I woke to sunlight streaming through the small window and the growing clamor of Karadesh rising from the streets below.

  My gaze drifted to Petya’s pallet—empty. I remembered everything.

  Again, the dissatisfaction returned; the annoyance of losing control of a situation.

  But I could gain control if I figured out where she went. Time to check the common room.

  I dressed quickly, tucking the velvet pouch of gems and the dagger into my pockets, and headed for the front.

  The morning crowd was sparse—a few merchants having an early breakfast, a pair of laborers drinking something steaming from clay mugs.

  And no Petya.

  Behind the counter stood a young man I hadn’t seen before, wiping glasses and arranging them on shelves.

  “Excuse me,” I said, approaching the counter. “I’m looking for my friend—the woman who arrived with me last night.”

  The young man glanced up. He appeared to be in his early twenties, with olive skin and dark curly hair tied back. “The foreign lady? She left before dawn.” His accent was similar to Marda’s but lighter. “She seemed to be in quite a hurry.”

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, sir. Just hurried out. Said nothing to anyone.”

  I sighed. My suspicions were confirmed. “I’m Dragomir, by the way. Marda gave us a room last night.”

  “Farid,” the young man replied with a slight bow. “I handle the morning shift while Marda catches a few hours’ sleep.”

  “So I can’t speak to Marda?”

  Farid gave me an apologetic smile. “Impossible. She would knock my head off with a rolling pin. Have you seen those arms?”

  I frowned in thought. Where had Petya gone? The answer seemed obvious. She had mentioned returning to the cave several times, and given her desperation to reunite with her children, this was unlikely to be a mere distraction.

  So, I could catch her. The only question now was whether I should.

  The smart move, of course, was simply to let her leave. Why should I risk myself for her foolish mistake?

  And yet something about this rankled me. I had been outplayed, and I didn’t like to accept defeat when there was still something I could do about it.

  That, and I truly believed Petya would get herself killed. Marda didn’t know about the cave, which meant I was the only one who could possibly prevent catastrophe.

  There was time to intercept her. The cave was far, and if I hired a boat, I could reach it first. This would hardly take me out of my way, and I’d regain access to Petya, a useful asset—so long as I could keep her under my control. Her independence had surprised me, but I was confident I could reassert my influence, perhaps more directly this time.

  As for Marda, confronting her would only make me appear unhinged.

  In sum, I needed resources—enough to hire a boat and purchase basic supplies.

  Good thing I had some valuables to sell.

  “Farid,” I began carefully, “I need to sell some items of value. Is there someone trustworthy in the city you would recommend? A merchant or an appraiser?”

  Farid raised an eyebrow, his hands pausing on the glass he was polishing. “Looking to turn a quick profit, are you?”

  “It’s important. I need to find my friend. I’m concerned for her.”

  The young man studied me for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “Then you should seek out Nizaar in the Merchant’s Quarter. Trustworthy, for a Varkiss. Deals in exotic goods, pays fair prices.” He leaned forward slightly. “Tell him Farid from the Copper Lantern sent you. He’ll treat you right.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Where can I find him?”

  “The Green Scales, three streets east of the Grand Fountain, then two streets north. Look for the shop with the emerald lantern.”

  It sounded far, but I had nothing else to go on. “I appreciate it.”

  I turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, Marda mentioned work. Please tell her I’ll be back later to pay for my room in full. As well as Petya’s.”

  Farid nodded. “Of course.”

  Outside, Karadesh revealed itself in daylight, even more impressive than it had appeared the previous evening. The sandstone buildings glowed golden in the morning sun. Merchants set up stalls, servants carried water from public fountains, and street vendors hawked breakfast foods.

  I joined the flow of foot traffic, following Farid’s directions toward the Grand Fountain. The streets were laid out in a surprisingly orderly fashion, with major thoroughfares radiating outward from central landmarks.

  The Grand Fountain came into view. Water spouted from the mouths of bronze sea creatures into a massive basin, the droplets catching the sunlight and creating countless miniature rainbows. Citizens filled vessels from designated spouts at the fountain’s base, while others sat on stone benches around its perimeter, engaged in conversation.

  I turned east, entering a street noticeably more affluent than the area around the Copper Lantern. The buildings here rose three and four stories, their fa?ades adorned with intricate carvings and colorful tilework. Shops displayed their wares behind glass windows—a luxury I hadn’t seen elsewhere. This was clearly the Merchants’ Quarter.

  After some searching, I spotted it—a narrow but well-maintained building with an emerald-colored lantern hanging above its door. A discreet wooden sign read “The Green Scales: Appraisals & Acquisitions.”

  Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

  A small bell tinkled overhead as I entered. The interior was dimly lit but immaculately clean, with glass display cases arranged around the perimeter. They contained an eclectic collection of items: ornate weapons and armor, glowing crystals, ancient-looking scrolls, and jewelry of unfamiliar design. The air smelled faintly of incense and old parchment.

  Behind a polished counter stood a young Varkiss female, her form slighter than her male brethren, her scales a delicate shade of jade. Or at least, I assumed her to be female. She wore a simple but elegant robe of midnight blue, with a silver chain around her neck from which hung a small brass medallion.

  “Welcome to The Green Scales,” she said, her voice melodious despite the slight hiss of her accent. “How may we assist you today?”

  “I’m looking for Nizaar,” I replied. “Farid from the Copper Lantern recommended him.”

  At the mention of Farid, her demeanor warmed slightly. “Farid, you say? One moment, please.”

  She disappeared through a curtained doorway behind the counter. I took the opportunity to examine some of the displayed items more closely. Many were completely alien to me, but others evoked familiar concepts—a compass-like device, what appeared to be a miniature astrolabe, and a set of crystals arranged in geometric patterns.

  “Quite the collection, isn’t it?”

  I turned to find a Varkiss male watching me from behind the counter. His scales were a deep emerald with golden flecks along his neck and jawline. Age had dulled their luster somewhat, but he carried himself with the dignified bearing of a successful businessman. He wore robes of deep burgundy with golden embroidery at the sleeves and collar, and multiple rings adorned his slender fingers.

  “You must be Nizaar,” I said, extending my hand. “I am Dragomir Valdrik.”

  The Varkiss inclined his head slightly, accepting the handshake with a firm grip. “A fine name. Powerful, if strange. You are a friend of young Farid, I’m told.” His vertical pupils narrowed slightly. “I’ve done business with him before.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I nodded. “Yes. I hear you deal in rare items?”

  “I do.” He looked me up and down. “Your garb suggests you’re not from Karadesh—or anywhere along the Southern Seas.”

  “No. I’m from…very far away.”

  Nizaar gestured toward a doorway. “Perhaps we could discuss your business in my private office.”

  The office was a stark contrast to the showroom—brightly lit by enchanted crystal lamps, with walls lined with bookshelves and charts. A large desk of dark wood dominated the space, its surface covered with ledgers and small measuring devices.

  “Please sit,” Nizaar said, indicating a comfortable chair across from his desk.

  I sat. Haggling was my element, so I was utterly comfortable.

  “Now,” Nizaar said, settling behind his desk, “what brings you to my establishment?”

  I reached into my pocket and carefully withdrew the velvet pouch. “I have items I wish to sell. To be perfectly honest, I’m not certain of their value.”

  “A refreshing admission,” Nizaar chuckled, a rasping sound. “Most who come through that door claim an intimate knowledge of their treasures’ worth.”

  “They are fools, then, to think they can cross one as knowledgeable as you.”

  Nizaar chuckled again. “Well, I can’t blame them for playing the game. Nor can I blame you for your calculated flattery. Let’s see what you have.”

  I carefully emptied the pouch onto a velvet cloth that Nizaar spread across the desk. The seven gemstones rolled out, their pale sapphire light pulsing gently in the room.

  I watched for a reaction, but his expression was utterly featureless. If anything, he seemed disinterested in the stones. It was hard to tell if that was genuine or manufactured.

  “These are ether crystals,” the Varkiss said, leaning forward to examine them more closely. He produced a jeweler’s lens from a drawer and held it to one eye. “Many would lie and say they are middling quality to offer you a lower price, but I will tell you they are quite pure specimens.” He looked up. “May I ask how you came by these?”

  “I found them washed up on the beach,” I said simply, deciding that less detail was prudent here.

  Nizaar made a noncommittal sound. “Found them on the beach. Yes, well, that happens far more often than you might realize.” He set down the loupe. “These are quite valuable, you know. Enchanters pay handsomely for such crystals—they break them down for the raw ether to power enchantments. Indeed, I could use these myself.”

  “I see,” I said, trying to sound knowledgeable. That was a good sign, and I could only wonder why Nizaar was giving so much away. To win my trust, or was he simply honest, as Farid had insisted?

  “You’ve done well to bring them to me directly rather than attempting to sell them at the public market. The charlatans there would have cheated you most impressively.” Nizaar sat back, steepling his fingers. “I can offer…eighty silver marks for the lot.”

  I nodded slowly, but inwardly realized I had no frame of reference for this offer. How much was eighty silver marks worth in this world?

  “Forgive me,” I said carefully, “but I’m not familiar with the currency exchange here. In my homeland, things are…different.”

  Nizaar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Different? Every land from the Northern Wastes to Vishtar’s Point uses the standard exchange. One hundred copper to a silver, one hundred silver to a gold.” He paused. “Where exactly did you say you were from?”

  “I didn’t,” I replied smoothly. “Let’s just say it’s far enough that we handle transactions differently.”

  The Varkiss studied me and my clothing for a moment longer. “Very well. To give you context, a skilled laborer might earn one silver per day. A good meal at an inn like the Copper Lantern would cost perhaps ten coppers. A new set of quality clothing costs a couple of silvers.”

  I recalled the patrons at the Copper Lantern the previous night, paying a few coppers for beer and perhaps ten for a meal. By that standard, eighty silvers was indeed a substantial sum—enough to live comfortably for months.

  I sensed an opportunity. I had done my share of negotiations at the call center. If I could convince Dr. Thompson to consider a property he’d never seen, I could certainly get a better price for these gems.

  “I appreciate your honest assessment,” I said. “These ether crystals are quite beautiful, and as you said, pure. Perhaps we could round it to an even gold piece?”

  Nizaar’s neck frill fluttered in what might have been amusement. “Bold. I can see you have some experience in these matters.” He drummed his clawed fingers on the desk. “And yet, I sense you’re in something of a difficult position, pressed for time, yet you’ve come recommended by Farid, whom I respect. Let us say ninety silver and consider our business relationship properly established.”

  I had the distinct feeling I was being ripped off. I tilted my head slightly, contemplating my next move. “I recently had a fascinating conversation with a Varkiss at the Copper Lantern,” I said conversationally. “He spoke of the unfortunate prejudices his people face in trade matters. How merchants of other races often expect to be...overcharged by Varkiss traders. A regrettable state of affairs, in my opinion.” I examined the crystals on the table with casual interest. “He seemed quite determined to change that perception through honest dealings. It struck me as admirable.”

  Nizaar’s eyes narrowed slightly, his frill stiffening. “An enlightened perspective,” he said carefully. “Though I assure you, Mr. Valdrik, my reputation for fair value extends throughout Karadesh.”

  “Of course,” I replied with a polite smile. “I merely found the conversation illuminating. After all, we’re establishing what I hope will be a mutually beneficial relationship, one based on... appropriate valuation.”

  Nizaar watched me for a moment, studying my placid expression and finding no openings.

  “Very well,” he said. “One must recognize good sense, yes?”

  With a stiff motion, the Varkiss opened a drawer and withdrew a small chest. From it, he counted out twelve stacks of ten silver coins—flat, circular pieces stamped with what appeared to be the city’s emblem on one side and a sailing ship on the other.

  As Nizaar pushed the stacks across the desk, he said, “One hundred and twenty silver marks. My best offer.” His tongue flicked out for a moment. “A friendly warning: Karadesh is a dangerous place for a young man in possession of new riches.”

  If he was trying to intimidate me, he had failed. “I know my business, Nizaar.”

  I took possession of the coins as Nizaar swiped the crystals with a single claw. I had absolutely nowhere to put my new coins; they wouldn’t fit in the pouch the crystals had come in.

  That was when Nizaar’s eyes lit upon the dagger at my belt. “What’s that you have there?”

  I hesitated, but I carefully withdrew the sheathed dagger. “Another item I found. It’s quite valuable.”

  Nizaar’s eyes widened, and the frill around his neck extended fully—a clear sign of excitement or surprise. “May I?” he asked, extending a clawed hand.

  I handed over the dagger, watching as the merchant carefully unsheathed it. The midnight-black blade seemed to absorb the surrounding light, while the ruby in the hilt caught it and multiplied it.

  “Remarkable,” Nizaar breathed. “A shadowsteel blade with a blood ruby. This is an assassin’s weapon, and the script is from the days of the Shadow Empire—easily a thousand years old or more.” He ran a practiced eye along the edge. “And still perfectly sharp, of course. It’s enchanted.”

  He looked up at me, his expression suddenly businesslike. “Five additional gold crowns. Right now.”

  The offer told me all I needed to know about the dagger’s true value. It must be worth far more.

  “I think I’ll hold onto it,” I said carefully. “It might prove useful.”

  Something like respect flickered in Nizaar’s eyes. “As you wish. But should you reconsider, my offer stands. In fact…” He reached beneath his desk and produced a small leather pouch with an intricate symbol stitched into it. “Take this, with my compliments. A gesture of goodwill for future business.”

  “What is it?” I asked, accepting the pouch.

  “An enchanted coin purse. It will hold far more than its size suggests.” He demonstrated a simple method of pressing one’s thumb to a specific spot on the leather, which opened it. “A practical item for someone suddenly in possession of wealth.”

  “Thank you,” I said, genuinely impressed by the merchant’s generosity—though I suspected it was calculated to ensure my return with the dagger someday.

  After transferring my new fortune to the enchanted purse, I rose to leave. But before departing, a thought occurred to me.

  “One more question, if I may,” I said. “Where might one purchase a class core? And what would the cost be?”

  Nizaar’s vertical pupils dilated with surprise, his neck frill fluttering slightly. “A class core? That’s an unexpected query from a foreigner.” He studied me with renewed interest. “Class cores start at thirty gold crowns for the most basic varieties. The rarer ones might fetch a full Platinum shard or more.”

  “A shard?” I asked.

  “Ah, you truly are from far away. A Platinum shard is worth one hundred gold crowns.” Nizaar tilted his head curiously. “Why does a stranger seek a class core?”

  I smiled. “I’m thinking of taking down a dragon.”

  The Varkiss’s scales seemed to pale slightly. “You jest, surely?”

  “Not exactly,” I admitted. “But I need to defend myself in this world. From what I understand, I must unlock a class to do that effectively.”

  Nizaar’s demeanor shifted subtly, becoming more professional. “I do occasionally deal in class cores, though I don’t lend the funds to just anyone.” His gaze drifted to the shadowsteel dagger at my hip. “For you, however, I might make an exception. With that remarkable blade as a healthy deposit, of course.”

  “A generous offer,” I replied. “But I’ll have to decline for now. Perhaps once I’ve established a steady source of income, we can revisit the matter.”

  As I stood, Nizaar did likewise. “I must say, you intrigue me, Dragomir Valdrik. The fine weaving of your clothing doesn’t match your lack of knowledge about class cores. Indeed, most of those of your station would have adopted their class and been well past Level 10. And most clothing of your quality would at least be enchanted against degradation. I take it you’re in your late twenties?”

  I kept my face placid, though inwardly I was calculating. This was valuable information—classes had levels, and most people of means would have unlocked theirs by my age. I also needed to see about getting my clothing enchanted and repaired.

  “Indeed. The circumstances of my life are somewhat…unusual. But I fully intend to unlock my class and make up for lost time.”

  I said this with just enough confidence to suggest I had a plan, even though I was still piecing together this world’s rules.

  “What is your Core Attribute?” Nizaar asked.

  Another term I only recognized from the Voice’s introductory message. I didn’t want to give myself away, so I made a show of being mildly offended.

  “That is a somewhat personal question, is it not, Master Nizaar?” I arched an eyebrow as if he had overstepped.

  It was the right thing to say. He held up a mollifying set of scaled hands. “Fair enough. We merchants have a habit of probing too deeply. Professional hazard.”

  I offered a knowing smile in return. This subtle dance of pretending knowledge I didn’t possess was not unlike my days selling second-rate properties to wealthy Europeans who didn’t know any better.

  “One last thing before you go,” Nizaar said, his expression becoming thoughtful. “Should you come across any more unusual items—or wish to share the tale of their discovery—my door is always open.”

  I nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. But if I’m to become a loyal customer, I expect better treatment in the future.”

  “Only the best for Dragomir Valdrik,” Nizaar said with a wheezing laugh. “Warm currents guide you.”

  As I left the shop, I mulled over the new terms I’d learned. This world operated on rules I was only beginning to understand. But I had always been a quick study, and already I was learning to use people’s assumptions to my advantage.

  Back on the street, the weight of one hundred and twenty silvers in my magical purse felt reassuring against my side. The sun had climbed higher, approaching midday.

  I needed to work quickly if I was to catch up with Petya before nightfall.