Five days.

Whispers were spreading through the market, replacing the quiet with a low sea of murmured gossip and speculation. The guards made no move to enforce the rule of silence. This mood was exactly what they wanted out of the announcement. Anticipation, greed, rumors moving faster than truths.

A deadline had just been set on my schemes for this market. Five days to swoop in and steal the prize, and in the process, humiliate that prancing pirate captain who ran the place.

The man in front of me, angered by my clear ambivalence to his existence, seized Adamant by the collar. "Where did you get those?" He hissed under his breath. To his surprise, a grip like iron clamped around his wrist. Fingers made of earth and stone pressed down until the bone beneath began to grind and bend.

He whimpered, drawing attention from the nearby crowd.

Lifting up his free hand, Adamant signed I stole them and Going to buy something?

A squeeze informed him that wasn't a question. Letting out a pained squeak, he dropped his coinpurse, scooping up a ticking device like a compass and retreating as soon as Adamant released his hand.

The rest of the market ticked by as I schemed, keeping a tendril of my attention on Adamant to puppeteer him through the motions of sale as people snapped up the pearls and the assorted magical gimmicks. As he played shopkeep, Argent crept out of his robes, disappearing into the bustle of the market.

I followed in spirit as she navigated her way across gangplanks and mooring ropes towards the barge where the pirate prince held court.

Today, a fidler sawed a fiery tune as women in veils of red danced, their clothes swirling away from them as they spun and stomped their bare feet, chains of golden coins bouncing against their taut stomach and wide hips. Various rich and overweight merchants lounged in reclining couches, eating from plates carried by slaves.

The pirate prince danced among them, a hand around a waist, an arm around a shoulder. The spurs on his tall black boots jingled.

We scampered aboard on the heels of a tall man with an ermine-lined cloak and a black, hook-nosed mask. Everything about his stride screamed anger.

We scrambled upon a railing to watch.

The newcomer stormed through the dancers, pushing them aside, and seized the pirate by the lapels of his longcoat. “You brat! That unicorn was promised to the Cormorants. You swore on your mother’s grave.”

Spittle landed on the pirate’s face. He casually wiped it off his cheek, cleaning his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “My mother told sweet lies for coin. She’d be so proud.”

The man dropped him, disgusted. Or maybe he’d noticed the broad-built men edging closer, hands on their swords, their bludgeons and their short brutal knives. They relaxed as the pirate waved to them all to back away, a smile on his face.

But not, I noticed, in his eyes.

“I’ll make it up to you, of course I will. But listen.” He spread his arms wide, to the market and its assortment of ships all bobbing in the river’s currents. “It’s best for all us honest folk if someone like me is in charge, and not some joyless dwarf, some savage riverfolk. I need gold for that. I need the kind of gold to buy a city, and gods know, the Cormorants can’t offer that.”

“We offered you loyalty.” The man wasn’t buying a word of the pretty little speech.

“Loyalty, I’m afraid, isn’t quite gold and gems. It doesn’t spend the same.” The pirate - Captain Immer, I remembered - turned his back, shrugging the accusation off. It was an open provocation.

But not one the man was dumb enough to take. His fingers drummed on the pommel of his rapier, but he didn’t draw. “The next time we meet, it won’t be words, Immer.”

So he wasn't good at keeping allies, and he was dumb enough to make enemies and let them walk away alive. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. What kept this preening ponce in his throne?

“Aww, the kitten tries to growl. If I was afraid of you, I’d have killed you already. We both know that.” Immer just waved him off. The man stormed back down the gangplank, leaving the atmosphere behind him bruised and upset, the dancers frozen, afraid.

"All of you, don't I pay you to dance?" The pirate prince snapped, and caught one of them by the wrist. He turned her hand face up and pressed a golden coin into the palm "You, go give this to our friend."

"W-who?" She managed to ask the question through her shaking.

"Why, the ratty-ratty sitting over there." His fingers pinched her cheeks, turning her head to face us. "Watching us all argue."

We froze. So did the girl. Immer swatted her forward. She carefully, carefully stepped towards us, holding out the coin as far from herself as she could.

Argent seized control and threw herself overboard. Behind us, the gold flashed, and the thin and sour Mana in the air was pulled towards it like gravity. In the blink of an eye the woman’s hand withered into the wrinkled claw of a crone three times her age, a cry of pain leaving her lips.

We landed in the surf below as Immer rushed to the side, laughing a wild laugh. He scattered coin from his pockets into the air.

We went under as the coins hit the water. Silver gleamed in a last flashing of light as it sank towards the dark bed of the river's green waters. I felt the Mana within Argent being pulled towards them, each piece of silver like a greedy whirlpool drinking in the flow of Mana all around, letting nothing escape. Her inner fire was pulled from her in blazing streams of light and there was nothing I could do. She couldn’t even teleport.

But she wasn’t alone now. She drew on the tiny sparks of Mana with dozens of rats as she kicked up. In the market they were countless, lurking in the gutters, chewing cast-off food. Some of them died, overdrawn, and others kicked and scratched at nothing in blind spasms of pain, but the web of connections between them held, feeding her the strength to pull free and rise out of the draining fields around the sinking coins.

We surfaced, Argent gasping, and a crossbow bolt slapped the water next to us. Grasping the hull of a nearby boat, we flashed up to the top of the railings before the bowman could reload. We were gone. Darting among the feet of the crowd we were impossible to trace.

In mere moments, taking routes no human could follow, we were back beneath Adamant’s cloak, soaking wet and gasping for breath. Argent was faster now. She was far improved.

Today, we had learned his abilities. I promised I’d use that knowledge to slit his throat soon enough. Five days.

Our goods were gone, sold, our purse heavy. We rose before anyone could trace Argent back to the anonymous merchant in the dingy side of the market, making our way through to the alchemist’s district. There we had some purchases to make. We bought a night lantern, with its dark flame that drank up nearby light. A contained vial of quick-burning phosphorous solution. I considered a touted healing potion, wondering if it could help Aurum, but then, I knew better than to listen to the promises of a miracle healer.

Miracles…

There was something to that. A god - even a Messenger - could heal Aurum. More than my own ‘forgiveness’ it was worth pursuing their favor for his sake. If it was to heal my guardian, I’d even accept making a gift of the unicorn itself.

Surely a goddess of beauty would appreciate that?

As we shuffled out of the market, I spotted three familiar figures, huddled together in argument. I wondered how Izzis was doing.

Honestly, I’d have expected our Contract to compel me to save him by now.

“Another!” Izzis lifted his glass and demanded wine as faerie attendants massaged his back. A fresh scar crossed his face, the wound swollen and purple, bloating his lip where it crossed his mouth. He had dueled with a dire scorpion today. Tomorrow, his opponent would be a bloodspine lizard. His adoring audience would go wild to see him vanquish the beast.

All his life, Izzis had been small. The one getting kicked around and ignored. Here, he was a giant! A mammoth of a man! The earth shook where he stepped!

When the Marquis condemned Izzis to die in the fighting pits, he’d never realized what a favor he was doing the homunculus. Here, he was adored for his strength, feared for his savagery. They called him the Goliath and cheered his name with fanatic enthusiasm. Between each fight there was wine and revelry.

Best of all, there was the furious look on the Marquis’ face as his pet beasts failed to kill Izzis time and time again. With the crowd howling the name Goliath, what could he do but allow Izzis to bow and take his rewards, and scheme up an even deadlier fight tomorrow?

Sometimes Izzis wondered how things were getting on back in the Dungeon. But then, he was far above that paltry place now.