The pair, currently masquerading as master and apprentice, descended below deck. They passed the crew quarters and the engineer’s workshop. Lukas had been inside a handful of times. The man was happy to let him watch and assist, but refused to leave him alone to use the equipment. Not even a bribe of crowns or magical metals had helped. Lukas didn’t realize how much he had grown to enjoy smithing—or the memories of it—until it was gone. He chalked it up to the lack of engaging distractions. It didn’t matter as much when he had heists to plan, upcoming jobs, delves, and training.

Shae’heed started his time on the vessel in the brig, but after the first week, the captain allowed him to move freely in the cargo hold. Penelope was made responsible for any trouble he caused or damage to their wares. Thus far, they hadn’t faced any trouble.

They found him in a corner of the giant space working at a corner table, sewing leather with a long bone needle and thread. Penelope had paid the captain for the materials, and the work seemed to keep him busy. The Elder Wyrmkin’s eyes lit up when he saw Penelope.

“Mistress! I thank you for your presence.” He held up a full-head-covering mask with goggles stitched in. It had a hooked beak like that of a medieval plague doctor. “This is good. Yes? I blend into the city with this?”

“It’s excellent work.” Penelope smiled, running her fingers over the almost flawless artisanry. It was as well-made as the rest of Shae’s outfit. The fabrics were mismatched, making it colorful like that of a gleeman. He had also stitched in bits of fur and added layers. It looked bulky, but that was perfect for concealing his inhuman physiology and especially the tail. “You’ll fit right in and barely feel the cold.”

“Yes, mistress! Cold. I don’t like it at all.” Shae’s speech had come a long way during the voyage. He seemed eager to please Penelope. Bass wasn’t happy about it, but couldn’t deny that the Elder Wyrmkin was a valuable asset. He had already taught them more about his people, politics, and societal structures than any book either had ever found. “Crew say we almost on land. Yes?”

“You’ve been talking to the crew?”

“No, mistress. Never, mistress. I hide when they come. They talk. Not even know I’m here. I listen. I learn.”

“That’s a good lizard,” Penelope said, petting the Elder Wyrmkin like he was a pet. Shae leaned into her hand. The feathers that grew out of the top of his head, the back of his neck, and the forearms trembled. Their movements and behavior seemed to change with mood. The feathers had differing happy, scared, and angry movements. “Stay out of their way and finish your outfits as soon as possible, alright? I don’t want any slip-ups. Do you understand me?”

Shae nodded vigorously. “No talk. No hunch. No climb. I’m youses cursed serv—valet. I lift. I watch. I bodyguard.”

“No bodyguard,” Penelope replied. “No one will believe that I need you to protect me while I have Bass. Maybe messenger and errand boy, but not a bodyguard. Is that understood?”

“Yes, mistress. Whatever you say, mistress.” Shae’s eyes shot to Lukas. There was a hint of jealousy and contempt in them. “What he do?”

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“I have my own work and objectives, Shae,” Lukas replied, studying the creature’s movements closely. He was beginning to trust the Wyrmkin not to harm Penelope. However, it felt likely Shae would try to undermine, if not sabotage him, in the hopes of climbing the ranks in his mistress’s eyes. “The priority is safely making our way to the Gray. You will continue serving your mistress. I’ll see if it's a good place for me to put down roots and find a new smithing teacher.”

“You stay in Gray?” Shae’s eyes widened as he glanced at Penelope before returning his attention to Lukas. “You not come with after?”

Lukas shrugged. “It depends on Penelope and whether she needs me for whatever job the conclave offers her, and whether it aligns with what I want. If I find a better deal or something else to do, we might part ways.”

“You traitor.” Shae spat. “You have no honor. I number—” He paused, eyes squinting as if struggling to recall what came next. “Number one valet.”

“His speech is improving at a ridiculous rate,” Lukas commented, turning his back on Shae and focusing on Penelope. “He’s going to be useful for sure. That’s assuming he learns to keep shut and doesn’t let jealousy or greed get the better of him.”

“Are you really going to go off on your own if something better comes along?” Penelope asked him.

“Maybe. I enjoy your company and appreciate everything you’re teaching me. But I still have my doubts about the conclave. There is much for me and the clones to learn about magic, smithing, and enchanting. The Gray, being a city of artisans and survival, seems perfect for just that.” He didn’t want to risk telling her about the possible quests the journal might offer him. He had no choice but to complete whatever it gave him next. “If you need to move on straight away, I might not be able to follow.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Penelope sighed. “I like travelling and working with you, though. You’re good company, and I’m curious about whatever magic you’re developing and how the clones will progress.” She smiled. “Maybe we’ll get lucky. There is always something brewing in the surrounding mountains or just beyond the Gray’s borders. The conclave might need me there for a while.”

Shae seethed, glaring at Lukas, but he didn’t seem to dare interrupt his mistress. He watched and listened, fingers continuing to toil away.

“There is a lot I want to learn from you, too,” Lukas said. “I suppose it's also nice having a friend.”

“Yes. I imagine you’d much rather talk to me over your clones. Does that even count as a real conversation, or are you talking to yourself?”

Lukas laughed. “I try too hard not to think about it. Sometimes it feels like talking to myself in the mirror. Other times, they assist in planning and brainstorming, coming up with viewpoints I haven’t yet considered. But, in all honesty, I’d much rather speak to you.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” Penelope studied Lukas for a moment. “I can tell your mind isn’t here. Return to your quarters. Work on your spell. Finish it. Get your mid-tier ability.”

“You sure you don’t want company?” Lukas asked. “If you want—”

“I’ll be fine. Go.” She waved him away. “Shae and I need to talk. We’re going to figure out how he can defend himself and me if and when necessary.”

“You’re not going to give him a weapon, are you?” Lukas frowned, flashing a concerned look at the Elder Wyrmkin. He pretended not to listen now, eyes focused on the leather and swiftly moving needle. “I know he pretty much worships you, but that’s too risky, in my opinion.”

“I know what I’m doing, Lukas Zaun. I’m the Cold Fire Sorcerer of the conclave with decades of experience under my belt. The clones might help you feel like you’ve lived several years through them, but I’m far more experienced and know what I’m doing. Now, run along. Do your thing. Shae needs instruction from his mistress.”

“You go,” Shae added, failing to conceal his eagerness. “We talk.”

Lukas complied. He didn’t care as much as he let it show. It was true, he couldn’t get Penelope’s advice out of his mind, and desired solitude for continued spellwork.