Everyone stared at Maine. “Say that again,” Marsha commanded her.

  Maine took a breath. “I can get you inside the Vault, but I want-”

  “No!” Seward yelled. He leapt towards Maine, his normally inexpressive face filled with panic. “Stop you little fool!” Maine flinched back from him, but Marsha was suddenly there. She grabbed the Naga’s arm and twisted it behind his back, making him jerk up onto his tiptoes.

  “No, don’t listen to her!” Seward tried to plead. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about! Matthew! Tell them, your sister’s lying!” Her brother only stood there staring, completely dumbstruck, as Seward fought to get free.

  Marsha pushed him towards the door, nodding to Celeste. “Get him out of here. Put him with the others!” The Elf nodded, pushing her gun into Seward’s back, but he refused to be led out quietly. She called for help as he fought back inside.

  “Maine!” he yelled, his eyes fixed on her. “Whatever you’re thinking, do NOT let them in there! You can’t!” Two more Firstborn burst into the hall, grabbing hold of Seward, but he clung to the doorframe. More came, prying loose his hands. Before they carried him bodily away, he yelled back one final time, “You can’t!”

  The door slammed shut behind them and Marsha let out a long breath. She then turned back to Maine and got down on one knee, looking the girl directly in the eye. “Now,” she said, “say that again - AND, don’t you joke with me girl!” she breathed out, hands outstretched. “I’ve got no time for it!”

  Maine clenched her fists and tried to force as much steel into her voice that she could muster. “I know how to get you inside the Vault.”

  Marsha’s eyes narrowed, and she studied her for a moment. “How?” she asked at last. “You know the spell the Naga put on it?”

  Maine shook her head.

  “Oh, that would’ve been helpful,” Lichi pouted.

  “Maybe it’s a special type of Maierson magic?” Vaux, suggested. As they all looked at him, he blushed and fiddled with his hands awkwardly. “I’ve heard some spells are passed down family lines, and I thought maybe…”

  “It’s nothing like that,” Maine shook her head again.

  “How then?” Marsha grunted impatiently. “You spy on your Granny coming and going?”

  “No, I spied on my Grandmother’s maid going in to clean it.”

  Everyone stared at her. Marsha opened her mouth and then closed it quickly, completely speechless for the moment. Then she snorted. “Figures. I didn’t think the old Hag did her own cleaning.”

  Matthew looked helplessly from his sister to the chalked in door on the wall. “Miss Imi?” he asked in a small voice. “Even Miss Imi knew?”

  The Halfling gave an impressed whistle. “The cleaning crew always knows a way in,” he nodded to himself. “It’s just like Agony at the Art Museum, or The Barbaric Bank Robbery.”

  Maine’s eyes opened wide. “Wait! I’ve read those too!” she said excitedly.

  He blinked, looking surprised at her. “Huh? You’ve read True Crime Library?”

  Maine was already rummaging through her bag, pulling out wrinkled copies of the dime-store serials she had stowed away and shoving them into his hands. “Of course! I love those types of stories,” she admitted. “Robberies, hold-ups, hostage situations gone wrong!” she nodded eagerly. “I mean, Wexxa, Wild Witch of the West or The Boy Nihilist are probably my favorite, but True Crime Libary’s pretty good too.” Her face fell a bit then. “I used to have all the issues, but then Miss Imi found them. ‘Not appropriate for someone of my age’” she parroted her, making a face.

  Miss Lichi peered interestedly over the Halfling's shoulder as he flipped through the few issues she’d handed over. Vaux gave the pair a very disapproving frown. “If you ask me,” he sniffed, “they’re not appropriate for any age.”

  Marsha raised her hands. “Can we get back to the topic at hand?” she asked impatiently. She looked at Maine. “I get the How, what I want to know now is: Why? Why are you helping us? What do you get out of it?”

  Maine looked at her, then at her brother. “I want to be a Witch,” she said quietly.

  “A Witch?” Marsha asked. “You’re a Maierson, you’re already a Witch.”

  “No, a real one!” Maine insisted. “I want to be trained! I want to study, just like my Grandmother did!”

  Matthew was looking at her, confused. Marsha shook her head. “You’re a Maierson,” she repeated. “You must have dozens of Witches and Wizards all around the world, just lining up to teach you! Any one of them would be more than happy to take you on. What’s the hurry?” Maine shook her head fiercely, but the woman went on. “It doesn’t make sense. What does getting in that Vault change?”

  “I can’t wait!” Maine yelled, suddenly. “I’ve got to be a Witch now! Now! Not ten years from now!” Her chest heaved up and down and her eyes felt wet, but she refused to dash the tears away. She would not show weakness now. “No one’s teaching magic anymore,” she told them. “There’s no schools, no tutors for someone of my age. Yeah, sure I could wait till I’m older, but what happens till then?” She found herself looking at her brother. The expression on his face was hurt, wounded even, but she forced herself to go on.

  “Maiersons’ needs magic. It needs someone who can uphold our legacy, our reputation.” She felt herself shiver as she looked away from her brother. “Maiersons needs a Witch now,” she said simply. “It needs me.”

  Marsha’s eyes narrowed again. “And the Vault?” she nodded towards it.

  “All my Grandmother’s best spellbooks,” Maine told her. “The important books, the rare ones, even the ones she wasn’t supposed to have.” Vaux raised his eyebrows and Lichi’s mouth formed an ‘O’. She drifted closer to the wall, while the Halfling edged away nervously.

  “Are you sure we should be messing with that stuff?” he asked.

  “I need them,” Maine pleaded. “I can learn things in there that no one else can teach me.” She lowered her eyes. “Things my brother certainly won’t let me learn on my own. That’s why I need to get in there.”

  Marsha stared at her hard. She rubbed at her chin and looked down at the floor. The Goblin cleared his throat.

  “I don’t think the Ledgers you want are up here either,” he said carefully, glancing over at Matthew. Her brother frowned, looking puzzled, as Vaux gestured to the back cabinets and drawers. “I’m not done looking yet, but everything so far seems to be devoted to the Factory, nothing pertaining to the family business.”

  “Family business?” her brother asked. “What are you talking about?”

  Marsha shook her head, ignoring him. She stared at the cabinets for a moment, then turned back to Maine. “How many?” she asked at last. Maine’s eyebrows rose excitedly, but Marsha raised her hands. “Don’t get too excited! You’re not leaving here with all of them. So, how many do you need?”

  Maine bit her lip suddenly. “Half?” she guessed, not expecting the question.

  “No!” Matthew burst out, but no one seemed to hear him.

  “Half? You expect us to carry them out of here for you?” Marsha asked, looking amused. She tugged lightly on the strap of Maine’s bag. “How about three books?”

  “What! Three books! I go through that in a week!” Maine scoffed. “Ten,” she countered.

  “I don’t need your help, you know that?” Marsha told her frankly. “Even if I can’t get the Naga to talk, we’ve got a fall-back plan.” She leaned back and nodded to the Halfling. “Show her.”

  He patted a bulge inside his jacket, looking proud. “Dynamite,” he smiled to her.

  Vaux jumped in sudden fright. “Buster!” he yelled, backing away quickly. “I thought we agreed you were going to leave it behind!”

  The Halfling, Buster apparently, made a face as he closed his jacket. “No, I said that I was going to leave it in safe hands.”

  “So why do you have it!”

  Marsha leaned down, smirking at Maine. “We’ll blow this entire house to kingdom come if we need to. Do the neighborhood a whole world of good,” she mused softly, then her voice went hard again. “Three books.”

  Maine was no stranger to this kind of negotiation tactic however. You wouldn’t last long in Old Coney trading dime-store books and candies from Sweetwaters if you couldn’t play hardball. She cocked her head to the side, as if listening to something. “Is that Albert I hear?” she asked, almost sweetly. Vaux flinched, glancing upwards, while Lichi cocked her head, turning around in a circle. “Do you think he’s managed to smash his way through the doors yet? Ten books.”

  Marsha made a face and her lips pinched together. “Five. Final offer,” she said at last, holding out her hand.

  Matthew pushed his way forwards. “No! Maine don’t!”

  Maine stared at her for a moment, then smiled. Her small hand disappeared in the large woman’s grip. Matthew’s head sunk down to his chest. “Five books,” she agreed, starting to pump her hand up and down. “And one more thing,” she quickly added.

  Marsha’s hand clenched tight on hers. “One more what?” she asked, her voice rumbling dangerously.

  “It’s nothing huge,” Maine promised quickly. “Really tiny actually. Like jar-sized.”

  Matthew’s head snapped back up, fear in his eyes. “Oh no,” he said in a quiet voice.

  Marsha’s grip tightened. “What is it?”

  “It’s an urn,” Maine said as her brother started to shake his head. “Look, it’s mine, alright?” she said in a rush. “I know it’s hidden somewhere in the house and this is the only place I haven’t been able to look. Five books and the urn, that’s all I want. You can take the rest.”

  Marsha’s eyes narrowed as she held onto Maine’s hand. She looked to be thinking quickly.

  Matthew pushed his way forwards, struggling with Vaux and Buster. “No, listen! No matter what you think of me, you can’t let my sister have that urn,” he told her. Marsha glared and pushed him back with one hand. “No, please! I’m being serious! It’s a matter of public safety!”

  She looked at the two struggling with him and nodded. Buster smirked. “Hey, gimme one of those pamphlets you’re always going on about,” he grunted to Vaux.

  “Oh, which one?” he asked brightly. A number of pamphlets appeared in his hands like magic. “I’ve got Late, Lunch, Lounge: Work Smarter, Not Harder, uh… Unite! Our Numbers Can’t be Divided by One, oh, take Workers Strike Your Friends and Neighbors, I need to get the punctuation fixed on that one.“

  Buster grabbed the offered pamphlet and stuffed it into Matthew’s mouth, near choking him. “Thanks,” he smiled, as he yanked the Goblin’s bandanna off and used it to gag him for good measure. Her brother coughed, going red in the face, but all the sounds he could make were muffled shouts.

  Marsha turned back to Maine. “Now, what the hell’s inside the urn?”

  “My property,” Maine said flatly.

  Marsha raised her eyebrows. Maine raised hers right back.

  The room suddenly shook, plaster falling from the ceiling. They could all hear the sound of gunfire and shouting from closeby. The Halfling grunted, ducking his head. “We don’t have time for this,” he moaned.

  “Dammit,” Marsha swore. She took a breath and then let go of Maine’s hand. “You’ve got a deal,” she said quickly. “Now get us inside that damn room!”

  Maine popped up like a rocket and ran to the wall, standing in front of the chalked door frame. “Do you need this?” Lichi asked, holding up her stub of chalk, but Maine shook her head. She was looking down at the wooden floorboards, staring hard, until she found a particular knothole in front of the door; shaped like a closed eye. She raised her foot above it, then stepped back suddenly.

  “Wait, I forgot!”

  The room shook again, harder this time and Marsha shouted. “Hurry up!”

  “Just a sec!” Maine pleaded, digging through her bag. She pulled out a small maid’s cap and an old, moth-eaten shawl. She dumped her bag down and threw the shawl over her shoulders. “It won’t work without this!” she said as she wrestled with her hair, trying to shove the unruly mess up under the cap.

  They watched her struggle for a moment, then Marsha grabbed her, muttering to herself. “Hold still,” she snapped, yanking Maine’s hair around and getting it under control. Maine fidgeted as the larger woman pushed and pulled at her hair till she had it all stuffed under the tiny cap. “There,” she said at last, tying the knot off with her teeth. The little cap looked like it was ready to burst, but it held for the moment.

  Turning around quickly, Maine adjusted her shawl. “How do I look?,” she asked. “Like Ms Imi you think?”

  Marsha gave her a flat look. “What? How should I know?” she asked angrily. “Will it work or not, that’s what I want to know.”

  Maine shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.” As Marsha ground her teeth in the background, Maine walked back to the peculiar looking knot on the floor and tapped the toe of her shoe on it three times. Blue lights sparkled under her foot as faint runic symbols appeared around the knott. Clearing her throat, she did her best imitation of Miss Imi’s hoarse voice. “It’s me. Open up.”

  There were the sudden sounds of someone drawing on a chalkboard, but fast, like a recording sped up. An image appeared before them, as if sketched by an invisible hand: a closed eye, set in the middle of the doorframe. More runic symbols began to sparkle around it and the eye began to bulge, pushing out the wall, seeming to grow more detailed with every moment. They could see wrinkles and folds in the skin, even lashes and gunk in the corner of the eye. Then the lid slowly cracked open and an iris peeked out sleepily. It blinked and began to focus.

  The Firstborn moved quickly out of the way from behind Maine, all except for Lichi who started to drift forwards. “Oh, a Mage’s Eye,” she murmured excitedly. “That’s very clever, you know.” She continued to admire it as Buster jumped forwards and pulled her back.

  The Eye’s gaze slowly settled on Maine, who waited patiently before it, head bowed. It blinked calmly, taking in the shawl and the cap, till it suddenly narrowed, the pupil sharply compressing. The runic symbols crackled around it as Maine held her pose, wondering if she’d done something wrong. Then she gasped and quickly got down on her knees, ducking her head down lower.

  For a heartbeat, the Eye continued to stare, magic crackling around it, then it seemed to soften and relax. Its eyelid began to droop closed as a hollow unlocking sound boomed from within the wall, and a small line, only a few feet tall appeared underneath it, running to the floor. The line grew wider, becoming the outline of a set of doors swinging inwards, and as the Eye closed completely, receding back into the wall, a small opening appeared below it leading into complete darkness.

  The Firstborn crowded behind Maine as she climbed to her feet. Buster stared at the tiny door, then back up at the now completely chalk drawing of the eye. “Doesn’t seem that clever to me,” he snorted. “Can’t tell the difference between a girl and a Hob!”

  “Well, it’s a Mage’s Eye, not a Brain,” Lichi shrugged. “It can see, not think for itself.” She drifted closer, inspecting the chalk drawing. “Still, it’s a very difficult spell. Your Grandmother certainly knew her stuff.”

  “Of course,” Maine said. She was staring down into the blackness, a familiar tingling sensation running up and down her spine and making the hairs on her arms stand on end. From the light of the room, she could just see steps leading down from the doorway, disappearing into darkness. Her whole life felt like it had led to this moment; months of planning, weeks of effort and preparation, just to get here. Gran’s books, everything she needed was just a few feet further now.

  Marsha bent down suddenly in front of the tiny door, peering inside. The opening was so small that she could barely fit her head through. She reached one massive arm in, feeling around in the blackness, then took hold of one of the edges and tried to use it to pull the bigger door open. No matter how much she grunted and strained however, it wouldn’t budge, and she finally fell back on the floor. She cocked an eye at the Halfling. “You give it a try.”

  He peered at the small opening carefully and then shook his head. “I think it might be too tight fit, even for me,” he admitted ruefully, slapping his stomach. Marsha glared at him, then looked at Vaux.

  “Oh, not me,” he shook his head quickly. “Goblin’s have very poor night-vision.”

  “I thought you were born in a cave?”

  “And now I live in the City, what does that tell you?”

  She let out a sigh and started to climb to her feet. Maine was already tightening the strap on her bag, pulling it closer to her. “Five books and the urn,” she reminded Marsha.

  “I remember,” the woman grumbled. Her eyes narrowed however, and she looked up to Celeste. “Grab some rope.”

  “Hey, wait!” Maine protested, but Marsha wouldn’t change her mind. In less than a minute, they had produced a length of rope and tied the end around her waist.

  “Just so you don’t get any ideas,” Marsha warned, holding the other end in her fist.

  Maine tugged at the cord. “Honestly, where do you think I’m going to go?” she asked, making a face.

  “It just makes me feel better.” Another boom shook the room and the Firstborn’s eyes flickered upwards nervously. Marsha gestured to the Elf again. “Take Mr Maierson up to the front,” she said quickly. “Maybe the sight of him under guard might slow them down.” Celeste nodded and grabbed Matthew. Her brother struggled, trying to yell through his gag, but she kicked him forwards, forcing him to the door. Maine kept her head down, avoiding her brother’s eye, but she could still feel it. It didn’t matter, she told herself. She had to do this, for the good of the family. That’s all that mattered.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Marsha nudged her in the middle of the back, pushing her towards the small door. “Time’s wasting,” she said impatiently.

  Maine nodded, pulling her focus back. She reached into her bag and pulled a small, dented hand lantern out, and shook the pyreflies inside awake. The light they cast forwards seemed dim and flickered pitifully as she clipped it to her belt, but it would have to do. She walked to the tiny opening and stared inside. Even with the lantern, she could hardly see a few inches in front of her, just the edges of the steps, leading down deeper into blackness. But first though, was the door.

  The Firstborn watched anxiously as she turned sideways, pushing and grunting as she tried to squeeze inside. Maine backed out and adjusted her bag, trying again. They watched her struggle again, as a muscle in Marsha’s jaw began to twitch. “You can get in there, right?” she asked, her voice strained.

  “Uf cous ay caan,” Maine said, her face squished up between the edges of the door.

  “Here, let me help,” the Halfling grunted, moving behind her. He put both hands on her back and braced himself. “Breath out,” he warned suddenly.

  “Wut?” was all Maine managed, when he pushed with all his might and she popped through the door. She yelled and might have gone tumbling down the stairs, when the rope went taunt and hauled her back from the edge, her arms swinging wildly in the darkness.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, poking his head in the doorway as far as it would go.

  Maine found her balance at last and stood there, trying to catch her breath. “I’m fine!”

  There was a struggle at the doorway, and Buster’s face disappeared to be replaced by Marsha’s. “Get the door open first,” she ordered her impatiently. “There’s gotta be a switch or something on the inside. Look around!”

  “Right, right,” Maine said, rolling her eyes. She felt a tug on the rope and looked back irritably.

  Marsha shook the rope again. “I’m serious! I even get a sniff of funny business and I’ll yank you right out.”

  “I’ve got it!” Maine took a breath and started down the steps. She took them slowly, advancing one at a time, both hands on the smooth, stone walls to either side of her. Within a few feet, the light from the office door had been swallowed up and she only had the dim glow of her belt lantern to see by. The air went cool and she suppressed a shiver, not wanting the Firstborn to get the idea that a Maierson could feel the cold, or could possibly be afraid. It was just a basement after all, she reminded herself, a locked, secret basement in her own house that held all of her Family’s greatest secrets. She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from rattling. Nothing to worry about at all.

  She took another step and her foot suddenly slipped forwards, right off the edge of the stair. She braced herself on the wall, crying out, and dangled there for a moment, one foot hanging in the air.

  The rope went a bit tighter. “What happened?” Marsha’s voice called out from above, her voice sounding a bit worried.

  Maine took a breath and then another. “I’m okay,” she called out, her eyes still wide. After a moment, Marsha grunted and the line slackened.

  “How deep does it go?” she heard Vaux ask faintly. Maine wished she knew herself. The office door behind her seemed dim and far away now. She’d thought the Vault must have been beneath the Library, but from the distance she’d come so far she must have been under the Square outside by now. The air was even cooler now, and there was a smell that was growing stronger, something strange and earthy, that she couldn’t identify. She continued on, step after step, and till suddenly she found herself at the bottom, with nothing but empty blackness in front of her.

  She felt behind her for the rope and gave it a quick tug. “I’m at the bottom!” She unclipped the lantern from her belt and held it up, looking around.

  “Try and find a door switch or release!” Marsha called back. “There’s got to be one around.”

  There was in fact. Maine could see a lever nearby on the wall, its purpose plain to guess. “Hmm, I don’t see anything,” she called back, trying to keep from smiling. “I’ll keep looking.” She wandered forwards, holding the lantern aloft. Most of the Vault was hidden in darkness, but her little light revealed the ends of wooden shelves, many rows high, that seemed to run down the center of the room, dividing it up into aisles that were just large enough for a single person to walk down. And, most exciting of all, the shelves weren’t empty, each one bulged with strange shapes and outlines that she could just barely make out by lantern light: full jars and bottles labeled with skulls and scribbled writing, skulls and bones lying in rows, scrolls and parchments, locked cases of gleaming bits of metal and jewels. This was it! Everything that she’d hoped for! The books had to be here, everything her Grandmother had gathered or written that she’d need to become the Witch of her dreams. She started walking faster, her breath picking up. She wanted to run down the aisles, looking at everything at once, damn the darkness! She could feel it, she’d be a proper Maierson at last, one that could make her Grandmother proud.

  She was going quickly now, scanning as far as she could see, when suddenly small and white seemed to fly directly at her from out of the darkness. She tripped and fell, screaming, and the lantern flew out of her hands. It bounced and rolled forwards, hitting the far wall. As she lay moaning on the ground, she heard Marsha call down from above, “Hey! What’s going on?” The rope went taunt again and started to pull on her and Maine rolled onto her back, tugging back at it.

  “I’m alright!” she called. Still in pain, she crawled forwards, heading towards the small lantern. Grabbing it, she swung the light around, scanning the ceiling, looking for whatever had flown out at her. She saw boxes and crates, a few Elder skulls, then suddenly the light fell on a small skeletal figure, floating in mid-air. She flinched back, but the figure remained still and she slowly lowered her arms, staring closer.

  It was a Pixie skeleton, as beautiful and frail as a porcelain doll, displayed within a glass bottle. It sat alone on the end of a shelf packed with crates, the tiny figure suspended so it seemed to glide through the air. Maine picked herself up and wandered closer, staring in awe. She’d never even known that Pixie’s had bones, but there each one was, as thin as a strand of thread, the skull itself no bigger than a blueberry. She touched the glass with her fingers, admiring the way the translucent wings seemed to shimmer and sparkle in the lantern light, and then her eyes were drawn downwards to something else that caught the lantern light.

  There were three, identical small glass jars on the shelf below the skeleton, each containing a small pile of glittering Pixie wings. Maine’s eyes widened. Pixie wings were incredibly rare and potent magical ingredients. Even the Factory didn’t have a supply. Ignoring the red ribbon wrapped around the top of the first jar, she picked it up and gave it a good shake. The wings inside tapped against the glass frantically, but they barely produced a spark - too old, too dried out. The second jar was in even worse shape, the wings almost falling to dust. When she grabbed the third jar however, it lit up in her hand, blue sparks and lights dancing inside the glass. She opened her bag to shove it deep inside and then hissed in sudden pain; all at once the glass had frosted over, almost freezing her fingers to the surface. She bit her lip to keep from crying out at the stabbing pain in her hand, as the glass jar dropped from her hand and fell deep inside her bag.

  The rope gave another sudden tug and Marsha’s voice called out. “Hey? What’s going on! You’re taking too long down there!”

  “Just a sec!” Maine called, gritting her teeth. She pulled out a length of cloth from her bag and wrapped it around her still frozen palm, tying it off with her teeth. Still trying to work some feeling back into her fingers, she walked back to the level and pulled on it with her good hand. There was a rattling clunk from somewhere above her, and the sound of stone sliding against wood. Then in the darkness, music began to play.

  It was faint at first, a small, tinkling sound, rather like a music box, accompanied by the soft click of gears whirling. She looked up to see a soft, golden light beginning to shine from just above a small box she hadn’t noticed before, set high up on the wall. The light was coming for a pair of twisted copper rods on the top of the box, each only a few inches high. There was a spark of magic, running across the ceiling, and then nearly a dozen more lights began to shine further down the wall. Dwarven lanterns, she realized, very expensive, very rare. The rods began to slowly revolve on a pedestal, twisting around each other like dancers as the music played faster, and as they spun, the light shone brighter, pushing back the darkness.

  There was the sound of pushing and shoving coming down the stairs behind her as the Firstborn descended in a rush. “Quit it! Quit it! I’m going first!” Marsha snapped, thrusting herself forwards, gun drawn. Her eyes were wide with fear as she spun around, looking down each aisle, breath hissing between her teeth. Then slowly, her gun lowered. “Oh, wow,” she breathed out in awe.

  Vaux and Lichi poked their heads out of the stairway, one on top of the other. “Incredible,” the Goblin said. He wandered forwards, looking up at the shelves then at the Dwarven lights up on the wall. “Simply incredible.” His nose twitched and he breathed in suddenly. “What’s that smell? Familiar…”

  “It’s lovely,” Lichi muttered warmly. She stood at the foot of the stairs, seeming to swell as she breathed in that strange, earthy smell that was stronger than ever. “Mushrooms,” she said. “Mushrooms used to grow here. Oyster, Chaga, Reishi… oh, and a very saucy Turkey Tail,” she laughed. Slowly, arms began to sprout from her shoulders, growing out to stroke at the walls tenderly. “They’re gone now, but I can still feel their traces…” Her strange, eyeless face seemed to grow tender, and her wide cap dipped down. “This was a place filled with great love… For a time at least…”

  The Halfling pushed his way past her, rubbing his hands together. “Well right now it’s filled with loot!” he laughed. “That’s all I care about!” He ran forwards down the center aisle, capering and nearly dancing with glee. With the lights, Maine could see that the shelves were all full, practically groaning with chests and crates, rows upon rows of bottles and vials full of colored liquids and powders. Weapons gleamed upon the walls, hanging on hooks and racks; daggers, spears, swords, and axes, each more deadly than the next. Some of the blades were wrapped in cloth and tied with red ribbons, a sure sign of a cursed or dangerous item. Maine felt a thrill of excitement as she gazed down the aisles, it was everything that she’d dreamed about.

  “I see where your family was hiding all the top-shelf items,” Marsha said to her. Maine could only nod silently. Then she breathed out in shock as her jaw fell open. As the lights illuminated more of the room, she could now see to the far end of the Vault. A huge bookshelf had been built into the back wall, running from floor to ceiling, and it was stuffed near to bursting; books, journals, and racks upon racks of rolled scrolls tied with red ribbons.

  Marsha glanced over her shoulder to see what Maine was staring so raptly at. She smirked and rolled her eyes. “Get to it kid,” she told her. “Remember, no more than five-”

  “FivebooksIgotit,” Maine yelled, already in a run.

  Laughing, Marsha put her fingers to her lips and whistled shrilly. The other Firstborn turned and looked at her quickly. “Buster, get everyone down here we can spare! I want this place unloaded, double-time!”

  The Halfling jumped, grinning broadly and scampered back up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him. Vaux meanwhile, was standing nervously before a shelf of thick jars filled with dark green fluid. Elder heads and other organs floated inside the jars; there were Goblin and Elf specimens, a huge single eye connected to a brainstem, even a many chambered Orge’s heart preserved in the liquid. He tapped softly on the glass, looking a bit sick. “Are we really taking everything?” he asked, his voice quavering.

  “Absolutely,” she smiled. He whimpered, still staring at the glass and she spoke again, more seriously. “Vaux, we need those Ledgers. Remember, whatever we get here today is useless without them.”

  He sighed, tearing his eyes away at last from the glass. “Right, right. Well, I guess I’d better get started.”

  As he started past her, the first of the Firstborn came rushing down the stairs. They came in twos and threes, shoving and pushing their way forwards, carrying empty crates and sacks. Their Maierson uniforms, pristine this morning, were now torn and bloody, their faces showing signs of heavy fighting upstairs. As they reached the Vault, they paused, staring around the room in a mix of fear and awe, crowding the entrance to the room.

  Marsha waded into the middle of them, urging them forwards. “C’mon, we don’t have all day! Load up everything! Whatever you can grab!” At the crack of her voice, they jumped and hurried forwards, breaking off down the aisles. Weapons clattered to the floor as they started grabbing them off the walls, sweeping items and boxes off the shelves. The room became filled with the sound of pounding feet and the chatter of voices as the Firstborn scrambled to get everything packed up as quickly as possible. It became pure chaos, with people bumping into each other, groups struggling to lift and move the heavier, larger pieces, and everyone fighting to get by on the narrow stairway. What happened next was entirely predictable.

  Lichi stood alone in the middle of the tumult, trying to shout advice. “If everyone could please slow down!” she called, spinning around as Firstborn rushed by. “Ah, he was first, let him by!” A Dryad staggered by her, dragging an ornate metal shield, the rim scratching a line in the floor behind her. “Can someone please help her lift that?” There was the sound of shattering glass and she turned, flinching. “Oh, please be careful!” She drifted hurriedly over towards a circle of Firstborn that were standing back from a shelf littered with broken vials. They stood in shock, watching the bubbling liquid drip down the wood, slowly dissolving it.

  As the shelf started to collapse, someone turned and asked her, “What is all that?”

  Lichi bent down, and plucked one of the smoking labels from the puddle on the floor. “Ooh, Nessus’ blood! That’s quite a rare find!” she said in a delighted voice. The arm that held the smoking label began to shrivel and turn black, before dropping off of Lichi’s body to disintegrate on the floor. “See if any of the bottles are still intact,” she urged them, nodding eagerly. “I’d love to add them to my collection.”

  She cocked her head curiously as they backed further away, but before she could ask why, there was the sound of more crashing behind her. A black, cast-iron cauldron was rolling back down the stairs, knocking anyone in its way aside. Firstborn cried out and dove for cover, but there was a group trapped at the bottom of the stairs carrying a large, standing mirror that could only watch in horror as it rolled towards them. The cauldron struck the mirror head on, and with a thunder-crack of releasing magical energy it smashed through, shattering the glass into pieces. The air tingled and sparks flew from the Dwarven lights as the cauldron rolled to a stop on the Vault floor, spilling out a woozy looking Halfling. He got to his knees, head lolling, and Lichi hurried over.

  “Stebbins! Are you alright?” she asked, concerned.

  He stumbled to his feet, eyes crossed and swaying slightly. “Ugh! Yes, I think so,” he groaned

  The cauldron rocked again and then another, identical Halfling crawled out of it. “Ugh! Yes, I think so,” the other one groaned as well.

  Lichi’s cap tilted to either side as both of the Halflings rubbed at their heads with the same motion, both smiling sheepishly. “Guess I shouldn’t have tried to lift that all on my own,” they said together. Then they frowned, blinking in confusion. “Wait? Who just said that?”

  She frowned as she stood over the two Halflings, staring goggle-eyed at each other “Stebbins, have you always had a twin?” she asked, trying to remember.

  Traffic resumed on the stairs, and Marsha spotted Celeste weaving her way down into the Vault. She pushed her way through the crowd, waving for her to come closer. “What’s going on upstairs?” she asked, shouting to make herself be heard.

  Celeste opened her mouth, but then stumbled as another Firstborn collided with her. Marsha had to reach out to steady her, pulling her close. The Elven woman flashed her a grateful smile, but all Marsha could see were the fresh scratches and scrapes on her face and neck, and how the tips of her hair were still sizzling.

  “It’s been touch and go,” Celeste admitted in a tired voice. “They almost broke through a couple times till you sent up the Maierson boy. They backed off once they saw him.”

  Marsha nodded, patting down the ends of her hair. “Sorry, I should’ve sent him up sooner,” she apologized. She hesitated for a moment, then forced herself to ask, “Have we lost anyone-”

  Celeste pushed off of her suddenly, waving her hand. “You want to talk about that now?” she asked, sounding sharp and bitter. “We’ve still got a job to do.”

  She started to walk away, when Marsha reached out and grabbed her arm. “How many have we lost?” she asked again.

  Celeste sighed, looking down. “Three, so far,” she admitted.

  Marsha’s grip tightened. “Three?”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Celeste said, pulling away from her. She started to wave on the nearest crew, urging them on faster. “Whatever it costs!” she said, throwing Marsha’s own words back at her. “Remember?”

  Marsha watched her go, swallowed up by the rush of the Firstborn. She stood alone in the middle of the crush for a moment, bodies lugging boxes and crates bumping past her. Then she spun around, stalking back towards the back of the Vault. Celeste was right, the job was more important right now. They could mourn later. This was worth it, she told herself. This was worth it.

  The Firstborn had reached the end of the room by now. Goblins carrying tall, swaying stacks of books staggered past her towards the stairs while more climbed up onto the shelves or scaled the ladders. “Maierson?” she called out, dodging books as they rained down around her. “Maierson? Where are you?”

  Her foot suddenly kicked Maine’s bag, lying abandoned on the floor. There was a grunt and she turned to see Maine clinging to the top few shelves, tugging at a book that was wedged into place. “What are you doing?” Marsha asked. “Get down from there!”

  “This… one is a… bit… stuck!” Maine said through clenched teeth. She let go of the shelf, throwing her whole weight against the book, and it jerked loose with a pop, sending her falling backwards.

  Before Marsha could stop herself or even think better, she jumped forwards, catching the girl before she hit the stone floor. “Little fool! What were you thinking?” Instead of looking grateful, Maine just lay there smiling, clutching the tiny book to her chest. “What is that?” Marsha asked.

  The book was a small, leather-bound journal, unremarkable except for a small ‘M’ stamped in the corner. As she held it, Maine could almost hear the scratch of a familiar pen writing, swift and sure. She brought the journal up and touched her lips to the surface, breathing in that scent of dark, rich coffee, clove cigarettes, and jasmine perfume. “It’s my Grandmother’s journal,” she said, her eyes watering. Her fingers trembled as she cracked the book open, flipping through the pages. “It’s priceless, everything my Grandmother ever worked on is… Hey!”

  Marsha moved closer, curious, as Maine started to flip through the journal, faster and faster. “What? I don’t-” she said, growing more agitated.

  “What is it?” Marsha asked.

  “I can’t read any of it!” Maine exploded, thrusting the book at her. Marsha took it and turned it over as Maine pouted. The pages were full of slanted, looping writing, completely indecipherable to her.

  Marsha glanced over it for a moment and then shrugged, handing the book back. “Tough break,” she told her bluntly. She started to walk over to the other Firstborn, still scrambling to pack up the rest of the shelves. “That still counts as one of your five by the way.” Maine stuffed the journal down into her bag, still fuming, and stuck her tongue out at the woman’s back.

  Maine’s head jerked up in a panic as Marsha called back to her, “Hope you’ve found everything you were looking for.”

  “Everything, right,” she said nervously, her eyes scanning what was left inside the Vault. The Firstborn had been working like mad, and more than half the shelves were already bare. “Uh, almost!” She scooped up her bag and threw it over her shoulder, walking quickly down one of the aisles. The urn! She still hadn’t found the urn. Where was it? It had to be in here somewhere; she’d turned the mansion inside and out for weeks, it couldn’t be anywhere else! She dodged around Firstborn, looking high and low to see what was left. Someone ran past her carrying a crate filled with jars and pottery and she lunged for it. “Um, wait a minute!” she called.

  “Leggo!” the Elf said, wrestling with the crate as Maine hung off it, rummaging through the contents. She fell back with a disappointed sigh. Maybe someone had already grabbed it? Maine started to chew on her thumbnail, still pacing the aisles. Could it already have been packed away, up in a Firstborn wagon? What could she do then? She glanced through an open shelf to her left, still worrying, when suddenly she found herself staring into a familiar set of sharp, yellow eyes.

  It was Fink! He was in the Vault, in the very next aisle, blinking back at her. Maine stared, sure she must have been imagining him, but then he smiled back at her, and she saw his gold teeth winking. It was him, in the bold, red-checkered flesh. He had a Maierson cap pulled low over his brow, but there was no mistaking him. She looked quickly down the aisle, trying to see if any of the Firstborn were watching, then leaned in across the shelf and hissed at him, “What are you doing?”

  “The same thing you are,” he told her, smiling shamelessly. He reached up and grabbed a coiled length of silver wire, wrapped on a spindle, and dropped it into a bulging sack at his feet. “Looking for the best pieces I can grab.”

  She glared at him, grinding her teeth. “How did you get down here? This place is crawling with Firstborn!”

  “Aw, they’re too busy to notice me,” he waved his hand, unconcerned. Three more items slid off the shelf and into his sack. “And what’s to see? I’m just another helping hand, after all.”

  “Did I hear you right, though? Did you really find Madelyn’s journal?” he asked suddenly, his eyes all alight. He pressed his face against the shelves, looking hungrily towards her bag. “How extraordinary! Could I take a look perhaps? Just a peak?”

  The skin on his face stretched and seemed to start to tear as he pressed forwards. Maine took a step back and pulled her bag close. “It’s none of your business!” she snapped. “Get out of here! Before someone sees you!”

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” he chided her, pressing himself even further through the shelf. It seemed impossible that a person of his size could manage to fit, but his body almost seemed to ooze through the narrow opening. “Maybe we could help each other, hmmm? Trade what we’ve found?”

  She started to back away, nervous. “Uh, have you- Have you seen an urn nearby?” she asked, unable to think of anything else. “It’s small, like a stone vase, sealed up with magic?”

  Fink paused in sudden surprise. “An urn?” he asked, thinking. “No, can’t say that I have.” His eyes grew sly then. “What is it? Something special?”

  “Uh, no! Not special,” she said quickly, suddenly regretting asking. “Not special at all!” He started inching forwards again, clearly not believing her. Her back bumped up against the far shelf and she was brought up short. “My Gran made it,” she admitted in a sudden squeak.

  “Your Gran made it?” he asked, sounding suddenly delighted, then his voice filled with undisguised greed. “What does it do?”

  She was saved from answering by Vaux’s voice suddenly calling out.

  “I’ve found it! I’ve got the Ledger!” he cried, running down the aisle behind Fink. The Goblin held a wide, brown book in his hands, bulging with clips of paper and notes that spilled out behind him as he ran. With an almost audible pop, Fink reversed himself and oozed back through the shelf. As more Firstborn ran towards Vaux, Fink ducked his head down and slunk off in the opposite direction. Maine breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Let’s see it!” Marsha cried out, hurrying over to Vaux. A large crowd had formed around them, eager to see. Curious herself, Maine drifted over, looking curiously at the Ledger held in the Goblin’s hands. It didn’t seem very magical to her, just a normal business ledger, no different than any of the dozens in Gran’s office or the Factory. Yet Marsha’s hands seemed to tremble as she took it from the Goblin, and she sighed as she cracked it open, scanning through the first few pages.

  Her lips mumbled as she read, tracing the words with one hand. The Firstborn waited anxiously around her while Vaux tapped his claws together excitedly. “What did I tell you,” he said, almost breathless. “I knew they had to have a record here somewhere! I knew it!”

  Marsha nodded. “This is it! Everything we need!” She slammed the book shut and held it up to the group, like she’d just found the most valuable piece in the entire Vault. “Firstborn! Well done!” she cried. As they started to cheer, Maine edged closer, trying to figure out what was going on. She saw Fink slinking closer as well, sticking to the edge of the crowd. Their eyes met and then both went to the book in her hands. What had the Firstborn been looking for?

  The cheering went on for a moment, then Marsha cut it off with a slash of her hands. “Okay, we’re done here!” she shouted. “Pack up whatever you’ve got and get it to the wagons!” The Firstborn gave one last cheer, louder than anything before. There were still many books and artifacts left on the shelves, even some larger, expensive looking ones, but they ignored them all, running now for the exits. The robbery was apparently over, and Maine still hadn't found what she was looking for.