Jake did not dwell on the decision for long. On light feet he raced through the tunnels, slowing as he approached the room where they kept the prisoner. Two guards with rifles on their shoulders stood either side of the ironbound door. Jake strolled up nonchalantly and gave them a friendly nod.

“Pulled the night shift, eh?” He said. “Why don’t the two of you go get some shuteye? I can’t sleep anyways. Hand’s paining me.” He held up his bandaged limb with a slight wince. “I’ll keep watch over your post.”

The guards exchanged a short glance.

“Flint says two men on this door at all times,” the taller of the pair replied.

“Well, one of you can go then,” Jake said, waving a careless hand, “and you can switch out halfway through. Honestly, I’m going to be up all night anyway. It’s no worry.”

Another, longer glance was exchanged, and then the Alerarans engaged in a short but spirited round of a hand-game Jake had never seen before. Evidently the taller elf won, because the shorter one shouldered his rifle and grumbled while his partner thanked Jake and walked away.

Well, that’s one down. Jake thought. “Hey, look at this!” He said.

The remaining guard turned toward Jake. A portal opened up in front of them, its twin directly behind the Aleraran.

“Watch carefully,” Jake said, and leaped through the portal.

He landed on the guard’s back, grasping the rifle with both hands and squeezing the stock across the carotid artery. The elf struggled, but Jake tightened his grip like a python, and within eight seconds the guard slumped to the ground, unconscious. Jake rolled him on his side and then turned and raced back to Flint’s study.

It was still empty, and the strange contraption still sat on the desk for anyone to take. Jake filched it and flew back to the cell. The guard was still unconscious on the ground. No one had found him.

The thief produced a pair of lockpicks and made short work of the heavy iron door, slipping through with the alchemical artifact tucked beneath his arm. Before closing the door he conjured an identical one in front of it, a camouflaged portal that led back to the rooftop where they’d captured the man.

Blood stained the harsh stone floor of the makeshift torture chamber. The assassin was manacled to the far wall, arms stretched high enough that he had to stand on the balls of his feet. Bruising covered his face, and more crimson marred what remained of his clothing. He looked up as Jake entered and smiled.

“Little matter what they cut off, master,” he chuckled. “I’ll never talk. Little matter, little matter, little matter…” his voice trailed off into a gibbering giggle.

Jake grimaced. Radek had broken the man in more than two pieces. He appeared to know where he was, and yet not quite understand. The half elf stalked across the room and seized a handful of the prisoner’s hair, slamming the man’s head against the wall.

“Tell me where to find your master,” he said, “or this will get very unpleasant for both of us.”

“Little matter, little matter, little matter,” the madman carried on.

“Right.” Jake grimaced. He shoved the nastier end of the Aleraran contraption over the assassin’s eye and affixed it in place with a combination of leather straps and steel clasps. “Right.” He repeated, taking a deep breath. Suddenly the fatigue of the past two days tugged at his bones. Was he thinking clearly? Perhaps this could wait…

No… remember your anger. It boiled up slowly, like magma beneath cracking earth. The loss of his friend Amari, and the horrific memories she’d shared with him, crystallized in his tired mind. It was all on Ulroké. What would I do for a chance to kill the bastard?

Jake braced himself, and then looked through the artifact’s lens.

The device seemed to sense that it had living eyes attached at either end. There was a gushing sound and a strong chemical smell, and the assassin screamed as something sprayed into his eye. The device hummed and vibrated with magical and mechanical integrity.

“Who’s in there?” A voice shouted from the hallway. “What’s going on?” Someone hammered on the portal-door Jake had placed in front of the real door. They could break that down, and it would only lead them to the warehouse rooftop. “Find Flint,” the voice commanded, and the pounding resumed.