The samples found in the undercity kept Penelope busy and Lukas and Elvis mostly free. She only needed a porter and courier in the evenings, and it was mostly to run scrolls and stacks of research notes to mage towers in distant corners of the city. Hooded strangers watched the package runner. A couple shot crossbows at the clones and even pursued them. None managed to catch their target or land a projectile. Agility empowerment and low mass ensured the clones were fast and slippery. Growing knowledge of the city and shortcuts meant the clones were also nearly impossible to track. They slipped through businesses, residential courtyards, and even gambling and drug dens. Some proprietors charged him for the privilege. A shell here and there no longer stung.

Lukas offered to look into whoever was trying to interfere in Penelope’s work. She refused and didn’t elaborate on whether she had someone else on the job or just didn’t trust him with it. However, they discussed the mastermind’s intentions.

“I’d like to think it’s a competing researcher pissed off that the city brought me in instead of employing them,” Penelope said over breakfast. She and Lukas had started to dine together in the mornings after Elvis departed for the smithy. “These men.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Their egos are insane. It doesn’t matter who has been at it for longer or has more recognized accolades. The only thing that matters is who is best for the job.”

“I assume information regarding your draconic lineage is privileged information?” Lukas asked.

“As are my age, experience, and accolades.” Penelope laughed. “They only know me as the Cold Fire Sorceror and the fact that I represent the conclave. I also have a reputation for solving draconic issues across several kingdoms and city-states. It's the only reputation that matters.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but I think you're wrong.”

“I appreciate a good debate.” She gestured for him to carry on.

“If it were a competing mage or researcher, they'd know how to counter you better,” Lukas said. “They wouldn't send two-bit, inexperienced awakened to ambush you in the undercity. And they'd employ professionals to deal with me, a newly sharded.

“Whoever it is that's trying to interfere doesn't know you. Or who you are. They only have a rough idea of what you're doing in Iskander. Hence, they're employing anyone desperate enough for a job. That kid you had me put down, I looked him up. He has a sick mother and an underage sister. They were already struggling to keep their home while paying for medicine before he died. Now, their fate is sealed.” He paused, waiting for a reaction. Penelope only gestured for him to continue. “I think the people responsible for the draconic issue are just trying to slow you down. So whatever they have planned gets done before you figure everything out.”

“So the ambushes, hunters chasing you and Elvis for the packages…all of this is a distraction? An inconvenience?”

Lukas nodded.

“You're surprisingly insightful for someone your age,” Penelope said.

“Especially for some ordinary country blood-bag hic with no memories,” Bass added before returning to his slab of raw fish. It looked and smelled like tuna.

“You think I'm talking out of my butt,” Lukas stated before returning to his meal. He ignored the familiar as usual. “I probably am—”

“Not at all. We're discussing theories, and I respect your analysis and insight. Sorcerer is what I am. Investigative research is my profession. I believe we'll know who's correct soon enough. If it's one of my self-proclaimed rivals, their magic will show, or one of his hired thugs will give him away.

“On the other hand, if you're correct, they’ll get scared as we close in and cease using riff-raff. Whoever or whatever organization is behind this is an entity of influence, wealth, and probably military strength. Their personal forces will get involved, and then we'll know for sure.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Well, now I hope that you're correct,” Lukas said. “If not, war is coming to Iskander.”

Penelope nodded. “That's my concern, too.” Her smile betrayed sorrow. “I like your theory because of how probable it is. Maybe I prefer mine because it will involve significantly less death and destruction. We might see early signs because it will involve smuggling people into Iskander. The port authority flags everyone and everything coming in. They’re far less corrupt than the city guard.”

“Not corrupt enough to shut down the slave trade,” Lukas stated.

“The what?!” Penelope exclaimed, eyes wide. “That’s still going on here? Does the city council know?”

Lukas shrugged. “At least that’s what I think I saw.” He jumped up from his chair, swiftly closed the window, and checked the door. Penelope preferred dining in her room for privacy. They often discussed sensitive topics and couldn’t afford to have anyone eavesdropping. “It was on the day I got my essences.”

“Do we need a Dome of Solitude?”

“I don’t think we need to go that far,” Lukas said. “The bastard shopkeeper tried to shake me down for my sword. He called it a trade. The weapon for an essence.”

“Not equitable trade at all,” Penelope said.

“That’s what I said, but he had thugs ready to force the deal. So, I knocked over a shelf of alchemical brews. I don’t think he had them stored properly. It was a disaster. They mixed, started fires and explosions, and sent acid bubbles everywhere. Anyway. I couldn’t go out the front and tried the back instead. The rear storeroom was full of empty cages. Human-sized. Full of cuffs and manacles. There were more in the alley behind and poorly covered.”

“That could be anything. Perhaps the merchant also sold magical beasts. Illegally, but it's easier to pull off than slavery.”

“Perhaps. Stairs led down to a section of the port shielded from the rest. It's behind where the easter cliff face ends. There was a galley. More cages. The vessel didn’t look like it was designed for transporting ordinary cargo.”

“I know the city guard was corrupt, but not enough to let something of this magnitude go on under their nose.”

“I could be wrong. My point is there is a system for sneaking living cargo in and out of Iskander. It could be the means for sneaking enemy forces into the city.”

“Or bring in contraband for their undercity antics. If this is really a cult at work, trying to awaken something deep underground…” Penelope drifted off, eyes moving her familiar. “We need to check this out.”

“I can show you where it is. How about—”

“No,” she quickly said. “Not yet, anyway. Get better with your ability first. Let us scout it out first and investigate. Then, if we need you, we’ll use you too.”

“Got it.”

Much to Lukas’s surprise, Kat bought Elvis’s lie. The attempt at sabotaging the relationship failed. Instead, his time and responsibilities at the smithy increased. Every evening when Lukas dispelled the clone, memories of all his daily tasks, escapades with Kat, successes, and failures filled him. The increased mass and the improved strength and toughness that came with it allowed Elvis to push harder, strike harder, and tolerate more discomfort.

It took half a dozen attempts, but Elvis successfully made a knife that met the blacksmith’s standards. They put it in the shop’s window display and granted him the title of Apprentice Blacksmith. It was probably the most insignificant of titles he had ever earned but came with an odd sense of pride that Lukas didn’t recall personally feeling in quite some time.

Things also progressed at the Shadow Seekers. As a favor to Lukas, Penelope registered Lukas’s employment as a guild job. It helped the guild’s reputation while improving Lukas’s standing with them. It made the relationship more equitable, so he was doing something for them and not just using them for training.

“Why don’t you ever bring both weapons with you?” Kwame asked one morning when Lukas personally visited the guildhouse. “Are you trying to emulate me? Spear one day. Simple shortsword another?”

“It just feels like I’m neglecting the shortsword when this is my most potent weapon,” Lukas said. “Three-Stage Spear most days. Short swords when I have magic to spare after arcane training.”

“You have an arcane tutor?” The guild’s quartermaster raised a bushy eyebrow.

“It's just my employer. My soul ability—”

“Your real soul ability or the made-up one you told everyone here?”

“My real soul ability—” Lukas grinned. “—is useful to her work here in the city. I help her, and she guides me in exchange.”

“Interesting. So, what is it you want to practice today?”

“I'd like to combine my new Body ability with the sword's enchantment to fight and move as fast as possible.”

“Details, please.”