Draken picks up the lumpy velvet sack, peeking in.

“Smashed good,” he says.

The lady sighs, relief pouring from her breath like water from a basin. “Some of those jewels it had are family heirlooms, were they damaged?”

Draken grimaces. “They’re intact if that’s what you mean but they’ll have to be destroyed.”

The lady raises her trembling hand to her face in a courtly gesture of dismay, taking on the appearance of a humorous painting.

“What do you mean?” Her tone is bordering on harsh and mannish while working to stay ladylike.

Draken shrugs, shaking his head as he holds up the sack for emphasis.

“They’ve got that clay all over em. Makes em just as explosive as that critter I smashed.”

“You have to do something, those jewels belonged to my grandmother!” Her voice booms, all pretense dropped as her anger quakes forth slowly revealing the raging bull hiding behind her demure appearance.

He carefully pulls a pearl necklace from the bag. It’s caked in slick red clay, the seams totally filled to the point where it seems to be drowning in it.

“Look at this.” Draken says slowly as if talking to a child. “This is explosive clay, containing countless particles of ground up magicyte crystal, each particle sharing the command to violently burst into flames. Now those particles are bonding to the necklace the way they bonded to the clay and like the clay the whole necklace will be explosive. If I give you this necklace it would be like giving you a bomb that can go off at any time. ”

The lady’s eyes widen as Draken offers her the necklace. She shrinks back, distancing herself by more than a few steps. He shoves the pearls back into the sack.

“There’s nothing that can be done?” She asks.

“Not for free.” He replies, his eyes colder than ice. “The sort of spell you’re talking about is hard delicate work. I can’t imagine a wizard taking on the task for less than five hundred gold crowns per item.”

A wave of indignity crosses the lady’s face, quickly masked by a phony smile.

“You would charge me that much when this is your fault?”

Draken’s arm waves across the wrecked sitting room.

“Look, lady do you think this kind of cleanup job is usually free? Any wizard would charge you five crowns easy for a job like this. We’ve accepted responsibility for our mistake and done the job free of charge. But what you expect aint reasonable, sister! Master Hood doesn’t have the time to waste on long complex jobs that don’t pay out.”

The lady sits in the chair, shaking her head.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You can always pay,” Draken offers. “It’ll only be about twenty thousand crowns all together.”

The lady’s eyes hold poison in their stare. Being under the sharp hateful gaze makes Draken feel just a bit sick. Her mask of civility is gone, the genteel noblewoman chipped away. “Get the hell out of my house before I have you flogged!” Her bellowing voice echoes through the halls. Draken signals his crew and the four leave quickly.

***

“Shame about those jewels.” Jacob says as they pass the gate. “That’s gotta be a fortune in that bag and we can’t use it.”

Draken grins like a fox surrounded by drunken chickens.

“Who says we can’t?”

Warren stops in his tracks and stares at the bag.

“Are you saying that all those jewels are ours!?”

Draken puts his finger to his lips, glancing nervously back at the pikemen.

“Not so loud!” He whispers, quickly pulling Jacob and Warren as far from the gate as he can.

Once safely in the busy street out of earshot of anyone who matters the conversation resumes.

“But seriously,” Warren says. “You said that stuff was explosive.”

“And so it is,” Draken says strutting to the fountain. “But it’s also clay and once it’s wet it’s harmless.” He dunks the contents of the sack into the fountain. “Washes right off.”

Warren’s friendly slug to the shoulder smarts just a bit too much.

“You sneaky son of a bitch. Could have let us in on the scam.”

Draken shrugs rubbing his offended shoulder.

“It only came together when I saw the jewels the golem had.” He explains, picking up a handful of the wet jewelry. He takes just a moment to enjoy the sight of treasure sparkling in the sun.

“This is just the beginning.” Draken smiles as his eyes greedily take in the glittery goodness.

“What do you mean?” Warren asks.

“I mean we’ve got us a new racket.”

***

“A runaway spell?” The butler asks in dismay as Draken holds up the inert compass.

“According to this it’s inside and we have to hurry, it’s flammable!”

The butler jumps aside.

“Don’t just stand there, lad do what you have to do!”

Draken smiles as he walks past the butler, dramatically holding the compass out in front of him.

“Anything it’s touched will need to be collected and destroyed.” He points to a jeweled letter opener on the desk and Jacob grabs it up, tossing it into the velvet sack held by Warren.

He moves on, room by room pointing to anything that catches his eye.

A gold watch, silk tapestry, ivory carving and a few worthless household items to throw off suspicion. Finally Draken ends up in the kitchen and winks at Lily.

“The fly!” He shouts, pointing at a kitchen fly.

Lily leaps forward with a butterfly net catching the insect, sticking the fly into a convenient glass jar. Draken seals the lid and passes his talisman over it, chanting some pointless nonsense.

“The fly can no longer ignite a fire,” Draken announces.

“What about the things it touched?” The butler asks.

Draken shrugs.

“Nothing changes there, it must be destroyed.”

***

“Destroyed?!” The noblewoman shouts, “I can’t allow it, for all I know you’re just a thief dressed as an apprentice.”

Draken looks insulted.

“My master’s name is Blackard Hood, mine is Draken Crowe. You can look us up in the city mage registry. Frankly i’m insulted that you think I look stupid enough to risk the terrible punishment reserved for mage impersonators.”

Draken holds up an empty jar.

“In case you’ve forgotten this jar contains a deadly miasma and anything it’s come in contact with will poison the air around it. The items we’ve collected in these four bags are a threat to public safety!”

A long pause, Draken’s heart pounds heavy in his chest but his eyes are confident. He knows this haughty bitch is going to cave. Her eyes waver, he has her.

“Fine!” She shouts. “Take it away but don’t think I won’t check your story.”

A triumphant grin crosses the boy’s face.

“I would expect nothing less, m’lady.”

***

“I promise I won’t look, m’lady,” Draken says. “But the clothes must all come off. If the ladybug’s venom seeps through to your skin the curse will set in and you’ll be barren for life.” Draken covers his eyes with his hand, parting his fingers enough so that he's treated to the rare show of a young noblewoman stripping.

“You’re not peeking are you?”

“I swear I’m not.” Draken’s wide grin reveals the lie yet the girl keeps stripping, baring it all.

“I love being a mage.”

***

The door opens to a stern-faced sorcerer.

“What are you doing here, apprentice?”

Draken swallows hard, recognizing the man from Hood’s dinner simulation. Dozens of painful deaths flash through his memory, muted and dreamlike yet chilling all the same.

Jacob steps forward. “The thing is there’s a runaway --”

Draken backhands his young companion in the lip hard enough for the sound to echo in the distance like a thunderclap. The boy doubles over, grabbing his mouth in pain and shock as he's shoved hard into the lanky minstrel’s arms. Angry tearful eyes strike back hard as Jacob stares at Draken like a wounded puppy but hurt feelings have to wait.

“Keep his mouth shut!” He barks, only dimly noticing the flecks of red on his hand.

“My patience is wearing thin.” The sorcerer says, sending icicles into Draken’s soul.

Warren looks as if he’s about to say something but shuts his trap as he catches the look in his friend’s eyes. Draken bows deeply to the sorcerer, hoping desperately to think of a way to survive this encounter.

“I humbly apologize for my servant.” He says, voice only trembling slightly.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” The sorcerer says testily.

“Blackard Hood sent me,” Draken replies. “He thinks it will be good for me to meet other apprentice magicians and begs your indulgence in letting me meet yours.”

Draken shrinks from the sorcerer’s cold and unfeeling gaze. The eyes on him are akin to ghost lanterns sending shivers up his spine as he falls under the pale light of their scrutiny.

“Hood?” He mutters with a spark of recognition, his cold eyes become hot.

Draken finds his feet missing the floor as he’s thrown against a wall.

“You can’t-!” Warren begins but a single look from Draken shuts him up as sure as a gag shoved in his mouth.

“So, Hood’s taken another apprentice after what happened to the last one and he sends you here of all places?”

Draken squirms in place, tempted to use his own sorcery but an inner voice warns him not to. Whatever else the cold eyed man is he is a master and one who Draken knows will kill him in an instant, like a dragon wrapped in human flesh waiting for an excuse to spring forth and insinerate everything. Challenging him is not an option. Not unless suicide is an immediate goal.

“Please don’t hurt me.” He squeaks meekly, his voice refusing to stay level.

“You came here asking after my new apprentice, is Hood really so hot for a rematch?”

Draken hits the floor as the sorcerer releases his grip.

“I got no clue what the hell you’re talking about!” Draken says truthfully, forcing himself to reign in the seething stallion of galloping rage before he says something that will get him killed. He strangles harsh words at the tip of his tongue until they die silently.

“Maybe… It is high time it came back.” The sorcerer mutters. “As it turns out my apprentice is running errands at the moment. However, I rather like Hood’s idea come to think of it but like everything he does it’s half assed. I think a mixer is more appropriate, a small party with all of the new apprentices present. I’ll send out some invitations tomorrow. Oh, this will be grand.”

Draken mutters something he thinks is polite but isn’t really paying attention. He is desperate to get out of there. He quickens his pace down the walkway and doesn't feel safe until he and his crew are blocks away.

“Let’s call it a day.”