Brakar returned a few minutes later, his brow furrowed. “They didn’t see anything,” he said in a low voice. “Whatever it was, it moved too fast—or stayed out of sight. All I got from them was fear. They're still rattled.”

  "Could they have... wandered off?" he suggested, knowing how ridiculous it sounded even as the words left his mouth.

  Thadan paced the length of the counter. "First our customers' mimics start acting strange, now inventory goes missing. This isn't a coincidence."

  "The timing does seem suspicious," Naia agreed.

  Brakar rubbed his temples, trying to think straight through the fatigue of a long day. "Let's search the shop thoroughly before jumping to conclusions. I don’t mistrust your counting abilities, Naia, but maybe they were moved during cleaning and simply misplaced."

  They spent the next hour combing every corner of the shop, from the display area to the storage room to Miles's makeshift laboratory in the cellar. No sign of the missing mimics. Naia's inventory records proved accurate—three mimics had indeed vanished.

  "Theft," Thadan declared, slamming a cabinet door shut in frustration. "Has to be."

  "But who would know enough about mimics to steal them safely?" Brakar wondered alou.

  "I'll stay and secure the remaining inventory."

  "While you do that, Brakar and I will track down a certain ratkin. If anyone knows what's happening to our merchandise, it's Vermil Threadwhisker."

  "Are you sure that's wise?" Naia asked. "We have no actual evidence he's involved."

  "We have multiple sightings of him lurking around and we saw him near one of our clients’ homes," Thadan countered. "That's enough to warrant questioning, at least."

  Brakar couldn't argue with the logic, though he shared some of Naia's hesitation. "If we do find him, let me handle the initial conversation. He might be more forthcoming if we don't immediately accuse him of theft."

  Thadan's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Fine. You can be the reasonable one, and I'll be the intimidating one. Works better that way anyhow."

  With their plan quickly put together, Brakar and Thadan headed out into the early evening streets of Ironweave. The setting sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones, and the first of the city's mage-lights were beginning to flicker to life along the main thoroughfares.

  "Where do we even start looking for him?" Brakar wondered as they navigated through the growing evening crowds.

  "Commerce Guild headquarters," Thadan replied with confidence. "If he's gathering information for guild members, he'll have some official connection there. Even if it's just as a registered independent contractor."

  Despite the late hour, the main hall of the Commerce Guild remained open, though the usual daytime bustle had diminished to a handful of clerks finishing paperwork and merchants concluding late business.

  Brakar approached the central desk, where a tired-looking dwarf was sorting through stacks of forms. "Excuse me, we're looking for information about one of your members—Vermil Threadwhisker?"

  The clerk glanced up only briefly. "Member registry inquiries require proper documentation and a processing fee of two silver. Forms are available on the side table."

  Thadan stepped forward and placed a gold coin on the desk with casual ease. "We're in a bit of a hurry. Perhaps you could check informally?"

  The dwarf's eyes flicked to the coin, then back to his paperwork. After a moment's hesitation, his hand moved to cover the gold, which vanished with surprising dexterity.

  "Threadwhisker," he muttered, pulling a large ledger from beneath the counter. He flipped through the pages. "Ah. Not a full member. Registered information broker for several merchant houses. Pays his guild fees on time, no complaints filed against him."

  "We need to speak with him regarding some business concerns," Brakar said. "Would you happen to have his address on file?"

  The clerk's expression hardened. "That information is confidential. Guild policy prohibits disclosure of members' personal details without proper authorization."

  Thadan leaned in closer. "Perhaps another informal arrangement could be—"

  "Not for any amount," the dwarf interrupted firmly. "Some regulations can't be circumvented, sir. Guild security takes breaches very seriously."

  Brakar placed a restraining hand on Thadan's arm before his partner could escalate further. "We understand. Thank you for your help."

  As they moved away from the desk, Thadan scowled. "Well, that was useless."

  "Not entirely," Brakar countered. "We confirmed he works as an information broker, which matches what we suspected. And the clerk seemed genuinely concerned about protecting member privacy, which suggests the guild takes its regulations somewhat seriously."

  "Great. So we know he's an official snoop and that his address is secret. How does that help us find him?"

  Brakar glanced around the hall, his eyes settling on an elderly goblin in a janitor's uniform, sweeping the marble floor with methodical strokes near one of the side corridors. "Not everyone follows regulations as strictly as the clerks," he murmured.

  Thadan understood. With a nod, he drifted toward the janitor in an unhurried stroll while Brakar pretended to examine a notice board nearby.

  From the corner of his eye, Brakar watched Thadan strike up a conversation with the goblin, gesturing with animated motions while the janitor continued his sweeping. After a brief exchange, Thadan slipped something into the goblin's hand and received a hurried whisper in return. When Thadan rejoined him, his expression was triumphant.

  "Silk District," he reported under his breath. "Our furry friend apparently frequents a tea house called The Golden Leaf. The name sounds like rat piss, but anyway, he comes in most evenings to organize his notes. The janitor says he's seen him there often when delivering packages for the guild secretary."

  "Good work," Brakar acknowledged. "The Silk District isn't far from here."

  They set off at a brisk pace, the evening air growing cooler as the last of the sunlight faded from the sky. The district lived up to its name, with elegant shops displaying fine fabrics and clothing behind polished glass windows. Unlike the commercial bustle of the market quarter, this area cultivated an atmosphere of refined exclusivity, with subdued lighting and discreet signage.

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  The Golden Leaf, when they finally located it down a quiet side street, didn’t seem too stuffy nor too boisterous. Its interior was lit with warm amber lanterns, creating pools of gentle illumination at each table while leaving the spaces between in comfortable shadow. The air carried the fragrant scent of various teas and the subtle sweetness of honey pastries.

  Brakar scanned the room with care, looking for any sign of the ratkin. The evening crowd was sparse—a few merchants discussing business in hushed tones, a pair of scholars sharing a book, a lone elf writing in a journal.

  Then, in the furthest corner booth, partially obscured by a decorative screen, he spotted the distinctive silhouette of a ratkin. Even from a distance, Brakar could see the meticulous way he was organizing small notebooks on the table before him, arranging them in precise stacks.

  Catching Thadan's eye, Brakar gave a subtle nod toward the corner. Thadan returned the gesture, and they began making their way through the tea house, taking care not to appear too purposeful in their approach.

  They had nearly reached the booth when the ratkin glanced up. Recognition flashed in his eyes, immediately followed by alarm. In a panicked motion, he knocked over his cup of tea, sending amber liquid cascading across his carefully arranged notebooks.

  "Threadwhisker," Thadan greeted with forced casualness, positioning himself to block the most direct path of escape. "Fancy meeting you here."

  Vermil scrambled to salvage his notebooks from the spreading tea. "I-I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," he stammered, though his eyes betrayed his recognition. "Have we met?"

  "Commerce Guild. You approached us." Brakar supplied, moving to cut off access to the kitchen door. "You've also been seen outside our shop. Multiple times."

  The ratkin's whiskers drooped a fraction. With a visible effort, he composed himself, straightening his expensive waistcoat with trembling paws. "Gentlemen, I'm currently engaged in private business matters. If you wish to schedule a consultation, I maintain office hours at—"

  "Cut the act," Thadan interrupted, sliding into the booth, trapping him against the wall. "We know you've been watching our shop. And our customers."

  Vermil's tail gave nervous twitches behind him. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're implying. My work requires me to observe various business establishments throughout the city. It's perfectly legal market research."

  Brakar took the seat beside Thadan, creating a united front.

  "Is stealing inventory also part of your 'market research'?" Thadan asked in a low tone.

  Brakar shot him a look. "Dude, I told you not to accuse him right off the bat. I thought I told you to let me do the talking."

  "Stealing? I've stolen nothing! Observing public business operations is one thing, but theft—" Vermil broke off, quivering with indignation. "That's a serious accusation, sir. One that could damage my professional reputation."

  Brakar exchanged a glance with Thadan. The ratkin's reaction looked genuine rather than guilty.

  "Three mimics disappeared from our storeroom today," Brakar explained, watching Vermil's face with care. "Shortly after several of our customers reported unusual behavior from their purchases."

  "And you think I—" Vermil's outrage gave way to a dawning understanding. "Ah. You believe I'm engaged in corporate sabotage."

  "Aren't you?" Thadan pressed, leaning forward. "You've been lurking around our shop. We saw you outside Lady Caroline's estate just today."

  Vermil sighed, reaching for a notebook that had stayed dry and flipping it open. "I am an information broker, gentlemen. Several guild members have expressed interest in your... innovative approach to furniture. My job is to gather market intelligence—customer demographics, pricing structures, business volume." He gestured to his notebooks. "All perfectly legal and quite common in competitive markets."

  The explanation was logical, but Brakar wasn't entirely convinced. "And the malfunctioning mimics? The missing inventory?"

  "Nothing to do with me," Vermil insisted, dabbing at a tea-soaked page with a handkerchief. "I observe and report. I don't interfere."

  Something in the ratkin's demeanor suggested he wasn't telling the entire truth, but perhaps not about their accusations. Brakar decided to change tactics.

  "In your observations, have you noticed anything unusual around our shop? People showing particular interest, perhaps visiting after hours?"

  Vermil's whiskers twitched—a subtle tell that the question had struck a nerve. He leaned forward, lowering his voice.

  "As a matter of fact, yes. I've seen activity around your establishment late at night—people coming and going when your shop should be closed." His eyes darted between them. "I assumed they were associates of yours, perhaps restocking inventory or conducting maintenance."

  "Description?" Thadan demanded.

  "Various individuals. Some appeared to be delivery personnel. Others, let's just say they moved with the practiced stealth of people accustomed to not being noticed."

  Brakar felt a chill run down his spine. "When was the last time you observed this?"

  "Three nights ago." Vermil's voice dropped even lower. "There's more. In the undercity market, there have been inquiries about mimic transportation methods—specifically, how to move them safely over longer distances without triggering defensive responses."

  Thadan's hand shot out, grabbing Vermil's expensive collar. "Who?" he growled. "Names."

  "I don't know!" the ratkin squeaked, his composure crumbling. "Information flows through channels, not always with clear origins. But there have been other reports. Strange activity in the northern noble quarter. The Wellington Estate service entrance has received multiple deliveries after hours. Unusual for a household known for maintaining strict schedules."

  Thadan released his grip on Vermil's collar. "Why tell us this? What's your angle?"

  The ratkin straightened his waistcoat again, a nervous habit. "Unstable mimics would damage the entire furniture market, affecting multiple guild members I report to. It's in everyone's interest that this... situation... be resolved quietly."

  Brakar considered this. It made sense from a business perspective, but something still felt off about Vermil's sudden helpfulness.

  "Is there anything else you think we should know?" he pressed.

  Vermil hesitated, then nodded once. "Check the service entrance of the Wellington Estate if you want answers. But be careful. Wellington's security is not known for asking questions before taking action."

  As they stood to leave, Vermil called after them in a hushed voice, “One more thing, gentlemen. Be careful who you call your brother.”

  The cryptic warning followed them as they exited the tea house, stepping back into the cool evening air.

  "Well, that was interesting," Thadan remarked as they began walking back toward the main thoroughfare. "Think he was telling the truth?"

  Brakar considered the question for a moment. "About not stealing our mimics? Yes, I think so. He seemed really shocked by the accusation."

  "And the rest?" Thadan prompted. "The late-night visitors? The Wellington Estate?"

  "Harder to say." Brakar frowned, replaying the conversation in his mind. "He was definitely holding something back, but the information about the estate seemed specific enough to be credible."

  They walked in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. The evening crowd had thinned somewhat, though the main streets remained well?lit and populated.

  "Could be a trap," Thadan pointed out. "Sending us to investigate the Wellington’s might be a convenient way to get us out of our shop while something else happens."

  "True," Brakar admitted. "But if someone is collecting mimics for some purpose, shouldn't we try to find out why? Our missing inventory could be just the beginning."

  Thadan nodded. "Agreed. But we shouldn't go charging in unprepared. Wellington's estate is in the northern noble quarter—heavy security, private guards, probably magical wards too."

  "We need help," Brakar said, thinking aloud. "Should we ask Mira and Pockets?"

  "This is too risky. I don’t think we should put them into this kind of danger." A sly smile spread across Thadan's face. "I know just who to ask. Someone with shadow abilities would be perfect for this kind of mission."

  "Rytha?" Brakar raised an eyebrow. "You think she'd help us?"

  "She might, for the right incentive. And she'd definitely want to know if someone else is collecting mimics in her territory."

  They turned toward the riverside district where Bean Works, Rytha's usual spot, was located. The coffee shop stayed open later than most establishments, catering to night?shift workers and those with unconventional schedules. If Rytha was in the city, there was a good chance she'd be there, planning her next expedition or reviewing maps with her team.

  The gnawing worry followed them all the way to Bean Works, where the warm glow of copper lamps spilled from the windows onto the darkening street. Through the glass, they could see the merfolk woman, bent over a table with maps spread before her. Rytha was indeed there, along with her two usual companions, Vess and Pez.

  "Ready for this?" Thadan asked, pausing outside the door.

  Brakar took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be. Let's hope she's in a helpful mood."