Inside Bean Works, sat Rytha Mar behind a towering stack of books. Her collection of texts looked like a fortress built of leather and parchment, with sticky notes and bookmarks protruding at precise intervals.

  Thadan stood in the doorway, taking a moment to compose himself. He’d spent the entire journey back from Brightkeep rehearsing this conversation, planning every gesture and inflection.

  He approached her table with deliberate casualness, as if their last encounter hadn’t ended with her attempting to remove his head from his body and throw it into a literal black hole.

  “Rytha! What a completely unexpected surprise to find you here.”

  Her skin flickered to a darker shade of blue—annoyance, he guessed—but she didn’t look up from her book. “Go away, Brightsteel.”

  “Can’t. Need coffee.” He dropped into the chair across from her. “Besides, I brought you something.”

  “Unless it’s what you still owe me, I’m not interested.”

  Thadan produced a leather folio with an exaggerated flourish. “My father’s personal notes on shadow-light manipulation, including his original theories on penumbral resonance.”

  That got her attention, though she tried to hide it. Still, she pushed back from the table. “You think this will be enough?”

  “Wait!” Thadan reached into his jacket. “There’s more.”

  “If you’re about to draw a weapon, I should warn you that I’ve trapped this entire section with shadow—”

  The words died in her throat as Thadan placed the artifact on the table between them. The Shadowfiend’s Lamentation—a crystal skull wrapped in chains of dark metal, absorbing the surrounding light. Even in the bright café, it created a pocket of darkness around itself, as if reality couldn’t quite decide how to process its existence.

  Rytha’s eyebrows flew up before she could stop them. Her skin shifted rapidly through shades of blue and teal, betraying her excitement despite her attempt at maintaining a neutral expression. “Where did you get that?!”

  “Oh, you know.” Thadan waved vaguely. “Found it in father’s study. Along with these notes. Thought you might appreciate them more than some random collector.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why not sell it? Something like this would fetch enough gold to live a comfortable life for the rest of your days.”

  Thadan leaned back, adopting what he hoped was a sagely expression. “Ah, but who would buy it? Such power requires... special qualities. Raw talent. Ethereal grace. A certain... je ne sais quoi.” He paused dramatically. “Besides, it made three different merchants shit themselves in fear when I tried to sell it. Literally. They almost had me pay for their carpets.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Rytha’s mouth before she could suppress it. “You’re making that up.”

  “I wish. Do you know how expensive Calishite rugs are?”

  “...”

  “Right, sorry.” He straightened in his chair. “The point is, great power demands great responsibility. In the wrong hands, an artifact like this could... well...” He gestured at the skull. “You know.”

  “Cause dimensional instability and potentially tear reality apart at the seams?”

  “I was going to say ‘make things go all wonky,’ but yes, that too.” He pushed the skull closer to her. “Which is why it needs someone with the proper training. Someone who understands the delicate balance between light and shadow. Someone who—”

  “Are you reading from something?”

  “What? No! I mean...” He hastily shoved a small piece of paper deeper into his sleeve. “These are my genuine thoughts about your... unique qualities.”

  Rytha picked up the skull, turning it carefully in her webbed hands. “And this has nothing to do with wanting more mimics for your furniture shop?”

  “I am wounded by your suspicion!” Thadan pressed a hand to his chest. “Here I am, offering you a priceless artifact of incredible power, and you accuse me of ulterior motives?”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, fine. Yes, we could use more mimics. You’re our only supplier. But that doesn’t make anything I said less true! You are the most qualified person I know to handle something like this. And those notes?” He tapped the folio. “Father would want them to go to someone who could use them.”

  “Your father, whom you hate and haven’t spoken to in years?”

  “Exactly! Which makes this gesture even more meaningful, don’t you think?”

  Rytha stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, a smile spread across her face—not her usual calculating smirk, but something genuinely amused. “You are ridiculous.”

  “Thank you!”

  “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  “I’m choosing to take it as one.” He pushed both the skull and the folio toward her. “So, do we have a deal? The artifact and notes in exchange for regular mimic deliveries at reasonable prices?”

  She traced one of the skull’s metal chains with a webbed finger. “Well, considering how valuable this amulet is, I might be willing to do it. Free of charge. Hmm, I wouldn’t say ‘free.’”

  “What would it take?” Thadan asked, studying her expression.

  Rytha’s skin switched to an iridescent sheen. “One evening of your company. Dinner, perhaps?” Her eyes held a calculating gleam that made her true intentions clear.

  Thadan’s jaw tightened. He knew why she was asking. It stung, still being seen as a Brightsteel. “Only dinner?”

  “We’ll see where the evening leads. You know what I’m asking.”

  He was quiet for a moment. Being used as a stand-in didn’t sit well, but... “One evening. That’s all.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “That’s all I want.” A predatory smile formed on her face.

  “Deal!” Thadan stuck out his hand.

  Rytha looked at it for a moment, then shook her head and reached across to grasp it. “Deal. But if you ever try to cheat me again...”

  “I know, I know. Horrible shadow magic, eternal torment, reality-tearing consequences. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Have you?”

  “Probably not. But I’ll at least be more creative about it next time.”

  She rolled her eyes, but her skin had settled into a pleasant shade of blue-green that he chose to interpret as amusement. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

  Thadan stood, sketching an elaborate bow that drew annoyed looks from nearby patrons. “A pleasure doing business with you, my lady of shadows.”

  “Don’t push it.”

  He backed away, maintaining the bow until he nearly collided with a gear-table. “I shall take my leave, then, secure in the knowledge that- ow!” He rubbed his shin where it had struck the table’s edge. “Right. Yes. Leaving now.”

  “Idiot…” Rytha muttered.

  Thadan smiled to himself as he stepped out. Right now, he had a furniture business to run. And if anyone asked about the missing artifact, well... he’d cross that dimensional bridge when he came to it.

  ****

  The mimic-chair skittered sideways just as Brakar tried to sit down, sending him stumbling into the counter. He caught himself with a grunt, throwing an accusatory glare at the furniture-shaped creature.

  “Are you serious? Now?”

  He’d been trying to take a break for the past hour, but the chair seemed determined to make that impossible. Every time he approached, it would shift to prevent him from actually sitting down.

  The door swung open. Brakar straightened up fast, trying to look professional despite his growing exhaustion.

  “Welcome to Mimic & Co—” he began, then recognized the orange-skinned orc filling the doorway. “Ah, Othh. You’re early.”

  Othh ducked his head to clear the doorframe. “Had to start the inspections ahead of schedule. Cave systems are more extensive than initially reported.” He glanced around the shop. “Where are my lanterns?”

  “Of course, right this way.” Brakar led him toward the back room, where they’d stored the transformed mimics. “We have them all ready, as promised.”

  As they walked, Brakar silently cursed Thadan’s timing. It was the third day, but no sign of Thadan yet. And of course the chair would choose today to be difficult. And of course—“What is this?” Othh’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. The orc was holding up one of the lanterns—specifically, the transformed deep-dweller mimic. Even in lantern form, it was substantially larger than the others. “This won’t work. Too cumbersome.”

  Brakar felt sweat beading on his forehead. What had Thadan said about this situation? Something about... right!

  “Well,” he said, trying to sound confident, “we prepared that one with larger crew members in mind. You wouldn’t happen to have any ogres in your inspection team? Or trolls? Perhaps a colossi?”

  Othh frowned. “Now that you mention it...” His expression brightened. “Yes! Grakknak joined last week. Seven-foot colossi, specializes in structural assessment.”

  “Perfect!” Brakar’s relief was too obvious. “That lantern will be ideal for someone of that size.”

  The door swung open again. And again. And again.

  Brakar saw a small crowd forming in the entrance. Merchants, adventurers, and what appeared to be a group of junior building inspectors—all talking at once, all looking expectantly toward the counter.

  “I heard you have endless-burning lanterns?”

  “Is it true about the unbreakable furniture?”

  “We need something for our expedition—”

  “A vampire recommended—”

  The voices overlapped into a cacophony of demands and questions. Brakar felt his chest tighten. This was... this was a lot. Too much. He needed to focus on Othh first, needed to address these customers somehow, needed to—The mimic-chair chose that moment to slide across the floor with an audible scrape, drawing several curious looks.

  Don’t panic, he told himself. One problem at a time. Trust what Thadan says.

  “If you’ll give me a moment to—”

  “Of course.” The orc nodded understanding. “I’ll examine these while you handle the crowd.”

  Brakar hurried back to the counter, where the press of bodies had grown even larger. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, waving coins or documentation or guild credentials. He tried to focus on individual voices, but they blurred together into a wall of noise.

  “Please,” he raised his voice, “if you could just—”

  “I need three lanterns by tomorrow—”

  “Do you have any chairs like that one—”

  “Are you friends with the smoking hot, sexy leopard-girl?”

  Movement caught his eye—the mimic-chair was now rotating in place, apparently fascinated by all the attention. Several customers were pointing at it, whispering among themselves.

  This is fine, Brakar thought desperately. Everything is fine.

  A new figure pushed through the crowd—tall and slender, with downy grey wings folded against their back. A high-collared, fur-trimmed cloak draped over their shoulders, the earthy tones of browns, burgundy, delicate teal, and amber blending seamlessly with their surroundings. The wide-brimmed hood cast their face in shadow, though the warmth in their gaze still managed to shine through. A moth-folk woman, her antennae twitching as she surveyed the chaos.

  “Excuse me,” she said, her voice somehow cutting through the noise without being loud. “I saw your hiring notice?”

  Brakar blinked. They hadn’t posted any hiring notices. But at this point...

  “You’re hired,” he said in an instant. “Can you help me organize this? Brakar leaned in, lowering his voice. We don’t have enough inventory to cover everyone. I can try to take orders.”

  She smiled. “Of course. I’m Naia.” She turned to address the crowd, her voice carrying effortlessly. “Everyone seeking to place an order, please take a number and wait along the wall. We’ll process requests in sequence.”

  Where had she gotten numbered tokens from? Brakar hadn’t seen her holding anything, but suddenly she was distributing them, herding the crowd into order.

  “But I need—” one customer began to protest.

  “And we’ll address your needs promptly,” Naia assured them, “in the order indicated by your number. Now, who has number one?”

  Brakar watched in amazement as she transformed the chaos into an orderly queue. Even the mimic-chair seemed to settle down, though it had positioned itself for a better view of the proceedings.

  The rest of the morning passed in a blur of transactions and inquiries. Naia proved invaluable, handling customer interactions with a grace that made Brakar wonder if she’d done this before. She seemed to know what questions to ask, what details to note down, and how to manage expectations when items weren’t available.

  “Would you prefer to place a deposit now to secure your order?”

  Brakar focused on processing the paperwork, grateful for the breathing room her presence provided. He even managed to properly conclude business with Othh, who seemed quite pleased with the lanterns - especially the larger one, once he’d considered its potential applications.

  The afternoon sun was slanting through the windows when the door opened one final time. Brakar looked up from his ledger to see Thadan standing in the doorway, taking in the scene with raised eyebrows.

  The shop was still full of waiting customers, but now they were organized into neat groups, each clutching numbered tokens and speaking in reasonable volumes. The mimic-chair had finally settled into a proper position.

  “I leave for three days,” Thadan said, grinning, “and you turn this place into a proper business? Are you a genius? Or do I suck that much?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why is the chair doing the cha-cha?”

  Brakar turned to see the mimic-chair had indeed begun a slow, swaying motion that did bear a disturbing resemblance to dancing. He dropped his head onto the counter with a thunk.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fair enough.” Thadan clapped him on the shoulder. “But maybe we should discuss expanding our staff? It looks like business is booming. Mind introducing your lady friend here?”