It had been a long month.
The train ride had only afforded me a few hours rest and I was cold and wet and cranky as hell. Cold rainwater dripped from my fedora and coat, chilling me to the bone.

All I wanted was to crawl in
to bed. Instead, I was standing in a large warehouse, stuffed full of tall, crowded shelves. A small dump truck towered conspicuously beside me, dripping with rainwater after having been backed in through the roller door.

That must
have been why I was examining the human condition in business terms like some sleep addled college kid during finals, as a dozen armed men watched from ten feet away.

I get like that when I’m
tired.

These weren’t Teplov’s best men. They were dirty and ill dressed,
though they looked better than I did. Were probably getting paid better too.

“You’re late,” the leader said. He drawled out
you’re
in the deep southern drawl of the region. I always noticed it more when I came back from a trip and my accent would be thicker for the next two weeks.

I made a show of pulling
the pocket watch from my vest and checking it. “Seems pretty damn early to me,” I said dryly.

“You know what I meant,
Sorcerer
,” he said. “You were supposed to be back two weeks ago.”

My jaw tightened until
it popped. “Watch your tone, toy soldier, I wouldn’t want to take that the wrong way.”

“Who the hell do you think you are, pal?” said the guy next to him. I
caught a hint of Jersey. “You’re the one who said he’d be back the beginning of the month!”

“It couldn’t be helped,” I replied. “I ran into some trouble. Figured it would be worth more to the Tin Man to bring back exactly what he wanted and be a little late. I’d hate to have brought only half.”

The leader squinted his eyes under his cap. “The boss thought you might have cheated him. He was getting a little impatient.”

I laughed dryly. Bullies, they never fail. “If there’s one thing Teplov has in spades, it’s patience.”

Jersey took a step forward, “I think it’s you who’d better watch what he’s saying. Might be we take
that
the wrong way.”

I frowned. “Like I said, I ran into trouble. It doesn’t have anything to do with our deal. Just my mood.
” The pressure in my skull intensified and I felt myself sway. “Look, I’m tired and wet and would really like to be in a bed before the sun rises. So how about we stop posturing and just get this over with?”

I waited, looking from man to man. There was no question of what they were going to do. The Tin Man had earned his moniker in Mare’s underworld, and his men knew exactly what was expected of them.

Finally, Jersey held up his hands, backing away.

“Let’s get to work,” I said. “Where do you want it?”

The leader nodded toward the truck. It was a clunker with a boiler the size of a car wedged underneath the bed, but it would certainly hold the ore.

I climbed up the ladder, wiping
my hands on my coat as I looked into the bed. It would be more than enough, it was bigger than my whole damn apartment. Of course, that wasn’t saying much.

The pain flared up in my head again.
God, was I ready to get rid of this stuff. It had been weighing on my mind for a week, like a block of lead pressing right between my eyes.

But it wasn’t going to just come out, it
would need some coaxing.

I closed my eyes and began to concentrate, picturing the ore in my mind, a big pile of pearlescent, silvery chips, glowing softly in the darkness, still humming with the vibration of the lightning it had captured. They smelled like ozone, a scent so strong
I could taste it. I imagined Al standing next to the pile, the courtyard that contained them, the gates of the keep closed and locked against the world beyond.

I t
ook a deep breath and opened the gate.

It took effort, my mind
fighting it, not as flexible as it had once been. I had to picture the wood flexing, the loud creaking as the hinges stressed under the force of my will.

Finally, the
doors inched open.

I felt my body
relax, all the strength draining out of me. The pressure that had built up in my forehead eased, shifting to a painful burning. It started at my nose and moved all the way up my scalp and down my spine, filling my body.

I’d been holding my breath. Now I released it. The burning flowed
up my body and out my mouth. Slowly, hesitantly, purplish smoke drifted out from in between gritted teeth, out through my nose, my eyes, my ears, until it was surging out of every pore in my skin. I kept breathing it out, filling the bed of the truck. The Aether started as purple, then blue, steadily shifting through the spectrum before settling on a pearlescent silver.

My stomach knotted and my muscles clenched up. I collapsed to my knees, gagging up the remnants of the Aether until finally
it began to thin and then ebb altogether. The burning sensation faded, leaving my arms and legs numb, my body cold.

Then I puked. No magic this time, just some soup they gave me on the train. I think it was fish. Damn Canadians, always had to be fish.

I shuddered, cold and feverish. My clothes were soaked through with sweat and I could hear my teeth chattering as I shivered. I sat back and waited for my vision to clear. When it finally did, I glanced down to examine my work.

The Aether had coalesced into ten tons of Foucier ore. It still glowed, still hummed, exactly as I had seen it in my mind. Only now static popped off the sharp slate where it contacted the metal of the vehicle.

I climbed down the ladder, swaying as my feet hit the ground.

“You alright, buddy?” one of the gangsters asked.

I waved him off, focusing on staying upright. “Where’s the john?”

“Down the row,” he said,
cocking a thumb toward the back.

I thanked him and stumbled down the center aisle. It had taken everything to make sure that went right, to maintain it. A week with the Aether in me. I hadn’t carried a load like that since…well, since before Nidia. Not for that long anyway. It was only supposed to be three days. I was supposed to have been able to head right for Toronto after leaving the cloud, get on a train, and just sit back and enjoy the ride back to the States. Three days max.

It was risky though, and I knew it. The Guild would be watching Terre d'échanges. It was one of their worlds, and they were protective. Supply was how they maintained their control.

Getting in had been easy though, even easier finding a group of rods to poach with. It was getting out that was the problem. They knew someone had gotten in and they were watching. The escape had been close.

But that was all behind me. I had done my part and now it was payday.

I found the bathroom and washed up. My body was shaking
, cramps forming in my back and shoulders. I took a moment to catch my breath, washed my face again, and let it pass.

I think I dozed for a moment on the toilet before shouting brought me to my senses, although sliding off in a dazed panic might not be described as my best senses.

The sound was coming from the front of the warehouse. I recognized Jersey and the leader but the rest were muffled by the storm outside.

I made my way down the aisle, then froze, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

Something was wrong.

I couldn’t see down the aisle, but maybe if I got up higher.
I planted a foot on one of the shelves and lifted myself up, trying to get a better vantage point. Still nothing. I groaned to myself and dragged my bedraggled ass up the shelf.

It was hard going, but I wasn’t about to just walk up there and say hi. That was a good way to get shot or turned into charcoal, maybe worse. About fifteen feet off the ground, I could see what was making the commotion.

Teplov’s men were facing down a little guy in a suit. He was in his early thirties; small, narrow, and thin with no muscle to speak of. His hair, what little of it that remained, was slicked back and greased. Beady eyes poked out from a small bowler hat and his cheap, oversized suit made him look like a little kid playing dress up

I
n his right hand he gripped a long, gnarled staff. Runes and sigils trailed down from the poorly carved wolf’s head all the way to the tip.

“Damnation,” I whispered to myself. That was all I needed.

Willy Cruder was a slipshod Wizard and a worse person. Insecure enough to need to carve a wolf’s head on his staff and dumb enough to try it himself. He was an idiot and the worst kind of bully, one who had been bullied all his life and now had the power to be on the other side.

“A toy box with Tin Men,” he said, his cockney accent biting through the cool southern air.

I grimaced. That voice had always gotten on my nerves. He was one of my godfather’s men, one of his best enforcers. He didn’t know anything about magic besides how to blow things up. Unfortunately, that was all he was ever called up to do.

“This is private property, Wizard,” the leader of Teplov’s men said.

Cruder tssked him. “The Tin Man knows the deal. His outfit and the Guild stay apart, but this,” he pointed at the dump truck, “Well, boys, this is a snake of a different color. That’s our property.”

The leader cocked his shotgun. My pulse started to race. If anyone besides the Wizard was goi
ng to make it out of here alive, than I needed to think and do it quickly.

I flexed my fingers, feeling a trickle of power channel thr
ough the rings on my left hand and the web of power they formed. One adorned each finger; gold, silver, copper, steel, and tin. One for each of the elements and a fifth to represent the will to bind them together.

It would take a little to get the spell together, it always did these days, but I was pretty sure I could sucker punch him and throw him off guard. If Teplov’s men were worth their salt then they could jump in and…

“He’s in the back,” Jersey said, gesturing with his gun.

I blinked, feeling the spell fade.
Well. Crap.

“What the hell are you doing?”
the leader snarled at him.

“Tin Man doesn’t pay enough to take on Wizards,” Jersey said simply.

This wasn’t good. I could tell the leader was considering backing down. I learned a long time ago that when goons started thinking, messes were made.

“Do we get to keep the ore?” he asked, still fingering the trigger of his shotgun.

Cruder sneered. “This is our property.”

“Half?” t
he leader asked.

Cruder hesitated, looking over his shoulder at the ore. “The
Bouchard House doesn’t know how much he took. I can agree to that,
if
I get the Sorcerer.”

I focused harder
, powering the spell back up. This needed to happen quickly. Maybe if I could get it cast, they’d still jump him. I’d been useful, Teplov wouldn’t like being pushed around by the Guild. I could still make this happen.

I held out my hand, focusing my will, pulling up my old stun spell. It was simple,
if I could just manage…

An arc of electricity sparked across my rings with a loud, electric pop that echoed throughout the warehouse. Cruder’s head snapped in my direction and before I could so much as cuss
, he whipped the staff at me, sending a bolt of scarlet lightning arching in my direction.

That was probably the fastest half second of my life, but it felt like it took forever. I held out my hand, trying to redirect the pent up energy into a shield. Air, force, fire, anything to keep from being made into a lump of glass art.

In an instant, I seized the thought, casting the spell.

And it failed. Miserably.

The moment the bolt hit my hand I knew the spell had fizzled. Someone up there must have liked me though, because in less time than it took to blink, I grabbed the bolt and threw it aside, bending it around me.

I didn’t even feel the blast. For a moment, it knocked me clean out. I woke
in a pile of empty, now broken, crates; the scent of ozone and bacon wafting through my nose. Stars filled my vision.

Get up. Need to get up. Need to get up fast and get the hell out of here. Or get somewhere besides the boxes. If I could just get somewhere where he couldn’t see me…I knew Cruder, he was a path of least resistance type. He knew only one direction and didn’t understand finesse or anything beyond the instinctive ‘club plus head equals win’ mentality.

From the sound of it, Cruder’s sudden reaction had startled the gangsters. I heard a gunshot and giggled to myself, my head still swimming. The toy soldiers were getting jumpy.

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