Orro hated shopping.

  He stood there rigidly as his friends meandered about, quarreling with the vendors as they negotiated prices for food and other essentials. His eyes roamed over the shop across the street, but he took in every errant shift in cloth and scuffled boot against the clean roads of Elysia. His mind assessed every vendor and tourist for hidden weapons or vile intent but dismissed the vast majority of them.

  None of them knew the truth.

  Not a single civilian who strolled past the shop opposite him knew that it was a front for one of the most dangerous guilds in the city. How could they? The thieves who ran it hid themselves well.

  Orro would’ve been impressed if it hadn’t taken him one ’conversation’ with a pickpocket he’d cornered to find out about it. The would-be thief had called this guild the Gilded Drakes.

  Amateurs.

  The sign above the dilapidated establishment read ’Herbal Remedies and Potions,’ and despite its wares, no one seemed to notice or care about its existence. The air was thick with the scent of spices and sweat, the noise of the crowd a constant buzz in his ears. Every shadow, every pedestrian was a potential threat.

  Orro signaled to his friends and soon Cade, Jer, Elena, and Rayka gathered around him. Bunny, perched on Cade’s shoulder, observed everything with keen interest as their masks of naivety dropped into a calm seriousness.

  “This is the only guild that deals with outsiders,” Orro muttered, fingers brushing the hilt of his broken sword. The orange blade sent a surge of determination through him, a familiar comfort. “From what I’ve heard, at least this lot are honest about wanting to backstab you. The other two in town will smile and promise the heavens while they strip you of everything and toss you into the streets.”

  The thief nodded. “Sounds about right. No honor amongst us professionals, and all that. Well, our first priority is a telepath. I know that it’s a sore subject now that Hugh’s… gone, but we need someone who can fill that role.”

  Cade looked each of them in the eye.

  “But we’ve got until the end of today to get three more people,” he reminded them. “So if it comes between getting a telepath and me not experiencing an excruciating death, let’s go with the not-dying route, please.”

  “You sure? I mean, if a telepath is that important to you, I’m sure the nice goddess of revenge might be willing to make an exception to the one-sided contract you formed with her. I’m sure she’d lend us a hand after all of her generosity,” Elena barked in annoyance.

  She angrily pushed some of her red locks behind an ear while she met Cade’s gaze unflinchingly. Their test of wills broke when she looked away and kicked a stone down the street.

  Cade chuffed but didn’t retort.

  “Let’s go,” Orro said, and walked away, ending the conversation.

  He slunk through the crowd and up to the herbal shop. With practiced ease, he silently opened the door. Before it moved an inch, his hand shot up to clutch the bell above the door frame.

  Cade rolled his eyes at Orro’s caution, but he didn’t care.

  Better careful than dead.

  The shop’s interior was dimly lit, the air heavy with the pungent scent of dead plants and sulfurous potions. It collided with Orro’s senses like a sledgehammer, and he was once again grateful for the small blessing that was his half-mask. Shelves lined the walls, filled with bottles and jars that glowed faintly.

  The floorboards creaked underfoot as they moved deeper into the shop. Cade, being Cade, ignored Orro’s silent approach and barreled up to the front desk. Orro wanted to strangle his best friend, but failed to get the chance as the lovable idiot opened his big mouth.

  “Hello! We’re here for your best telepath, or whatever you have in stock.” Cade planted his hands on the chipped mahogany and leaned forward, his smile disarming.

  A dwarf with a thick beard and a scowl that could curdle milk stepped from behind a wool curtain. With a curse under his breath, he took several unseen steps up a short stool and stood behind the counter. His eyes narrowed within their deep sockets, and Orro immediately distrusted him.

  The dwarf grunted. “Couldn’t hear ya over all that stompin’ about. What’re ya here for, lad?”

  Cade slid the man several silvers across the slick counter. “A telepath,” Cade said. “We need a good one.”

  The dwarf’s eyes flickered with interest. “Telepaths aren’t cheap. What’s your offer?”

  Cade reached into his pouch, pulling out a small bag of gold coins. He tossed it onto the counter, the coins clinking softly.

  “We’re willing to pay for quality,” The thief remarked.

  Orro noticed how in the moment the leather pouch landed, Cade slipped one of the silvers into his palm. He grinned behind his black mask.

  The dwarf weighed the bag in his hand, nodding slowly. A toothy grin spread out from behind his thick beard, and the pouch disappeared into one of the dozen pockets that lined his vest. “Alright. This is just enough for me to check things out for ya. Name?”

  “Oh, I don’t care what their name is. It’s their ability and gumption that’s important,” Cade replied with a sagely nod.

  Orro groaned.

  “No, what’s yer name, laddie? For the books,” The dwarf repeated and tapped a large ledger nearby, though his brow furrowed in confusion.

  “Oh! You wanted my autograph. How kind. Here we go,” Cade swiveled the ledger around before the dwarf could protest.

  He slid a quill from its inky holster and scratched his name across the length of the page. The dwarf’s jaw slackened, his eyes darting between Cade’s grin and the graffitied ledger.

  “Cade Stormhollow,” Cade read aloud, his voice steady and light.

  “I—I know how to read, you stupid pissant!” The dwarf yelled.

  He snatched the quill back with surprising agility and then tucked the ledger behind the counter. Orro noticed that a gilded drake insignia was stamped onto the surface of the book’s binding.

  “Stay here while I check on something, humans.” The surly dwarf marched down his stool and disappeared again behind the woolen curtain.

  “Must you always be like this?” Orro demanded when their host was gone.

  Cade’s eyes gleamed with intention, though he kept his voice and words obnoxious. “Oh, come off it, Orro,” Cade said a bit too loudly. “You never let me have any fun. I mean, how many times do you get to annoy some low-level guildie and get away with it?”

  Orro finally understood. Cade was doing what he called ’reading’ people. Orro never understood it, nor did he try to. He preferred the language of knives over words.

  Still, he needed to play along.

  “We haven’t gotten away with it?” Orro snapped back, feigning indignation.

  As if he spoke a dark premonition, the shopkeeper returned. The change in the dwarf’s demeanor was as obvious as it was chilling. His face was twisted into a snarl, and he slammed a gloved fist against the doorframe.

  “Get out. Now.” The dwarf’s word cracked like a whip, and Cade and Orro instinctively reached for their weapons.

  Cade blinked, swallowing his concern. “What’s the problem?”

  The dwarf pointed a stubby finger at him, eyes blazing with anger. “You’re blacklisted. Someone high up doesn’t want you doing business here. So, get out before I gut you myself.”

  Orro’s hand tightened around his sword’s hilt, the familiar surge of protectiveness flaring up. “Why are we blacklisted? Who gave the order?”

  The dwarf’s eyes never left Cade’s. “Doesn’t matter who. What matters is you’re not welcome. So leave before I call for backup.”

  Cade held up his hands in a placating gesture. The thief’s entire demeanor shifted. “Look, I’m sorry about the book. But can you at least tell us why? Surely, we haven’t done anything to warrant this level of animosity.”

  The dwarf’s expression hardened. “You’re not the only ones with enemies, Stormhollow. Now, get out.”

  The tension in the room was palpable. Orro’s eyes flicked to the shadows, noting the subtle movements of hidden guards. They were outnumbered and outmaneuvered. He could feel the danger closing in, the threat assessment clear in his mind.

  “Let’s go,” Orro said quietly, his voice a low growl.

  He turned and led the way out of the shop, his senses on high alert for any sudden attacks. None came, which almost felt worse.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Once they were outside, Cade turned to him, frustration etched on his face. “Well, that didn’t go as expected at all. That twit even kept the money.”

  Orro shrugged. “Can’t be helped now.”

  “That’s not—yeah, alright, fine.” Cade ran a hand through his hair and took a settling breath. “Where’s the next guild? You said there were three in this green city?”

  Orro scanned the crowd, his eyes narrowing as he spotted a figure watching them from a distance. Before he could pinpoint who they might be, they vanished behind a corner.

  His scowl deepened. “Any idea who might’ve blacklisted us? It couldn’t be Cici. We haven’t seen her in ages, and I don’t think she has that kind of pull.”

  Cade shuddered but nodded, his jaw set in determination. “Let’s hope it’s not her. We’ll figure it out. Let’s find one of those other guilds. They must have a telepath lying around who wants some extra coin.”

  Orro nodded, and they all shifted through the city. As they moved through the crowded streets of Elysia, he picked up on the signs of another guild’s territory. It was subtle—most people couldn’t tell even if the signs were pointed out to them.

  But Orro knew.

  So did Cade.

  His best friend grew more observant as their crew strode past vendors and groups set in the shade of the gargantuan buildings around them. The largest giveaway to the new territory was not in some inane conspicuous icon scratched into stones, or deeply cowled individuals who wore matching colors.

  No. It was in the quality and frequency of the beggars and children around. Most would be forced into roles as scouts and informants. However, each guild had different standards and unique preferences.

  The Gilded Drakes used dirtied orphans who ran through thick crowds and cut purses. As they entered a more opulent district of the organic city, the children were replaced with dozing merchants and oblivious guards.

  Cade approached a thin man with a large straw hat pulled low over his face. He tossed a few coppers onto his lap, and the man didn’t jolt even though he appeared to be asleep.

  “What’s this for? Wanna buy a tour through the city’s catacombs? Most call it a root system, but we locals know its history!” The elderly human offered with a toothy grin.

  “Who runs this district?” Cade asked, his voice as cold and sharp as his blade.

  The man’s grin faded, and the glassiness to his eyes evaporated like it had never been there.

  “Who’s asking?” The bored tour guide asked. He leaned forward on the stack of crates he had lounged on and pinned Cade with a glare. “Because we don’t take too kindly to strangers like yourself coming up and steppin’ on toes, as it were.”

  Orro bristled at the menace lurking there and reached for a hidden dagger.

  “We just want to be polite,” Cade answered with an easy smile and a friendly pat to the man’s shoulder.

  Orro’s patience was nearly dried up. They didn’t have time for these games. He refused to let Cade die because he wasn’t fast enough to get them the teammates they needed.

  “Well, in that case, I’ll say you should leave now. The Stone Britches don’t care for outsiders anyhow. I won’t give the guildmaster’s name, ’cause I don’t need it coming back to bite my rear. Now, git. I have a nap to catch up on.” The old man settled back into his crates and yanked the straw hat lower across his wrinkled frame.

  The coins, Orro noted, were gone.

  Orro and Cade strolled over and informed the crew of what they learned. With a gesture, they were on the move again. Cade walked beside him, his expression thoughtful. Rayka, Jer, and Elena fanned out, keeping watch for any signs of trouble.

  They moved like a well-oiled machine, each hyper-aware of their surroundings. Orro’s fingers brushed the hilt of his broken sword, the orange blade sending a comforting surge of energy through him.

  Cade stopped suddenly and grinned. “Here. This is the place. I can feel it.”

  “What makes you say that?” Rayka inquired as she hopped up on a low wall. With admirable balance, she strolled along the thin edge as they crossed yet another horizontal bridge over one of Elysia’s many canals.

  They all stopped in front of the shop in question, and Cade’s grin widened.

  “This is the only place not vaunting its wealth for all to see. The design is simple, elegant, yet compared to the other shops and homes around this section, it is basically hiding in plain sight. Also, that.” He pointed at a sign propped against the staircase that led up into the shop.

  Orro read it, and he felt his cheeks betray his horror. Fortunately, they were hidden beneath his mask, but Cade always had an uncanny ability to sense when he felt any sort of discomfort.

  Truly, he was cursed.

  “Please don’t,” Orro demanded when he reread the promotional class this place offered, just to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He wasn’t.

  “Oh, it’ll be fun, Orro. I promise. Who knows, maybe it’ll translate to some swordplay. And if I’m right and this guild meets out of here, what better cover than this?” Cade argued, but Orro knew there was no way out of this.

  He was right. It was the perfect cover. It didn’t stop him from wanting to punch his best friend in the face, though.

  “Stay here and keep watch,” Orro muttered darkly.

  Rayka, Jer, and Elena nodded, holding back their snickers, and spread out to cover the perimeter. The sign above the shop creaked on iron hinges, the outline of a potter’s wheel neatly burned into the wood.

  Cade and Orro stepped inside, the scent of clay and glaze filling the air. The shop was surprisingly bright, with the afternoon’s sunlight streaming through large windows and reflecting off rows of beautifully crafted pottery.

  Several moans from around the spacious room halted as the pair of them entered. In a full circle around the shop, couples touched and prodded clay lumps into shapes Orro wished he hadn’t seen.

  Directly opposite them, a well-dressed man in an expensive vest and linen shirt looked up at them in surprise. The middle-aged man’s sleeves were rolled up neatly, and he had a truly impeccable mustache. His warm brown eyes twinkled as he grinned kindly at Orro and Cade.

  “Gentlemen, welcome! Are you here for the couple’s erotic pottery class?” He asked.

  “Yes! Yes, we are! Sorry, we’re late. Ralphie here just had to stop for pastries, isn’t that right, honey?” Cade asked Orro with so much adoration the assassin was ready to puke.

  The dozen or so couples around the room looked at him patiently.

  Seeing no way out of this mess, Orro grumbled, “Yes.”

  “Huzzah, sirs. Please, take a seat next to me. There’s a spot open for one more couple. I’m Bernard, by the way. Pleased to meet you Ralphie and—” The well-dressed man waited for Cade’s response.

  “Jason,” Cade supplied with a warm smile of his own.

  Around them, scantily clad couples of a variety of races laced their hands together as they molded the lumps of clay in front of them. Some of the patrons made direct eye contact with Orro, though none paused in their gentle massaging of the clay. He pulled the cowl down lower across his face to hide the crimson blush that swelled over his cheeks.

  Thank the heavens for this mask, Orro silently prayed.

  Bernard instructed them on what to do, and Cade joined in with gusto. Orro stood in the background, refusing his friend’s invitations. After it was clear Orro wouldn’t join, Cade merely shrugged and attacked the clay with his nonexistent talents. After several minutes, Orro listened as Cade turned on his charm.

  “So, Bernard?” He began. “My lover and I have been looking for someone with—special—skills. Telepathy to be exact. We need him for a job to pick up some family heirlooms Ralphie inherited several moons ago. We already have a caravan ready to go acquire them, but having some extra assistance would be incredible. Do you know anyone who might fit the bill and is looking to make a bit of extra gold? Money won’t be an issue with this job.”

  Bernard’s smile didn’t falter, but Orro noticed a flicker of something in his eyes. Orro had no idea how Cade did it, but the finely attired gentleman didn’t miss a beat, nor did he break the ruse as a couple of the others in the room turned in curiosity at their conversation.

  “Telepaths, you say?” Bernard responded easily, though Orro felt the temperature in the room shift. “That’s a dangerous question, my friends. Telepaths are precious commodities around here, and asking for one can get you mugged or worse.”

  Cade’s grin widened. “We’re willing to take the risk. It’s for my sweetie’s heirlooms, after all. No price is too high to ensure their safe return. Do you know anyone?”

  “Telepaths are treated like lords among people like us. They aren’t loaned out lightly. But let’s just say, hypothetically, if I knew of one, he wouldn’t be easy to find.” Bernard chuckled, a rich, warm sound that put the tourists at ease.

  But when he answered, it was a whisper so quiet Orro barely heard it.

  Orro’s senses were on high alert. Bernard was too polished, too smooth. This man was dangerous.

  “We appreciate the advice,” Orro said, his voice steady. “But we need to find a telepath.”

  Bernard’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Hypothetically, of course, one might say there’s an unaffiliated telepath in the city. But such a person would be well hidden. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my class, Stormhollow.”

  An icy chill shot through the air, and Orro stiffened.

  Somehow, this bastard knew who they were.

  Cade leaned in, dropping the act as he pressed the dapper gentleman a bit more. “Come on, Bernard. We’re in a tight spot here. Any help you could offer—”

  Orro placed a firm hand on Cade’s shoulder, stopping him.

  “Let’s go,” he said quietly, his instincts screaming at him that they needed to leave.

  Now.

  Bernard’s smile widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Listen to your friend. It’s best to leave now.”

  As they exited the shop, Orro’s senses were on fire. A bead of sweat trickled down his spine as they practically ran out of the shop.

  “Damn it all. Where—” Cade started, but Orro held up a hand and listened.

  Something was wrong.

  The sound of fists against flesh echoed out of a nearby alley. Panic threatened to settle inside his mind, but he shoved it down and opened his senses. The two of them rushed to the entrance between the pottery shop and another establishment to see over a dozen bodies strewn across the floor or backs slumped against the walls. Shadows cast the whole place into darkness, and so it took Orro several full seconds to realize what he was looking at.

  Jer and Elena picked the pockets of several downed opponents while Rayka sat on one of their backs. The downed men all possessed well-groomed mustaches, and the few women present besides his crew wore utility-based corsets and leather britches.

  “Cade,” Orro said, his voice tense. “I think we just met the head of the Stone Britches.”

  Cade’s eyes widened. “That was him? Seriously? He was such an excellent instructor, though.”

  Orro sighed but nodded. “Yes, Jason. But we need to get out of here. Now.”

  Cade’s smile went crooked. “Agreed. Collect what you can, but let’s head out of this district. Our luck has run out here, and I really don’t want to see what an angry Bernard looks like.”

  With a careful glance around the corner that led to the main road, the team slipped out of the alley and made their way to a more populated area. Soon, they were out of that district, and back at the city’s center. As the rest of them caught their breath by the large waterfall, the realization of who they had just encountered made Orro’s heart pound.

  Bernard was dangerous. That much was obvious.

  The question was how screwed they were now by exposing their faces to that man. Orro’s hand tightened around the hilt of his broken sword, the orange blade pulsing in tempo with his heart. Somehow, they would find a way to make this work.

  At that moment, a man rounded a corner nearby and barreled toward them in nothing but a towel. He ran so fast he was almost a blur, and Orro’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as the stranger leapt right at them.

  Time slowed to a crawl as Orro tried his best to process what he was seeing.

  A dark-haired adonis leaping through the air.

  The man’s towel, swept away by the breeze.

  Shouts ringing through the clattering din of approaching soldiers.

  Orro grimaced as he tried to shield himself from the man’s nethers, and before he could move, the man crashed into Cade.

  That was it. Orro had reached his limit for this city’s utter lunacy, and he was about to murder this freaking nudist for attacking his friend.

  At least he’d finally be able to blow off some steam.

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