once the auction ends and she exits the building, she’ll know the coven has been captured or taken out. I’m sure the witch is going to flee, and I don’t have the strength to catch her.”

“You want to use my rage and need for vengeance to take her out?”

“I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

“You’re too clever for your own good, Lukas Zaun.”

“You’re not the first one to have told me that today,” Lukas replied, smiling sheepishly. “So? Are you going to help me?”

“Five thousand crowns!” Mister Grey exclaimed, returning his attention to the auction. He had seemed unbothered by the lot thus far. It was one of the shards that had intrigued Lukas, and he would’ve loved it on first arriving in Iskander.

“Five-thousand-two!” Rang a masculine voice from the witch’s box.

“Five-thousand-four,” Mister Grey announced before grinning at Lukas. “I just don’t want her to win.”

“You want her to seek you out after the auction, don’t you?”

“I told Kelpie from day one. Your mind is as valuable an asset as your identification ability.”

Mister Grey’s pockets proved deeper than the witch had limited influence on her date. Lukas imagined the witch was bidding using her male companion’s assets. His funds were limited, or there was a limit to how much she could coerce him to spend without compromising her control.

“Ten-thousand-five going once!” The auctioneer called, the gavel waiting to drop. “Ten-thousand-five going twice!” Pin-drop silence hung over the auditorium. When no one spoke up, the man dropped the mallet. “Sold for Ten-thousand-five. Let’s move on to the final three, ladies and gentlemen.”

“You wouldn’t be willing to trade the Shard of Arcane Smithing for the Shard of Growth, would you?” Lukas asked.

“I’ll think about it if everything you’ve told me proves true.”

They didn’t wait around for the final lots. Mister Grey wished to collect his purchases and believed the witch would do the same. Her box had won the Shard of Arboreal Mastery. It seemed perfect for someone who relied heavily on ritual magic and alchemy. Growing one’s own ingredients and reagents had its benefits.

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Lukas felt a stalker dispel himself as soon as they exited the box. Memories came with it. The witch and her date were also heading to the ground floor. The man appeared catatonic. His face was pale, and his eyes were blank. Lukas couldn’t tell what it was, but his face twitched every couple of seconds. Something wasn’t right about him. Lukas guessed the witch had taken out her rage over the loss on him.

Mister Grey returned to his usual self as they descended. He laughed and talked about the auction animatedly, took an oversized goblet from a passing server and tipped her, and also cracked a joke with a guard he recognized. Lukas couldn’t quite tell whether the man was amused or terrified.

They descended the stairs to the lower floor, and Mister Grey traversed the corridors without needing directions. It was clear he had been to the auction several times before. Lukas was relieved that they had gotten through it without anyone discovering his identification abilities, but believed that Mister Grey’s targeted bidding was likely to raise suspicion. More importantly, the night was still far from over. There was a confrontation coming. He was sure of it. The question was of when and where, not if.

The pair ended up near the auditorium’s rear, where a giant counter awaited them. The guards in the area were numerous and felt significantly more powerful than the ones around the entrance or anywhere inside the building. Several valets also waited, standing next to large wooden or metal chests. Runes and spell scripts covered everything but the floors and people. It went without saying that the area was well-defended. Mister Grey didn’t seem to pay attention to any of it as he marched through it all to the counter.

“Congratulations on your winnings, Lord Grey,” the woman behind it said, retrieving a parchment from a nearby drawer. She carried herself like the many noble women in attendance. “Your total for the night is thirty-six thousand and five hundred crowns. How do you intend to pay?”

“How about we check the debt ledger, my love?” The giant man asked, putting on a smile that appeared more threatening than charming. “If we put it against Iskander’s debt to little old me, how much is left over?”

“But sir, this is for charity—”

“Do we need to bring down a council member and discuss my deal with them?”

“No, Lord Grey.”

Lord Grey? The city is in debt to him? I thought this was a rags-to-riches story. No wonder he gets away with so much without consequence. I don’t think I’ll bring down his gang or the slave ring any time soon.

“The Council of Iskander will owe you thirty-two thousand and five hundred crowns after deducting the value of your purchases,” the woman continued. She amended a section of the parchment, crossing out the numbers and replacing them with a big zero. “Please look everything over and leave your mark, Lord Grey. Your prices will be brought out momentarily.”

“Very good.”

The witch and her date arrived just as Mister Grey was going through the paperwork. She smiled sweetly at Lukas on the way to the counter. Her date’s movements were robotic, and his speech didn’t sound quite right as he spoke to the woman behind the counter. Lukas hadn’t dealt with zombies or ghouls since his early years in the Realm of Greater Beings, but he fit the bill.

“Congratulations,” the woman said, looking up at Mister Grey. “I believe you and I were competing on several of the same things.”

“Is that so?” Mister Grey feigned surprise. “I apologize if I got too competitive. My mother always said that my brothers and I have trouble accepting defeat. I’m—”

“Your reputation precedes you, Mister Grey. Everyone knows who you are.” She offered him her hand, holding it up delicately, fingers facing down. “I’m Lady Robin Silksong, the madame of the Nightingale’s Rest.”

Lords and ladies? Are these two genuine nobility ot did they buy their titles?

“Forgive me if I don’t kiss your hand, my lady.”

The woman appeared disappointed but said nothing. A pair of workers arrived soon after pushing trolleys. The shards, trinkets, and antiques sat on velvet pillows. Lady Silksong’s cart only featured the Shard of Arboreal Mastery, a couple of trinkets, and an ornate dagger. She didn’t move to collect them, leaving her date to take it all. Instead, she followed Lukas and Mister Grey as they made their way toward the exit.

“I was hoping to catch you, Mister Grey,” Lady Silksong continued. “My companion didn’t bring enough funds to assist with bidding. But would you consider selling them directly? I’ll pay one-and-a-half times what you spent and add you to our special client list. Intelligence and contracts exchanged in our backrooms would be of great interest to you. I assure—”

“I’m fine, thank you, Lady Silversong. We can talk, but it won’t be about trade. I believe your people have already had dealings with mine, and it didn’t go well with them.”

The woman froze.

What the hell is he doing?

Her eyes widened as City Hall’s doors opened in preparation for their exit. Eyes darted to the west toward the Nightingale’s Rest, even though walls and other obstacles obscured her field of vision.

“You fool,” she whispered, glancing at her date and making her fingers dance. He and his valet dropped the packages they carried. Their limbs twisted, and they spasmed, beginning to transform. Terrified yells escaped nearby guards as men among their ranks began to transform, too.

Mister Grey also dropped everything but the mask and Aquila founder’s badge. His eyes glowed gold as he embraced the pair. They shrank and transformed, turning into rings. The second he slipped the first of them on, his feet lifted off the marble floor. The giant was flying.