Mira was actually sad to see Bran and I go. We were true friends. She wondered if they knew their apprenticeship would be for two solid years, and she wasn’t sure they would even survive the trip. Mira had her own concerns at the moment, though. Her routine was to eat a bite or two and do chores at home, then go to the Smith’s home every morning for lessons with Elle and Hituren. They would eat lunch at the Smith’s house and then she and Elle would spend time walking about the city or chatting at home with Juleen. Bandit was with her every step of the way, and for her part, Mira really liked her. Bandit was very quiet and did nearly everything in silence, so sometimes it was easy to forget the little raccoon was present. She also liked to be petted a lot and to snuggle up at night, which Mira thought was a little odd for a wild animal, but she loved it.

  Today was Sixday, so not many people were outside while it was raining. As was her custom, Mira walked over to Whizzbang’s house through the rain, which was four blocks from the Smith house. Bandit followed behind as usual, her little nose sniffing and her eyes ever alert for interesting things. This would be her first teaching session with Whizzbang since she and Bandit had met, and Mira was a little concerned that Whizzbang wouldn’t let Bandit in the house. Some people were understandably reluctant to allow a wild raccoon into their home, and Whizzbang owned a lot of expensive and fragile things. She arrived and let herself into the shop through the door in the front. Bandit followed her right in and shook out her wet coat next to the door. Bandit looked around, sniffing excitedly, but didn’t wander further in right then.

  Whizzbang was behind the counter at a workbench, working on something that looked delicate. He froze for a minute as he eyed Bandit, then put the little gear he was holding in place with the tweezers. He set the tweezers down.

  “Hello, Mira. How’s my favorite spy today?” Whizzbang asked good-naturedly.

  “Doing great,” Mira replied. “This is my new friend, Bandit.”

  Whizzbang stood up from his little chair, walked to the edge of the counter, and peeked around the corner at Bandit. “Hello, Bandit,” he said cautiously.

  It looked like Bandit may have outweighed Whizzbang by a couple pounds. A wild raccoon could be a very deadly threat to a person who was only three feet tall. Bandit padded across the shop to get a little closer to Whizzbang, sniffed him from a distance, then came closer to sniff his outstretched hand, then sat down on her haunches and looked around the store, apparently satisfied that he wasn’t a threat. Whizzbang could almost ride Bandit like a horse, Mira thought.

  “Have you eaten lunch?” Whizzbang asked politely.

  “Yes, sir,” Mira replied.

  “Very well. Come on up.” Whizzbang led the way up the stairs and into the living room. He gestured to one of the chairs, and Mira sat. Bandit also sat close by Mira’s chair, looking around the room, nose wiggling. “So, what have you learned since Threeday, Mira?”

  “Well, I tracked Nommy ‘No Knuckles’ from the Siren’s Song tavern back to a warehouse by the docks. Judging from the people that come and go, I think this is where they keep their drugs stashed when they move it into the city by boat. It’s a rundown place with a blue door on Wharf Street, and it’s owned by Sivash Surekeel. At least I think so. I saw him enter the place like he owned it, anyway, but it doesn’t have a sign. I see the same six people going in and coming out, and those six people are selling dreamweed in the lower city. Doesn’t look like a big operation, but it seems it’s getting busier there,” Mira reported. “If you want to give the Surekeels a black eye, I’m all for it. His son Kromwell’s someone I’m painfully acquainted with.”

  “We’re just gathering information right now, Mira. Tell me, did Bandit accompany you on your recent forays?” Whizzbang asked.

  “Yeah. She didn’t give me away or anything,” Mira said with her arms crossed defensively.

  “Very curious.” Whizzbang paused to consider for a moment. “Has Bandit ever run off or tried to get out of the city?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Don’t you think that a wild animal would eventually do something to attract attention?” Whizzbang asked innocently.

  “Not necessarily,” Mira mumbled. “Everyone knows how sneaky a raccoon can be.”

  Whizzbang pulled a small crystal lens and something else out of a vest pocket and spoke a brief magical incantation. He put the lens up to his eye, which widened a bit when looking at Bandit, then he looked at Mira, then back at Bandit.

  He stood up next to his chair with a hand in a vest pocket and said, “The jig is up, Bandit. Show yourself.”

  Bandit looked at Whizzbang with slightly narrowed eyes but did nothing.

  “Come on, Bandit. I know you’re more than you appear to be,” Whizzbang said.

  Bandit growled, and then to Mira’s surprise, quickly transformed into a small woman who was not quite a foot tall. She had nearly transparent butterfly wings that shimmered slightly with many bright colors, pale skin, copper colored hair, petite features, and a dress made of tulip petals that were orange at the top and turned red and then purple at the bottom. She scowled, and stood there with her little fists on her hips.

  “You ruined my fun!” Bandit said petulantly. As she flew up high enough to look down on Whizzbang then hovered. A tiny shower of sparkling dust fell from her wings as she did so.

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  Whizzbang had the grace to look embarrassed. “My apologies, Bandit,” he said. “All I could see was the aura of transmutation magic, so I thought you may have been a Xerith or something equally bad.” He put a small crystal cone back into a vest pocket.

  “Well, I’m not!” Bandit exclaimed and wagged a finger at Whizzbang. “Now you may have cost me an honest friend!” She suddenly popped out of sight, completely invisible. Her wings buzzed louder as she flew around the room.

  “Wait! We’re still friends,” Mira said, wringing her hands.

  There was silence for a long moment after she landed somewhere in the kitchen. “You mean you don’t want to capture me, and sell me or enslave me?” A little voice said up by the kitchen cabinet.

  “No,” Mira replied. “It didn’t even occur to me.”

  There was silence for another moment as she considered. Bandit popped back into sight sitting on the arm of the chair Mira was sitting in, and she got a better look at Bandit.

  “You’re very pretty,” Mira said. Bandit actually blushed a bit. “Wait. Should we call you Bandit?” Mira asked. “What’s your real name?”

  “I’m not telling anyone my real name, as that would give them power over me. I like Bandit, though, so you can keep calling me that,” she said. “To answer your inevitable questions, I’m a pixie. And yes, I was spying on you in the woods when I stepped on that cursed spike berry root. I knew I should’ve been in the branches, but I wanted to see what you did when confronted by a huge, menacing beast.” She made clawing motions with her hands and gave a fake growl. Then she giggled.

  Mira couldn’t help but smile. Her smile faded, though. “I hope you don’t go away, Bandit. I don’t have many friends, especially since Bran and Jeron left.”

  “We’ll see,” Bandit said. “I think we’re a lot alike, you and me.”

  The three of them spent a lot of time talking that day, and each got to know the others better. Around dinner time, Mira knew it was time to go, and stood up. There was a little circle of pixie dust on the arm of the chair where Bandit was hovering.

  Whizzbang looked at it and said, “May I keep that dust, Bandit? It’s extremely rare, and I think it’ll be a very helpful reagent with some enchantments I’ve been working on.”

  Bandit got a crafty look on her little face. “Sure, but if I give you this, you have to teach Mira more than you have been. She has the potential to be a really good enchantress, and so far you’ve only showed her one or two parlor tricks.”

  “You have a deal,” Whizzbang said. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment or two with a big smile, clearly very excited. Then his expression changed, and he looked thoughtful for a minute. “Mira, if you’re as close to the source of criminal organization here in Stonekeep as I think you are, you’ll need to be more careful.” He nodded to himself, then took off a gold necklace he was wearing. “If you two are looking out for each other, then there’s less of a chance of you losing this. It’s my Gravity Adjusting Survival Pendant, or G.A.S.P. for short. It’s the trinket that allows me to walk on the side of buildings or upside down on the ceiling.”

  Mira held the necklace reverently in both hands, her mouth in a little “O” shape. “How does it work?” Mira asked, examining it from different sides.

  “Just walk on a wall or something while you’re wearing it, and gravity will change for you, making it feel like you’re always standing right side up even when you’re sideways.”

  Mira didn’t know what to say. No one had ever given her a piece of jewelry before, much less something that could do real magic. She put the necklace on and tucked it under the neckline of her rough-spun dress.

  “Thank you, Whizzbang. This means a lot to me,” Mira said.

  “You’re welcome. That’s one of my favorite things, by the way, and it’s worth a small fortune. Don’t let anyone see you use it,” Whizzbang said.

  “I knew I was right to trust you,” Bandit said to Whizzbang. “I think we’ll get along just fine.” She then changed her shape back into that of a raccoon.

  They said their goodbyes and Mira left Whizzbang’s shop and headed back through the rain to the lower city with Bandit by her side. Mira had a spring in her step, and a mind full of possibilities. She planned to cover the gold necklace with fabric or thread or something to hide its obvious value. She was going to make a difference. No matter what her father said, she was going to make something of herself.

  -----

  Kromwell sat in his pajamas on the sofa with his mother as she read to him. He always felt most at ease when his mother read him a story. His eyes were getting heavy, but he knew better than to give any indication of boredom. His mother was a petite woman, but she was deceptively strong, and she would tolerate no rudeness. He focused more intently on what she was saying.

  “When the ancient ones broke the siege and the city of Dongreth finally fell, the Red King paid them back in full for their stubbornness. He had every man beaten, then made to watch as the city’s women were taken by the Red King’s soldiers. He then had every man over the age of ten eviscerated and the entrails hung from the battlements. The women and children were then sold into slavery as was the Red King’s right. Dongreth never again rose to challenge Fellton,” Nystara read.

  She looked her son in the eye as she closed the book. “What have you learned from the account of Dongreth?”

  Kromwell didn’t have to think about it very hard. “I learned that the Red King was right to smash their resistance, that the help of the ancient ones is much to be coveted in times of war, and I learned how to deal with stubborn enemies at the time of their inevitable defeat.”

  “And what of the women? What did you learn from their plight?” Nystara asked.

  “Who cares? They were weak, and their only value was in serving their betters.”

  “Very good, son,” Nystara said.

  “Mother, what are the ancient ones, really?”

  “They are supernatural warriors from another plane of existence. They are very fierce, and they sometimes grant a small measure of their power to those who are worthy.”

  “But what are they really?” Kromwell persisted.

  “I don’t know how or when they were made. They are the ultimate expression of dominance in creation, and they act to better their interests at all times. They are a force of chaos, and as such, they can be very fickle about whom they ally themselves with.”

  “What must I do to gain the ancient ones as allies?”

  “Do you perceive what your father does?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your father has proven himself to be strong in the eyes of the ancient ones, and they grant him ever more strength so that his power and theirs can be increased in this world.”

  “I want to be like father,” Kromwell said with confidence.

  Nystara nodded in satisfaction, her eyes shifting to the door. Sivash stood there in a place where Kromwell hadn’t noticed him before now. Kromwell’s eyes followed his mother’s, and he noticed his father. He tensed. Sivash entered the room, still wiping blood off of his hands with a handkerchief. He casually handed the handkerchief to Nystara’s maidservant as he neared the sofa.

  “I’m glad to see your lessons are going well, son. Tell me. What have you learned from the Codex of Death?”