As I walk out of the portal in a hurry, I fail to notice that it's several feet off the ground. I end up falling flat on my face with Rhys on my head, much to the amusement of Fox. He snickers as I get up, but any frustration I could have is trumped by the wonder of the place in front of me.

"Nice try, Dirt Girl," comes his sly drawling voice.

I ignore his remark, gazing at the stony gray building in front of me. To call it a building, however. . . It looks more like a cathedral. It peaks like a mountain and rises as if it had grown from the ground. Ivy and other assortments of vines curl around and on top of it, as if the forest itself is trying to consume any evidence of human infestation. It's strangely beautiful, in a wild and archaic way, like old ruins of temples that I often visit on my travels.

"What is this place?" My forked tongue flickers to smell this strange area. "Why do I smell alcohol?"

Fox walks past me, going up the steps of the building.

"Welcome to my guild, a place of wealth and lots of alcohol."

I glance about, on edge. "Guild?"

"Yes, guild. Are you deaf or do you just not know what a guild is?"

I very nearly run after him, not wanting to be left behind. While he'd been nearing the building, I hadn't moved an inch from my position, busy admiring the scenery, as Rhys puts it. I prefer appreciating the moment, myself.

"I am not from this place. I would have thought. . . Wait a minute," I say in sudden realization. "You hardly told me anything in our 'talk'!"

"Really? Aw, too bad then." 

He chuckles and smirks as he knocks on the door three times. With each knock, the spot on the door he makes contact with glows blue. It swings open, revealing a flight of stairs that sinks deep into the ground.

I follow Fox down the stairs, my eyes as wide as saucepans as I try to look at everything around me at once.

"Is this the organization that Dolan fears so much?" I ask him.

"Not sure about what Stephen thinks, but it sure is a place to be scared of," he responds matter-of-factly.

The stairs descend into a bar, which I immediately categorize into the List Of Places You Shouldn't Go If You Can't Fight. I can turn into a snake, throw knives, and hit people on the head with a very big stick. In a bar full of magic assassins, I doubt that my skill set is going to be of any use. I can also be crafty, but drunks don't care and they also don't listen to any logic that I make up, which is both annoying and a very big problem.

As we walk through the bar, one of the drunks takes a swipe at me. I pull my hood down lower over my face and rub the hem as we walk past them, now heading down a long and--thankfully-- mostly empty hallway.

"Interesting company you keep," I tell Fox before muttering a quick prayer to the gods for protection. Just to be safe.

"Don't be scared of a few drunks. They only do the scary stuff when sober," he responds as he opens a door that leads to a library.

"The animal that cannot think is more fearsome than the most ingenious strategist, as they are impossible to reason with," I retort. Even a scarily devious man like Fox is preferable to a stumbling drunk. You can convince an intelligent man not to kill you, if it benefits them. A drunk man can't see past his own drink, and, well, you're dead before you can say a word.

The library is a tremendous relief to me. After escaping Svartalfheim, I had taken to reading large tomes. My preferred hobby is poring over archaic dictionaries. A heavy volume wrapped in leather catches my eye, and I quickly memorize the title before turning to Fox. As much as this place fascinates me, my objective remains key.

"Is this where I will find Keymaker?" I ask.

"Fox? Did you actually decide to pick up a book, for once?" An unfamiliar voice cuts in, and I turn to see a red-haired girl somewhere around my age, maybe a year or so older. A small jackal sits on her shoulder, and I immediately feel better about toting Rhys around. 

That one is male, Rhys hisses, meaning the jackal. An adolescent. 

Thank you, Rhys, for my daily dose of unhelpful information.

"Who are you?" she asks me as Fox walks over to her and ruffles her hair.

"I want you to meet Dirt Girl, she's been looking for you."

Flattery. Flattery, I tell myself firmly. Make a good impression so that I can get out of here. I hurry over to her, tripping over my own feet in my haste.

"It is a great honor--" I begin before being bitten by the jackal. "Ouch!"

"Faustus!" Amaryllis Keymaker scolds the infernal canine as she picks it up. I make a mental note of how Fox tenses at the name. 

"Please, just call me Ama," she tells me as she strokes the jackal. "So, are you some kind of fan, or. . . ?"

We must have made quite the commotion, because another person emerges from behind  bookshelf. I can tell that we've interrupted him in the middle of his reading, because he's holding a book in his hand, using his thumb as a bookmark as he lowers it to look at us.

"Hmm? Something wrong?"

From around a nearby bookshelf comes a strange figure in a large cloak with a hood that conceals any features that could distinguish him but for the bottom half of his dark-toned face. The book he's reading is held open in his hands, and next to him is an inquisitive jackal pup.

My gaze immediately goes to the jackal by his side. I've never seen one before today, and now I've seen two. They look more like coyotes than dogs, with their long legs and large ears. They each have have a thick black stripe on their backs, like a cape of fur. They have eyes like coyotes too—eyes that say that they either like you or consider you well worth eating or both.

A juvenile and a female, Rhys tells me. Not a bind animal. She's the sister of the other one. She does appear similar to Faustus, but all jackals look the same in my personal opinion. 

"No, it's just a girl that's pretty eager to meet me, for some reason," Ama informs the stranger. 

Gods Almighty. That makes me sound like a creep.

"She needs your help," Fox sighs.

My eyes slide over to the stranger reading a book. He's wearing a cloak like mine, but the hood is pulled so low that I haven't the faintest idea of what he looks like. The jackal by his side is strangely docile and sticks close to him. I'm tempted to find out just what he is by smelling him with my forked tongue, but that would also tell him what I am, which defeats the purpose. I'm better off asking Rhys about it when he's out of earshot.

"Fox, should I give such valuable information in front of him?" I inquire, squinting at the stranger as if trying to see him better.

The stranger shrugs. "Look, I'm just reading here. If you need me to leave, I can."

I can tell from his voice that he, like Keymaker--er, Ama--is somewhere around my age. Sixteen, seventeen? I'm not as experienced as Rhys, so I can't pinpoint it with as much accuracy. But I'm certain that it's somewhere around there.

"Abasi, can you keep a secret?" Fox asks him.

"Yeah, of course I can," he says with a nod.

"He had better," hisses Rhys as he sticks his head out of my hood. "We have no time to waste."

None of them seem surprised at the talking snake, to my relief. That would have taken some time to explain. Fox leans against the wall, and Ama looks at me with curiosity.

"Go ahead and tell them, Dirt Girl."

I fumble with my pockets before pulling out the missile given to me by Dolan. I decide to tell them the bare minimum, just to be safe. I'm just about to speak when--

"Dirt Girl? How did she get that name?" the stranger asks Fox in an undertone.  

"One, she has a snake, and two, she told me that she was born of dirt and filth herself," Fox answers before looking at me expectantly.  

I sigh inwardly before beginning, "Ten days ago, Rhys here overheard a conversation about some sort of ritual involving a tome called the Book of Silny. The ritual involved a small boy of six years as some sort of blood sacrifice. Amaryllis Keymaker was somehow involved, as someone very close to the boy. Naturally," I choose my words carefully, "I felt that I had to interfere. So when Dolan offered a mercenary task to pursue her, I took it. That way, not only would I have inside information about the details of the ritual, but I also have an excuse to pursue this Keymaker person myself."

With a start, I notice that Ama's face has been pale since the moment I started talking. I don't think that's a good sign.

"Is the boy alright, though?" she asks in a choked voice.

"The ritual ends with the boy stabbing himself, but I'm sure he'll be fine," I say sarcastically. I immediately feel terrible about my remark when I see the expression on her face, but I don't say anything about it. Which, of course, makes me feel even worse. But I can't afford to sugarcoat this. I can't tell her that the boy would be alright, because I don't have a clue. I can't give anything more than this, because I have nothing else to offer. 

The stranger raises an eyebrow at my response, to my annoyance. I still don't understand why he's here.

"W-When does this happen?" Ama asks, drawing my attention away from the stranger.

"When they find the boy." I have decided that I can't hold back my doubt any longer. "And if they have the Book of Silny, then we may already be too late."

Fox gets up from where he leaned against the wall. "They'll never find the book. The book has been hidden for ages. . ."

Her face remains pale despite the assurance, "Fox, I. . . I have the book."

"Yeah, I saw you talking about it with some guy. An Onas, I believe," the stranger pipes up.

I nearly collapse in relief at Keymaker's news. "Then there is still time," I say softly.

That had been my main fear throughout this entire ordeal, that all that I had done had been for nothing at all. That all that they needed now was the boy himself. As long as it remains out of their hands, then the boy is safe, and I keep my Dead Man's Oath.

Unfortunately, I'm not very sure if anyone else shares my relief.

"You have what? Why did you never tell me?!" Fox yells with fury.

Fox and Ama are glaring at each other, and I recognize the danger of two experienced killers about to attack. I resist the urge to step back, because of how strong the waves of anger are. I clench my hands to keep them from shaking, and I tell myself that it's just an effect of the magic.

"I just never had thought about it being part of a ritual. I'm sorry, I should have told you," Ama backs down, and my fear ebbs away.

"Whatever, just look for Xan," Fox says curtly.

She nods at him and then addresses the stranger. "Yeah, his name was Onas. He found it, but gave it to me," she sighs. "If they're talking about Xan, we have to find him, Abasi."

He—Abasi—nods. "I believe that Onas was giving him lessons of some sort."

"Wait. Lessons?" she asks, obviously angry. Again. "I told him not to go near Xan!"

"Yeah, I saw him instructing him earlier."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say with complete honesty, trying to get back on track. "But as long as we keep the book away from both the boy and Dolan, the kid should be fine, and Milovany won't be taken over."

Fox runs out of the room in a rush, and Ama turns to me in surprise.

"Wait, how come the boy can't be in contact with the book?"

"The book apparently has the power to bind the sacrifice." I'm trying to remember everything Rhys told me. The problem is that it's not very much. "The kid's blood has to spill on the thirty-ninth page, but it won't work if he doesn't touch it beforehand."

"So he just needs to touch the book, and the sacrifice won't work?"

"No. If he touches it, the book will be able to react to his blood. If he stays away, the ritual would fail."

"What if it touches anyone he's related to, like his siblings or father?"

"Then it still wouldn't work. It also wouldn't work if he avoids the book in time for his next birthday. Apparently, there's an age requirement," I answer.

"Thank goodness," she breathes in relief. "His birthday is in three days."

The stranger--Abasi--goes over to the bookcase, carefully selects a thick volume, and begins to read, to both my and Keymaker's annoyance. 

"Abasi, don't you care for Xan or Fox's well being?" Ama says with a frown.

He nods without looking up from the book. "Yes, I do. And that's precisely why I'm reading up on rituals."

Kind of late for that, Rhys says in Serpent. He slides down the length of my cloak and onto the ground, coming to a stop as he comes face-to-face with Abasi's jackal. She growls at him, and Abasi's swiftly picks her up, taking care not to get too close to Rhys.

Ama smirks at him. "What's wrong, Death Boy? Scared of a snake?"

Death Boy? What's that about?

"No, I'm scared they will attack Siwa," he says.

"Siwa's gonna have to fight sooner or later, seeing what we basically do in the guild," she sighs.

"She's only a pup right now, would you have a baby fight a lion?"

"No, I wouldn't leave it with a lion. That'd be crazy! I'd leave it with an ostrich."

While I'm glad that Abasi avoided using the word 'it' to address Rhys, I'm annoyed that he treated him like he was going to attack at any minute. I'm a semi-snake, myself, so where does that leave me? Neither me or my bind are planning to attack them, and if this boy can't realize that after everything I went through to try to help, then I don't see why I should waste any more time here.

So I glare at him, insulted.

Come back, I tell Rhys. We're not needed here anymore.

As Rhys returns to my side, Abasi catches the expression on my face.

"I do not hate the snake. In fact, they are honored creatures in Egypt, my homeland. But I hate taking chances."

"Just because you're Egyptian, that's immediately a rule to bow before snakes? That sounds dumb," Ama remarks.

"Honored, not worshiped. We keep them as pets as well, like dogs or cats, is what I'm saying."

"Well, I don't see any snake on you," she retorts with her arms crossed.

"Some of us do. I am not one of them."

At this point, my anger has abated. But I'm not sure what to make of this. I've never heard of snakes being honored. Feared, yes. Respected, sometimes. Honored . . . ? Certainly not. When other Norsemen see a snake, do they bow down immediately? Of course not. They throw whatever it is they have in their hands at the slithering thing and run in  the opposite direction.

I have the dents in my head to prove it.

"Is there anything else you want to know before we leave?" I say, watching the exchange. 

"Yes, actually," Ama responds, "I'd like to know your name. You obviously know mine even if we never met."  

"Well..." At the last minute, I decide to try to add an honorific. "Miss Ama, my name is Severin of the Dirt. And this is my best friend, Rhys."

I feel Rhys tense up by my side. I've never called him my friend before, but we've been together longer than most binds and hamr. Some hamr give up their binds so that they can pass as human. I probably could have done that, but Rhys and I . . . we're a team. We loathe the presence of each other's company, but we are practically inseparable due to everything we've been through.

Encouraged by my words, Rhys proceeds to stick his tongue out at Abasi. Because that's really mature.

"Severin, eh? I like it." Ama smiles at me and gives me a thumbs up. "But I also have another question."

"Yes, Miss Ama?" The name feels strange on my tongue. I was never one for endearing monikers.

"Why did you act so excited to meet me? You even said it was an honor. People who meet me don't really describe it as 'an honor.'"

Abasi shifts his jackal to his other arm, his eyebrow raised.

Gods. She noticed that I was trying to flatter her. I feel my face fall into an expression of panic and embarrassment before I can hide it. This is why I usually don't interact with people outside of my work. People are complicated. They love being praised and get defensive at critique, and sometimes they can't even tell the difference. Rhys is much easier to be around, since all there is to it is basically: gripe and pretend we hate each other. 

"Er,"  I try to say, and then I clear my throat. I can pull this off. I'm Severin. Making things up on the spot is what I do best. "It is an honor to meet anyone that would go to such lengths for the sake of a child, regardless of whether or not they are their flesh and blood. It is. . . a rare feat where I come from."

"Wow. . . I mean, thanks, Severin."

Her embarrassed blush tells me that I've succeeded, and I breathe easier.  Abasi doesn't seem to fall for it, and one of his eyebrows is raised as he continues reading. I don't understand why it bothers me so much, but the fact that it does makes me uneasy. I'm losing my touch, I decide. I've gone too long without taking any more jobs. This entire thing is just a big distraction, and the sooner it's over, the sooner I can go about my usual, backstabbing business.

Fox re-enters the room with relief painted on his face. "Xan is fine. He's sleeping right now."

"So far, we are good with Xan. He is safe and we have the book," Abasi clarifies without looking up from the book.

Ama nods. "Yeah. Fox, you can't touch the book since it would probably drain you of your blood."

I. . . actually don't remember if I said that. Or if that's actually true. But at least she has the right idea, I think with slight exasperation. A lot of what I say can be pretty misleading. Sometimes it's intentional, sometimes it's an accident. Again, I don't communicate very often outside of work.

"I'm not even going to question it," sighs Fox.

I nod as if satisfied. As far as I'm concerned, I'm done here. There's just one more thing left to do.

"In that case, I will take my leave. When I took the job offered me by Dolan..." I draw a wooden knife. "I swore upon my honor to find Amaryllis Keymaker and eliminate my target. I have found Keymaker. Now I go to eliminate my target. . . which just so happens to be Dolan himself."