There was always something to do at North Watch. Or at least, something that needed doing.

The ongoing cleaning project would be the work of months at least; it didn’t seem like a huge fortress, as fortresses went, but it was still an echoingly empty space for such a small group of people and we weren’t even done tidying up the relatively few areas we actually used. I was more than a little apprehensive about cracking open some of the long-disused rooms.

Daily life involved chores, too. There was a spring inside the walls—probably the reason the fortress had been built here and not closer to the border it was supposedly guarding—but it was in its own outbuilding and water had to be brought daily to the kitchen, where it was most often used. Food had to be cooked, weapons and tools maintained, clothes washed, and furniture repaired; most of the scavenged accouterments which had been left when the Kingsguard vacated had gone through a century of decay. Medieval life involved a lot of grunt work.

I also had my fighting practice with Goose; I aimed to get in a session of fist, sword, and knife practice every day, considering I was starting way behind everyone else on this island and, sorcerer or not, it was hopelessly naive to think I’d make it long as the Dark Lord without having to personally bloody my hands. I still wasn’t sanguine about assaulting people who didn’t attack me first, but I was under the gun when it came to Virya and had already decided that it was better them than me. Also, plenty of people would and did attack me first.

Additionally, I had taken up a habit of exercise, after discovering that the walk to and from Gwyllthean required multiple uses of Heal just to keep my legs from completely giving out under me. Unfortunately it had been years since high school and P.E., which was the last time I’d deliberately exercised my body, and man did it show. It was a good thing I chose to do this in the privacy of my room; I was disgusted to learn I could not do a single sit-up without scooting over to the wall and pressing my feet against it. Not knowing a thing about working out aside from what every schoolkid knows, I settled on a routine of push-ups, sit-ups, and squats. Upper body, core, lower body, that should cover the basics. A proper fitness junkie probably could’ve recommended a better routine, but screw it, I did what I could.

By contrast, I did radio calisthenics out in the courtyard, so as to introduce it to the rest of the gang. That was going to be a slow process, since I wasn’t willing to order anyone to play along; so far these people were following my orders but I was wary of a backlash for making them do something they perceived as silly, which they definitely did this. Initially only Goose saw value in it and joined me, which meant Twigs did too, as she tended to follow the larger woman’s lead. After the third day of this, Aster joined without comment. So far none of the men deigned to participate, but at least I got Sakin to stop pointing and laughing, by having Aster pick up an akorshil plank and walk purposefully toward him.

I was going to have to do something about that guy. He was just so damn useful, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was sitting on a ticking time bomb.

Even with all this, on days when we weren’t going out to raid or visit Gwyllthean, there was plenty of downtime. I made sure my crew was productive, but also was careful not to overwork them. Exhausting your employees is counterproductive—I had read reams of sociological research on the internet proving that Japan’s entire corporate system is a hopelessly ineffective way to run an economy, mostly because I enjoyed reciting those statistics to my father until he stormed out of the room. Besides, these were bandits, not salarymen. I remained ever mindful that pushing them too hard could result in a knife in my ribs while I slept.

Fortunately, I had accidentally brought home a big boost to morale.

Finishing up a sparring session with Goose, I cast a quick Heal to remedy the bruises I’d picked up—there were always plenty; I didn’t understand how anybody learned martial arts without medical magic—and helped myself to a ladle of water from the bucket hauled out for that purpose. That brought my line of sight across the courtyard, to where a laughing Twigs was playing tug-of-war with Junko using an old length of knotted rope. It was the first time I’d seen Twigs relaxed, let alone visibly happy.

Junko was an absolute hit. You’d never know she had been a skittish feral animal who snarled at everyone just yesterday. Though the effect of Tame Beast definitely bound her to me in particular, making her standoffish with strangers, all I had to do was introduce her to someone as a friend and usually a scene like this would unfold. She was a big dog, even as thin as she still was (I was making sure she got plenty to eat but you don’t un-starve a dog overnight) and made more than just goblins nervous until her puppyish side came out. So far, Kasser was still wary of her and Sakin apparently nonplussed, but everyone else loved her. Until Junko came along there hadn’t been much to do around North Watch except clean, train, do chores, and read one of the small library of books the bandits had collected.

I had to give Fflyr Dlemathlys credit: for as much of a borderline dystopia as it was, this culture prized reading and literature. All of the bandits here were literate, and apparently that was standard for even lowborn. The only problem was that everyone here (except me) had already read everything we had on hand, and still they fought over books. I’d resolved to improve our library as soon as I had a positive cash flow. The money taken from Arider was still…substantial, but I was becoming wary of the fact that I’d done nothing since getting it but spend, and my deal with Auldmaer had yet to start paying off.

“That’s good to see,” Goose said very quietly from behind me. I glanced back, and she nodded in the direction of Twigs and Junko now running in circles, laughing and barking respectively. “It’s been a long time since I saw her like… Well. We’ve survived. You survive long enough, and you start to forget that’s not the same thing as living.”

I just nodded, finding nothing to say to that. Fortunately, I was rescued before the pause could grow awkward.

“Lord Seiji!” Donon came jogging out of the keep’s main doors, waving a hand overhead. “Lord Seiji! You’re needed in the kitchen, my lord, the goblins are back!”

“Ah! That’ll be Maugro with the dossier I requested. Thanks, Donon.” I picked up my coat from where it was draped over the rack where Goose was waiting patiently to replace the blunt akorshil practice swords.

“But it’s not just Maugro!” Donon exclaimed, fairly dancing in excitement. “It’s new goblins, and they want to meet you! Lord Seiji, one of ‘em’s a girl, and she’s gorgeous. I wanted to—that is, Kasser insisted I be the one to come get you. He was a real dick about it.”

Good man, Kasser. I had quietly made it known that I didn’t want Donon unsupervised around any goblins, especially Maugro and Mindzi. None of the others had even blinked; everybody knew about his thing for goblin girls and inability to keep his mouth shut. I was also concerned with the fact that Donon was one of the few who knew exactly where I got my money from (I suspected Sakin had pieced it together, but that one knew the value of silence), and Donon would be a sitting duck for Mindzi’s vampish routine. Mindzi was only interested in flirting where she saw advantage, which around here meant only with me; the last thing I wanted was her catching on that Donon was a weak link in my organization.

“Then it sounds like I’d better not keep them waiting. Junko! Here, girl, time to work. Donon, help Goose straighten up out here.”

“Aw, but Lord Seiji—”

I turned a flat stare on him, and he fell silent. I was doing my best to lead with a light touch, let the bandits go their own way where possible and not make them feel bullied the way they were under Rocco. It only worked because they all knew I was the guy who Immolated people, and a sharp look or slightly raised voice was all it took to bring that fact to mind.

“If there are new business contacts, the last thing I need is you drooling over one, Donon. Help Goose with her chores, and then you can join us. Quietly. If you manage not to embarrass me, we’ll see about letting you meet more goblins.”

He nodded, practically frantic. “Yes, Lord Seiji.”

I felt bad—Donon was a decent guy and firmly on my side. But god damn, man, keep it in your pants.

Pausing only to give Junko a scratch behind the ears—because she was a good girl and there was never not time for skritches—I shrugged into my coat and strode back into the keep.

Kasser and Aster were on guard in the kitchen, he looking sullen and hostile, she just lounging by the door with a neutral expression and her sword leaning nearby. I hoped Kasser wasn’t too off-putting to my guests; it took some familiarity to understand that he probably wasn’t sullen and hostile at anyone in particular, the guy was just like that. Not unlike me, but without the charm.

“Hey, there he is!” Maugro called with characteristic outgoing cheer. “Glad to see you again, Lord Seiji!”

“Maugro, welcome back,” I replied, nodding with all due courtesy, then turned to my subordinates. “Really, you two, am I the only one in this place who understands the meaning of hospitality? I have guests just standing around awkwardly. In the kitchen, where the food is.”

“Hey, I’m just guarding the door,” Aster said with a shrug. “That’s what I do: guard stuff. I’m not your serving girl, Lord Seiji.”

“All right, fair enough. I guess that makes you the serving girl.”

I turned a grin on Kasser. He did not play along. The man’s glower intensified by an order of magnitude and his whole body went rigid.

Belatedly, it occurred to me to add up how close he and Harold seemed and the open question of what had driven the two of them out of normal Fflyr society, and one obvious solution to that equation suggested exactly the kind of taunts and slurs Kasser might have had thrown at him.

“Never mind,” I said, crossing to the cabinet. “Thank you for delegating, Kasser. That was quick thinking. I believe you’re about due for a break, yes?”

He hesitated, uncertainty overtaking anger on his features, then gave me a curt nod and strode out of the room.

“Ah, here we go,” I continued, picking up the bottle and beginning to round up cups. “Same one we opened last night, Maugro; I’m not much of a drinker.”

“See what I mean?” he said to the two new faces in the room. “Lord Seiji’s a good sort.”

Mindzi was not in evidence today. He had two hench-goblins with clubs standing guard at the tunnel entrance as usual, but I noticed that only one was familiar to me. The two other newcomers were both standing very still, staring at Junko, who was currently having her ears scratched by Aster. Panting and wagging her tail, she looked singularly unthreatening. If, I guess, you weren’t a goblin.

They were a man and a woman, both dressed…actually, better than Maugro. He wore a suit of what I had belatedly recognized as an attempt to mimic the fashion of Fflyr noblemen in cheaper materials, even augmented with mismatched beads of what looked like black volcanic glass at the hems in place of the customary gold and silver embellishments. These two wore much simpler shirts, trousers, and short boots, but their clothes were clean, smooth, and while unadorned looked of better quality to me than anything my bandits were wearing. Plus, they fit with a perfection that looked tailored; even Maugro’s faux-aristocratic outfit hung somewhat loose on him. Both had on heavy belts bulging with numerous closed pouches and several sheathed tools, none of which I recognized at a glance, the man also with a pair of heavy goggles perched atop his head. Over their clothes he had on some kind of smock that looked cut from the hide of a snake or something with visible scales, while the woman wore a vest of plain leather, dyed a dark gray, and very obviously cut to fit her precisely.

I could see at a glance why Donon had called her gorgeous; that wouldn’t have been my reaction, but knowing his preferences, yeah. She had eyes a shade more violet than the red of the other goblins, and her hair was styled up in a kind of curling side-tail with artful bangs hanging over half her face, dyed purple with red highlights to match her eyes. It was definitely not the hair or eyes that had caught Donon’s attention, though. The girl was stacked. Her chest would’ve been fair to moderately buxom on a human; at her size, it was just short of looking awkwardly disproportionate. I could see why the taut leather vest was necessary, just for support.

Damn it. I really hoped Donon hadn’t said something embarrassing before Kasser chased him out.

“Don’t worry, Donon didn’t say anything too embarrassing,” Maugro said.

I coughed, pouring wine into cups. “I gather you’re…acquainted with him.”

“Heh, I been bringin’ Mindzi here for a good while, Lord Seiji. He was too shy to do more than stare before you fixed up his little…condition. So! Your order.”

“Ah, thank you! And here’s your usual.” I accepted the sheaf of papers in a heavy parchment folder he offered me, handing over a cup of wine in trade. It was thicker than I’d expected, probably in part due to the dimensions being smaller than the pages I was used to. Goblin sized, no doubt. I tucked it under my arm, picking up another cup. “And for…?”

“You’re…offering us wine?” the purple-haired woman asked with naked suspicion. “Seriously? Or, wait, are you selling it?”

“I told you, Zui,” Maugro said with a chuckle, “it’s simple hospitality. Man knows how to treat a guest.”

“Even a goblin guest,” she said, squinting up at me.

“A guest is a guest,” I replied, pouring a cup. “I won’t make any promises about how good the wine is, because I honestly can’t tell. The stuff they make around here is…not to my taste. But isn’t it traditional for business to be discussed over drinks?”

“It’s a Dountol sour red,” Maugro explained, sipping his own. “Probably not the kind that graces a lord’s table, but Lord Seiji here just moved in; it’s the best stuff Rocco had on hand.”

“You say that like I should know who Rocco is.”

Maugro cleared his throat, turning back to me. “Aha, well, anyway. Lord Seiji, you were looking to do business with an alchemist. This is Zui and Youda. They represent a certain business concern which has expressed an interest in reaching out to you.”

“A tentative willingness,” Zui corrected, her expression just barely short of openly unfriendly. “My boss will hear you out. We’re here to decide whether she should actually be interested. And, ah…thanks, but no thanks. I never drink while I’m working.”

“Ooh, I’ll take a—”

Zui shoved her partner’s shoulder. “You also don’t drink while we’re working!”

“Probably a wise policy,” I said, setting the cup and bottle back on the counter. “Excuse me, did you say your name was…Youda?”

“That’s me!” he said, grinning hugely. His teeth gleamed a brighter white than Maugro’s, and looked more even, too. Just as murderous though. “Personal cook to Miss Sneppit herself!”

“Her…cook,” I said slowly. “Wait, Miss Who?”

“Miss Sneppit,” Zui repeated sharply, “is our boss, the person with whom you’re proposing to do business. Lord…Seiji, was it?”

“It was. Excuse me, I’m a little confused. I thought I’d be dealing with the alchemist herself.”

“Oh, Miss Sneppit ain’t the alchemist, she runs the whole show,” Youda explained. “I do the brewing in Miss Sneppit’s organization.”

“…you do.”

“Yup!”

“The cook.”

“Who better?”

“Uh…” I turned to Zui, noting a glint of cold amusement in her expression now. “So, if he’s the alchemist, that would make you…?”

“I’m just along to represent Miss Sneppit’s business interests and supervise Youda on site,” she said, folding her arms, which looked a trifle difficult. “His alchemical expertise will obviously be consulted here, but I will be making the recommendation to our boss on whether or not to pursue a business relationship between her organization and yours, Lord Seiji.”

“Ah. So, you’re her business manager?”

“Her hairstylist.”

I had to stare at her for a few seconds, blinking.

“Right. Of course. Well, your hair is pretty amazing.” I turned to my more longstanding goblin acquaintance, noting in passing that Aster was physically repressing laughter with only moderate success. “Maugro?”

“Okay, whoah, let’s reel this back a bit before a misunderstanding happens,” Maugro said soothingly, holding up his hands, one of which still contained a cup of wine. “Lord Seiji, I promise you’re not being taken lightly here. To help you understand these staffing choices, I’d need to explain a lot about goblin culture—which, no offense, I don’t intend to do, on account of one pillar of goblin culture being it’s none of your business. Just know that I get how this probably comes across, and with all due respect you are making the same caliber of impression right now as they are on you. Listen, everybody, it’s me, Maugro. How long have we all known each other?”

“We’ve done business twice now,” I exclaimed.

“I never heard of you before today,” said Youda.

“You have a solid reputation,” Zui said grudgingly, “or at least so Miss Sneppit says, otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”

“Exactly! I value my connections too much to waste everybody’s time. Believe me, folks, I brought you all together because I see a golden opportunity for mutual profit here. So, instead of standing here stewing in irreconcilable cultural misunderstandings, how’s about we get down to some alchemy and show everybody that everybody else means business, yeah?”

“Hey, I’m always down to brew!” Youda said with evidently unfeigned enthusiasm.

“Brew, or brew not,” I replied solemnly, “there is no try.”

Everybody looked at me in confusion except the self-proclaimed cook, who pointed up at me and grinned. “See? This guy gets it!”

“All right,” Zui said with a lot less pep, “we were told you can furnish any amount of slimes. Before testing that, I trust you won’t object to an analysis of a sample for quality?”

“I, uh…sure? I have no idea how you’d judge the quality of a slime, but knock yourself out, I guess.”

Youda had already returned to the wheeled cart they’d brought; it was basically a crate of mismatched akorshil planks with a hinged lid and what looked like a harness attached to leather straps on one end. He opened the top, then had to nearly clamber inside to reach what was resting there, treating us all to a momentary show of his stubby legs kicking in the air while he balanced on the rim of the box. But then he hopped back down, holding up another, much smaller box, with a metal apparatus attached to one edge.

Metal, not akornin. It looked like polished iron. I had seen metal here, though the Ephemerans used their shell derivatives almost everywhere metal would ordinarily be applied. I’d wondered where it came from, if they were afraid to dig, but it now occurred to me that goblins obviously dug all they wanted.

“Okay!” He stepped back, looking up at me expectantly. “If you could deposit one slime in the box, please, I can get started.”

“Can do,” I replied, pointing at the box. Now that I looked, it was just about the perfect size to contain an average slime—which was to say, just big enough to be awkward for the goblin to pick up and maneuver.

Summon Slime.

It appeared without fanfare, right in the designated space. Youda, who had spent the preceding seconds donning a pair of heavy leather gloves and lowering his goggles over his eyes, now clapped his hands and then rubbed them together, grinning expectantly, before he got down to work.

With efficient movements, the goblin…alchemist? Cook?…scooped a clear glass beaker into the slime’s body, making it wobble and try to start oozing out over the sides of the box. Youda shoved it back in with one hand, then plucked a heavy knife from his belt and used it to sever the goop surrounding his handheld container, finally pulling it away holding a sample of detached slime. This he set in a bracket affixed to his metal apparatus, sealed the top with a lid, then (having to pause and shove the inquisitive slime back into place once more) finally closed a lid over the box itself, trapping it inside.

“You cast that silently,” Zui said, catching my attention. She was regarding me with a speculative expression, which I guess was the least openly unfriendly look I’d gotten from her so far.

“But of course,” I replied, putting on my most mysterious and aloof smile. Actually, other people had remarked on that. Was it supposed to be harder to cast spells without saying their names out loud? It had never made much difference to me. “Uh, apropos of nothing… Slimes don’t feel pain, do they?”

Youda had now started a tiny contained burner directly under the sample of slime, and was apparently boiling it, causing the substance to rise into a much thinner glass tube he’d affixed to the top.

“How would they?” Zui asked dismissively. “They don’t have nerves.”

“No evidence of a pain response,” Youda added, not looking up. “They’ll move out of things that are harmful to them, but actually slower than they respond to food. Not much except heat, dehydration, or magic can harm a slime. Abrupt and escapable sources of those are rare in nature, so, stands to reason pain wouldn’t be biologically useful to ‘em like it is to us.”

“Ahp! Back up, please,” Zui ordered as I leaned in to watch what he was doing more closely. “Do not crowd an alchemist while he’s working with flames and potentially unstable chemicals, that should be basic sense. Also, I realize this is a kitchen, but please keep any foodstuffs and especially flammable liquids like alcohol as far from the experiment as possible.” The last was directed pointedly at Maugro, who just as pointedly took a long sip of wine and did not move.

“Nothing here’s unstable and it’s not an experiment,” Youda said, currently peering at the surge of boiled slime rising up through his glass tube via a magnifying lens he’d clipped to his goggles. “It’s just a visual test, I could literally do it with one eye. You can relax for once, Zui.”

I sauntered over to the table, which was closer to her than to him, and leaned against it. “Soooo… How you doin’?”

Slowly, Zui swiveled her head up to stare at me.

I waggled my eyebrows at her. “Come here often? What’re you doing after this?”

“You’re not interested in me,” she said with clipped enunciation. “You are only doing that to get under my skin. You’ve succeeded. So you won, okay? Can you stop?”

And that was how one little goblin accomplished what no one else on Ephemera had been able to, including the very Goddess of Evil herself: shutting me up.

I knew it wasn’t even her reaction that hit me, so much as lingering discomfort after my long dark night of the soul in Cat Alley. Any time before that night, I probably would have laughed. It was the look on her face; the expression wasn’t actually angry, barely even frustrated, just…tired. The weary look of someone dealing with the same exhausting shit she’d endured for who knew how long. I had recently seen that exact look on the faces of dozens of beaten-down prostitutes. Worse, I had just suddenly realized I’d seen it in the expressions of women I’d approached in Tokyo.

Maugro made eye contact with me and, behind Zui’s back, grimaced, then jerked his head silently toward her in universal guy sign language for “chicks, what can ya do.” For some reason, that only made it feel worse.

Aster, by contrast, was now grinning like a fool, and actually straightened up from her lounging position to fold down her hands at Zui. That seemed to startle the goblin more than anything I’d done.

“Yeah, this is good stuff,” said Youda, blessedly rescuing me from the social quagmire I’d created. “Damn near pure. Summoned slimes are always better for alchemy than the wild-caught variety, that’s why that spell’s so valuable. Those Gutter slimes have been crawling around in goddess knows what, and eating most of it; takes forever to process all the filth out and by the time that’s done you’ve lost at least a quarter of their usable mass. This stuff? I’d barely have to do more than boil it to start brewing potions.” He turned to his compatriot, raising his goggles to reveal a serious expression. “If he can produce these in bulk, this is a seriously important connection, Zui. Never mind making our in-house potions, we could start selling the raw—”

“Okay!” she interrupted loudly. “By Virya’s morning breath, Youda, how many times we gotta have this talk? It is not necessary to explain your entire business strategy in front of random vendors!”

Maugro chuckled, earning a sour look from her, but she turned to me with a more serious attitude.

“All right, Lord Seiji, you can consider us…interested.”

“Great! Then I’ll just—”

“Now, hold on,” she said, raising one hand. Despite the interruption, I couldn’t help noticing her entire demeanor was suddenly a lot more polite now that I demonstrably had something of value to offer. “You understand, this was a preliminary meeting. Miss Sneppit has sole authority to finalize any agreement, and she’ll want us to report in before drawing one up. That will lay out the conditions of a long-term agreement—and just so you know, Miss Sneppit will undoubtedly want to do business on the condition of exclusivity.”

“Sure, the value of slimes goes down if other people have the same access, I get it,” I said, nodding. “As long as I get what I want out of the bargain, I’ve no objection to that. I will be using slimes for whatever purpose I may devise, but I’m willing to agree not to sell them elsewhere. So when do I get to meet the fabulous Miss Sneppit?”

Zui’s lips thinned. “If she is impressed with our report, and if I am satisfied her person will not be in danger here, and if Maugro grants the use of his access tunnel, and if she decides it is appropriate, Miss Sneppit may visit you in person. The head of the whole organization doesn’t personally chat with everybody with whom we do business, obviously.”

“Aha.”

Perhaps because I was clearly on the verge of taking offense, Zui moderated her delivery somewhat, becoming almost pleasant. “As for today, I am authorized to finalize the trade you were interested in. A shipment of slimes—as many as can fit in this box—in exchange for certain alchemical products. And,” she added, going stern again, “we were assured by Maugro that you understand the value of discretion.”

“Let me put it this way: I am exactly as interested as you are in having the Gwyllthean authorities visit me at home. In fact, that’s precisely why I want those supplies in particular. I’d like to get my business done without having to be…confrontational.”

“That’s a start,” Zui agreed, relaxing once more. “I will warn you that Miss Sneppit will likely require a contractual stipulation that you not reveal your source of these assets to any human authority. Got ‘em, Youda?”

“Yup!” He had delved back into their big wheeled box, and now pulled out a bag which he handled with care. The goblin trundled over to the kitchen table and reached up with a grunt to set his burden down there. “Sleep dust, a kinetic charge, and basalt shimmer powder.”

“Do you mind if I ask where you learned the names of such reagents, Lord Seiji?” Zui asked in a deceptively mild tone.

“As I just told you,” I said sweetly. “You value discretion, and so do I.”

Her nostrils flared very slightly in a mute huff of annoyance, but the goblin nodded and didn’t press me.

“Not sure what you’re planning to do with it, though,” Youda added.

“He wants to make a sleeping bomb that looks like a rock, obviously,” said Zui.

“Well, yeah, but there’s no ignition method,” replied the alchemist. “Attaching a fuse would ruin the effect of disguising it, and I don’t care how freakishly long your legs are, you cannot manually ignite this stuff and get away in time to avoid taking a nap.”

“Youda,” Zui barked, “you’re doing it again.”

“Oh, will you relax?” he retorted. “You don’t gotta play everything so close to the chest, Zui! If we wanna do business with this guy, helping him screw himself over ain’t exactly best practice, and I bet Miss Sneppit would back me up on that. Sorry, Lord Seiji,” he added to me with a wink. “Zui’s a real nice girl, actually, she’s just a mother goose.”

“A…what?” I asked, while Zui pursed her lips and looked generally displeased.

“Y’know, a little overprotective and aggressive when you go near her eggs. Doin’ business with humans would put anybody on edge.”

“Huh. Sorry, that expression refers to something different where I’m from.”

“Really?”

“Okay, enough,” Zui interjected. “This has gotten way off subject and we didn’t come here to socialize.”

“Yes, I appreciate the warning, Youda, but I have accounted for that,” I assured him. “I know what I’m doing.”

Hopefully that was true.

“Rightyo then,” he said, grinning cheerfully. “Hate to think my work accidentally landed you in trouble—and not just cos you’re a valuable source of reagents! We goblins may be half your height, but we got just as much heart.”

“Judge you by your size, I do not,” I assured him gravely.

Zui loudly cleared her throat. “Right, well, anyway. I believe the proposed deal in exchange for those reagents was to fill ‘any slime-proof container’ we could provide?”

“Right you are,” I said, stepping up to the wheeled box at which she now gestured. It was currently empty; apparently Youda would have to carry his smaller box and brewing attachment home himself. It was also fitted together from planks that didn’t look slime-proof, but hey, if Zui was willing to let me accidentally sleep myself playing with alchemy, she could clean up her own slime trail.

Summon Slime. Summon Slime. Summon Slime. Summon Slime. Summon Slime. Summon Slime. Summon Slime…

That box held a lot more than it looked like it should. Even so, the task was nothing compared to the hundreds of slimes I’d summoned to ambush Auldmaer’s caravan. Youda watched avidly as it quickly filled with potion-ready, marketable slimes, and even Zui looked grudgingly impressed.

They didn’t stick around for small talk once it was done and the lid swung back into place. Youda requested the benefit of my height to put his smaller box on top of the closed one for the return journey, which I was glad to do because he was pleasant. Zui left it with a curt “We’ll be in touch soon” and a respectful nod that even I could tell was an afterthought. Apparently the hairstylist/chief negotiator also served as a beast of burden; she slipped the harness over her shoulders and personally hauled the box away. Maugro designated one of his personal goons to escort them back down the tunnel, and that was that for my second group of goblin visitors.

“She’s cute, though, right?” Maugro commented after they’d departed.

“Eh.” I made a waffling gesture with one hand. “Cuteness is ninety percent attitude. I kept expecting her to bite me.” Junko whuffed agreement, which made the remaining goblins twitch.

“Okay, fine, you caught me,” Maugro admitted, covering quickly for his dog-induced lapse. “I meant, she’s got amazing honkers.”

How many conversations exactly like this had I had with other guys over the years? And why was it suddenly bugging me so much now? Cat Alley had really gotten under my skin. I found myself trying to deflect rather than playing along for once. “Mm. Seems like that’d be pretty inconvenient at her height.”

“Well, that’s just the inherent unfairness of life,” he said with a genial grin. “They get the back pain, we get the benefits. Right, Aster?”

“We get some of the benefits too, y’know,” she said dryly, “though I think you’re the first man I’ve ever heard admit it, Maugro, so credit for that.”

“Hey, Maugro knows how to see from everybody’s perspective!” he said with an expansive gesture of both arms and an even bigger grin. “In my line of work it’s a vital skill.”

“Yeah, by the way,” I said. “Your tunnel?”

“I told you when we first met, Lord Seiji, we’re neighbors! Yeah, that tunnel comes out right in my personal residence and business headquarters. Any other goblins who wanna visit you gotta go through me.”

“I did notice you seemed to pivot pretty hard from not wanting to involve me in goblin business yesterday to making sure this deal worked out.”

“And I will continue to do so, Lord Seiji, because you’re gonna need my help. That Miss Sneppit is a real monster when it comes to contracts and agreements. I mean, she’s fair, basically, by goblin standards, but you better read that thing carefully and don’t be shy about negotiating for better terms.”

“Negotiating…which will be done through intermediaries, because this Sneppit won’t come here and they’ve gotta go through you to even send messengers. Maugro, I was looking to lock down a source of alchemy, not enter a prolonged period of arbitration.”

“No, you were looking for goblin alchemy. You wanna do business with goblins, this is how it’s gonna go; we make sure everything’s laid out clearly before any goods or services change hands. Look, it ain’t as bad as you’re probably thinking, Lord Seiji. Sneppit will naturally give you more lenient terms than she’d offer another goblin business.”

“Oh? Because she’s just so fond of humans?”

He didn’t reciprocate my grin. “Because humans break deals and get violent when they don’t get their way. That’s why Zui was so on edge. It wasn’t personal; far as she knew, her and Youda’s lives were in danger just from being here.”

“Hm. Which brings us back to my original point: you’re awfully eager for this deal to go down, considering how standoffish you were about it just yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, business is about managing risks, know what I mean? I’m taking a gamble on you, Lord Seiji. If you decide to fuck over Sneppit’s company, you’ll be fucking me over, too.” He grinned even more toothily than usual. “And I have you pegged as too smart a man to pull that on somebody who knows your location and approximate strength, and communicates regularly with every other bandit gang on Dount.”

“Right. And this also gets you an in with Miss Sneppit and her crew, who I gather are kind of a big deal.”

Again, he spread his arms wide as if to embrace the world and his grin took on a less predatory cast—as much as it could, with those chompers. “And that, Lord Seiji, is how you do business. A successful deal is one in which everybody wins!”

“I like that philosophy,” I admitted. It’d be really nice if I could do business that way. Thanks to Virya, though, I was locked on a path which was inevitably going to make a lot of people very unhappy. Starting with me.

Donon burst into the kitchen, out of breath. “Okay, I’m— Aw, is she gone?”