Every ordinary test of Escape Portal provided the same results. It appeared the journal or the Greater Being behind it had decided on the destinations long ago and refused to go anywhere but the three preset destinations. Things only changed after El-Prime sacrificed a cheap essence. Only one option appeared afterward: Iskander. The portal led onto a familiar roof. It was the inn that had served as his first home in the port city and where he had met Penelope.
A lone clone walked through the circular opening in reality and embraced the sea winds blowing inland. It was warm compared to the frigid mountain gales ever-present in the Gray. The Schwartzberg kingdom smelled significantly better, but he didn’t mind. The clone gladly removed the warm layers necessary in the frigid environments and stashed them in the soulbound relic’s Hidden Compartment.
The neighborhood had significantly changed since El-Prime fled the city. The immediate surroundings enjoyed a significant regeneration. New buildings had replaced the old, several structures had undergone refurbishment, and there was a greater police presence on the streets. Everything appeared better maintained while the residents seemed content. The clone watched the surrounding streets for several minutes and spotted no pickpockets or pedestrians checking for threats.
When he started moving, the clone began to think that El-Prime had left Iskander a better place than he had found it. Then, he passed the next neighborhood. Sharp felt like an inadequate word when describing the contrast between the two. It looked like a warzone. Buildings were crumbling, tents and people in rags filled the streets, and a group fought one another even though it was the middle of the day. The only guards he spotted bordered the area, seemingly keeping the rabble confined within.
As the clone ventured further from his point of arrival, he passed through more similar pockets. The frequency, size, and density of the chaotic neighborhoods increased the farther one ventured from Iskander’s marble center and the docks.
Is this our fault? Did we fuck up the harmony between the guards and the street gangs that badly?
Fortunately, the clone’s destination was in one of the peaceful neighborhoods. To ensure no one was following him, he did a few laps of the area before slipping into an alley and donning Shade’s Mantle. It took minimal effort to compress and shape the billowing mass of shadows into a skin-tight suit around his entire body. It didn’t conceal his vision but sufficiently masked his appearance and presence.
“Who is it?” A familiar voice demanded from within when he knocked.
“An old friend,” the clone answered. “Thought I’d drop by for a visit.”
A strange humanoid creature with a canine head opened the door. Its snout was rounded and its eyes soft. A four-fingered hand waved the clone in, gesturing for him to hurry up. As soon as he crossed the building’s threshold, the creature closed the door and turned several locks. Some clicked, others came alive with an arcane hum.
“Show him in and brew a fresh pot!”
The clone didn’t need to be told where to go. El-Prime, Elvis, and the others had been through the building before. More strange creatures stalked the giant open-floor entrance hall and the connecting passages. He followed the central path, ending up in a moonlit courtyard larger than the building was on the outside. A muscly, middle-aged woman occupied one of the two armchairs at its center.
“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” Esther commented, flashing the clone a motherly smile. She waved at the free seat, gesturing for him to sit. Her leg was in a cast. He hoped it wasn’t service to the Shadow Seekers that had resulted in the injury. Esther had temporarily resumed her duties as the chapter master to help him. “Don’t tell me you already lost favor with Ogden or the Schwarzbergs.”
“I’m making far too much money in the Gray to jeopardize things,” the clone answered. “We already—”
“Hold on a moment,” her eyes narrowed. Esther looked him up and down before sighing. “You’re a clone.”
“Couldn’t you tell?”
Esther shook her head. “Whatever you’re doing to confuse my senses is working exceptionally well. Which one are you? El-Four?”
“There are eight of us now, and we’ve mostly moved past the number-names. I’m Flukas.”
“Flukas?” Esther asked, raising an eyebrow.
The clone nodded. “I don’t just look like El-Prime but also have the best ability to impersonate him. The clone secret isn’t much of a secret anymore. The authorities believe he can create intelligent golems capable of mimicking him.”
“My Union and guild contacts have kept me up to date on your activities,” Esther commented. “I thought you lot would want to stay under the radar. I’m starting to wonder if you can’t help draw attention to yourselves. But people are starting to talk about you and the Cold Fire Sorcerer in the same breath.”
“It was a purely business decision,” Flukas answered. “It's been a while since El-Prime has appeared anywhere where his life might be in danger.”
“I imagine it's usually you who goes in his place?” Esther snorted, appearing amused.
“Or Ace. Occasionally, it’s Bowie.”
“Ace? Bowie?”
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“We hyper-specialized clones get special names. Each of us has a unique ability.” Flukas pointed at himself. “Chronicler. Ace has Fortune’s Favor. Bowie got Joybringer.”
“Those are all potent abilities,” Esther mumbled, frowning. “Lukas must be investing each mid-tier upgrade in one ability. What is he doing nowadays?”
“El-Prime is too busy conducting research, practicing spellweaving, or exploring the mines. It’s all temporary, though. We plan to move on from the Gray in a few months. It’s part of the reason I’m here.” Flukas called the journal forth and retrieved two objects from its storage space. “We’re already selling these in the Gray, but getting products out of the Schwarzberg’s lands is challenging. So, I thought I’d pitch them to the big merchants and other guilds personally.”
The wizard raised an eyebrow, studying the first of them. “This script looks like a modified Shocking Touch. I don’t see any functions besides heating the metal plate and making it extra durable. Is that it?”
“Cook on the road without a campfire. Keep warm when frigid. Do whatever you want with an adjustable disc of heatable, highly durable steel.” The clone grinned. It was the Joybringer clone who came up with the pitch. “It’s cheap and effective. Shadow Seekers and Aquila parties in the Gray have been investing heavily in these.”
“I can see why,” Esther said, placing it on the table. “Flint and kindling can get bulky. Firewood is too weather-dependent and unreliable. I imagine our Undercity delvers will love these. Damp. Scarcity. Fire always draws unwanted attention.” She turned her attention to the second object, frowning. “Illusion script? I can’t make heads or tails of this enchantment. What in Yggdrasil’s name does this do?”
“Ogden loves these and ordered prototypes to send out to all Shadow Seeker chapters,” Flukas answered. He turned a panel, and the device projected an illusion through a glass lens on one end. A roc appeared, diving at a cowering Jotun child. “A picture speaks louder than words.”
“This box stores illusions?” Esther asked, eyes widening. She snatched the device from Flukas’s hands. She fiddled with the levers and attachments, deactivating the projection.
“It's intended as an intelligence gathering device,” Flukas said. He took the camera from Esther, pointed the lens at her, and triggered the switch on top. A soft click followed. The clone then projected an image of the bewildered wizard in her chair next to her. “Send someone equipped with one of these into a monster nest or enemy territory, capture whatever information or evidence you need, and flee. This one is taking a bit longer to catch on, especially with the guilds, but the Gray’s mages and scholars love it. We have quite a few orders.”
“I could document my projects with these. Can I—”
“It’s yours. El-Prime thought you might want one, so he gave me a couple of extras.”
“Thank you.” Esther momentarily appeared her age as she smiled, wrinkling more than usual. “Was this purely a social call, or is there more to this visit?”
“We just thought you might enjoy a bit of a catch-up,” Flukas answered. “I’m sure we both have a lot to tell each other.”
The odd canine-headed humanoid brought a fresh cup of tea and fresh cups. Flukas told Esther everything that had happened in the almost two years since they last saw each other, including details that he hadn’t shared with Penelope or Shadow Seekers. He told her about Minerva, El-Prime’s plans with Iris, and also work with Weaver.
If Esther thought poorly of El-Prime and the clones or judged any of their actions, she didn’t say. Instead, as the former leader of the local Shadow Seekers chapter and an experienced wizard, she provided sound advice on how to use the magic he had already learned, and also provided ideas for enchanted items. El-Prime had already brainstormed many of them and started work on a couple. Most of the rest was impossible, but Flukas noted a couple. An experienced local's insight has always proved invaluable.
The best artisans of the Gray competed to produce unique, powerful items that best complemented powerful individuals or common fighting styles and arcane schools. It wasn’t just about money for them, but also the prestige. As far as El-Prime and the clones could tell, very few focused on valuable but straightforward tools, and even fewer pursued anything as pedestrian as mass production. The latter group didn’t work as hard but made almost the same amount of money.
Meanwhile, the Zaun smithy only made unique equipment for El-Prime and the clones. Anything that didn’t turn out good enough for them to use or felt redundant went on the market. Mass production and the sale of the induction discs and cameras had taken over the business.
“The city has changed,” Flukas said, changing topics when the conversation began to stagnate, and Esther got preachy. “What’s the problem? New guard captain or a new gang?”
“A bit of both,” Esther answered. “Things haven’t yet settled since you left. The Grey Rats fragmented into a dozen different gangs. They claimed territories, fragmented further, and the city guard has struggled to keep them under control. The council, guilds, and the Union lost faith in them after all the corruption came to light. I mean, they all knew about it, but it's all optics, and there are some things the public and allies can’t forgive.
“They turned to the guilds and mercenary guilds, but the lack of unity has resulted in the current state of things.” She sighed. “We’re working on it. You’ll be happy to know, though. The slave ring has collapsed, and we’ve throttled the smuggling rings to the point of being too expensive to operate.”
“It sounds like the city needs stricter leadership and military rule like the Schwartzberg lands,” Flukas commented.
“The Union and merchant organizations won’t stand for it. Iskander is built on the spirit of freedom and open markets. The council wouldn’t dare change that as it would harm the port and their income.” Esther adopted a mocking tone. “They don’t want to harm the spirit of the city.”
“El-Prime doesn’t miss this place. Neither do I, to be honest. It was fun while we were here, but no one fires bolts or spells at us while we’re in the Gray.”
“Wasn’t your El-Prime kidnapped and almost sacrificed in a grand eldritch ritual?” Esther teased, eyes narrowing.
“Yes, but it was all part of the plan, and we had failsafes in place. The lack of chaos made it much easier to keep track of everything and maintain control. Penelope and the entourage were in on it, and multiple clones were in place to ensure everything went to plan. El-Prime—”
“Flukas is apt.” Esther laughed. “I think other clones would’ve used this opportunity to make fun of him. It's your lives, do what you want. Perhaps I’m too old for such risks. If you ask me, it was too big a risk, and steering clear would’ve been safer. You owe everything to Morph. Biomancy is a powerful and dangerous ability. If he can help you bring the Aquila down a notch, nothing like it.”
“You don’t like them, do you?” Flukkas asked.
Esther rolled her eyes. “They’re pretentious, power hungry, and two-faced.”
“You’re not wrong there. Morph is close to a big breakthrough. We’re sure of it. Ogden is ready to swoop in, and the Conclave is bound to get involved if we find their eugenics operation.”
“I hope you do. Snake is going to be ecstatic if you pull it off. He might even take some time off and visit the Gray just to shake your hand.”