Tallis stood in the captain’s office wearing his best jacket and tie. The office was beautiful in a gaudy, overdone sort of way. It had its own fireplace topped with plaques and trophies, a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, lit with white magical stones, and a massive desk with gold filigree riveted around the edges dominated the room. The room was big enough to hold all three clerks and some of their files.

The captain matched the room perfectly. She was a hard eyed woman with golden-brown skin and straight black hair. Tallis had never seen her dressed in anything other than fine gowns. 

The captain stared at him over the rims of her glasses and flipped through the report Tallis had left for her. “The sergeant came to talk to me this morning. I understand you’re responsible for hindering his investigation. Do you have anything to say about that?”

“If you’ll look at the letter …” Tallis began.

The captain held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t have time. I don’t have time, Tallis, to sit and read a ten page manifesto. What I do have time for is for you to stand there and tell me what is going on.”

“Yes, ma’am. Well, you see.” He struggled to find the right words. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.

She held up a hand, silencing him again. “Collect yourself. Don’t stand there tongue tied and piddling all over my carpet.”

He took a deep breath and started again.  “The man Allistair arrested is innocent.”

“Then why did he sign this?” The captain slid a single page across the desk. “It’s a confession. The farmer says quite clearly that he unwittingly summoned a Fae creature thanks to materials he had stored illegally on the property.”

“That’s not what happened,” said Tallis. He crossed the room and picked up the confession. “He didn’t do any of this. Half the time I was in that room he didn’t even know what we were talking about.”

“But then his story changed.”

Swallowing hard, Tallis laid the page back down on the desk. “Well, yes. I suppose, but-”

“But nothing.” An edge of steel crept into the captain’s voice and she stood, placing her hands on the desk and leaning forward. “I know you haven’t been here long so I am going to make this as simple as possible. People who lie don’t keep their stories straight. Ever. People who tell the truth only have one story to tell.”

“You don’t get it,” Tallis pleaded. “You should have seen him.”

“One, if you are going to stand there and whine you can leave right now. Two, it is not your damn place to me what I do or don’t understand.” The captain stepped out from behind the desk, her voice rising in volume. “And I have seen him, listened to him. I took the fucking notes for the sergeant. Piss off back to your desk.”

What a disaster. His legs had gone to jelly and his guts had tied themselves into a knot. It was time to play the ace he had up his sleeve. “The sergeant isn’t who he says he is. He’s a Faeruner.”

The captain spread her arms wide and stepped closer. “Whippity, dippity do. He’s a runner. I’m a captain. Water is wet. Any other brilliant revelations?”

He took a step back, inadvertently. “You knew?”

“It’s why I hired him. People change, Tallis. He used to be a runner. Now he puts more Faerunners away than the rest of the office combined. You used to be the best clerk in the building, now, you’re just being a pain in the ass. I am done. Get out. Go home. Come back tomorrow with a better attitude and I might let you keep your job.”

Tallis turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

The sergeant was waiting for him by the door. “Didn’t sound good in there, boy,” he said with a smirk.

Tallis grit his teeth and squared his shoulders, torn between giving the other man a piece of his mind and making a run for the nearest saloon.

Allistair laughed. “You want to make something of it?” The sergeant stepped closer, grinning like a hyena.

Closing his eyes, and letting out a long breath, Tallis decided to be the bigger man and walk away.

Allistair stepped in front of him. “That’s what I thought. Too weak to lift a damn finger.”

Tallis let out a growl and swung. The sergeant bobbed to the side and threw a jab into his ribs. Tallis’ breath caught in his throat and a wave of hot red pain blossomed across his right side. Coughing he fell to one knee. Allistair drove a knee into his chin. Blinding pain danced over him, filling his entire world with sharp stars of white agony. He fell onto his back, gasping for breath.

“Are you done?” said Allistair.

Tallis nodded. He opened his eyes in time to meet the steely gaze of the captain.

“What is going on out here?” she asked.

Allistair pointed down to Tallis’ sprawled form on the floor. “He swung on me.”

The captain knelt down and gave Tallis a sharp pat on the cheek. “On your feet, kid. You’re done here.” She wrapped a set of iron fingers around his arm and hauled him to his feet with one hand. Still blinking the stars from his eyes, Tallis shuffled along as she drug him to the front desk. “Erwin, I need you to pay out Tallis’ last paycheck. He’s done.”

“Yes ma’am,” said the receptionist.

The captain gave Tallis another small slap. “You hear that? Cheque’s in the mail, Tallis. Goodbye.” She gave him a shove out the door. Tallis stumbled out into the street. Dazed.

He stood there a moment numb. Was any of this real? Was this just some horrible dream he would wake up from? The city buzzed around him, providing no comfort or answers in its tune. People pushed past him, knocking him off his moorings and setting him adrift. He bobbed in the current, shuffling along aimlessly with the crowd. People split off from the press of bodies, going about they’re business but Tallis kept shuffling forward, head down, eyes locked to the cobblestones.

The stones gave way to hard packed dirt and Tallis picked his eyes up from the dirt. Ragged, soot stained buildings crowded to either side of him, and a squat house with peeling paint and broken windows sat ahead of him, blocking his path. A skinny figure darted in through the front door and a flash of green dropped from their pocket and the ring of crystal breaking echoed up the alley. Reality flinched and the ground in front of the house rippled. Sharp spikes of earth lanced through the door frame and a panicked squeal rang out from behind the door.

Tallis’ body flew into motion of its own accord. His brain was likely still on the floor at the office but his legs carried him to the old house regardless. Weaving his way through the forest of spikes, he slid to a stop in front of the door and pounded on it.  

“Hello,” he shouted. “Is someone hurt?”

“Gods, my arm!” a high, thin voice cried in response.

“I’m coming!” Tallis picked a fallen board up from a dry flower bed next to the door and used it to knock the shards of glass away from one one of the broken windows. He crawled inside and tumbled to the floor, wincing as something poked into his already sore ribs. A young woman sat in front of the door, cradling her arm. There was blood everywhere.

With a silent farewell to his favourite tie, Tallis stripped it off and handed it to her. "Here. You can use that as a bandage."

She wrapped the tie around the gash in her arm.

He picked the bag of crystals and opened it carefully. "Is there a blank green in here?"

She stood with a groan and snatched the bag away from him and upended it. Stones clattered to the floor.

Tallis felt every muscle in his body tense up. This was it. This was how he died. Cautiously, he opened one eye. He was still in the mouldering remains of an old house, still surrounded by peeling wallpaper and heavy carpets of dust. Apparently he was still alive. He bent down and picked a dull green stone from the pile. Holding it at arms length between his thumb and forefinger, he stepped forward and touched the gem to the earthen spike piercing the door. His mind rolled back to the ritual with his father, to the way the smoke in the clearing pooled around the energy in the area. He held that image in his mind, imagining a pall of smoke swirling around the spike then, he let it go and pictured the smoke swirling up and away into the air.

The spear crumbled to dust and the stone in his hand pulsed with a steady green glow.

Coughing, the young woman stepped forward and scooped all the loose gems back into the sack with her good arm. "Do you have the money?"

"What money?" asked Tallis. He stepped over to the broken window and spat a wad of mud and grit into the street. Next time he was around enchanted dirt he'd make sure to keep his mouth closed.

“You’re not the buyer?”

He squinted through the haze of dirt blowing down the alley. Two people were coming towards the house. “What are you talking about? Someone is supposed to buy these?”

She stepped up behind him and leaned around his shoulder, peering down the street. “Course. No sense running them if there’s no money in it.”

A high and clear voice cut through the haze of dust. “Cold Iron Detective Agency! Come out with your hands up.”

Tallis hung his head. How much worse could this day get? He looked at the young woman behind him. She was a few years younger than he was. His father Norman would say she was somewhere between hay and grass, not quite grown. She didn’t need any bullshit to deal with. The busted arm was bad enough.

“Run,” he said, dejectedly.

“Really?”

He blew out a long sigh. “Yes. I’ll keep them talking while you slip out the back.”

The girl didn’t need to be told twice. She spun on her heel and ran out the back door.

Tallis poked his head out the broken window. “There’s no one here,” he yelled.

The two detectives in the alley stopped short and exchanged a look. “Is that the guy from the filing room?” one of them asked.

“Yeah, it is.” Tallis opened the door and stepped out onto the ruined porch.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I was on my way in for my shift when I saw some magic go off in this house.” Looking up to the sky he mouthed a silent prayer to whatever gods would listen that the bluff would hold up.

The first detective stepped inside and knelt next to the discarded bag. She opened it with a grimace. “Hell, you could level a city block with this.”

“Um, yeah. The runner with the bag dropped one on the way in. It blew the whole front of the house apart.”

The second detective poked at a smear of blood on the wall. “Looks like it got a piece of them.”

“I thought I heard someone scream,”  said Tallis, nodding. Taking a notepad out of his vest pocket and started taking notes as if he were working the case. Sweating like a fat man in a feather bed, Tallis followed the detectives around taking notes, making rough sketches of the scene and offering what little insight he could.

When they had combed through every inch of the derelict building the detectives patted him on the back and said the words he’d been dreading. “That was good work for a coffee boiler. Let’s head back in and get this reported.”

Tallis swallowed past the lump in his throat. He was out of options. Time to play the hand he’d been dealt. Together, they walked back to the office and through the double doors.

The receptionist frowned. “Tallis? I thought we fired you.”

He shot a nervous look to the detectives on either side of him, turned and bolted. The detectives gave chase but they didn’t know the city like he did. He pounded down an alley and into the center of a bust street with the detectives hot on his heels. The coffee houses and hotel restaurants were starting to fill up and the streets were packed with workers on their way in to start preparing for the dinner rush. His lungs were on fire and a sharp pain lanced through his side, but the gap between them was widening. Ducking into a general store, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. The detectives came around the corner and looked up and down the road. The taller of the two spotted him and pointed.

Tallis bit back a curse and vaulted over the counter. The poor shopkeep stumbled backwards and pulled a stubby pistol from his waistband. Tallis landed badly and dove forward. There was a flash of pain in his ankle.

Stumble.

Crash.

Gunshot.

He flew through the backroom and bounced out into the street behind the shop. Shouts drifted out of the shop behind him. The shopkeep was thoroughly pissed and he was doing a great job of holding up the detectives. With a deep breath, he grit his teeth and kept running, feet pounding down the stones he pushed on aimlessly until he found himself back at the scene of the crime. Back to the ruined house. He shouldered his way through the front door, and slumped down into the dust on the floor. His legs had all the strength and stability of a bowl of oatmeal. What a mess today had turned into. The detectives hadn’t missed anything in the old house but Tallis still had one question: how long had a cell of Faerunners been operating right under their noses?

If he could find this mystery buyer maybe there was still a chance for him, maybe there was a way back into Cold Iron, maybe he’d still be able to end up with a paycheque. With a groan, he pulled his jellied legs back under him and stood, limping off to a crooked chair in the corner. A cloud of dust and a sharp creak came out of the chair as he sat down to wait for whoever was supposed to buy the gems.

The buyer came into the room nearly an hour later, and they came in shotgun first. Tallis’ breath hitched in his throat when he saw the pair of sawn off barrels peek through the doorway. A pair of horns followed and he found himself staring up at a familiar Fae.

Callan was still wearing his fringed buckskin pants, but he’d thrown on a white shirt, red vest, and a small bowler hat was perched on his head between his horns.

He lowered the gun and a smile spread across his face. “You are the last person I would have thought to find in here.”

“I take it you’re the one who was supposed to buy the crystals?” Tallis would have like to stand up in case the fae got angry and he needed to run again but his legs were having none of it. An aching cramping feeling rolled down from his hips to his toes. He’d likely never walk again.

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Callan slipped the shotgun into a holster hanging off his belt, and looked down at the smear of blood. “If someting happened to one of our runners I will be very, very unhappy.”

Tallis was sure the Fae warrior could squish him like an ant if he wanted to. He did his best to tell the story, knowing that if the warrior didn’t like his answer that was it for him.

Callan took a short flask out of his vest pocket and took a long drink. “This is not good.”

Tallis’ legs finally started working and lifted him out of the chair. He inched towards the back door. “There wasn't anything I could do. Not with two detectives in here.”

“There is always a choice,” Callan shrugged and headed to the back door, peeking outside and looking up and down the street. If he was looking for his runner, she was long gone. “You had a whole satchel full of magic on hand. You could have fought.”

Tallis limped down the hall after him. “There was a whole pile of red stones in there. I would have flattened the building.”

Callan turned and gave him a hard look. The Fae had golden eyes that seemed to go right through Tallis’ soul. “I believe that.” He pointed out into the street. “Follow. I want you to see what the spells were for.” 

It couldn't hurt, Tallis thought. At best he'd be able to present an even better case to Cold Iron. Let's see how well the sergeants claim that he was hindering investigations held up when he came back with an entire ring of Faerunners in chains.

Callan led him out the back door and into an older section of the city. The cobblestones of the more modern areas were nowhere to be seen and the houses crowded close together like they were leaning on each other for support. At second glance he was sure some of them actually were being held up by their neighbors. The neighborhood was a hodgepodge of cracked windows, peeling paint, and rotten wood but the people seemed happy. Children ran through the dirt streets, playing and jumping in puddles, families sat together on front steps and porches, laughing. It was a bit rough, but the place had heart.

"Who are these people?" asked Tallis.

"Mostly seasonal workers," said Callan with a shrug. "What you're seeing here is the blessed week between the last harvest and the lumber camps opening for winter."

"And these people are your Faerunners?" It made sense. Transient workers would have an excuse to come and go often, they'd be good candidates to run spells into town.

"No, not many of them." Callan laughed. "They're mostly customers. Watch."

The Greater Fae walked up to the nearest house and knelt by the front step, laying a hand on a rotten board. He muttered a lyrical sounding phrase and a flash of emerald light leapt from his palm. The wood groaned and knit itself back together.

Tallis walked up behind him. The step almost looked new. "I don't get it, so you're trying to tell me that you were looking to buy a boatload of crystal just to do some home repair?"

Callan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Among other things, but yes. Spellbound wood won't last quite as long as a proper fix but it makes a nice stopgap until you have time to fix it right."

"They can't just buy lumber like everyone else?"

"If you had to choose between buying boards and buying bread what would you pick?"

Tallis crouched down and knocked on the enchanted step, surprised by how solid it felt. "I'm not sure I follow. These people can hardly feed their families but they can spells? The last I heard magic was expensive."

"They're not paying for it." A hard edge crept into Callans voice. "I am."

"You're paying? Just out of the goodness of your heart?"

Callan shrugged.

"Okay. So riddle me this, if your green gems are for fixing steps, what were all the reds for?"

"Those ones are … personal."

"Personal, huh? You could do a lot of damage with that much red stone."

The warrior rounded on him and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You are wearing on my nerves, human."

The Greater Fae towered over him, glaring, and Tallis shrank back a step. “I’m sorry.” Everyone in the agency liked to talk tough when it came to the Fae. They liked to say that even the greatest among them weren’t worth their worst detective. The truth was the Greater Fae were terrifying. Tallis couldn’t help but think back to his childhood on the ranch, and his father Norman warning him away from a bull. He had more than a few horror stories about inexperienced hands coming down on the wrong side of a pair of horns.

The Fae blew out a snort, doing nothing to help dispel that angry bull image. “Don’t be sorry. Be quiet.”

Tallis nodded, saying nothing.

“That’s better,” said Callan. He bent down a little, coming eye to eye with the smaller man. “I don’t think you belong in Cold Iron. You have a better heart than they do.”

Tallis was taken aback. He shuffled another step backwards. “I don’t know about that.” Sure, there were a lot of people in Cold Iron like Allistair, a lot of people who were more concerned with making themselves look good, but there were an equal number of detectives who were just trying to make the city safer. “Cold Iron keeps people safe. They are helping.”

“Bullshit,” Callan spat. “They are a poison.”

“I’m not sure if I agree with that. There are some bad ones for sure, but I think they do more good than anything.”

“Well,” Callan lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “We’re about to put that to test. You’re not as good of a rabbit as you think you are, buddy. You led a crew of them straight here.”