“Look at all these missing people!” Bill said, barging into the inn the next evening.

  The place was more crowded than usual. The absence of the proprietor actually attracting patrons as he’d not been the most pleasant of men.

  The waitress whose name was not yet known, was busy trying to handle it all alone, as she was not sure if she would be allowed to hire additional staff in the absence of the inn’s owner. Ellen had taken pity on the girl and summoned a few unseen servants to help her out. The invisible little magical constructs were busy cleaning dishes, delivering drinks, and cleaning up spills.

  While the servants were invisible, occasionally patrons would spot something from the corner of their eye—something that sent chills down their spines, eliciting a deep primal reaction not often needed in modern city life. When they turned to see the source of the fear, all they saw was a floating mug of ale or a broom.

  No one spoke of this feeling, lest mentioning it give it legitimacy, and all continued on with their mornings, a little bit more aware of the insignificance of their tiny lives next to the unknowable vastness and power of the universe and beyond.

  Though, none of them could have articulated it as such if asked.

  “Ye okay Phill?” one patron asked his drinking companion.

  “Yeah… I was just thinking that maybe I ought to buy a really fast horse with a really fancy carriage.”

  Oblivious to the various existential and midlife crisis occurring around the room as triggered by the glimpses into the unknown, Bill slammed the stack of papers onto the table.

  “That’s a lot,” Syril said, taking the stack and looking through it. “Are these all new?”

  “Yeah,” Bill said.

  “I spoke to the families of the previous missing people and didn’t see any similarities that might help us find them—though I’m fairly certain two of the missing people ran away together and one of them was definitely already married.”

  “So, nothing pointing to Count…. Umm..” Grom asked.

  “Beaver,” Linar supplied helpfully.

  “Now I know that’s wrong,” Grom said.

  “Count Keavon!” Syril shouted. “It’s not hard!”

  “Ok, so nothing to link to Count Keavon ?” Grom repeated.

  “Nothing…” Syril said trailing off.

  “What is it?” Ellen asked.

  In response, Syril lowered a sheet to the table for all to see.

  “Isn’t this the boy with the missing cat?” Syril asked.

  “It is!” Ellen said.

  “Gods,” Grom said. “We told you not to help him. This is why we don’t do side quests!”

  “How is this my fault? It’s probably just a coincidence,” Ellen said.

  “It’s never a bloody coincidence,” Grom said.

  “It really never is,” Syril agreed. “Except one time, we helped a man move some large boxes. He got arrested for murder shortly after and we thought we’d helped dispose of the body. It turned out it was his twin brother though and he was let go.”

  “See?” Ellen said, “It could be a coincidence.”

  “Nah,” Grom said. “Remember it ended up being a simulacrum? He didn’t have a brother.”

  “Oh yeah… How did I forget about that?” Syril said.

  “Because you were besotted with Lady What’s-Her-Name with the big—”

  “Personality!” Syril said loudly, cutting in. He turned to Linar, “What happened with the mind control investigation?”

  Linar’s typical neutral expression turned sour.

  “There was no mind control,” he said simply.

  “Then why are you upset?” Ellen asked.

  Linar crossed his arms and looked away before speaking quietly.

  “When I gave her the ring of mind shielding she thought I was proposing to her.”

  The whole group burst out in laughter at the admission.

  “Well, don’t leave us hanging, what did she say?” Grom asked.

  “She said no,” Linar said, even quieter.

  “And you’re upset?” Ellen asked. “You didn’t even mean to propose?”

  “Rejection never feels good,” Linar said. “I don’t know why she said no, I’m a catch.”

  “You hardly know her!” Ellen shouted. “Don’t feel bad. If she’d said yes, that’d been a bit of a red flag.”

  “I don’t think you’re one to talk about handling rejection,” Grom murmured to Ellen, shutting her up.

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  “So…” Bill said, poking the sheet of paper with the boy’s picture. “The boy?”

  “I don’t know if I can find the boy,” Ellen said, “But I could track that hair I gave him with the tracking spell on it.”

  “That’s a better lead than I had.” Syril said. “Let’s go look for him tomorrow.”

  “I can’t do tomorrow,” Grom said. “I have a date.”

  “You’re still seeing that girl?” Syril asked.

  “Which girl?” Bill asked.

  “That’s the problem, we don’t know.” Syril said, moving on. “So what about the day after that?”

  Bill didn’t understand what that meant, but the conversation overtook his chance to inqire.

  “Is that a Tuesday?” Linar asked, counting off dates on his fingers. “I can’t do Tuesdays.”

  “Why can’t you do Tuesdays?” Syril asked.

  “I have a standing engagement,” Linar said vaguely.

  “With who?” Grom asked.

  “Whom,” Linar corrected.

  “I asked you!” Grom shouted back.

  “No, its ‘With whom,’” Linar corrected, then crossed his arms and added. “And it’s with friends.”

  No one spoke, they all stood staring at him.

  “What?” Linar asked, uncrossing his arms and spreading them wise. “I have friends. My life doesn’t revolve around this party.”

  “Fine,” Linar continued, when that was met with further silence. “It’s a business meeting.”

  “Well, this I got to hear,” Grom said. “What kind of business?”

  “Nothing illegal,” Linar clarified. “It’s just a group of likeminded individuals meeting to share our craft and learn from each other’s experience.”

  “And what craft would that be?” Grom asked.

  “Would you believe it if I told you I’d taken up painting?” Linar asked.

  “I might actually if you were doing so to create forgeries,” Grom said.

  “Nah,” Linar said off handedly, “The real money is if forging official documents. Paintings are too unique.”

  “Are you in a guild of thieves?” Ellen asked.

  “No! Of course not” Linar said. “It’s just a group of like-minded professionals joining together to regulate their craft.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like a guild,” Ellen pressed.

  “Well… we have some people who dabble in assassinations and some information brokers.”

  “You’re not helping you case,” Ellen said.

  “It’s not a thieves guild! I’m not some two-bit thief and it’s not a guild,” Linar said.

  “I feel like this is splitting hairs,” Syril said.

  “Words have meanings and to use them incorrectly contributes to the decay of society!” Linar said, getting more worked up. “What about the term knife ears? That’s offensive right? Because elven ears are more leaf shaped?”

  “That’s not really why… Leaf ear’d be just as bad.” Syril said.

  “Wait… really?” Linar asked, losing some of his steam.

  “Hm hmm.”

  “Are you sure?” Linar asked.

  “Pretty sure,” Syril said, picking absentmindedly at his ear.

  “I… uh… hells. That explains a lot.”

  “So… Tuesday is out?” Bill asked.

  “It seems like it,” Syril said. “So, what about Wednesday?”

  “I’m teaching a lecture at the college,” Ellen said.

  “Really?” Linar asked. “On what? Do people actually show up?”

  Ellen sighed.

  “I’ve told you this before. I am a highly respected wizard in both the fields of destructive and conjuration magic. People travel from other cities to hear me speak.”

  “Thursday?” Syril asked, “Wait—no I can’t do Thursday. Friday?”

  “Wait, why can’t you do Thursday?” Grom asked.

  “It’s private,” Syril said.

  “Everyone else explained,” Grom said.

  “No one asked them to, you all volunteered that information,” Syril pointed out.

  “That hardly seems fair,” Bill said.

  “Fine! If it will get you all to stop pestering me, I am giving vocal lessons,” Syril said.

  “I thought you couldn’t since,” Bill said.

  “I said I don’t sing, not that I couldn’t. There’s a difference” Syril said. “So, Friday?”

  “Why was that a secret?” Grom asked.

  Syril cursed under his breath at Grom picking up on his evasion.

  “Because it’s with Shanon Highcourt,” Syril said.

  “Oh, so it’s a ‘vocal lesson.’ Got it,” Grom said.

  “Friday?” Syril repeated.

  “Can’t, finalizing the divorce,” Bill said.

  “And we can’t do Saturday because the kid’ll be dead by then,” Grom said. “And it will be Ellen’s fault.”

  “Hey!” Ellen shouted.

  “Yeah, that’s not right,” Linar said, getting an appreciative nod from Ellen. “The boys probably already dead.”

  “You—” Ellen began.

  “We can’t put it off a whole week” Syril said.

  “Wait,” Ellen said, eyes lighting up and pointing her finger in the air as she did when she had a good idea. “Is everyone free right now?”

  They looked at each other and took their surroundings. They were in the booth at the inn they typically frequented, and the place was near empty with the early morning regulars.

  “I’m free,” Grom said, followed by a chorus of agreements.

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