Three men made their way through the sewers, all of them roaring drunk. Two of them were armed, swords tapping against their legs as they walked, while the third carried nothing but a small knife and a pipe he kept lit, the thick wreathes of pungent smoke protecting him from the smell of the sewers. He was a small man, round in the middle, with a beak of a nose and stubble-dotted jowls that hung down to either side.

His name was Trivelin, which was another way the gods had done him wrong. But if there was one thing going for him, he owned a damn fine tricorn hat, and his men called him captain.

The other two were the usual sorts, toughs with bad teeth and worse attitudes. One of them would pause every now and then, peering at the walls. Reading the thief-signs marked there.

“Crowswise, here.”

“Are we sure?” Captain Trivelin asked, taking the pipe from his mouth. “Because I remember the way we came, and I don’t remember this.”

“How can you remember which way? S'all tunnels, an’ they all look the same.” The man mumbled under his breath, although not so quietly that Trivelin couldn’t hear him.

“Would I be captain if I got lost easily?

The man leaned in, taking a close look at a sign that had been partially obscured by a cluster of fat puffball mushrooms.

Trivelin was the only one who saw the mushrooms suddenly quiver as the man approached. "Down!" He yelled, but it was too late. As he dived for the floor there was a sharp pop and a scream- the fungi had burst apart explosively and sprayed chitinous fragments into the man's skull. There was nothing left of his face but blood.

Behind them, an enormous man had stepped into the passageway. No, not a man. He was made of dirt, fungal crops sprouting from his broad, hunched back, his face featureless except for a single green eye. A golem.

While the one man screamed and clutched the ruin of his face, the other stepped forward, plunging his sword into the golem’s gut. Trivelin could have told him it would be useless. Black earth poured from the wound and the golem lifted up a clubbed arm. A single crashing blow settled things, sending the Trivelin’s crewmate slumping to the floor.

Trivelin turned and ran. The golem saw no reason to hurry after him. It tossed one man over its shoulder and grabbed the other under an arm, walking slowly in the direction Trivelin had run.

It found him slumped over, asleep. He had stumbled into a tall cluster of Somnolent Blooms and been coated in sleeping spores, his fat face as peaceful as a baby’s as he snored.

Adamant stepped over him.

I felt strange about calling this new golem Adamant, but his mind really did feel the same. It came from the same Shard after all. Any differences I chalked up to having given him the Blessing of the Earthshaper, making him considerably more intelligent and more introspective than he had been. Better yet, it had made him less clumsy, since the stone he now controlled included his own body.

He had brought me three fresh humans, lured in by Izzis’ altering the thief-signs marking the tunnels towards the black market to lead people to me instead. It was a simple trick, but, the best tricks were simple. A too-clever scheme would attract dozens of people, one of whom might slip away and spread the news of my existence. A very crude trap would only catch easy prey.

At my command, Adamant broke the necks of both men. I devoured them, leaving behind a neat pile of clothes where each had been. Nothing fashionable, alas, but good honest thieves’ garb; midnight black cloaks and dark grey shirts, scarves that could be drawn up over the face, harlequin masks for the silent market.

Loping away, my golem returned with the third man. This one hadn’t tried to fight. He was a coward. And a coward was useful to me.

I had built a cage in the center of my garden. It resembled a bird’s cage made of pale green glass, rising out of the fields of mushrooms like a strange pagoda. The garden itself was changed- in a fit of pique brought on by having to rebuild it for the third time, I had made the mushrooms translucent, dulling their colors, making them resemble strange bubbling shapes of glass. I had added tall flowers with sharp geometric petals that made keening notes when the wind blew.

It was a glass garden now, sharp and strange and beautiful.

I had added a new type of fungus that grew along the ceiling in the shape of bells, letting loose a constant drift of spores that appeared in the air as a golden dust swirling in static patterns. These were harmless, but in much the same way I’d killed the ogre, I could make them grow within anybody who inhaled them. A subtle layer of defense.

In general, my defenses were far stronger. I had filled out the hidden caverns above the gardens as intended, with spiders who spun webs of opalescent lacquer, a substance that looked like rainbow-colored pearls. They wrapped it around their skinny bodies as armoring, and used it to glue their prey into living coffins to stew in digestive juices.

I had accepted their rather ugly method of eating in exchange for their beautifully efficient methods of killing. With their long limbs covered by blades of sharpened lacquer-spit they could cut a man’s head clean from his shoulders, and they lurked above the ceiling waiting for something to pass beneath their trapdoors.

But I hadn’t stopped there. Anyone moving through the gardens would find they needed to watch their feet, not just for the vipers lurking, but in fear of a new predator I had created; a slender and bronze-scaled goldfish that hunted with the long tendrils extended from its face. Prehensile and stronger than steel, they could whip out of the water and wrap around an ankle in a heartbeat. Lurking in the deceptively deep pools of the garden they burrowed down into the mud for camouflage.

And of course, I’d finished my explosive blooms. A few of them interspersed among the flora made for a deadly surprise.

I had learned the power of seasoned adventurers, but I had also learned that they were only mortal when caught off-guard. I could at least be confident now of handling the average treasure-hunter.

And the man Adamant had caught was definitely not going anywhere. A weaker variant of the Somnolent Bloom wrapped around the bars of his cage, ensuring that even once he woke up he’d be halfway drugged, unable to think clearly.

Adamant threw him in and I closed the gap in the bars, growing new glass to seal the entrance shut.

With my captive secured, my golem donned the clothes taken from the dead men. It was a tight fit but he managed to squeeze himself in to the looser garments, the hooded robes and the mask, leaving him convincingly dressed, if oddly warm for the season and the sweltering damp heat of the sewers.

Having disguised himself, he picked through the remaining items. They were:

A coin-purse full of round coins with holes punched in the middle, made of a special dark iron that repelled my Mana and any attempts to duplicate it- the only unfalsifiable currency in a world full of magic.

An alchemical lantern with a blot of eternal flame inside that I kept to study.

A sharktooth pendant that made me laugh with glee.

And most importantly, a large bag containing numerous jars wrapped in dark cloth. A few of them had broken open and released the sweet smell of honey. I ate it up, discovering the honey was heavy with magic, practically made of the stuff.

I couldn’t ‘taste’ anything in the classic sense but I felt something very similar to a sugar rush when I feasted on concentrated Mana. I had to hold myself back from devouring the lot.

It would do perfectly.

Adamant, dressed in a mask and dark clothes, fit right into the strange crowd the night market brought out. He was hunchbacked and giant but there were far stranger shapes under the hoods and cloaks of the market’s discerning customers.

But none of the other customers were hiding a bat-faced homunculus under their hoods, I was sure.

Setting up in a quiet corner, he set out his wares. Not just the jars of magic honey but cages full of exotic creatures. Serpents with wings and brilliant feathers, mushrooms in the shape of human heads, a fish made of real and genuine gold in a glass jar. My own work.

As people came by, they signed in silent hand-talk offers; I had Izzis teach me the language. I relayed to Adamant what to say in return. Payment in coin or jewels. No returns. Caveat emptor.

I did a brisk trade. In a matter of hours my goods were gone and I - although I was fairly sure I’d undercharged and been haggled lower still - had more coins than could fit in the stolen purse and two sparkling diamonds in Adamant’s palm.

But best of all, I had the ability to scout the marketplace. Adamant’s roughly human proportions gave me the ability to set him wandering the crowds and scanning the stalls for prizes to be stolen.

I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw it.

A statue in cloudy garnet sat on a blanket, the only gem among a sprawl of glitzy trash laid out on a grey tablecloth. A poor showing, but oh, the statue shone all the brighter for being surrounded by tat. It was of a strange beast half-horse and half-snake, and the moment I laid eyes upon it, I knew.

It had magic in it.

Adamant signed to ask the price, and the scrawny one-armed merchant held up a ridiculous number. As I haggled, Argent’s mind suddenly brushed my own, sending urgent signals.

A servant from the Institute had just donned a feathered mask and headed into the sewers. She followed in his shadow, and there was no mistaking the route he took. He was heading for the night market.

I had no more time to waste arguing. I dumped my coinpurse into the man’s lap, and left him sputtering in surprise as I scooped up the statuette with Adamant’s clumsy hands, holding it clutched to his chest as we pushed through the crowd.

Our net had caught something very interesting today.