It took him just under an hour of walking the streets to find the scripted G inside a diamond etched subtly into the wood sheathing of a pub called The Roc and Raven. The windowless fa?ade was painted with the cartoon image of two black birds—a massive Roc with spread wings and bared talons ready to attack. On its shoulder sat a tiny raven with a sly smile, whispering into the larger bird’s ear. The tabby strolled past the establishment, his eyes glued to the opposite side of the street, scanning for any signs of surveillance or observation.

  Satisfied with his surroundings, Bird doubled back and pushed open the door. His eyes took only a moment to adjust to the dimly lit interior. A raised bar covered most of the wall on his right, tended by a burly, bald human. Sketching on parchment to pass the time, the familiar whine of the door hinges drew his attention, eyes narrowed, assessing the new arrival. To his left, the only occupied table featured five patrons in an apparent card game. It was obvious to the cat in seconds that there was no actual game being played; the players were passing cards, tokens, and coins back and forth, practicing their sleight of hand. The elven woman and half-orc facing his direction flashed subtle hand signals to the others that he recognized as Thieves' Cant, describing his appearance. This is definitely the place. He strode confidently toward the bar, his fingers communicating silently to the barkeep, shielded from the card players behind him.

  “What’chu want?” the man said, his tone slightly standoffish.

  “Is this the stop hole abbey? I need a sit-down with the prince prig.”

  The man cocked his head. “This is the place, but he don’t meet with outsiders. You coming for jukrum?”

  Bird shook his head. “Nope, not looking to operate in Chagrothlond, just a lone wolf passing through. I need shipping services to move some of the king’s pictures to Brieborn.”

  “Wait here,” the man said gruffly, dropping his quill and lumbering toward the wooden door in the back corner. A glance at the abandoned parchment revealed replica sketches of Shan’s official royal seals and coat of arms. A forger, and a damn good one!

  A few minutes after disappearing behind the door, the hulking human reemerged, catching Bird’s gaze and nodding to a corner table in the rear before silently returning behind the bar. The cat moved to the indicated booth, his back to the wall, keeping the entire room in view. Moments later, the door swung open again. A middle-aged dwarf dressed in ribbed, black leather crossed the floor slowly toward him. His chestnut hair fell to his shoulders; a mid-length beard, pinched into a silver ring three inches below his chin, featured a prominent streak of grey. The man’s raptor-like gaze studied the tabby intensely during the approach.

  The dwarf took a seat at the table, across from him. Leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table, he clasped his hands together, eyes still locked on the cat.

  “First thing first,” he hissed. “Was that you, visiting the neighborhood, in the eastern quarter earlier today, putting on a show across the rooftops?”

  “It was,” Bird admitted. “No disrespect intended. I was hoping to pad my shipment, but the bourg wasn’t worth the effort in the end.” The cat shook his head in disgust. “Less than two silver, an apple, and a gonddamn onion.”

  The dwarf let out a sharp belly laugh. “Yeah. The couriers in this town never bulge. All payments are made on account. I could have told you that if you’d bothered to check in first. Too bad it didn’t work out for you, but you know the price.”

  Bird nodded before sliding a silver coin across the table, the fee for operating in the area without approval. “I know. I was in a hurry and just passing through. It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t.” The dwarf pocketed the coin and reached out his hand. “They call me Downy.” Seeing the cat’s confused look, he stroked his beard with a grin. “On account of how silky soft my hair is, according to the local lasses.”

  The cat’s body hiccupped as he returned the smile. “I’m Singing Bird, but everyone just calls me Bird.” He accepted the handshake.

  “You sure you’re not sticking around for a while?” Downy asked as his fingers tapped a message onto Bird’s wrist through the embrace—I could really use your acrobat skills.

  “Unfortunately, not this time,” Bird replied, his own fingers tapping Downy’s wrist in response—Working a bigger job with a deadline, but back soon, happy to help then.

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  A subtle nod was shared between them as their hands separated. “So, I understand you’re looking to ship some of the king’s pictures to Brieborn?” Downy asked. “How much?”

  Bird reached into his leathers, dropping two stacks of coins onto the table, four gold and four silver.

  Downy’s eyebrows arched as he took in the stack. “Not much of a shipment.”

  “Now you see why I was visiting the neighborhood,” Bird replied flatly.

  The dwarf smirked before looking over his shoulder toward the barkeep, making a writing symbol in the air when he had the man’s attention. Grabbing a piece of parchment and his quill, the brute lumbered over, leaning down onto the table between the two. Bird dictated the delivery instructions as he scrawled them in duplicate, added the amounts, and presented both versions to Downy. The dwarf signed both copies before handing one to Bird. The bald bartender collected Downy’s copy, gathered up his quill and parchment, and returned to his station.

  “Any other business?” Downy asked, his palms pressed to the table surface as if to rise.

  “Oh, yes, two things—one warning and one request.” Bird leaned forward toward the Guild Master.

  “Warning?” Downy’s eyes flashed dangerously.

  Bird paused, choosing his words carefully. “Not for you specifically, but for the entire Guild network. I’ve recently learned a few things that could present a big problem, and not just for us.”

  Downy eyed him suspiciously. “Is that so?”

  “Are you familiar with an organization called the Crimson Dominion?” Bird watched the dwarf’s face intently for any sign of a reaction.

  The dwarf raised his chin. “Sure, a small fringe group of political extremists always spouting on about absolute divine leadership. You’re not trying to tell me that you think they’re a credible threat, are you?” Downy chuckled, shaking his head. “I thought you were being serious there for a minute.”

  Bird’s expression didn’t change. “I’m deadly serious.” The dwarf’s laughter faded. “First, they’re much larger than we can see on the surface. They’ve been quietly converting supporters, building a network, and placing them in positions of power across the kingdoms.” The cat raised one eyebrow. “Sound familiar?”

  “Aye,” Downy got the connection immediately. “The same way the Guild was formed. But our operation is grounded in the pursuit of commercial self-interest, free from the legal constraints of kingdoms. It’s a cause that rings true with most people. Theirs is about giving up control of your life to the whims of some divine will.” He waved his hand dismissively. “That shit doesn’t resonate with anyone in a position of power or wealth. So, how are they gaining numbers and influence to the level you’re describing?”

  Bird’s lips pulled into a tight line as he leaned even further forward, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. “I can’t prove it, but, I don’t think the conversion is voluntary.”

  “What does that mean?” Downy pressed the tabby. “Are you saying that a powerful wizard or cleric is magically brainwashing people? Do you hear yourself? That’s some unhinged conspiracy theory of epic proportions, my feline friend.”

  Bird shook his head. “According to the Hub, they serve someone called the Red Queen. Ever heard of her?”

  “Can’t say I have,” Downy admitted.

  “She stays out of sight, and they’re careful never to mention her name, but I accidentally crossed her path two days back, in the Siremirian foothills.”

  “And?” Downy was on the edge of his seat. “What are we talking…sorceress, high priestess?”

  “She’s a lich, and not your standard run-of-the-mill variety either. She uses a meteorite as a spell focus that amplifies her spell casting by three times. She also seems to have an endless supply of demons at her back.”

  Downy gave a low whistle as he connected the dots. “So, she quietly grows a power base on this plane, undermining the institutions and will of the free races, softening things up for an eventual demonic offensive.”

  “Exactly. The Hub has been informed, but I need your help to spread the word across the Guild. The more who know the truth, the better.”

  The dwarf nodded while a slow, devious smile spread across his face “We can also take some steps of our own to counteract their progress. How can we identify them?”

  “They use a symbol to make themselves known to each other.” Bird began to explain before Downy snorted.

  “That also sounds ironically familiar!” Downy interjected, shaking his head in disgust.

  “Yes, they’re definitely using a version of our playbook.” Bird agreed. “Their symbol is a horizontal line with a circle underneath it. You’ll find it on official documents, underneath key names, or tattooed onto the back of a member’s neck.”

  “Leave it with me,” Downy said decisively. “I hope your request isn’t as heavy as the warning.”

  “A bit simpler, I promise,” Bird leaned back in his seat. “I’m looking for a solicitor named Garrett Ferrier. Any idea where I can find him?”

  Downy thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Can’t say the name rings a bell. He’s not on our radar. I assume he’s somehow involved in all this?”

  Bird nodded before the dwarf held up his hand. “Don’t tell me what you’re planning, it’s better if I don’t know.”

  “You’re assuming I have a clear plan at this point.” Bird chuckled.

  “Fair enough.” The guild master paused before wagging his finger in the air. “If I were you, I’d start in the western quarter. No solicitor is likely to rub elbows in the east, and I’m guessing if he had an established office, you’d have already found him. Should I expect a corpse?”

  The tabby tilted his head. “Not sure. It depends on whether he tells me what I need to know. But if things get messy, I’ll make sure to tidy up. I won’t bring the rust to your door.”

  “Good enough for me.” Downy rose, offering his hand once again. The two men shook, this time without any additional coded messages.

  “Out of curiosity, are you the Roc or the Raven?” he asked with a grin as the two men stood.

  “Do you have to ask?” Downy chuckled. “Would you rather be the waves, or the wind?”

  With a final nod, the cat stepped back onto the street, moving briskly west in pursuit of Garrett Ferrier.

  The Glimmerstone Enigma and The Siremirian Conundrum?

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