The Walled City of Salazsar was silent at dawn. Silent, and cold. Frost touched the roofs and stone walkways near the top of the city. Even in the spring, it was so; the braziers that were always tended to with great attention were mundane, not magic for that very reason. They kept the frost from becoming treacherous sheets of black ice that might cause a fatal fall.

Perhaps it was a luxury. And indeed, the ever-burning flames that warmed Salazsar only provided their warmth to the highest floors of the city. The peaks, where, appropriately, only the richest denizens of Salazsar could afford to live. But it was hardly a small place. For Salazsar was the second-largest of the Walled Cities. Where Pallass was a fortress, and had been constructed to fend off attackers from any conceivable direction or even altitude, Salazsar was different.

The canny [Architects] who had laid plans and designs in countless years past had not trusted to the mere might of walls to protect the city. So they had trusted to something far older, stronger.

They had built Salazsar into the side of a mountain. There it sat, a mountain-fortress, like the capital of Hellios, or the few other famous cities which had chosen to use geography to their advantage. The home of the Dwarves in Terandria was one such location. But, tellingly, the Drakes of Izril were not content to make their homes subterranean. Salazsar was part of the mountain, yes, but it was built of it. As the mountain had vanished, stone by stone, Salazsar had emerged. The city was the mountain and when the mountain died, Salazsar would finally be complete.

That was the conceit of the city. And it was all conceit. As a lonely Drake made his way from the highest towers and down across crisscrossing bridges in the sky, he reflected that each Walled City was defined by more than just its economic strength. Each city had personality. If Pallass was the City of Innovation, with its limitless capacity for change and burning desire to improve—in politics, in industry, to change and adapt—then its counterpart might well be said to be Salazsar.

For tradition held the city. Tradition—the lineage of Wall Lords and Wall Ladies that had not been rendered obsolete by democracy as in Pallass. A profession—mining, gem cutting, and the wealth and contempt, the arrogance such that even other Drakes pointed to Salazsar as a hallmark of pride. And was that truly a fault? Or had the Walled City transformed a defect into a glowing gem, a city beyond all other Drake cities to aspire to? He knew what he believed. But then, he was a son of Salazsar. The City of Gems.

And it glowed in the light. The towers shone, their stained glass and gemstone windows illuminating the city below with wondrous light from above. The city was a marvel of stonework, of craft, if not engineering like Pallass. No ugly elevators marred its walkways, and indeed, the ramps and stairwells down were sometimes inconvenient to climb. Simply travelling from the top of Salazsar to the bottom would exhaust the lesser-abled. Let alone the reverse. But each section of the city could sustain you; you hardly had to walk far to find amenities at hand or claw or paw. Assuming you were in the correct section. Because of course, the higher you went, the richer everything was.

Statues passed the Drake by as he walked. Wall Lords captured in exquisite detail, stone busts gravely looking towards oblivion, even entire scenes carved out of stone and given color by gem or paint—or sometimes left bare, starkly reminding the viewer that the past could only be caught in mere stone for moments. And the windows danced their colors upon these pieces of art as well.

It was indeed art that shaped the highest levels of Salazsar, from tower to tower. And why not? The bottom of the city, the width of the city set against the base of the mountain was made of ancient walls. Already they were three hundred feet high; anything above that was impossible to strike at. Even a trebuchet would struggle to even graze the tallest of the towers. And Salazsar’s protections were such that no army had even taken the battle to those vaunted heights. Salazsar had fallen before, to treachery and even plague, but not to armies with sheer, destructive might. As the Drake peered over a railing he supposed that nothing could threaten Salazsar’s elite by air. Not even an entire migration of Wyverns, surely. But Dragons?

Perhaps Dragons. Yet, the ancestors of Drakes had long since passed from the earth. Perhaps all, or perhaps some remained. But they were not a threat as they had been in days of yore. So the Drake walked further down, descending into the main part of the city.

Salazsar was a vertical place. Unlike Pallass which had floors, Salazsar had towers, connected by walkways. Each one was huge, as large as any castle or citadel around the base and narrowing as they rose. Fingers rising to the sky, perhaps. And the Drake descended one of these towers, noting how the elegance shifted, became less pronounced. The statues and reliefs certainly grew sparser in number.

And yet, the majesty of the city never disappeared no matter how low you went. No dingy halls, or low-cut, rough ceilings for the Walled City’s folk, though. Ilvriss looked up at the ceiling, a product of masterful architecture. Yes, each generation of Salazsar built upon the city, trying to outdo itself. You could capture the construction techniques across a thousand years if you went for a stroll.

It was to the tower closest to the mountain—overshadowed by the retreating rock face that Ilvriss had journeyed today. The newest tower, being built upwards, was of a classic design. All sleek rock, smooth edges, minimalistic in the nods to, say, gargoyles or other protrusions. Ilvriss was mixed on how he felt about it. Still, it was his base of operations. And he was proud; it had been constructed in his generation. And when he died, it would be there. Standing as a memento to all those who had helped raise it.

That was the pride of this Walled city, beyond all the others. Salazsar grew. It absorbed the mountain into itself. From the stones, the city was built. From the earth, its treasures excavated. Because Salazsar sat on a mother lode of gems. The largest, most comprehensive and varied set of veins in the earth. From its mines you could find exports of diamonds, rubies, metals like silver, mithril, even adamantine—and rarer minerals still. That was what made Salazsar richest of the Walled Cities for thousands of years. A vein miles deep, seemingly without end.

Of course, one didn’t simply excavate all those treasures with sheer abandon. Ironically, the Drakes of Salazsar had learned first-hand how easy it was to render gold, gemstones, or any valuable commodity useless by having a glut of wealth stockpiled. So they carefully expended their trove of treasures, digging deeper with each passing year, keeping themselves rich, but not bankrupting themselves by excess.

And some day, yes, some day, the glorious treasures of the earth might run out. But by that point, the Walled City would be the mountain itself. And the keepers of this great city had laid vast stockpiles of wealth against such a time.

It was said that Salazsar’s streets ran with gold and gemstones. Which was a blatant lie; anyone who saw, say, a citrine gemstone lying on the ground would snap it up in a second. Who left money lying around? And Salazsar had its lower classes, Ilvriss was all too aware. It was not perfect. But it was richer than any other Walled City.

And its Walled Lords were richest of all. A match for the wealthiest of the Humans in the north, like the conceited Magnolia Reinhart. But they did things better in Salazsar, of course. Ilvriss walked up the newer tower and pushed open a door set into the stone. Instantly, the cold, even chill air of altitude vanished. And he walked into pomp. Possibly circumstance.

The interior of the latest tower was adorned in rich carpeting. Wood built into the stone made Ilvriss feel as if he were suddenly enveloped in warmth; the fire burning in the entryway certainly did that. He luxuriated in the warmth after his cold walk for a moment, then briskly strode towards the next door.

It opened into a large staircase, which branched off into smaller rooms. This high up of course, each room was meant for only a few occupants. But further down, as the spiraling staircase widened, you could reach entire mess halls, complexes of apartments, indoor courts for exercise—Ilvriss walked up instead of down. Not much further to go now.

Few people were up. Those who did see Ilvriss, sweeping along in his rich, dark clothing—silk, thank you, pleasant on the scales despite the cold of outside—bowed or nodded to him as was their wont. None exchanged words; they were all busy—until a young voice called out.

“Wall Lord! Wall Lord!”

Ilvriss turned his head. He saw a Drake child, scales as yellow as a flower’s, waving at him excitedly. He was tugging on the dress of a set-upon Drake, a [Tutor] perhaps, who was urging him into a doorway. The young Drake was dressed well; of course, he wouldn’t belong to this area if he wasn’t rich. Ilvriss strolled towards him, smiling.

“Young Felidel. Good morning to you.”

“You too! Wall Lord sir. They said you were back in the city! Did you kill lots of Goblins? They said you fought with General Shivertail himself. Before he died.”

Ilvriss’ smile slipped a bit. The Drake [Tutor] curtsied, her cheeks red.

“Apologies, Wall Lord. I’m to teach Felidel’s class, but he insisted on waiting for you.”

“Not at all, Miss…?”

“Hessa, Wall Lord.”

“Miss Hessa. And Felidel, I’m gratified to see you. You’ve grown since our last chat, but we mustn’t inconvenience our fellow citizens, correct?”

The Drake child shuffled his feet.

“But—”

He looked up and caught Ilvriss’ smile. The Wall Lord nodded to Felidel.

“I have been gone a substantial time. I would have worried, but I’m sure you’ve protected our city while I’ve been gone?”

The Drake’s face lit up.

“I have, Wall Lord Ilvriss!”

“I expected no less. And I trust you’ll learn your lessons and grow into a Drake who can serve Salazsar well. Miss Hessa, I leave Felidel in your claws.”

Ilvriss straightened. He held out a claw and Felidel shook it solemnly. The Wall Lord smiled. He nodded to the two Drakes, and then he was gone. There went Ilvriss. Purple-scaled, unaccountably handsome, regal even, one of the most respected Wall Lords in the city. A terror to Salazsar’s enemies, a champion of all Drakes.

Bereaved. Periss was dead. And few, too few knew or cared of her passing. Ilvriss walked slowly up the steps to a room near the top of the tower. There he paused, checked his clothing, and entered.

A Gnoll was waiting for Ilvriss, bending over a desk with a younger Drake and consulting a sheaf of papers. They had been sent up by a pulley and dumbwaiter; the Gnoll expertly rifled through them as the [Secretary] sent a reply written on neat, clean paper. The Gnoll, dressed in clothing almost as impeccable as Ilvriss, noticed the Wall Lord and turned. Ilvriss nodded to him.

“Alrric.”

“Wall Lord.”

Alrric nodded his head deferentially, but with only a touch of it. He was wearing a suit, a proper, tailored dress to Gnoll specifications, loose enough for movement and tailored to their form; not some ill-fitting suit. And he fit the part, despite suits being a Human conceit. His fur was short-cut, neatly trimmed and combed unlike the vast majority of Gnolls. It shone with a faint oil, and Alaric himself cut a dignified figure. Except for the black eye. Ilvriss eyed it as the [Secretary] bowed his head.

“I see the day has more than one surprise for me. Good morning, Josial. I’ll take the morning’s reports in my office. Alrric, if you’d care to join me?”

The Gnoll nodded. He pushed open the double doors and Ilvriss stepped through. Down one short corridor with a branching intersection; this series of rooms wasn’t much. It was just big enough to contain what Ilvriss and Alrric considered essential staff for the management of his estates; it was all reports and managing up here. Ilvriss strode down the hall to the next set of double doors and into his office.

You could spend time describing what Ilvriss kept in his office, but that mainly became a description of endless binders and bookshelves of paperwork. Ilvriss kept his office bare of most interesting things, preferring that to his personal rooms. His office was to work, and so his tools of the trade were sealing wax, ink, quills, magnifying glass, spectacles, geological maps, an abacus, and oh yes, a small bell.

And paperwork. A folder was already there, waiting to be perused. Ilvriss sat down with a sigh. Then he glanced up at Alrric. The Gnoll stood patiently with paws folded behind his back.

“A recent injury, Alrric? Or trophy?”

“I gained this last night. I thought I’d keep it for a day or two to remind everyone what it was for, Wall Lord.”

“Ah. I see. The regular dispute, then?”

Alrric smiled thinly.

“A few upset Gnolls I encountered while relaxing at a bar. They took issue with my appearance. I needn’t tell you what’s said.”

“Enlighten me?”

The Gnoll shrugged his shoulders.

“They call me a City Gnoll, sir. But worse, a pet. I’d use specific language, but I’m afraid I didn’t hear much after I took objection to their objection.”

“And then you challenged them to—what? Fisticuffs?”

Ilvriss smiled. Alrric grinned at the joke.

“I would not use that word to describe it, but something like that, yes. You know, they think I’m your [Butler], Ilvriss.”

The Wall Lord sat back in his chair. He tapped his claws together, eying Alrric. He shook his head dismissively.

“A common misconception they get from watching Humans. Did you explain to them the difference between your job and a Human’s before you took them to pieces?”

“I may have omitted that part.”

The Drake’s expression was wry.

“Perhaps it bears repeating for those who don’t know your class. I can see why they might object, though. Very few Drakes would suffer to be a permanent servant. And Gnolls likewise, Alrric. Could you do what the Humans do? Dress me each morning with your paws? Help me adjust the fit of my clothing? Powder my face?”

The Gnoll’s face said it all. Ilvriss imagined Alrric fussing over him each morning. Helping him bathe. The two shuddered as one.

“Humans. I can dress myself.”

“And I have my dignity, your Ancestors be praised. Will you review your holdings? We hit a vein of beryl the other day. Aquamarine, more’s the pity, but perhaps there’s some variation.”

Alrric gestured to the documents, and Ilvriss supposed the matter of the black eye was dropped. Gnolls did police themselves and if it wasn’t an incident Alrric was willing to speak on, he could handle it himself. He nodded absently, paging through the document.

“Don’t send word I’ll be along; call it a surprise inspection. Hm. Are the reports…?”

“Left side of the desk. You also have a guest waiting on your pleasure.”

The Wall Lord signed with gratitude and pulled the papers over.

“Ah, efficiency. I have missed it. In that case, I’ll review, touch bases with you on the holdings that have been underperforming in my absence—I think my Skills should improve efficiency just by my return, but we can review the [Manager]’s performances. And…did you say I had a guest?”

“Wall Lord Brilm. He’s waiting in the guest room. Not for long; I will send him in directly. It’s good to have you back, Ilvriss.”

“My pleasure, Alrric. I couldn’t leave my affairs out of place for too much longer either. I know you had it well in paw. Even so—it’s good to be home.”

The Gnoll smiled. He went for the door and opened it smartly. Ilvriss sighed. It was good. Managing his investments in his city, seeing to staff, enjoying his home—it had been too long. First a pointless campaign against an alliance of cities and fighting with Zel Shivertail in a bloody conflict, running up against the Goblin Lord, tracking down Ryoka Griffon in Liscor and staying there for—Ancestors, months—before returning home. It truly felt like years. Ilvriss was inspecting the first report in his pile when the door opened. Another Drake, pinkish-beige of scale and somewhat heavier than Ilvriss, but the same age, thrust his way into the room.

“Anyone home? Ilvriss!”

He spread his claws. Ilvriss got up. He walked out behind his desk and the two clasped claws.

“Brilm. A pleasure. To what do I owe this?”

The heavier Drake chuckled. To call him heavier really was mean; he wasn’t exactly overweight, just with a bit of extra flesh. And he cut a very dashing figure in his red-and-orange conflagration he called an outfit. Brilm was as energetic as Ilvriss reserved. He paced to Ilvriss’ desk and hurled himself into the chair.

“Visiting my friend after he’s been back for less than a week isn’t an occasion in itself? Ancestors, Ilvriss, but you haven’t called and I’ve been remiss. Can’t you take a break from all this for a day or two and savor being back? You’ve been on the road for ages! This must be the height of luxury compared to what you went through.”

“It was hardly me camping out with a handkerchief held over my head. I had my command.”

“True. But it can’t have been easy. And after losing Periss, your best subordinate—ah, I’m sorry.”

Ilvriss’ face froze for a second as he sat down. He cleared his throat.

“Thank you. I’ve spoken to her family, but it’s…a blow. Yes. I regret it.”

“Damn Zel and his army. We might have been at odds with his city, but he cut apart our army. No love for fellow Drakes, is there? No wonder he threw us over for the Humans at the end.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“No? Tell me what it was like. Ah—never mind. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak ill of a war hero. And you were in the same spot as him, weren’t you? Tell me when I’m in a better mood.”

Ilvriss glanced up at Brilm’s sour face.

“Problem?”

“Only your Gnoll, Alrric. He showed me in without so much as an ounce of courtesy. Used my name and everything. I can’t fathom why you keep him around—it was hard enough dealing with him when you were gone. I know he’s efficient, but dead gods, there are limits to value, Ilvriss!”

The Wall Lord sighed. Suddenly, he remembered all the little issues that came with being home. Such as squabbles like this. He carefully avoided looking at his old childhood friend.

“He’s a busy fellow, Brilm. An [Administrator] cannot be expected to genuflect at every moment to a Wall Lord, can he? Let alone my [Gemstone Administrator] and executive director in command of all my affairs.”

The other Drake made a disgusted sound as he picked up Ilvriss’ monocle and stared through it.

“One step below a Wall Lord and you choose a Gnoll for your second-in-command. I’m not questioning you, Ilvriss. I just think it’s odd.”

Ilvriss leaned back in his chair, frowning.

“Really? Do you want to know how to light a fire under the tails of your Gnoll workers and have them try to outperform their Drake counterparts without actually lighting a fire, Brilm?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Make a Gnoll your top [Administrator]. And give anyone who works for the opportunity a chance to advance. I have six Gnoll [Head Miners] on my staff, each of them the best I could ask for. They came to me because they knew I’d give them the positions they earned. You might consider it yourself.”

“I employ many Gnolls.”

Brilm waved a claw, looking mildly offended. Ilvriss corrected the edge of his papers against the desk.

“How many working in your offices?”

Wall Lords controlled holdings, particular mining areas, or just enough wealth to finance the various sectors that kept Salazsar alive. They were, in truth, the hearts of the city. From their businesses, smaller shops, operations, and so forth flourished. And so each employed individual owed their allegiance to one particular Wall Lord. One…house of Salazsar. That was how the city operated, with efficiency unlike a democracy like Pallass. A Wall Lord had to actively manage his affairs or hire someone to do the job competently.

Brilm ignored the question. He eyed the reports Ilvriss was holding and abruptly changed the subject.

“Heard about the mining crew down on the old Creler-nest shaft? I hear they declined an offer to work for Wall Lady Tielma. Are you going to snap them up? I’ll make them an offer, but if you want another crew as good as they are—”

“I did make them an offer already.”

“Damn. How much? Mind trading me a [Foreman] or two?”

“I’m afraid you misunderstand. I was rejected. Flat out. I fear this team might try to finance themselves and work independent of any support. We might be seeing the growth of an independent mining operation soon, Brilm. Doesn’t that worry you?”

Brilm laughed incredulously.

“And how would they finance all their supplies? Tools? Guards against monsters? I hear rumblings like that every few years, Ilvriss. It’s nothing to worry about. To succeed in Salazsar you need a vast amount of wealth.”

“Or to strike a lucky vein.”

“True…”

The two fell silent. Mining was more expensive than a lot of people thought. Even if you dug up a lot of riches, processing and selling your goods was work. Protecting yourself against monsters who loved magical stones was a huge risk. And feeding miners, making sure they were well-equipped, defending against [Thieves] or the unscrupulous who might raid a mining site…it was why the Wall Lords were the founts of all industry. But Ilvriss had read of Drakes and Gnolls who’d created their own magnates from nothing in Salazsar’s history. He wasn’t as sanguine as Brilm.

“We’ll talk it over if it’s a problem later. At a dinner party. Mine this time. I’ll have my [Chef] put out a proper spread. Something to make you forget about any privations you may have had.”

The Drake smiled warmly. Ilvriss smiled as well, but he shook his head.

“It was hardly as arduous as you might think, Brilm. I was at Liscor when I wasn’t on campaign, and it’s no Salazsar, true, or even a Manus. But it has its strengths. For all its rustic qualities, I found myself enamored with the—the spirit of Liscor’s inhabitants. And there were a number of interesting diversions, for all it was trying at times.”

“Really? You’re saying this? Ilvriss? Ancestors, you have changed! I thought I’d hear nothing but a litany of complaints from you! I was prepared to hear you out and everything—I even brought a gift to cheer you up! I thought you didn’t tell us all about the horrid food and disgusting customs—not to mention the Antinium—because you were trying to spare us at your dinner party! Which was a hit, I might add!”

Brilm slapped the table. His rings struck the wood and he adjusted one absently as he spoke. Ilvriss smiled.

“I wouldn’t let polite company hold me back from my real objections. But you enjoyed the dinner party?”

Brilm blew a kiss with his claws into the air.

“Magnificent. New dishes, fascinating conversation, tales of a Goblin Lord’s defeat, Antinium to worry over, even you pulling out a Pallassian [Captain] into your service out of nowhere—brilliant stuff! And that—that condiment you served with those potato wedges! Wonderful stuff. What did you call it?”

“Mayonnaise. A Human invention, but my [Chef] managed to make it quite palatable. I only regret that I couldn’t bring back more souvenirs of the journey. Some of the things I encountered were quite valuable.”

“Ah. Yes. The magical door.”

Brilm nodded seriously. He looked at Ilvriss and shook his head.

“That’s a treasure. We could use it. Not least to transport our miners from the lower veins to the surface! Or facilitate trade; a shame you couldn’t steal it. But I suppose with those damned Pallass fools trying to obstruct your travel back home, it was hard enough getting back. Congratulations on giving them the slip by the way; we were leaning as hard as we could on them to let you through, but they weren’t budging. I was worried they’d sent their people after you.”

“I prepared for that. And the magic door did assist me in my escape.”

“It did? All the more reason to make a bid for it. But—later, later. And speaking of trinkets, I brought this to cheer you up. I might as well show you ahead of my dinner party; have look at this.”

So saying, Brilm put a small object on the table. Ilvriss eyed it. It was…a gemstone. Quartz; common, fairly worthless until he noticed the shimmer of pink inside the cut crystal. Then he identified it.

“Hm. Pure quartz. Clearly holding a spell. Not a powerful one, though. Some kind of single-use spell? A charm?”

“Charm? Do I look like I use charms? Please, Ilvriss. Give me some credit. No, this is a recording. Listen. It’s a song.”

So saying, Brilm rubbed the quartz and spoke a word. Ilvriss heard a garbled sound, and then a blast of beating drums and a loud, Human’s voice. She was singing—well, shouting something out of the stone. He covered his earholes reflexively.

“What is that racket?”

The sound cut off. Brilm looked offended.

“It’s music! Don’t scowl! Listen!”

“It’s horrendous is what it is. You call that music? Are you on some kind of drugs, Brilm?”

“You have no taste, Ilvriss.”

“I’ve listened to more forms of music than I can count, Brilm. And that is worse than Dullahan love songs. Or Garuda scream-songs.”

Ilvriss grimaced. Brilm glared at him and then, grumbling, reached into the bag of holding he’d pulled the first stone from.

“I should have known not everything would change. Picky, picky—okay, try this one.”

He pulled out another quartz, this one glowing faintly blue from within. Ilvriss ignored the color; that just told him the stone was slightly magical. He watched as Brilm whispered the activation message for the second stone. At once, a soft melody began playing. Ilvriss tried to place the instrument—and then he heard a voice.

It was the same voice as before. A female Human’s voice. Ilvriss braced for a cacophony, but the words that came out were slow, sonorous, spoken with a slow melancholy. And the song—

Brilm smirked as Ilvriss’ eyes widened. Then he looked at the quartz. And his own face softened, and his eyes closed. Ilvriss stared at the stone as the song played on. The music swelled, and horns and flutes accompanied the sad, slow song. But it wasn’t just pained. There was a triumph to it. A…passion that the female singer captured. And yet—the words could have been Ilvriss’ himself.

The female voice sang on, as soulful as if she were in the same room as the two Drakes. And the words spoke to Ilvriss, in a way few songs had before. Because this was no [Bard]’s melody, certainly no tavern song. And the instruments, the composition—Ilvriss was a studied connoisseur of music in many forms of art. But this was a new style to him. You could feel it in every line. And yet, the song was polished.

And when it ended, Ilvriss felt himself exhaling a breath he didn’t know he’d held. The last notes of the horns and stringed instruments faded out with the young woman’s voice, and Ilvriss stared at the crystal. It stopped playing music and he looked at Brilm. The Drake raised his brows silently.

“Hm. That’s…genuinely impressive. What’s the name of this song?”

“I believe it’s called My Way. Originally performed by…Frank Sinatra. I have no idea who that is. Look, it’s written here. But the song itself is being performed by the—the Queen of Pop.”

“Who?”

Brilm waved a claw.

“That’s what she calls herself. There’s no country called Pop—don’t bother looking for it. I already did. It’s a nickname. She’s known as the Baroness of the Beats. The Queen of Pop. The Siren of Songs. The [Singer] of Terandria.”

“All that for one Human?”

Ilvriss raised a skeptical eyebrow, but he was rattled despite himself. He looked back at the quartz. Brilm nodded.

“After listening to that song I’ll call her the Countess of Catchy Music. She’s growing in popularity. And these song-stones are hers. A [Merchant] brought some to me and I brought all three.”

“There are more?”

Ilvriss was interested. Brilm held his claw up, protecting his bag of holding.

“Not so fast! I have to show my guests something. You’ll like the last song. It’s good too. But I only have three of these crystals. They’re rare. Obviously; it’s a magical recording of a performance. I had to pay dearly for it. I gather it’s only really catching on around Terandria, where this Queen of Pop is based. But if she puts out more music like that—she’ll get my business.”

Ilvriss nodded absently. It might be good to look into. He eyed Brilm.

“You are a hawk for the newest trends, Human or not. You’re planning to back this Human financially, aren’t you?”

“You make your businesses prosper, Ilvriss. I respect that. I find new business and invest in it.”

The other Wall Lord studied his claws, looking pleased with himself. He gestured to the first crystal.

“Sure you don’t want to give the first song a try? I had the same reaction as you, but after a few more listens—I like it.”

“Have some taste.”

Ilvriss rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he reached for his reports. He skimmed through them as Brilm stowed the gemstones. And Ilvriss resolved to get a copy of the song if at all possible. It was why it was good to have Brilm as a close friend; if he invested in this [Singer], Ilvriss would be able to get any number of song-crystals from him.

It wasn’t a new concept, storing music in an artifact to be played later. Like the rat-catching flutes and so on. But storing it in a stone? That was somewhat novel. Could you record pictures in one? No—Ilvriss suspected that the quartz would lose the imprint of the music within a month. Even rocks forgot. He wondered if Brilm knew.

He was about to tell the Drake that when a report caught his eye. The [Secretary] had placed it near the top of the pile and Ilvriss saw why at once. Brilm looked up as Ilvriss laughed.

“Something catch your eye?”

“Ah. I don’t know if you know, but Liscor’s going through a democratic phase. They’re planning on having elections.”

“Hah. That is funny.”

Ilvriss shook his head.

“No. See here. One of the candidates, a Gnoll, is getting backed by the Antinium.”

“Less funny.”

Alarmed, Brilm sat up. He peered at the report.

“Hang on, this is a copy of a message. From that Olesm Swifttail my [Strategist] was ranting about the other day. Did you hear? He was apparently vouching for Goblins to be—”

“Brilm, just read.”

The Wall Lord fell silent for a second and skimmed Olesm’s introduction to his latest newsletter. Ilvriss laughed to himself as he read it upside down.

“You see? He’s apologizing. But—”

“The election in his city. I see. He’s warning us all. You know this Olesm Swifttail?”

Brilm slid the paper back, looking slightly respectful. Ilvriss nodded. He looked fondly at the letter, picturing Olesm in his mind.

“Clever lad. Bring up the Raskghar to make this an issue of security. And mix an apology with some astute commentary on the Antinium. Well done.”

“It’s more than astute. It’s essential! Dead gods, those idiots at Liscor—I knew they were touched to let Antinium build a Hive below their city, but they’ll let them expand their Hive? Allow more Antinium into the city? Madness! We have to back this Lism fellow.”

Brilm urgently flipped through the newsletter, his neck spines standing on end. Ilvriss frowned, reading another page himself.

“I see. It’s trickier than I thought. Gnolls vs Drakes. I can see why this Gnoll’s pushing for it. And at the same time, I’m certain that with young Swifttail at his back, this Lism could win any regular election. Especially given the campaign topic. But…”

He drummed his claws on the table. Brilm looked up. Ilvriss sighed. He thought of Liscor and wished he’d delayed his departure. If he’d known this would happen—but he had his own city to think of. Even so—he looked at Brilm.

“By all means, Salazsar will back such a proposal. Funding Liscor’s expansion and security is a matter the cities should be united upon. And I may, as a private individual, make a donation to young Swifttail’s cause. I imagine some of our peers might well do the same.”

The Drake pounded a fist on the table.

“Naturally! If it means keeping the Antinium from stealing more power, I’ll give that Drake a few hundred gold pieces myself. So long as it’s going to a good cause. Is that your worry? That this Olesm or Lism will pocket the gold?”

“Not at all. It’s simply that I don’t know if they’ll win.”

“What’s the problem? We fund Liscor’s expansion and the Antinium don’t have a leg to stand on. Surely Liscor’s citizens aren’t that far gone that they’d reject—”

“It’s not them. It’s her.”

“Who?”

Ilvriss stared out the window of his office. Gently, he traced his claws across the table and his claws went to one of his fingers. His…ring finger. And the groove of scales, slightly indented. Brilm looked down, noticing the gesture. And his eyes went round.

“Your ring—”

He grasped at a golden band on his own ring finger. Ilvriss looked up. He covered his hand discretely.

“It will find its way to me. And I gave it with purpose, Brilm.”

“You. Gave your ring. To who. Your future wife? Ancestors save me. Are you getting married?”

Ilvriss ignored the question. He looked thoughtfully at the report.

“Liscor is an interesting place, Brilm. You should visit it. And they need more security. More funding. And more space, by all means. All these things are pressing. But for donating to young Olesm’s campaign—I think I’ll wait. Until Liscor’s most dangerous Human makes her move.”

“Most dangerous Human. Liscor has Humans?”

“At least one. Erin Solstice. Say, Brilm, you wouldn’t happen to have more of those recorded songs, would you?”

The other Wall Lord smiled distractedly.

“I’ll put you on the list. But about this Human. What will she do? What can any Human do?”

“Well…”

—-

“Liscor! Meet Pallass!”

Erin spread her arms and shouted. Hundreds of faces stared up at her through the magical door. And from four hundred miles away, Liscor’s people stared into Pallass.

“Ancestors. Is this Pallass?”

Wonderingly, a Drake poked his head out of the door. He stared at the crowd gathered on the street near one of the four central staircases of Pallass’ city. Stout Dullahans in armor, bright-feathered Garuda flying up off the ground for a better look, Drakes in every color of scales, and Gnolls, their fur less colorful but shaded in patterns of grey, brown, dark red to blonde, black—but never white—staring and perking up their ears.

And beyond them? Pallass. City of Inventions. It might not have been Salazsar, but that did not mean it was any less of a wonder. The city lay below the staircase, floor upon floor of buildings, each floor the size of a smaller Drake city or larger, home to a hundred thousand souls. Pallass, a city of millions.

It was the first time Selys Shivertail had ever laid eyes on it. Really seen it, rather. She had been to Pallass before. But that had been when she’d been searching for information on the Heartflame Breastplate with Pisces. And he had almost trivialized the event. And Selys herself hadn’t taken it in. But now?

Grimalkin stood in an opening in the crowd, lifting a weights bar over his shoulders. He lifted the bar loaded with weights in a perfect shoulder press. Watching him was a giant of a Dullahan, a blacksmith. Maughin, the famed [Armorer] of Pallass. And a dozen other [Smiths] had descended from their ninth floor to join the crowd. They were debating weights as Grimalkin did another press. The [Mage] nodded in satisfaction and handed the bar off to a Drake nearly as burly. Relc.

“It’s too light for me. These weights you’ve added are ten pounds each, Maughin? Can you add something heftier?”

“Probably.”

The Dullahan frowned as he inspected the weights. He turned to Bealt, the Gnoll [Farrier].

“It shouldn’t be too hard to cast some iron weights. I can see twenty, even fifty pounds of iron going on this bar. It’s good steel.”

The Gnoll nodded.

“Not a problem. The only cost is in the actual iron—which is considerable. And while we can use weaker irons, the bar needs to be quality steel.”

“Exactly. But if Grimalkin’s correct and this is a business opportunity, the actual work is far simpler than, say, a breastplate. A single weight bar and rounded weights? We can do a sample set in a day.”

“Yeah! Give me three—no, four hundred pounds! Come on! I can take it!”

Relc roared happily as he did press ups with the bar. A pair of children, Garuda, and Gnoll, grabbed on to both ends as they descended. The weights bar wobbled, then Relc lifted it over his head to the delight of the shrieking children. He shouted, his muscles bulging.

“This is amazing! Lift! Lift! Hey, the rest of you runts grab on! I can—lift—it!”

He did another shoulder press as six more children latched onto the bar. The Drake had to work for the next shoulder press, but he managed it. His pectorals and biceps bulged and Grimalkin, watching, nodded approvingly.

“Simple. Safe. Efficient. So long as it’s done right. Maughin, forget the sample. I’ll take six sets. And here’s my gold deposit.”

He reached into his bag of holding and pulled out a handful of gold pieces and began counting them into the Dullahan’s hand. At that, the other [Smiths] crowded around, quoting prices.

“Hold on! I can do a weights bar for—eighteen gold pieces!”

“Eighteen? Hah! I’ll do it for fourteen!”

“You swindling—ignore him. I can do it for sixteen, pure steel, by evening! And I’ll throw in four of those weights.”

“The bar came from my forge! I’ll do a batch myself!”

Maughin elbowed the other [Smiths] back, shouting at them. Grimalkin looked around as Relc tried another shoulder press with eight kids handing on.

“Y-yeah! Yeah? No, wait, you’re too heavy! Let go! Let—”

And that was just the conversation with the [Smiths]. At the door, Erin stood as both crowds from Liscor and Pallass shouted questions at each other. The noise was chaotic at first, but after a few minutes, it began to resolve itself as they took turns shouting at each other.

“I saw this door! This was the one that the army went through! And where we saw those giant moths attacking the city! You can move it?”

A Gnoll demanded with an open-mouth, pointing at Erin’s inn through the door. He was one of the onlookers who’d noticed the door on Pallass’ side. On Liscor’s side, a veritable crowd of citizens, all poached from the election debate on the street, were staring back wonderingly. Erin laughed.

“Why not? It’s just a door! Hi! I’m Erin Solstice, [Innkeeper], and owner of The Wandering Inn! All of these people are from Liscor! Sorry—no entry—the door’ll run out of mana! But we can talk!”

“This is really Pallass?”

A Drake with pink-and-blue scales demanded on Liscor’s side, looking urgently at Erin. The young woman nodded, looking perplexed.

“Yup. It’s always been here. Did you hear?”

“I did. And I wanted to go through, maybe. Sometime. But—Ancestors. I’ve always dreamed of coming to a Walled City. But like this? I could just walk through and—”

She waved a claw at the door’s entrance and shuddered, looking pale. Erin’s face went blank. She didn’t get it. But Selys and Krshia and the other Liscorians, standing in the crowd, did.

Pallass. It was right in front of them. A Walled City, one of the six wonders of Izril, just like that. The Gnolls and Drakes stared, almost aghast by the sight. Selys was there, along with Krshia, Elirr, and the rest of the Gnolls on Krshia’s election campaign. But they’d forgotten their campaign for the moment—

“I’ve never seen it. The streets are beautiful.”

Someone whispered from Selys’ right. She looked down and saw an old Drake man blinking back tears. He pointed at the smooth blocks of stone that made up Pallass’ streets, so unlike the cobblestones of Liscor or Celum. Pallass’ citizens stared at their streets, looking nonplussed. One of them pointed at Erin.

“What was all this about you handing out that wet stuff? Ice cream?”

“Yup! We’re out for the moment—all the [Smiths] ate it. But we’re making more. Hey! You know you can come through, right? We can do like two people a day, but if you ask to go through, it’s free. It has been for ages.”

“Not in Pallass.”

One of the Dullahans folded her arms. Pallass’ citizens looked disgruntled. Liscor’s were still in a state of shock.

“I always wanted to visit all six Walled Cities. It was my dream.”

The old Drake murmured. Another Gnoll in his middle-ages shook his head.

“I didn’t. I always thought it was an exaggeration. When they told me stories about Pallass, I thought—their walls couldn’t really be that high. This is it?”

He looked down the grand staircase and blanched. The perspective of the door was unsettling. If you looked at it a certain way, it felt like you could fall down into the door and go flying into the heart of Pallass. Selys felt her stomach roiling at the thought. Erin looked exasperated.

“Well, why didn’t you ask to you through, sir? Or go earlier? You can travel.”

The old Drake looked at her as if she were mad.

“It’s not so easy to travel. I can’t just pack up my life like some [Wanderer]. I thought I’d never leave Liscor in my lifetime. It was my dream. This? This is too easy. And what would I do? Spend a fortune I don’t have on trinkets for my grandchildren? Pay for—for what?”

He waved a shaking claw at Pallass. Erin just shook her head. One of Pallass citizens laughed. A Garuda with a fiery red plume of feathers around her head that slowly shifted to orange raised her voice as she flew up a few feet, flapping her wings. The old Drake recoiled, staring.

“You needn’t spend money, sir! Pallass has any number of free places to visit. Our library, for instance! The Library of Pallass has tens of thousands of books! See?”

She pointed down at a lower floor. Liscor’s citizens craned their heads to see. Erin oohed—Selys stared down at the familiar building. She hadn’t been so blown away when she’d visited it, but then, she’d been with Pisces, and he was an expert at not seeming impressed by anything—she glanced over her shoulder. The Horns were at the back of the crowd, tiptoeing to see.

Pallass’ citizens agreed with the Garuda. More of them began calling out.

“By all means, visit! Even if you have only a few gold pieces, try the bazaar! First floor! Our markets on the first floor see hundreds of [Traders] and [Merchants] each day. We trade in countless thousands of goods.”

“Wow. Is that it?”

Erin pointed at a distant speck, far below. The crowd on Pallass’ side nodded.

“Or just ride a magical lift! Have any of you seen one?”

Agog, Liscor’s citizens shook their heads. The Garuda with the red feathers flew back and pointed a huge elevator out in the distance. Selys’ jaw dropped along with Krshia’s as she saw a small herd of cattle ascending at dizzying speeds thousands of feet away. One of the Drakes on Pallass’ side smirked in patriotic pride.

“Our main cargo lifts can carry goods across the city. That’s how we can have our forges on the ninth. And do you see the canals and water running up the sides of the walls? That would be our irrigation system. Note the water wheels? We’ve developed a system that can efficiently transport water up. We run a river through the entire city, from level to level. Anyone who wants drinking water can have it fresh.”

“You can make water run uphill? How? Magic?”

“Magic and engineering, sir. You see, it’s all about these water wheels one of our [Engineers] came up with. That, plus this system that allows us to convert magical energy into a pushing force that powers these gears—”

He launched into a technical explanation that Selys could only half-process. She was still staring. Then someone collided with her back and she nearly fell forwards.

“Whoops. Sorry. Can you move? I’m dying to see.”

An aggressive Gnoll pushed past Selys and stepped forwards. Too far—hands and claws pulled him back towards the semi-circle surrounding the magic door. Selys looked around. The crowd in Erin’s inn was hundred strong and growing by the second. She looked at Erin, who was beaming and nodding along with the explanation.

“Erin. Hey, Erin.”

The young woman looked up. She stepped back and Selys fought clear of the crowd. Panting, she joined up with Erin and looked back. Erin had moved her magical door to the side wall to allow as many people as possible to look through. But the inn was packed and Selys saw more people crowded by the door—and peeking through the windows! Erin looked miffed as she gazed at them.

“Oh, so now they want to check out Pallass. They didn’t all the other days it’s been here!”

“No one really took it seriously, I guess. I mean, walking through a door and going to Pallass? I didn’t know it was so huge. Even when I visited, we just took an elevator down. But this view—”

“Cool, isn’t it?”

Erin smiled. Selys gulped. That wasn’t her word for it. The sight was daunting. Terrifying. It made her feel insignificant. She had known Liscor all her life and thought of her home city as fairly big. But now—it would fit on one of the lower floors!

To distract herself, Selys pointed at the door as she looked at her friend.

“Erin, what’s all this? You said you’d help me with Krshia’s election! Is this part of your plan?”

“…Sort of?”

Erin narrowed her eyes. She frowned at the crowd and shrugged.

“It’s a work in progress. We’re still waiting on two more parts, but it’ll do.”

“How? This isn’t helping us. I mean, it’s a distraction from Lism which is what we need, but what can Pallass offer us? That’s more of Lism’s campaign—they’re promising to help pay for the expansion instead of the Antinium.”

“I know, I know. But—trust me, I think it’ll work out. I just need to get some stuff from the kitchen.”

Erin grabbed Selys’ claws, smiling reassuringly. She turned as a harried young woman appeared.

“Lyonette! What’s the word?”

“Erin! How did you attract half of Liscor to the inn?”

The [Princess] looked delighted and close to baldness as she yanked at her hair. Behind her, Ishkr, Drassi, and a dozen of the inn’s staff were rushing in and out of the kitchen and behind the bar. Erin smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. No one’s hungry—yet. Just get that ice cream ready and have the ovens working, okay?”

“We need four more ovens and twenty more hands!”

Lyonette bit her lip. Erin just shrugged. Both Lyonette and Drassi eyed her and both had an incredible urge to poke the smiling [Innkeeper], if only to get rid of that relaxed grin.

“You have a plan.”

Selys folded her arms. Erin nodded seriously.

“I do. And—wait for it, Lyonette. You’ll get a chance to sell stuff. But wait. Are the Players of Celum here?”

She looked at the stage. Lyonette stood on her tiptoes, and then found a chair and stood on it to look over the crowd. Selys was the tallest of the three so she could see by craning her head that there was a bunch of very nervous [Actors] on the stage at the far end.

“They arrived this morning like you wanted, Erin. But I don’t think they’re ready to perform in front of a crowd like this.”

“They know Juliet and Romeo. If they can put on a play, it’s fine. I’ll talk to them. What I need from you, Lyonette, is one of our pizzas. Hot and fresh.”

“I have six in our two ovens baking—”

“The old ones are good. Can you warm one up? I’ll talk to Temile. That’s all I need. Selys, you just wait. I think I know what’s going down. Tell Krshia not to worry—I’ve got this on lock! I think.”

The Drake stared as Erin pushed through the crowd, who parted almost unconsciously for her. The [Receptionist] looked back at Lyonette. The [Princess] gave her a harried look.

“She says she knows what she’s doing.”

“Right.”

They stared at each other. Lyonette sighed.

“I’ve got healing potions and if we sold to just a tenth of the people here, we’d make a small fortune! Selys, if you see Mrsha, please make sure she stays back from the crowd. I don’t want her getting trampled. I warned her, but—”

Selys looked around and spotted a flash of white balancing on one table. Mrsha and Apista craned to see over the crowd. She pointed mutely and Lyonette frowned.

“I suppose that’s fine. Pallass, huh?”

She looked at Selys. The Drake nodded.

“It’s something. Compared to Liscor.”

The [Princess] gave her a look.

“Compared to anywhere. My home kin—my home isn’t as impressive in a lot of ways. A Walled City is impressive. I should visit. I took it for granted too, really.”

“Yeah.”

Selys looked back at the doorway. But not just the doorway. At the soaring Garuda, the Dullahans. Species she’d only heard of before, never seen in any numbers. And Grimalkin. Selys remembered his performance, and Maughin. Even Relc looked small beside Grimalkin as the [Mage] reclaimed the weight bar. And that bothered Selys more than she could say.

“I’ll get that pizza.”

Lyonette hurried off. Selys drifted back to the crowd. She looked to Krshia, thinking to reassure her, but the Gnoll was entranced by the conversation happening at the door. Pallass’ citizens were no less curious than Liscor’s, and now that a dialogue had been established, the questions were turning to Liscor as much as Pallass.

“So your city’s the furthest north. What do all of you do? I know your army fights abroad—we had them oh, three years back on contract for a nasty campaign against some Gnoll tribes who were raiding our trade routes. But what do the rest of you do?”

A Pallassian citizen dressed in casual velvet—which was a contradiction in terms—looked interestedly through the door. She looked and felt richer than anyone Selys knew. Saving herself, perhaps. A Drake volunteered the answer, patting at his somewhat stained jerkin.

“Well, there are a lot of regular crafts folk, [Farmers] in some of our villages, artisans—you know how it is. [Miners] too, since we do have some deposits. Come spring and the rains, we’re all [Fishers] of course. But I’m a [Hunter] by trade. I’d say there are at least a hundred or two of us in the city. There’s a lot of good game on the Floodplains.”

“Really? Hunters?”

The rich Drake lady had a blank look on her face that said that she’d never picked up a bow, except of the ribbon variety. Some of Pallass’ Gnolls looked interested, as did some Garuda, though. A Pallassian Gnoll raised a paw and shouted to be heard.

“But I hear your city’s got lots of monsters about! How do you handle it? The area around Pallass is good for game and sport, but serious hunting?”

“Well, we do have Hollowstone Deceivers—”

“What?”

“Rock Crabs? Big, scuttling monsters. But you can scare them off with a bit of luck, or outrun them in most cases. They’re not exactly stealthy. Sometimes I have to abandon a kill, but the real problem is Shield Spiders. We’re lousy with them—it’s actually our annual culling season for them. Prevents them from digging too many pit traps.”

Pallass’ citizens looked appalled. The Drake woman spoke slowly as she nervously fondled a velvet sleeve.

“Shield Spiders? You have actual monsters living that close to your city?”

“Well, not in it—”

There was a tentative laugh from both sides. Selys wanted to, but she felt a constricting feeling around her chest. The curious Pallass Gnoll folded his arms.

“Lots of spiders, huh? I wouldn’t mind coming through to Liscor. Bag a big one for my mantle, maybe. It’d be a unique…experience. Right?”

He looked around. Some of the people in the crowd nodded with grins. Liscor’s people looked mildly offended. The Drake [Hunter] coughed.

“There’s plenty to see. Not just our monsters. True, we don’t have uh, as much space as Pallass, but we have a few wonderful spots.”

“Like what?”

“Well—we’ve got an indoor park. Terrific fun for the children. Enchanted of course by Wistram [Mages]. And we have public bathhouses—the best for a hundred miles! The Human cities like Esthelm and Wales don’t even have them. And we get [Merchants] from the north—”

“Really? We don’t see many Humans. A lot send goods by way of Zeres, but it’s generally Drakes or Gnolls who make the land route. And a public park? We just leave the city if we want to run around. There’s a lot of nice space to run.”

The Gnoll smiled. He gestured at the walls.

“It’s just a few minutes’ walk, tops. Our lifts are very efficient. As for bathhouses—well, Liscor might be the best in a hundred miles. You should come and try ours.”

“Thanks, but ours are fairly famous, you know?”

Another Drake chuckled in The Wandering Inn. The Gnoll on Pallass’ side just shook his head. He pointed down at a lower floor at a large, circular building.

“See that? That’s one of our bathhouses. We have five. Each one can hold thousands of people at any moment. We even have pools to swim in. Fed by our river.”

Pallass’ citizens nodded. On Liscor’s side, the Drakes and Gnolls fell uncomfortably silent. The Gnoll glanced over his shoulder.

“There’s the other one. They’re themed, you see. In the style of each continent? I personally like the Rhir architecture myself, and they’re all cheap—”

His pointing paw was blocked for a second by a flurry of movement in the air. Selys frowned. What was that?

“Are those birds?”

She pointed at a bunch of dark shapes, a flock or something, that had blocked the view for a second. The Gnoll glanced over his shoulder. The Drake in velvet laughed. She shook her head.

“Birds? No, no. Oldblood Drakes in training. We might not have Oteslia’s winged corps, but we do have hundreds of fliers in the city.”

“Hundreds? Wow.”

Someone muttered behind Selys. Selys felt the same sentiment. But she refrained from saying it out loud. One look at the Drake lady’s face said too much. She smiled—politely—and stared back through the door at Liscor’s crowd.

“What else does your city have?”

And there it was again. That same wavering in the stomach and heart that Selys had felt looking upon Pallass’ forges the first time. Liscor’s citizens drew back a step, unconsciously. And no one spoke. Of course their city had lots of wonders. Tons! The—the dungeon for instance? True, that wasn’t exactly a plus. And it had lots to see. Wishdrink’s, for example. Great bar. Or how about Market Street? It was always bustling?

Or—or Stonesong Boulevard? That was where all the aspiring [Singers] or [Bards] were exiled. Liscor didn’t have many high-level musicians, but it was a good place if you wanted to hear some nice music and a few duds.

It had plenty, thanks. Only, it was hard to say that to Pallass’ expectant, almost—no, definitely patronizing—crowd. With their stupid five bathhouses. So what? Liscor wasn’t as big.

And that was it. That was the thing. Liscor wasn’t as big. And if you lined them up like this, with an open door so you could see their city and yours, it hurt. It might have hurt more if they were on Liscor’s cobblestone streets, wonderful, but—narrower. Humbler. Selys looked around desperately. Wouldn’t someone say something?

“Well, I’d like to visit. Just once or twice. I didn’t see the need, especially with that five gold entry fee. But maybe a visit or two? But later—I think your side should come through and have a look. Shame that you can only do, what, two per day? But come on over, by all means! It’s a wonderful thing, this door. For both cities.”

The Pallassian Gnoll looked around, to murmurs of agreement from Pallass’ crowd. Selys opened her mouth, but no words came out. She felt in her bones that she had to defend her home! But what could she say? What could she point to? The citizens of Liscor looked on as Pallass’ citizens started to drift away, looking so smug—

And then a cheerful voice rang out. A familiar scent caught Selys’ attention. Erin Solstice walked through the crowd, and they parted for her. The young woman beamed, stepped through the door, and lifted what was on a large serving platter.

“Hey! Anyone want a pizza?”

Pallass’ citizens turned. They blinked at the strange, round object that Erin was holding. A pizza. Selys recognized it at once. Just a pizza. She must have eaten at least ten already, so it was no surprise to her. Big, round crusts, warm, melted cheese and slices of salami—it looked good. Even if Selys wasn’t hungry. But for some reason, it stopped Pallass’ crowd in their tracks. The [Smiths] arguing over weights looked up. So did Grimalkin.

“Pizza? What’s that?”

Erin innocently raised it over her head, waving at Maughin and Bealt and the [Smiths].

“I thought I’d bring some out. As a thank-you. Come on over and have a slice! You don’t need a plate, but I do have napkins.”

The [Smiths] looked bemused, but some of them who knew what was what by now pushed forwards, including Bealt. Maughin had to edge forwards slowly so he wouldn’t crush any toes, but Relc wasn’t so restrained. He dropped the weight bar at once and punched a fist up in delight.

“Aw yeah, pizza! Grimalkin, buddy, get over here. You have to try this.”

He towed the [Mage] forwards. Erin offered the platter and Relc pulled off a gooey slice, crowing in satisfaction. He lifted it up and took a bite.

“So good! Erin, I love you. This is free, right?”

“Free for my friends! Don’t you dare take another slice! Grimalkin, want one?”

The [Mage] looked bemused as she watched Relc holding his slice on his scaled palm.

“You don’t use a plate? Ah—like Lizardfolk walking foods. I had something like this on Baleros, but they were skewers.”

“I’ve got a napkin if you don’t like greasy palms. Here.”

Erin expertly flipped a bit of cloth onto Grimalkin’s hand and offered him a slice. He took it, bit into it, and his eyes widened.

“Hm! Better than that sugary stuff! Fascinating. And quite good!”

“Right? Can I have another slice, Erin? Please? Please?”

“I’ve got one pizza! No! Maughin, here.”

Erin lifted her platter off, fending Relc’s claws back with her free hand. The Dullahan delicately took a slice with one huge hand and lifted it up. Erin lowered it and offered the pizza to Bealt and the other [Smiths]. Three [Smiths] and an apprentice snatched the last four slices. There was a moment as everyone watched the eight chewing and Selys felt a rumble in her stomach. Then Maughin smiled.

“Hot. Good food. Too much cheese for me, but its novel.”

“I like it.”

Bealt was wagging his tail hard. So was Relc, and the other [Smiths] all gave silent thumbs-up. The crowd, eying the wagging tails, looked at the empty platter. Someone—the supercilious Gnoll—coughed.

“You wouldn’t happen to have another one of those, would you, Miss? Where is that from? I’ve never heard of it. Some kind of local dish?”

“Nah. It’s just new. I mean, I haven’t seen anyone else selling it. And sure! I’ve got at least three more in the inn. Want to try them? Say, eight copper a slice?”

“One silver’s easier! One silver!”

Lyonette hissed at Erin as she rushed three more pizzas out of the kitchen. Liscor’s crowd watched, bemused, as Erin grabbed the pizzas and began doling them out on handkerchiefs.

Selys bit her tongue. One silver for a pizza slice? But Pallass’ citizens didn’t even object. They pulled out silver coins and practically tossed them at Erin, even fighting to get the pizza slices before they were consumed. And after the lucky twenty four had gotten their slices, a call went up for more.

“What is it? Good? I’ve never seen anything like it. And I was in Oteslia just last week!”

The velvet Drake lady complained as she watched the Gnoll devouring his. He was biting it cautiously. His brows shot up as he took a bite of the tip, then he peeled back the cheese on the rest of the pizza and studied it with a practiced eye.

“I detect a bread-like base. Clearly a tomato sauce. And…cheese on top? With those slices of salami of course. Not hard to replicate.”

He looked expertly at the crowd. Selys sensed at once that he was a [Cook] or [Chef] or [Baker] of some kind. He sniffed the pizza, took a huge bite, and swallowed. Then he looked at Erin.

“Miss? I’ll have another slice, if you don’t mind? To go?”

He had a cunning expression on his face. Erin turned to him and raised her eyebrows.

“Sorry. I’m out. We have six more on the way, people!”

Lyonette nodded rapidly from inside the inn. Pallass’ citizens looked discontented, but the Gnoll, his expression and fur around his mouth both oily, shook his head.

“No need. I can make some of these myself.”

“You can?”

The velvet female Drake looked intrigued. The Gnoll puffed himself up. He grinned, pointing at the remains of his pizza slice in his hand.

“Yes. And it’s hardly a hard recipe to follow. We could get this to our restaurants within an hour with some experimentation. Even improve it. Say—you Liscor folk.”

He pointed through the doorway. Erin put her hands on her hips, smiling with a glint in her eye, but the Gnoll didn’t notice. He pointed at the Drake [Hunter], and waved the slice of pizza at him.

“Sir, how would you like to have one of these ‘pizzas’ at a lower cost? With better ingredients? I’m sure we could shave at least a few coppers off the price. Imagine it, a new dish, served in my restaurant, the Wyvern Steakhouse—”

He was surprised by the chorus of laughter from Liscor’s side. Selys, grinned openly as the Gnoll blinked at them. The [Hunter] from Liscor shook his head, looking highly amused.

“I’m sorry sir. No discredit to your Skills, but even the most superior pizza wouldn’t tempt me. I had one just the other day, and it’s not new to us over here. We’ve been eating pizzas for months, Mister [Chef]. And we’ve had all different types. Fish pizzas, mushroom pizzas, Yellat pizzas…”

The elderly Drake nodded.

“They do a really nice all-meat pizza. Have you been to that Gnoll [Baker] down Cherile Walk? She makes this pizza with eight different cuts of meat—goat, Corusdeer, beef—all crispy and tender.”

A few of the others in Liscor’s crowd smacked their lips. The [Hunter] turned to the elderly Drake, intrigued.

“Really? I have to visit sometime. Myself, I enjoy a good soup, but I enjoy the novelty of this kind of food. It doesn’t sit as well in my stomach, mind—”

Pallass’ citizens just stared. Crestfallen, the Gnoll [Chef] looked around.

“This isn’t new? But we haven’t heard of it.”

“Probably because it came from Liscor. Or at least, this inn. Maybe Pallass just hasn’t gotten the latest recipes? Ice cream—Erin knew how to make that too.”

Selys called out, laughing with delight. The red-feathered Garuda exclaimed in excitement.

“That was what it was? But I heard it was from Terandria! It’s rare even in First Landing!”

“It’s okay. Too sugary for me. We’ve had it as long as the pizza.”

The [Hunter] waved a claw, looking at the others with an expression of deep pride. Selys saw the expressions go slack on Pallass’ side. Erin smiled and winked through the doorway.

“It’s not for everyone. But I have more! Lyonette! How’s our ice cream?”

“I’m selling a bowl at four silver!”

“Four silver?”

Selys and the crowd on Liscor’s side looked aghast. Pallass’ citizens stared at each other. Then they tried to rush the doorway. Erin had to hold them back, blocking the entrance and shouting as Lyonette exchanged money and bowls at the door. Ishkr, a long-suffering look on his face, held a bowl steady as Drassi scooped out the ice cream into bowls that Mrsha was holding up. And Selys felt that knot in her chest easing almost without her noticing it.

Then she saw Erin turn. Someone shouted, and the crowd’s press around the door broke up. A group of yellow-armored [Guards] fought through and formed a curtain around the door. Pallass’ City Watch. Selys stared as an angry Drake strode forwards, shouting the crowd back. He whirled, and Erin smiled.

“Hi Watch Captain Venim! How’s it going?”

The Drake took one look at Erin, the door, the crowd beyond, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Erin was still there. He looked at her, half-furious, half with the resigned look that Zevara wore whenever she saw Erin. Still, it was only his fourth or fifth time, so he mustered some genuine outrage.

“Miss Solstice. What is the meaning of this? You’ve caused a blockage on the southern stairwell and my Watchman on duty claims you strong-armed him, absconded with two of our most prominent citizens—”

He broke off, eying Grimalkin and Maughin. The Dullahan winced, but Grimalkin just folded his arms.

“Absconded, Watch Captain Venim? What am I, a kidnapping victim? Master Maughin and I went through that door of our own free will. As we are allowed to do? And the last I checked, public gatherings aren’t considered a crime.”

Venim backed up a step. He worked his jaw, and then spoke civilly to Grimalkin.

“My apologies, Magus Grimalkin. However, this is a disturbance. What is—what’s going on?”

He only now seemed to realize exactly how many people were standing in Erin’s inn. Watching him. It was a mark of his experience that Venim only paused for a second before smoothly turning to Erin and pretending the crowd didn’t exist. Erin smiled a bit guiltily. She looked over Venim’s shoulder at the [Guardsmen], the fuming Kel, and shrugged.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m causing a fuss. But—I’m just having a fun conversation! Selling some food out of my inn.”

Venim passed a claw over his face.

“Selling food. You mean, like a street vendor? Miss Solstice, you need a permit, and you’re not allowed to sell outside of designated areas—”

“Nope! Out of my inn. Which is right there.”

For proof, Erin pointed. Venim turned and caught a few hundred pairs of eyes again. He wavered.

“Even so, it looks like—”

“I can move! If it’s illegal. Or is it just inconvenient?”

The young woman gave Watch Captain Venim another innocent stare. He wavered.

“And the crowd?”

He looked at Liscor’s citizens. Lyonette silently circulated their ranks, passing out bowls of popcorn and receiving copper coins in return. Erin beamed.

“They want to see what your awesome city looks like! Is that illegal?”

“No. Of course. I mean—it is a crowd. In Liscor. We have loitering laws, you know. But if it’s Liscor—”

The Drake Watch Captain was clearly struggling to keep up. He glanced over his shoulder and decided there was no help for it. He saluted smartly.

“Citizens of Liscor, a…pleasure. But Miss Solstice, this is blocking a major stairwell.”

He looked at Erin as a pleading note entered his voice. Erin was at once instantly reasonable.

“Is it? You’re right! I’m so sorry. We can move back to the old spot! Hey Grimalkin, Relc! Mind shifting the door a bit?”

The two Drakes looked up. Grimalkin shrugged and Relc grinned. The [Guardsmen] hesitated as the two burly Drakes walked at them. They looked at their Watch Captain, but Grimalkin just pushed aside a Dullahan in Pallass’ uniform and casually lifted a corner of the door. Venim bit his tongue as Relc cheerfully scooted past two Gnolls who didn’t quite want to bar his way.

“City Watch, we’ll give the door an escort. And—and maintain a presence to enforce the peace. Miss Solstice?”

Erin cheerfully nodded. She pointed and the two Drakes lifted the door with a grunt. Inside the inn, Selys experienced vertigo and a sense of movement as she watched the door proceed down the street—despite her not moving her feet. Elirr, standing next to Krshia, murmured.

“How odd. But fascinating! I would pay money to have someone walk this door around the city, yes?”

Someone else nodded.

“Me too.”

On the other side of the door, Erin walked with Venim. And the crowd walked with the door. They were certainly not about to disperse when the fascinating doorway was leaving. Even Maughin was tromping after the door, holding the weights bar. Perhaps he smelled more opportunity for business in the air. Or perhaps, like Bealt and the other [Smiths], who’d doubled in number since Erin had last looked, they’d been caught.

All according to plan. Although—Erin looked around swiftly. She didn’t recognize the two faces she was really waiting for. Still, her plan was mostly going in the general direction she’d hoped for. And Venim was just a happy accident. She smiled at him and the Drake gave her a long-suffering look.

“What is this about, Miss Solstice?”

“I dunno. Just a bit of city-to-city sharing, Watch Captain. Say, can I offer you a bowl of ice cream? On the house? It’s that super-expensive stuff from Terandria, apparently.”

She proffered a melty bowl of ice cream. Venim opened his mouth and hesitated.

“Wh—ice—you know that bribing an officer is a cause for offense, Miss Solstice?”

“Who said anything about bribing? I just asked if you wanted ice cream. I’ll make you pay if you want. Four silver! No, wait, two silvers? Half-off for our boys in…yellow!”

Venim tried to object, but Erin thrust the bowl into his hands. He reluctantly took the wooden spoon, ate a bit of ice cream, and the rest was history. Erin watched the bowl disappear in moments—after an obligatory pause for brain freeze—and called into the inn.

“Lyonette! Ice cream or pizza for the [Guardsmen]! And two [Guardswomen]. Priority! And get me some hamburgers!”

She hadn’t missed the looks on the City Watch’s faces, especially the Gnolls. And as the [Princess] hurried back and the [Guards] dug at their pouches, Erin turned her head. She just had one more thing to do before Rufelt and Lasica arrived. She was interrupted from asking Venim if he liked the ice cream by the panting Gnoll [Chef]. He practically shoved Venim out of the way.

“Wait, what’s a hamburger?”

—-

Lorent the [Sharpener] was honing the edge of a nearly-pristine knife with a whetting stone and eying his next potential customer on the somewhat empty street. He was trying to find someone whom he’d never seen before, and who looked like they needed a good knife.

Of course, everyone needed knives, but Lorent had to admit that his business had been slow today. Not that it was ever necessarily brisk; he was resigned to that. He got a lot of his money in repeat customers, really. Still, more business would be nice. With a sigh, the Dullahan put down his blade and adjusted his head in the comfy basket he’d set up.

And then he heard the crowd. They swept down the street like a carnival in progress, only Lorent had never seen a carnival and had no idea what it was. To him, the crowd was like a mob at first, and he was grabbing his wares urgently when he saw a familiar Human waving at him.

“Here he is! Stop the door! Lorent! It’s me!”

Erin Solstice, the young woman who he’d sharpened a particularly fine kitchen knife for just last week stopped in the street next to a…Lorent stared. He’d seen the magical door to Liscor, but the sight of a huge crowd and the inn’s floor hovering in the air, as two Drakes supported it made the Dullahan’s stomach turn. Slowly, he picked up his head and rubbed his eyes.

“Erin Solstice?”

“That’s me! Hey! Hey everyone! Liscor especially! This is Lorent! He’s a cool dude. Lyonette, Selys, Krshia, I told you about him. Maughin, you know Lorent, right?”

Lorent blinked. He turned his head and saw Maughin walking behind the crowd. Maughin, who was practically the most important—Lorent was bowing his head hurriedly, flushing with embarrassment. How could he have missed the Dullahan, even in the crowd? Maughin nodded back, looking amused.

Lorent was speechless, but Erin was not. She turned and waved into the door filled with Drakes and Gnolls. A lot of them were seated near the door, munching on some food out of a bowl. The rest were standing and pointing, clearly enjoying the view.

“Lorent’s a [Sharpener]. Isn’t that’s so cool. This is what Pallass has. Libraries, bathhouses, [Sharpeners]. Amazing.”

Some of the people on Pallass’ side of the doorway sniggered. A Drake standing in the inn looked embarrassed. She called out, leaning down to address the young woman.

“We do have [Sharpeners], in Liscor, Erin. It’s not like we haven’t heard of them.”

“Oh. Well, Lorent’s the best. By far. Hey Lorent, do your thing! I told you I’d do something fun! Now’s your chance!”

Stunned, the Dullahan stared at her. But Lorent was too good at his job to miss an opportunity like this. He whipped out his best knife and his block of wood. He called out to the crowd.

“Lorent. Dullahan. You all need knives. Better knives than the ones you have in your city. You may think you have [Sharpeners], but can they do this?”

He raised the knife, tilted it so the edge was face-up, and dropped the wooden block on it. Lorent held his breath—this trick was risky even for his best work—but it worked. The knife split the block of wood in half as it fell. The crowd, Pallassian and Liscorian both gasped in surprise. And Lorent felt an inordinately pleased smile cross his face. He knew it was immodest to display that much emotion, but he couldn’t help it. And Erin’s beaming smile could have lit up Lorent’s shop for days.

“Anyone who wants a knife, grab ‘em and pass them through! Lorent, follow me! This door needs to go back, but you can move your shop, right?”

Lorent looked up. He took one look at the door, the Drakes and Gnolls eying his blade with the utmost appreciation, and sprinted back in his shop to grab his tools. He hurried out after Erin, part of her crowd. And it was still growing. And then one of the people Erin had been waiting for appeared. On Liscor’s side.

—-

The crowd that surrounded Erin’s inn was beginning to shrink a bit. Not because of lack of interest, but rather because frustrated people who wanted to see and hear what was going on inside were squeezing into the inn, taking seats further up the common room rather than waste time standing outside. Perhaps that was why few of them reacted to the new group that appeared out of the Floodplains. Few exclaimed to see the band of Antinium, sixty workers and half as many Soldiers, tromping this way. True, it was an unnerving amount of Antinium to see in any one spot usually. But Liscor’s citizens had bigger things to attract their attention. And anyone who looked at the Antinium who lived in Liscor would know what they were about.

The Workers were armed with hammers, saws, nails, picks, buckets, shovels, and more tools. The Soldiers were carrying huge beams of lumber on their shoulders, or rocks. They proceeded up the hill, led by a pair of Workers. One of them paused when he saw the inn. The other, Belgrade, assumed it was normal and calmly turned to his Workers.

“The inn is currently occupied by a higher ratio of guests than normal. Begin earthworks. I will direct you to the building site in time. Eight Painted Soldiers, adopt a perimeter.”

The Workers and Soldiers spread out, placing their burdens on the ground. Eight Painted Soldiers broke off to watch for monsters as the rest grabbed digging instruments and tromped over to a smaller hill next to the one The Wandering Inn stood on. There was no hesitation, no milling about—they transitioned from walking to work in a heartbeat. Belgrade turned to Pawn.

“Perhaps we should confer with Miss Erin first?”

Pawn nodded slowly, eying the crowd around the inn.

“I think that would be wise. Lyonette did say today was the day. But maybe Erin is doing something. Let’s find out.”

The Antinium marched up to the door and saw it was blocked. The door was open, and filled with Gnolls and Drakes peering inside at…something. Pawn hesitated. Belgrade, with a [Tactician]’s quick thinking, raised his voice.

“Excuse me. We are here on business. Please make way. Excuse me. We are on the business of the Hive of the Free Antinium. Please make way—”

His call made those closest to the door turn. A Drake spotted the two Workers, jumped, and grabbed at his friend. A Gnoll looked around, saw Pawn and Belgrade, and laughed at his friend.

“Let them through. Hey! Move on! And now—quick! Follow them in! That’s our ticket!”

The duo enterprisingly pushed at the crowd ahead of them and were promptly rebuffed. But Pawn and Belgrade moved forwards and the Drakes and Gnolls, seeing them, moved aside. They didn’t quite want to stand next to a Worker, but Pawn didn’t see half as many looks of disgust or horror he sometimes recalled seeing. Still, the Antinium made progress where no one else could. Pawn stared around at the packed room, somewhat dizzy from all the body heat and voices.

“What is going on? What is—”

“Ah. There.”

Belgrade grabbed his arm and pointed. Pawn saw a little Gnoll peering over one table, her tail wagging excitedly. Apista, perched on her head, took flight when Pawn and Belgrade approached and the Ashfire Bee, who had already been given her own bubble of space, further widened it as she flew around the Antinium.

“Hello Mrsha. We are looking for Lyonette. May we know where she is?”

Pawn greeted Mrsha. She peered at him, then pointed. Pawn saw a flash of red hair, and then, another familiar young woman. Erin. He pointed and Belgrade nodded. The two Antinium moved forwards again, towards Erin and Lyonette who stood at the magic door. They passed by the Horns of Hammerad, who were sitting at a table.

“Good morning, Ceria, Pisces, Yvlon. Ksmvr.”

Pawn stopped to greet them, and he barely stumbled on the last name. The Horns looked up. Yvlon waved. Ksmvr hesitantly nodded at Belgrade who paused, just looking at them. Ceria smiled.

“Hey Pawn. Some day, huh?”

“What is going on, Ceria?”

The half-Elf shrugged.

“Erin. She’s got the door open to Pallass and everyone’s coming to look. Something to do with the election? We’re just here in case something explodes with monsters or something amazing happens.”

“And to talk to that [Mage]. Grimalkin. You said he’s a big shot, didn’t you, Pisces?”

Yvlon looked pointedly at Pisces. The [Necromancer] sniffed and folded his arms.

“He is of some renown, but infamy is a closer descriptor for his level of fame. He might be an interesting personage to converse with—”

“I saw him throw a boulder twenty feet straight up. If he can teach you to cast that spell on me and Ksmvr, you’ll call him Sir Grimalkin and treat him like an Archmage.”

Yvlon jabbed a finger at Pisces. Ksmvr raised a hand.

“I will call him Sir Grimalkin for you, Comrade Pisces. However, it seems I am disliked by Grimalkin. If you would like, I will remove myself from this room, Captain Ceria, Yvlon.”

“No way. You’re part of the team, Ksmvr. And Pisces and I can play nice. Right, Pisces?”

Pawn heard a sigh as he and Belgrade proceeded. The crowd was especially thick around Erin and Lyonette, but the two Workers simply tapped people on the shoulder and waited for them to turn around. The sight of a Worker’s mandibles, even politely smiling—was enough to make most people step back hurriedly. It didn’t work on Krshia, but only because she was conferring with Elirr and Selys.

“I have no idea what Erin is up to, yes? This is welcome—Lism has barely anyone but his supporters to shout at in Liscor, but should I begin talking about the election now?”

Selys shook her head.

“Better not. It’s not the right mood and Erin’ll probably give you a signal. I have the you-know-what armor in my bag of holding and I’m not sure when I’ll show it to the [Smiths]. That Maughin guy? We just have to wait and see.”

Then she caught sight of Pawn and Belgrade. Selys paused, and then a smile came over her face. Elirr sniffed the air before he saw the Antinium. The [Beast Tamer] turned and grinned.

“I think I begin to see part of Miss Solstice’s plan, Krshia. Look.”

The Gnoll [Shopkeeper] turned around. Krshia paused. Then, silently, she pulled the Gnolls in front of her out of the way. Mystified, Pawn walked forwards. Belgrade just marched towards the door. Erin turned and saw them. She spread her arms, stepping around the door. Pawn stared, fascinated, through it. Was that Pallass on the other side? He’d never seen it. Erin walked in front of them and gave the two Workers a hug.

“Belgrade! Pawn! Just the Antinium I wanted to see!”

“Miss Erin. Miss Lyonette. We are here to begin construction on the inn and surrounding area as Revalantor Klbkch promised. However, the crowd around your inn will obstruct our building. We may even have to remove a substantial piece of the inn—the damage to the second floor is substantial, and the third floor likewise and we would like to remodel some key components of the structure—”

He got no further, because as he was turning and Erin stepped aside to let Lyonette come forwards and join the discussion, Pawn suddenly had an unobstructed view of Pallass and the crowd of people on the other side. And they had the same view of him. For a moment Pawn saw a bunch of curious faces, chatting, talking, sampling hamburgers, and for some reason, a Dullahan sharpening a bunch of knives on the ground—and then their faces all turned to horror.

“Antinium! Run for your lives!”

A Drake in a velvet dress recoiled and screamed. Half the crowd screamed with her. Several eyes rolled up in their heads and the Gnoll [Chef] fainted into Venim’s grasp. The rest of the crowd turned and tried to run. The Pallassian [Guardsmen] at the door whirled, spotted the Antinium, and grabbed their weapons. They formed a wall as Watch Captain Venim recoiled. But it was Erin who whirled, a gleam in her eye, and bellowed with her [Loud Voice] Skill.

“STOP!”

The word had more force behind it than just volume. As one, the crowd halted in their tracks, shaking loose the almost primal fear that had gripped them. Erin clenched her fist.

“[Crowd Control]—Venim, don’t let them run! They’ll get hurt!”

The Watch Captain had the same thought. He turned and bellowed, thrusting an arm in front of Kel, who was about to make a run at Pawn and Belgrade through the door.

“Order! No one move! The situation is under control! Guardsmen, do not advance! Hold your ground!”

The panicked crowd stopped, held by both Venim and Erin’s Skills and authority. The Pallassian City Watch held their ground, staring at the two Workers and clutching their weapons with white-knuckled grips. The only people not frozen in this tableau were Maughin, who looked only mildly alarmed, Grimalkin, who looked mildly disgusted, and Lorent, who had looked up once warily and then went back to sharpening his knives.

And of course, everyone on Liscor’s side of the door. Bemused, Krshia, Selys, Elirr, and hundreds of Liscor’s citizens watched as Venim kept shouting for order. They stared at the Workers. Someone—the Gnoll [Hunter]—laughed nervously.

“It’s just two Workers. It’s not like it’s an army of Soldiers, right?”

Everyone in earshot nodded, including Selys. Her eyes flicked to Erin. The young woman was standing in front of Pawn and Belgrade, and only from behind could you see Erin’s hand was on her kitchen knife. But the smile she gave Venim as he rounded on her was saccharine.

“What is the meaning of—”

“They’re Workers, Venim. Antinium Workers. Pawn and Belgrade. They’ve come to work on my inn. Rebuild it after the Goblin Lord—no, those Human jerks—blew up the top of my inn. It’s completely legal. They’re in Liscor. They’re not trying to cross into Pallass. They’re just here. There’s no problem, except if Pallass’ citizens panic.”

Venim stared at Erin. His arm tensed—he was gripping his sword hilt.

“The Antinium have been under a non-aggression pact with the Walled Cities for ten years. However, their presence in any lands controlled by Pallass is an act of hostility—”

“Not Pallass. Liscor. You don’t like it? Close the door.”

Erin met Venim’s gaze, and hers was suddenly electric. She glared across four hundred miles and the look in her eyes was suddenly direct. Challenging. And scornful. The Drake’s jaw tightened. He put his hand on the door to do just that. He began to swing it closed, never looking away from Erin’s gaze. And to stop him, she spoke two words.

“Scaredy cat.”

The door halted halfway. It opened and Venim’s eyes locked on Erin’s.

“What was that?”

Erin raised her hands, giving him a not-so-innocent roll of the eyes.

“Nothing. I just thought you were brave enough to look at a bunch of Antinium. They won’t cross through the door. But hey, if that’s too much for you, go ahead.”

If it were possible for Pallass’ City Watch to get even more hostile, they did. Venim’s claws tightened on the door’s edge. He clenched his teeth so hard that Erin could have sworn she heard a crack. He stared daggers at Pawn and Belgrade. Belgrade waved hesitantly. Venim glanced at Erin.

“If they so much as cross over the line—”

He was not prepared for the finger that came through the portal and grabbed the collar of his armor. Erin yanked and Venim stumbled forwards a step before he caught himself. She leaned forwards, glaring at him nose-to-nostrils.

“If they cross the line, it’s an accident. And if they do, you’d better think twice about stabbing them. Because until they do something wrong, they’re Liscor’s citizens. And if you stab them first, you’re breaking the law.”

She met Venim’s eyes, and then let go. He gaped at her as she pulled herself back. The crowd stared. The Drake to Venim’s left raised his spear.

“Assaulting a Watch Captain—”

“Shut up, Kel!”

Erin stepped back and folded her arms. She waited, daring Venim. But he didn’t take her up on it. He looked at the door, clearly regretting not slamming it, then whirled and marched back without another word. The [Guardsmen] looked at each other uncertainly. Erin glared.

“Step back.”

They did not. Erin’s glare only went so far. But the scene had stemmed the flight of Pallass’ crowd. And they did come back, although this time it was to stare in disgust as Pawn and Belgrade moved backwards. Lyonette whispered to Pawn and Belgrade.

“Go do your construction. Don’t worry about this. We’ll handle it.”

Both Workers nodded. They pushed back through the crowd as a Dullahan spat on the ground in front of the door. She coldly lifted her head, making eye contact with everyone around her to prove just how offended she was. She pointed at the backs of the Workers.

“You let Antinium into your inn? This inn is foul. Disgusting. I regret eating any of the food there.”

“Me too!”

One of the Drakes looked close to being sick. He gagged. On the other side of the door, Liscor’s citizens looked bemused. Even insulted. A Gnoll growled, shaking his head.

“Why are you panicking? There were two of them. There are hundreds of you. And us! They’re not even the scary Antinium, you know? Workers. And besides, the Free Antinium, they’re part of our city. You do know that, right?”

He peered at another Gnoll standing in the crowd. She sniffed the air and recoiled. She growled back.

“Well, of course we know that. It’s history, no? But—Ancestors, I’ve never seen one before.” She shuddered. The Drake lady wearing velvet nodded.

“I’m shaking.”

She held out a claw to demonstrate. Selys snorted at the slight tremor in her hands. She wasn’t alone. That needled the Pallassian Drake. She narrowed her eyes at Selys.

“How can you live with those things in your city? Are you all insane?”

That stung. The [Receptionist] lifted her head and retorted angrily.

“Just like you live with Gnolls—or Garuda or Dullahans! They’re not a threat!”

Her words provoked a ripple of incredulity, and outrage from the Garuda and Dullahans in the crowd. Someone actually shook a fist at Selys. The Gnoll [Chef], who’d been revived, got to his feet, shaking his head.

“Just as mad as I heard. Liscor. Really? Even those Drowned People that visit Zeres have to be better than Antinium. By far.”

“Madness. They’re touched in the head!”

Someone else agreed. Selys gasped. She looked around and saw Krshia had gone stiff. Elirr frowned, his normally-kind face turning dark. And they weren’t the only ones. Every Drake around Selys stiffened. And the Gnolls bared their teeth. And as one Liscor’s citizens they felt the same thing.

Outrage. A Drake with a scar on his chin leaned forwards, putting his head through the door to snap back.

“We’re mad? Says the lot who can’t tell a Worker apart from a Soldier and run screaming at the sight of two!”

“Who needs to tell them apart? Who would let them into a city? Or walk down the same street as one?”

“Anyone who has a Hive in theirs, that’s who! They don’t just attack people out of the blue! They’re our Antinium. And I’ll have you know that we haven’t had any incidents with ours in years. The last Aberration that appeared—”

“Aberration? Dead gods. What do they even do? Collect refuse? Dig?”

“They build.”

Selys snapped back. The Pallassians scoffed—Selys wanted to curse at them. She saw Belgrade moving back around the side of the crowd, and Lyonette hurrying over. The Worker bobbed his head deferentially.

“Excuse me, Miss Lyonette. We need to take down this wall to finish repairs on the side of the inn.”

“What? Really? Uh—”

“Do it!”

Erin shouted over the heads of the crowd. Belgrade nodded. He turned his head and signaled with three of his four arms—and the far wall came down. Two dozen Antinium Workers ­pulled the wall out as Soldiers positioned pillars of wood and scaffolding under the ceiling, which creaked but didn’t fall in. The move was so sudden that even Liscor’s citizens recoiled.

“Dead gods!”

Belgrade walked past the crowd as they drew back from the sudden opening. Selys blinked into the sunlight now shining into the building. Even Erin’s jaw dropped. But the Antinium didn’t hesitate. They took apart the far wall as if there was nothing to it. And of course—they’d built it. But it was incredible to see them just bring it down. But more Workers were already rushing forwards. Belgrade stood in front of the new construction area and raised his voice.

“Excuse me. Stand back, please. We are going to begin construction in this area. Anyone in this area may suffer the risk of death. Thank you.”

After one second to digest that, the Gnolls and Drakes on the perimeter moved back. Selys saw some of the people outside watching the Antinium work, or peering inside to finally get a glimpse of Pallass. And around the wall and inn, the Antinium began reconstructing the inn.

Temporary support beams were already in place, and the Antinium were swarming on the second and third floors. One of them was pulling up floorboards to get to a damaged beam with a few cracks in it, while another was already messing with the stone foundations of the inn below. And more—they were digging up earth in a huge flurry, Workers and Soldiers, and behind them, Antinium were laying stones down, creating a larger foundation.

Selys stared along with Krshia and Elirr. It was all so efficient. The Antinium had no concept of personal space, or the need to coordinate. They had Workers replacing floorboards, refitting a cracked windowpane, while below them their comrades began replacing parts of the ceiling of the common room, replacing a support beam.

And only when they needed to do the swap did the Antinium on the second floor disappear—and then only for a second while Soldiers held up the roof with temporary supports and their own strength and the Workers replaced the crucial pillar of the inn in a moment.

“It is just reconstruction of the existing inn template for now. We are performing foundational work, but the expansions you requested will not come until later. Revalantor Klbkch also mentioned the issue of payment in installations.”

Belgrade calmly informed Lyonette. She nodded, staring as a Worker emerged from a hole in the ground and another piled in with a crude cement and more stones. Selys saw the Antinium abandon the replaced support pillar and jumped.

“Ancestors. Are they building the wall back right there?”

Every head turned. The wall was going up piece by piece within seconds. The Antinium, having completed their work, were putting it back just as fast as it had gone down. Selys turned her head to stare through the door when she heard someone mutter an oath. The Gnoll [Chef] was staring in awe and fear at all the black and brown bodies.

“They can build that fast?”

The Liscorian [Hunter] snorted. He pointed at a Worker with a hammer striking nails into the wood with two or three strokes at most. Copper—Selys noted that with a frown.

“Of course. They’re our Antinium. Fastest builders in the world. I’ve seen them put a house up in the time it took me to have my lunch break. We have this plan you know, to expand Liscor. With Antinium Workers we could have a new section of the city done before next spring, and cheaply too!”

“What? You do?”

Selys jumped. She looked around and saw Krshia’s head turn fast enough to crick. The Drake nodded. A Gnoll by his side tapped him on the shoulder uncertainly. She coughed, and then growled, looking at the Antinium.

“That’s not all set in stone. If Lism wins, he’ll have us build the city ourselves. Jobs for everyone. And there’s what he’s said about the dangers of the Hive—”

The [Hunter] rolled his eyes. He pointed impatiently back at the wall, which was nearly completely whole again.

“Come on now. How many high-level [Builders] did we ever have in the city? How many does Pallass have? The Antinium are like thousands of Level 20 [Builders] who work for copper where most Drakes would charge silver. Look at that!”

The last part of the wall went into place and the Antinium Workers calmly walked out the door while more headed upstairs with boards of wood. A few people whistled—the Gnoll looked uncertain. Someone else in front of Selys leaned over and conferred to the Drake next to her.

“Makes you think, doesn’t it? But hey—I can tell this was planned. It doesn’t mean that Lism isn’t right—”

“Yeah, but look at them. You think we could get a crew of Gnolls and Drakes to build a bunch of houses that fast? The lazy slugs I work with? Not a chance. And I mean, they’ve been here in the city for ten years, right? When have they done anything, aside from the odd Aberration?”

“I’m just saying, I don’t trust the Grand Queen. They’re our Antinium, but—”

Heads turned back to Pallass. The velvet Drake was shaking her head.

“Appalling. Just appalling. Imagine living in a building built by one of them? I need to have a lie down.”

That was it. Selys opened her mouth to snap and someone beat her to it. The Drake with the chin scar.

“Aw, eat your tail. They’re better than any [Builders] you have, I’ll bet! And our Antinium work fast and cheap!”

“That’s right!”

Liscor’s citizens shouted agreement and insults through the door. Pallass’ people just looked incredulous, but Selys wasn’t the only one to proudly look over her shoulder at the Antinium. For the first time in her life, perhaps. But if there was any time to be proud, it was now. They might be Antinium. But they were Liscor’s Antinium, damn it!

Selys felt vindicated just watching the stunned looks on the faces of the Pallassians as three Soldiers carried a replacement support beam in and inserted it into place in less than a minute.

“Mad. Don’t keep talking to them, Miss Volpel, just leave them.”

The Gnoll [Chef] was urging those around him back. Already, the edges of the crowd were marching away, tails stiff with disgust. Selys welcomed that, but again, Erin slid in to the conversation from the side. She waved, smiling in that fake-innocent look she’d been putting on since this morning.

“See you! Come visit the inn if you want to! Don’t be strangers! Hey! Lorent! Why don’t you come into the inn to work on those knives? You can talk to your clients. And Maughin, Grimalkin, Relc, and Bealt! Get over here! I want you to watch one of our plays!”

Four heads turned in the crowd, against the flow of bodies away. And like stones in the way of a river, they halted the flow of traffic. Especially Maughin. He looked uncertainly at Erin. She waved at him.

“Come on! Hey, have you ever seen a play?”

“A…children’s game?”

The Dullahan [Armorer] frowned. Erin winked at Relc. The [Guardsman] was pulling Grimalkin forwards.

“No, a play. By the Players of Celum! Temile! You’re up! Go for it!”

Erin turned her head. And on stage, the Players of Celum, who had watched the drama while waiting for their own, sprang into action. It was Temile himself, dressed as Benvolio, who strutted out from behind the curtain and delivered the opening lines of an iconic play. One Selys had seen three times, incidentally. She could have recited the words by heart.

“Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean!”

Perhaps it was nerves, or perhaps it was Temile’s own burgeoning sense as an [Actor] that made him bellow the lines. But it worked. The crowd in Pallass looked back. You could hear the Shakespearian verse, the iambic pentameter in the air. You could practically see it. Maughin stepped forwards, frowning.

“What was that?”

“From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Do with their death bury their parents’ strife!”

Temile shouted the second sentence, face somehow conspiring to be both red and white as the Dullahan stared at him. He delivered the rest of the prologue and turned, walked straight off the stage, and then a very nervous Sampson and Gregory, both Drakes, entered from stage left. Erin just smiled up at Maughin.

“It’s a play. A story told on the stage with [Actors]. Haven’t you seen something like it?”

“On Baleros. We have something similar. Among Dullahans. But I’ve never seen anything like it in a Drake city. What did he say? The language is—”

Maughin wavered at the entrance. Grimalkin had already gone through. Grimacing, the [Mage] put a hand on the door and grunted—Relc clambered through along with Bealt. Behind Maughin, all of the Dullahans paused and turned their heads back to look. The Drake lady paused.

“What? What about the language? And what did that Human shout?”

“He’s blocking the view. What is he looking at?”

Curiosity killed the cat. Or Drakes. And perhaps just Pallassians in general. They were residents of the City of Invention after all; if they didn’t love new and interesting things, they’d be Salazsar’s folk. A Drake woman called out loudly, waving a claw around Maughin’s armored body.

“Oh, that. Just a play. We have them all the time in the inn. My nephew’s one of the [Actors] you know. He’s playing Mercutio. But I’ve seen Juliet and Romeo about a dozen times now.”

“Playing? [Actors]? Wait, explain this.”

“Coming?”

Erin teased Maughin. The Dullahan hesitated. He looked over at the crowd, who seemed to be wavering between staying or leaving as well. Erin pursed her lips, eyed them, and then grinned.

“It’s a great play. Promise. Oh. And Selys has the Heartflame Breastplate. You wanted to see it, right?”

Maughin froze. He stared down at Erin. She smiled at him, then glanced over her shoulder.

“Selys?”

The Drake jumped. She’d nearly forgotten her role! But now was the time, and what a time for it! Selys reached into her bag of holding, felt the warm metal, pulled it out, and there it was. The glow prompted a gasp from the people around her.

Maughin’s head fell off his shoulders. He caught it before it hit the ground, gaping. Erin laughed.

“Don’t be surprised! I told you that you could see it! And I didn’t lie! Selys owns it. And if you want to see it—the Heartflame Breastplate—come on through!”

Her voice was perfectly pitched to be heard all down Pallass’ streets. And if there was any line to pull them back, it was that. The Pallassians—Drakes especially—flooded back around the door in a moment.

“Wait, what?”

“Did she say—”

“Who’s that Drake? Does she know General Shivertail somehow? How would she have—”

“The Heartflame Breastplate.”

Someone pointed. Selys heard a gasp from the other side, and then a susurration. She held it up, her arms trembling with the weight of it. Maughin looked from side to size. Pallass’s City Watch still had their weapons ready. They gazed in awe at the armor, and then uncertainly at Maughin. The D