“What about this whole thing?” Jason asked, gesturing around them. “The land-grab deal.”

“I don't know what it's about,” Dean said. “Every couple of weeks I was told to come out here and spook Lindover with my summon. Then I lay low here in Clementson's guest house and quietly go back a few days later. A couple of days ago I was told to get out here and do it again, and he said it was probably the last time.”

“And by ‘he’ you mean…”

“Thadwick Mercer; it was all him. He's always going on about how this is all his deal. How he'll show his father what he's really capable of.”

Jason sat up straight and took a deep breath.

“Alright, Dean. You did well. We're going to Greenstone to get all this settled. I said I'd look out for you, and I will.”

Jason stood up, then held out a hand for Dean to shake.

“Are you ready to stand on your own feet, Dean?”

Dean stood up and shook Jason’s hand, looking like a weight had been lifted off him.

“You know what? I think I am. There’s something you should know, though.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t come out here by myself. One of Thadwick’s other people came with me. I don’t think he’ll let us leave quietly.”

“You’ve got that right!”

Both men turned in the direction of the intruding voice. A burly human was storming in their direction, Clementson following behind.

“Looks like I have to put both of you down,” the burly man said.

“Not going to happen,” Jason said as darkness manifested around him, speckled with stars. “Dean, you’ll want to stay out of this.”

* * *

Neil Davone rushed down Broadstreet Boulevard. There was a crowd gathering outside the newly refurbished Broadstreet Clinic, which was about to have a grand re-opening. Neil pushed his way through the crowd and rushed up to the doors, made of reinforced, magic-wrought glass. They were designed to open and close themselves, but the clinic was not yet open and they remained shut. Neil and started hammering on one of them with his fist.

“Friend, they’ll be open soon,” an older man assured him. “Just be a little patient.”

The man chortled to himself.

“Patient,” he said. “That’s funny.”

Neil ignored him and kept hammering away until a young woman appeared on the other side of the glass.

“Sir,” she said loudly through the glass, “if you can’t wait quietly for the clinic to open, then you will be turned away when it does.”

“I need to see Jory Tillman,” Neil yelled. “I need to see him right now.”

The woman looked Neil over. Compared to the bulk of the crowd, his clothes spoke to more than enough money to find medical help elsewhere.

“Go around to the back gate,” she said. “I’ll see if Mr Tillman is willing to speak to you.”