Even within the tent, there must have been a dozen merchants. These ones had tables, and all of them had some sort of food laid out before them.

“It smells good,” Vanessa said.

“Don’t say that too loudly. Someone will try to sell you food,” Cowl said. “If you buy anything, don’t let them see how much coin you’ve got. And buy something natural. No precooked goods – stick to fruit.”

“Because they’ll skimp out on the ingredients?” Vanessa guessed.

“Or they’ll just stuff it full of diseased rat meat or something worse,” Cowl replied. A merchant selling pies shot him a dirty look, but he didn’t dare meet the Hunter’s eyeless gaze for long and looked away.

"Do you know where we can get a good map?" Angel asked as they moved onwards. "I haven't been here much, and having some good references while we travel would be beneficial."

"Yes," Cowl replied simply.

They reached the end of the tent, where a ladder made of hemp and rusted metal bars hung down from the second level. Cowl ascended it like a spider, reaching the top in moments.

Angel followed after him. The ladder swung under his weight, but he’d traversed less sturdy terrain within the catacombs and it did little to slow him. The second floor was blessedly free of merchants.

There were a dozen sections separated by heavy curtains. A tall man in leather armor with two blades at his side stood a short distance away from them, watching them with keen eyes.

“Come seeking information?” the man asked.

“We have,” Cowl replied. “I need a map through the center of the Barren.”

“A lone group traveling through the Barren? Do you have a vehicle?”

“Yes. No,” Cowl said, pulling out the pouch he’d taken from the bandits and tossing it to the man.

He caught it and pulled the pouch open, watching them out of the corner of his eye as he inspected the coins within it. The man pulled the drawstring shut and nodded, tucking the pouch onto his belt.

“Stupid. Stupid, but wealthy. Yet, I can't let you travel without assistance in good faith. You, at the minimum, need a guide."

"I've traveled the desert before," Angel said, stepping forward. "More than most."

"A Seeker, then? Very well. I will find you your map. Would you like to wait here, or will you pay extra for me to track you down once I’ve located it?”

“How long will it take you?” Cowl asked. “We’re on a tight schedule.”

“One day,” the man replied after a moment of thought. “I take pride in my products – unlike the majority of the scrabblers in this town. That is why you have come to me. It will take me time to locate a map that will contain sufficient information of the dangers you will be traversing.”

Cowl clicked his tongue – a strange sound when it was garbled by whatever voice changer the man used. “Fine. We’ll remain here. I presume you’ve got a room?”

“Fourth curtain on the left,” the man replied, sweeping past them and climbing down the ladder without glancing back. Cowl followed his instructions, pushing aside one of the curtains and slipping inside. He held it open for Vanessa and Angel.

The inside of the room was empty aside from three lightweight metal stools. They glanced at each other, then carefully sat down.

“Now what?” Vanessa asked.

“We wait,” Cowl replied. “We cannot travel without a good map, even with the Seeker to guide us.”

“What about the bandits?” Vanessa nervously glanced at the curtain flap as if there were going to burst into their small room.

“We’ll deal with that when it comes,” Angel said with a shrug. He pulled his pendant out and flicked his eyepiece down for some extra light. There was no point wasting good time.

Cowl and Vanessa watched on with interest as Angel inspected the pocketwatch. He was quite certain that his goal was growing closer and closer, but it evaded him every time he felt like he was starting to understand the artifact.

After some time, Cowl rose to his feet. “I’m going to go restock on supplies. Remain here.”

Vanessa nodded absentmindedly and Angel ignored him completely – he was too focused to respond. The Hunter swept out of the room, leaving them in silence. To Angel, the rest of the world was nothing more than a faint blur. His fingers played across the smooth metal as he sought the locket’s secrets.

He gently tickled the clock with magic and watched as the minute hand ticked backwards once. Nothing else happened and Angel let out a sigh. He repeated the process a few more times, trying to figure out what mechanism was causing the clock hands to tick backwards, but earned nothing from his efforts beyond an aching back.

Angel sat back with a sigh. He cracked his back, then put the locket away. Vanessa cocked her head.

“Did you figure it out?”

“Not yet,” Angel replied. “I’m close. Very close. I’m missing a core part, and I fear I’ll have to take it apart to see it. Artifacts don’t take kindly to being dismantled, but if things come to that…”

He shrugged, pulling an empty canister out from his travel pack. The Seeker traced a pattern through the air with magic and sent it into the metal, capturing it. He popped the prepared spell onto his arm.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Vanessa asked abruptly, nodding at Angel’s arm.

“Do what? Make canisters?” Angel asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not sure I’m much of a teacher, but I suppose I could give it a shot. Do you have any experience with Tinkering at all?”

“Just what I saw the workers in my house do,” Vanessa said, carefully lifting her stool and moving it closer to Angel so she could get a better look at what he was doing.

“You’ll probably learn a different method when you go to school,” Angel said, picking up a canister and frowning as he tried to figure out where the best place to start would be. It had been years since he’d learned Tinkering, and the memories weren’t fond. “First, you’ll need some form of etching tool.”

“You don’t have one,” Vanessa pointed out.

“It’s built in,” Angel said, smirking. He held his hand out so Vanessa could see it as the needle tips emerged from his fingers. “I apply the magic with my left hand and then mold it with my right. Your skin is conductive, but metal is not. The smaller the point you’ve got to work with, the easier it’ll be – hence why beginners use toolsets.”

“That makes sense,” Vanessa admitted. “I don’t have one, though.”

“I’m sure we can find some piece of crap toolset in the market,” Angel said, rising to his feet.

“Cowl told us to stay here, though.”

“I survived for a very long time without Cowl,” Angel replied. “He may be a Hunter, but his home turf is stabbing things, not navigation. I don't know this city's markets as well as he does, but they don't pose me much threat either. That said, you might as well stay here. You’re kind of a walking target.”

“What?” Vanessa exclaimed. “Why?”

“You carry yourself like a noble. Your shoulders aren’t hunched from years of work, and you don’t have a tan. On top of that, you’ve got no weapon. It’s painfully obvious.”

“Oh,” Vanessa muttered. “Right. Maybe I’ll stay here.”

“It's quite safe inside the tents. These information brokers are all the same - they value your safety more than money. If something goes wrong, nobody would ever trust them again and they'd lose all their business. They've probably dealt with criminals and targets worth ten times whatever the coin is over your head, so you'll be fine as long as you stay here. I’ll be back in five minutes,” Angel said. “There are so many vendors in the area that I’ll probably trip over the tools before I see them.”

Vanessa nodded and he headed out of the room. Angel slid down the ladder. He strolled out of the building and wandered down the rows of merchants, scanning their goods as he went.

They called out to him as he passed, but Angel ignored them. The ones with anything worth buying didn’t have to try to get anyone’s attention. Their goods would speak for themselves.

He stared off a young pickpocket that was eyeing him up, getting a nod of recognition when the urchin realized that he’d spotted him. Angel watched the boy dart back into the shadows of a tent and shook his head. Some things never changed.

Angel’s search didn’t last long. He spotted a merchant under the shadow of a two story tent with a dozen mechanical parts on the carpet before him. There were a few people milling about the area, but they weren’t speaking with the man.

The tent beside the merchant had a steady flow of traffic going in and out of it, and the drunken yelling and laughter coming from within it made it quite clear that it was a tavern. Angel strode up to the man.

“G’day,” the merchant said, inclining his head. “Interested in something?”

“I’m looking for a Tinkerer kit,” Angel said. “Something for beginners. I don’t suppose you’ve got one?”

“You can get that kind of thing anywhere,” the merchant said, laughing as he stroked his bearded chin. “I wouldn’t keep the cheap things in stock if I didn’t sell so many of them to idiots who think they can teach themselves Tinkering.”

“Doesn’t seem like a wise thing to tell a customer trying to buy one,” Angel observed.

The merchant shrugged, shifting a large disc of metal to the side and rooting around some spare parts. He pulled out a small, stained pouch. It looked to be made of some form of synthetic leather. The man held it out to Angel.

He took it, popping open the buttoned top and glancing inside. There were a few bronze tools, all slightly tarnished by wear and age. However, despite the impurities, the kit seemed to be in good shape.