The Thieves Guild woman guided me through the alleys and into a basement behind an old apothecary shop. When they introduced me to the aged life magician who’d patch me up, I knew I could trust them. The man helped me take off my cape and vest but had to cut my shirt off with scissors. He tutted upon seeing my wounds.

Instead of addressing me directly, the older man took Kitty—I’d managed to learn her name on the long walk here— aside. They exchanged hushed words before returning to my side. “He’s going to put you under,” she told me. “There are bits of the bolt shaft wedged inside you, and he suspects the head might have been laced with poison too.”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” I asked. “You’ve got me between a rock and a hard place.” The woman frowned. “You saved my life and have me by the balls; I’ll just have to trust you.”

Instead of addressing me, she spoke directly to the mage. “He isn’t making much sense. I reckon that’s the bloodloss.” She nodded at the older man. He uncorked a large flask and held it under my nose, whispering unintelligible words under his breath. A sweet floral aroma filled my nostrils. A heartbeat later, my eyelids grew heavy. “Don’t worry,” Kitty said. “You’re safe now. The guilds won’t get you as long as the Temple of Shadows is on your side.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” my words came out slurred and probably incoherent.

My control over my limbs loosened and staying upright became too difficult. It felt like I’d been floating in a warm bath. Gravity got the better of me eventually, and I slid into a horizontal position. Before long, my eyelids gave up on trying to stay open, and I relaxed my grip on consciousness. The blackness of slumber took me not long after.

My dreams took me back to the World Tree. A couple of months had passed since my last visit. I barely remembered the place. All the surrounding fauna looked unfamiliar. Come to think of it, even though I knew that I had met several individuals in the clearing, I only recalled a couple of those individuals: Demi, the Deity of Harvests and Floods, and Sang, the Deity of Song and Dance.

For some reason, I expected to see a dark cloud in the World Tree’s shadow but found nothing. My rescuer’s final words echoed in my head.

“What’s the Temple of Shadows?” I asked.

“Forgot already?” Maka’s voice echoed through the woodland. I focused on the World Tree’s shadows, expecting to spot wisps of dancing black smoke. That’s right. I’d met the Lord of Shadows too. The temple probably worshipped him. “Is that better?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Why did I forget?”

“Not all deities are pleased with the prospect of a rival finding a champion.” A giant spider rappelled down from the branches and landed on the forest floor next to me. “They want your dreams to remain as they are—just dreams. You’ll remember any deity that has directly touched your life. The rest will eventually fade from memory.” Maka scuttled over and pressed a pedipalp to my injured shoulder. As expected of a dream, it didn’t hurt. “Good, you’ll survive,” she said.

“I could’ve used your help there, Maka.” I told her.

“I can’t interfere directly in your world.” She scurried around me, her eight eyes taking in every detail. “Deities and Cosmics aren’t omniscient. We can barely see a mortal unless they worship or serve us. Occasionally, if one of your acts resonates with our Aspect, we’ll know. Otherwise, you’d have players spying on their opponents’ champions.” Maka’s explanation only added to my list of questions. She predicted my next query. “It’s the spirits your goblin friends worship. They’re everywhere, and whenever something interesting happens, they let us know.”

“That’s how you hand out achievements?”

“Precisely,” Maka answered.”The spirits share their memories with us. We watch a play by play and decide whether the action is worthy of an achievement or not. It’s much easier for entities like me to hand them out than it is for the Cosmics. When handing out an achievement, they have to face a tribunal to ensure they’re not unfairly empowering their champions.”

“All right, enough info-dumping,” I said. “I understand why you couldn’t help me when I needed you. Thing is, Maka, I can’t keep this up. I need a patron or leads on finding more power.”

“That’s your cue, Motu.”

I followed Maka’s eight eyes to the branches above. A short, pot-bellied man clung to the World Tree’s trunk using only his knees. He leaned dangerously away from his lifeline, one arm reaching for a fruit so shiny and yellow, It might as well have been golden. I worried the man would fall and hurt himself until I realised that, to visit my dreamscape, he had to be a deity.

“Just a second, Maka Dee,” Motu replied. “I’ve almost got it.”

“By the eternal web, Motu, have some dignity,” Maka said with a scolding tone. She sounded more amused than annoyed, though. “Just will that fruit into your hand and come down here!”

“What’s the fun in that?” Motu asked, continuing his struggle. “I like it when they play hard to get.”

“That’s the Deity of Feasts and Over-eating for you.” Maka sighed. “I’ll never understand his obsession with food.” She shook her giant spider head. “It’s just sustenance. There are more interesting things in life.”

“Don’t you think food can tell stories as much as your webs do?” I asked Maka. “It does where I come from, at least.”

“I like him!” Motu announced, landing next to me with a loud plop. His body jiggled like a water balloon—and sounded like one too. “I’ve tasted your creations, friend. Mighty good for fattening up.” He patted his belly. It didn’t match his otherwise slender frame. Motu looked more pregnant than fat. “What else are you going to bring to our humble playground?”

“Don’t tell him anything!” Maka exclaimed, dropping her otherwise jovial tone. Maka’s spider body made it difficult to understand when she was trying to emote. I realised she meant business when her pedipalps moved locked into straight lines, pointing to the sky. “He’ll share the ideas with his followers to get them sooner, and you’ll lose out on your Royalty Fee bonus.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be surprised, Motu?” I asked. I liked him a lot better than the Lord of Shadows and his shadow-draped, edge-lord style. “I’ve got tonnes of feast-worthy preparations you’ll enjoy. Meaty, rich, sweet; I’ve got everything.”

“I really like him,” he repeated, grinning. Motu looked me up and down. “You know what? I was apprehensive about your pick of traits at first. You didn’t pick for the love of food or cooking but went with greed. I see it now. You’re clever. Clever doesn’t always make good cooks, but you manage somehow.”

“So?” Maka asked, her pedipalps dancing again. “You and Perry could do great things together. Become his patron, Motu.”

“I’m all for it.” Motu nodded. “No otherworlder has so much as attempted to bring their world’s delicacies to ours. It’s a mighty shame—”

“I don’t want you,” I said, interrupting the deity. “With all due respect, I don’t think you and I would be a good mix.” Maka’s pedipalps dropped, as did Motu’s shoulders. “I don’t intend to make cooking the focus of my life here. There are things I want to achieve, and cooking is just a tool to get there. As much as I love making food, I made the burgers for profit, not out of love or whatever motivation—”

I didn’t get to finish. Motu disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving the smell of roast chicken behind.

“That’s the first deity that’s shown genuine interest in you, Perry. Why would you say no?” Maka sighed. I got the sense she got along with Motu more than she did with other deities. Unlike him, the others behaved as if they expected Maka to screw them over at the first opportunity. “I want to be done with this deal already. Boots keeps showing up at my doorstep demanding I help you.”

“So, help me!” I exclaimed. “How could Motu have assisted me in a situation like that? I need tools of survival, Maka. Not the blessing of a deity that takes pride in over-eating!”

“As long as you have that Coward’s Brand trait, no one will want to help you,” she told me. “I just want to go back to having fun, Perry. Trying to find a deity interested enough to back you is no fun at all.”

“It’s Demi that got me thinking. Allying myself with just any deity will do me no good. Our interests will need to align. Or, I need someone that will give me the tools to compensate for the drawbacks that come with Coward’s Brand.”

“We’ll figure something out. Just try to stay alive a while longer.”

“I’ve been thinking, Maka. Why don’t I become your champion?” The giant spider stiffeed. “You claim you’re a storyteller, hunter, scholar, and so much more. However, your friends seem to label you as a trickster. I’m starting to feel the brand is appropriate for me, too. After all, my whole shtick involves misleading people. You don’t seem to have an agenda or ulterior motive, and I can get behind that. Instead of a standard champion-deity relationship—”

“That’s not going to work,” Maka replied.

The dream ended before I could ask my next question. I wanted to know why Maka disliked the idea so much, and Boots had such power over her. Could the cat exercise her will on all entities like Maka? If not, why was Maka indebted to a Cosmic’s former herald?

The thieves must have moved me while I slept. When I came to, I was no longer in the apothecary. I woke up in a torchlit, stone room on a mattress much softer than what we had at the inn. What I found more curious than the room were the half dozen ragged children looking down at me. One sat by my head. She dipped a grey rag in a bowl before pressing it to my forehead. The cold temperature felt soothing against my warm skin.

“You look familiar,” I said. My words came out almost like a croak. Considering how dry my throat had gotten, I must have been asleep for a half a day if not more.

“Don’t recognise me, Mista?” The girl beamed at me.

It took a few moments to place her face. “The market!” I exclaimed as my brain slowly woke up.

“That’s right. If not for ya I’d be on the prison barges now.” She held a metal cup up to my lips, and I took a sip of the icy-cold water. It stung my tonsils, but I didn’t care. “Go slow, Mista.”

“Consider the debt repaid,” the thief I met before said from the foot of the bed. With her mask removed, I finally got to see her face. She had sharp, almost elf-like, features. Her milky white skin was almost ghostly in the dim lighting. “You saved my sister, and now I’ve done the same for you.”

I looked between the two. They didn’t share many facial features but had the same hazel eyes and dark-brown hair. While the little girl let her locks hang freely around her face, her sister had them tied up in a high ponytail. As my inhibitions returned and I studied the faces around me, I recognised them all. They were the street kids that would follow me around or occasionally make eye contact and nod a hello.

“Has the Thieves Guild been watching over me all this time?”

The woman nodded. “You don’t worship our god, but carry his token, and you stepped up to save one of his disciples,” she said, looking embarrassed. “We didn’t intend for harm to come to you. The city guard never lets prisoners walk free so late at night. I gave your tail the evening off, thinking you wouldn’t need our protection until morning.”

“They stopped watching, but I didn’t.” I jumped into an upright position when I heard the soft hiss at the end of the sentence.

“Hruk!” I tried to stand and greet him, but the room span as I tried to get up. “I’m glad you’re okay. You’re with the guild?”

“By the Great Spirit, no.” He laughed—probably a bit too hard, drawing glares from the room’s other occupants. “The Thieves’ Guild is one of the few organisations that doesn’t turn away my kind, though. After how they treated you on the Seeker’s ship, I thought they’d be willing to help.”

“Not to mention, we have several hobgoblins amongst the senior ranks,” the woman added.

“Thank you,” I said. “All of you, I mean it. If not for you, I’d have bled out by now.”

“No. The guildies would’ve put you down first.” One would assume she’d phrase that better. I did save her sister, after all.

“I’m going to need names from all of you.” I smiled weakly at the children before taking another long sip from the metal cup. “I’m Perry.”

“Mia,” the little girl said, taking the cup from me. She leaned in to whisper in my ear. “I know my sister is mean, but she likes your food and music.” Mia looked back at her glaring sister. “We call her Kitty.”

Kitty sighed. “The boss wants to see you,” she told me. “Can you get up?”

“He’s not going anywhere until he’s eaten and rested a while longer,” Mia declared. “Tell her, Mista Fista.”

“I won’t tell you again, Mia, Hruk,” my stone-fisted friend said, sounding irate.

The children chuckled. I couldn’t help but join them.