Of course as soon as they left—taking a furious Zhatin with them—Robin sent Rerebos after the group to spy on both them and any conversation they might have. Once he had more power and their bond had developed more, he’d be able to share Rerebos’s senses, but they were still fairly far from that level.

So instead Robin had to wait, nervous and impatient, in the ruins of the tavern. He’d managed to get a version of the story of the place from Drev and Jhess before they left. If they were to be believed, the place was targeted by rivals of Drev’s father. It would explain the way the place was busted up, and some of the scorch marks, but not the debris. Though that might be camouflage Drev and Jhess brought in to cover up the trapdoor to the basement which hid the secret entrance to the undercity.

One thing Robin did to assuage his nerves was to go back down and search for the hidden door. He didn’t have any luck. He knew roughly where it made sense for it to be, but he couldn’t find the actual door itself, nor the mechanism that presumably operated it.

Frustrated, he returned to the tavern and continued repairs. He finished patching the last few holes in the floor and used [Legerdemain] to remove the worst of the dust and soot from the place. He left the debris in place for now. The extra camouflage might come in handy until he could repair the doors, windows, and locks.

Robin was browsing through his interface, looking at everything he would need to someday create permanent illusions, when Rerebos returned. The little dragon flitted over and perched on the remains of the bar. Robin dismissed the window he was looking at and glanced at his familiar.

‘Anything good?’

‘The Zhatin creature is very angry at you.’ Rerebos sniffed disdainfully. ‘You should kill and eat him at the earliest opportunity. He is likely to seek revenge.’

‘I doubt he’d taste nice,’ Robin replied. ‘What about Drev? What did he have to say?’

If he had anything to really worry about, it would be from Drev. The man was smart, magically talented, and the son of a powerful crime lord. That’s why Robin had instructed Rerebos to follow him if the group split up.

‘Many things. He does not trust you, but thinks working with you the best of the choices they have.’

‘But they’re not planning to sneak back here and try to attack me again?’

‘What is that information worth?’ Rerebos got a cunning look in his eyes.

‘I’ll let you catch mice in the ruin here for dinner.’ If it was going to be a negotiation, might as well start low.

Rerebos hissed in displeasure.

‘I demand gold for my information!’

‘You can have something shiny if you actually have information and you’re not just trying to trick me.’

‘Worth a try.’ Rerebos split his lips in an approximation of a grin. His teeth were very white and very sharp.

‘So that’s a no on the sneaking in to kill me,’ Robin concluded. ‘For now at any rate.’

‘I would not bet on the Zhatin creature staying away.’

There was also that. Thankfully, Robin needed very little sleep, and Rerebos could watch over him the remainder of the time. Hopefully that would be enough to deal with the issue of Zhatin. Even so, Robin made a note to prepare some cutting remarks in case the rogue should show his face at the tavern unexpectedly.

Rerebos summarised his reconnaissance of the group. They had parted ways with Zhatin not long after leaving. Rerebos didn’t know where the rogue sunk off to, but Drev and Jhess had been of the opinion the rogue was likely to slink off to a cheap pub on the far side of the city and drown his woes in cheap ale. They’d said as much and Rerebos took great delight in imitating them.

Robin was under no illusion that the little dragon’s impressions were wholly accurate. Still, the little dragon was providing useful information, so Robin indulged his theatrics. He learned that Drev and Jhess thought Robin’s plan had a decent chance of working, that they disagreed about which frontline fighter they should recruit but that Jhess won out on that argument, and that Rerebos now knew where both Jhess and Drev lived.

The former lived in a flat in what used to be a large family home. Rerebos couldn’t say much other than the general location as he’d had to hurriedly wing off to follow Drev. Drev had led him neither to the dregs of the city nor to any of the neighbourhoods that housed the rich and powerful.

No, Drev apparently lived in a small flat above a bakery in a resoundingly middle-of-the-road part of the city. Robin was under no illusions that that meant he was in any way more vulnerable than if he were living in his father’s fortress (wherever or whatever that may be). The man had magic, and no doubt there was someone keeping an eye on the place at all times.

‘You’re sure no one spotted you?’ Robin asked, worrying at his thumbnail with his teeth.

Rerebos hissed in disdain.

Well, he was a very small dragon, the colour of shadows, flying about at night. He had quite the advantage in terms of camouflage.

Still. This was a world of magic. Robin wouldn’t put it past a particularly sharp-eyed rogue or ranger or something like to be able to spot the little dragon.

‘Yes, I trust your skill,’ he said placatingly, ‘but I would be absolutely devastated if anything were to happen to you, so be careful.’

Rerebos preened at that.

So Robin was ahead in terms of foreknowledge. He knew where his potential party members lived, he knew they were predisposed to work with him, and he had some leverage on them if things went south.

‘What else?’ He asked. He needed every advantage he could wring before meeting up with them in a couple of days to attempt to recruit their frontline fighter.

***

‘You have got to be joking,’ Robin muttered to himself, as quietly as he could.

The frontline fighter Jhess expected them to recruit was the jumped-up snot Robin had insulted the other day when passing the queue to meet with Zahn.

‘We may have a problem,’ he said, just loudly enough for Drev and Jhess to hear him.

The three of them were in the Adventurers’ Guild, sitting at a table in the corner. It wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t not busy either. Their target—Khavren, Jhess had said his name was—was across the room, vigorously polishing his sword.

It didn’t need it. Not that Robin would object to the odd bit of vigorous sword-polishing if the occasion warranted, but the current one certainly didn’t. Everything the lad was wearing already shone.

Khavren’s mother—as the gnome had mentioned on the fateful day—was someone everyone in Noviel was familiar with: Lekhassi Rhaman. Lekhassi was a member of the ruling council of the city, heir to both minor nobility from the fallen kingdoms that existed before the rise of the city-states led by Noviel, and a staggering fortune fuelled by merchant speculation.

The woman held a great deal of power. Perhaps more power than any other single individual in the city. It was clearly both blessing and curse upon her son.

‘What problem?’ Jhess asked.

‘Our friend over there is unlikely to take well to me,’ Robin explained. ‘I may have humiliated him in front of an entire hall’s worth of people a few days ago, and he doesn’t strike me as the forgive and forget type.’

‘No, you’re right in that.’ Drev looked thoughtful. ‘You could try apologising, I suppose.’

‘Or we could find someone else,’ Robin shot back.

‘He’s our best bet,’ Jhess said.

‘Why? Because no one else would have him?’ Robin crossed his arms over his chest.

‘You’re not wrong, but he is very good at what he does,’ Drev said. ‘Plus he fits our other requirements better than anyone else who we could possibly find.’

‘So apologise and we hope for the best?’ Jhess asked.

‘No,’ Robin said with a sigh, ‘I think I have a better idea. It’s just going to be a pain to keep up.’ He stood. ‘I need to use the lavatory. When a blond guy comes back and introduces himself as Riv, you should let him sit with you. He’s going to be your new bard.’

‘Wait—what?’ Jhess looked confused.

Drev did as well, but his eyes cleared after a moment and he nodded.

Robin rose, made his way to the lavatory, shut himself in a cubicle, and changed his face and hair to that of ‘Riv.’ He’d been slowly assembling a catalogue of identities in his head since he’d gotten his full shapeshifting abilities. Might as well start putting some of them into circulation.

He returned swiftly and sat himself back down at the table. Even with his warning, Drev and Jhess seemed a bit startled.

‘How long can you keep that illusion up?’ Jhess asked. She was clearly trying not to stare.

She wasn’t succeeding very well.

‘I can maintain this disguise indefinitely,’ Robin—Riv—answered. ‘And as he doesn’t recognise the face, we shouldn’t have any problems with past bad blood.’ Because there was no way this was going to blow up in his face at some point, right? Right.

‘That’s a handy trick,’ Jhess said, a thoughtful gleam coming to her eye.

‘Yes,’ Drev agreed, though he sounded much less excited (and less approving) than did Jhess. ‘Though now you mention it, yours is likely not the only problematic face in our group.’

Robin looked at him curiously.

‘He’s not going to recognise your face,’ Jhess said. It sounded like they’d had this conversation before.

Rerebos hadn’t mentioned it, but there was only so much time the little dragon was willing to spend spying on people. At least not without Robin opening up his coin pouch.

‘He’ll certainly know my name,’ Drev said.

‘So don’t tell him your name?’ Robin looked back and forth between the two of them.

Drev looked offended by the very idea.

Oh no. None of that. Robin wasn’t having it.

‘Look, don’t use your name. You’re clearly trying to distance yourself from it anyway. Pick a nickname, some word or collection of syllables that positively drips with arcane importance. Make that your name.’

‘What? Like the mages in those ridiculous ballads?’ Drev looked at Robin like he’d sprouted an extra head. ‘I’ll look like a complete—’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ Robin cut him off. ‘It solves our problems, it puts safe distance between you and whatever drama you’ve got dragging along the hem of your robes, and no one is actually going to care. People don’t think of you nearly as much as you think they do. They’re too busy trying to survive, in most cases.’

‘But—’ Drev tried to protest.

Robin didn’t give him the chance.

‘No. I’m right. Most people you run across are going to know more about magecraft from ballads than from books. You’ll fit exactly what they expect, and they won’t question it or you. It might even make your life easier. The ones that do know better, well, so what if they think you’re an idiot? Those are the kinds of people you want to underestimate you anyway.’

‘You’re devious,’ Jhess said with a wicked smile. ‘I like him,’ she said, turning to Drev. ‘I think we made the right call not gutting him like a fish the other night.’

‘Too fucking right you did,’ Robin said. ‘Now, kick that brain into gear, come up with a mage name—’

‘Oooh. Mage name. I like that! Sounds mysterious and important!’ Jhess was having too much fun with this whole thing.

‘—and let’s get down to business.’ Robin finished.

‘It sounds ridiculous! Why would anyone need something like a mage name anyway?’ Drev was clearly reaching for excuses.

‘Because it makes it harder for divinations to find you,’ Robin answered the question almost without thinking. ‘Easy peasy. Any more objections? I promise I can shoot every one of them down.’ He tapped a finger against the table, holding eye contact with the mage. ‘You think up a name, or we’ll think one up for you. I’m sure between Jhess and myself we can come up with something suitable.’

The threat worked. Drev folded. The mage threw up his hands.

‘Fine! Let me think…’

Drev began chewing on his lower lip as he thought. Jhess snickered into her mug of ale. Robin, for his part, leaned back in his chair and watched Khavren out of the corner of his eye.