Booker Nanezgani held up the stone wall at his back, squinting against the rising sunlight to his left. Getting up this damn early for a job would have been a laughable proposition, but it was hard to turn down access to this sort of clientele. A soft mewling came from underneath Booker’s green cloak, crying out from underneath what was probably some uncomfortable fabric. The wizard swiftly swatted its source to shut that sound off. This new creature he’d been training was useful for sure, but Booker still wasn’t sure he was happy to be dealing with all the noise it made.


It didn’t take long for a short, somber parade of workers to begin filing towards the castle from a stone road. Among them would be Booker’s target, the one snitch that Sirius Phantasm had tasked him with identifying.


An older fellow near the front of the pack stopped off to approach, Booker, eyeing the tool belt he’d been given for his disguise. “I’m Mick,” the guy introduced himself, holding out an expectant, leathery hand. “You’re the new assistant mason?”


Hiding his reluctance to touch the man’s hand, Booker met it and answered him. “That’s me, name’s Nanezgani.”


Mick’s eyes lit up, “Oh, like that bank? Any relation?”


“Would I be working here if there were?”


The guy laughed, it was throaty and graveley, like his vocal cords were just really waking up. “True enough. You’ll be with my boys and me on the East Wall,” he started leading the way around the Castle Phantasm. “You checked out the ol’ lady yet? What do you think?”


Booker did his best to swerve around the shop talk, “I think it’s a lot of room for just a few upper crust brats,” no need to beat around the bush. The wizard figured the quicker he found his target, the less time he’d have to pretend to work. Might as well start with good ol’ Mick.


The mason eyed him to see if there was any hint of a joke in his eyes. “Better watch your tone. Phantasms wouldn’t exactly like their workers talking about them like that.”


And, it seemed like Mick was a dud. It would be far too convenient for the day to end so early. But, what was even more infuriating is that Booker was striking out with every one of Mick’s team. As the sunshine beat down on him, the wizard struggled to keep up with the work without using his magic. He’d move around in the party of masons, trying time and again to bait out their feelings on the family. Every one of these guys were loyal as dogs, and seemed to be much more keen on a paycheck than spreading around family secrets.


The only relief amidst all the stonework and sweat was the Snow Vulpix hiding silently under Booker’s clothes. It may not be enjoying itself, but the little beast was keeping at least part of his body cool and refreshed. Maybe the critter was good for something after all.


Booker had finally exhausted the last man in the group when everyone paused their work, collecting their tools and walking off. Apparently his confusion was all too clear, as Mick approached his new assistant mason to tell him it was time for the masons to go on lunch, they were headed towards the shady grove on the West wall to meet up with the other builders.


The plan was to wrap this crappy task up by midday. But, the way things were looking, Booker might not be finished within the day at all. He was damned if he was getting up at the crack of dawn again. Caught up in his thoughts, Booker was considering just abandoning his own agenda for the day, telling Sirius he was mistaken and leaving it at that.


No! He cut off his own train of thought. Even if the step was small, every job was for the sake of pushing forward his dream. He would save the world. If he abandoned a mission as small as this, what hope did he have of accomplishing a larger task like that?


Stepping into the field of masons, Booker’s own drive was redoubled. He would not fail this mission, and here, when every mason was talking with one another was exactly when he could root out some more suspects.


Casually weaving between small packs and conversations, Booker craned his ears to listen for anything reminiscent of dissent towards the Phantasms, anything resembling a secret or a hushed tone.



“...wife’s starting to get suspicious about the whole thing…”



“... and now the boy wants to join a guild or some crap…”



“... swear on a grave that my back gives out before I’m fifty…”


“... creep can’t even use his own tools…”



“... c’mon, man, I’ll trade you some chips for the cupcake…”


Wait a moment. Booker looped back around, sitting down to hide out of sight of one of the speakers.



“I mean, is he supposed to be an informant? Guy doesn’t look like he’s worked a day in his life.”


Booker didn’t risk catching a glimpse of the speaker, but it sounded an awful lot like good ol’ Mick.



“Then maybe you should quit running your mouth about our bosses,” another voice said. Another member of Mick’s little group.


That brought on the nail in the coffin, a throaty, recognizable laugh. “What the Phantasms don’t know won’t hurt ‘em. And they’re not gonna find out. Right, boys?”


As nods and assents followed the question, Booker made his move, leaving his place of eavesdropping behind the other masons and approaching Mick from behind. “Hey there, boss man,” he said, hiding his satisfaction as a polite smile. “You mind checking something out with me, over on the East side of the ‘old lady?’”


Mick looked frightened, suspicious his words had been heard. But, he merely nodded, picking up his tools and following Booker back to where the two were working.


Finally secluded, the wizard dropped his act. “So, you’ve been squealing about some family secrets?” Booker was done with the heat and the facades, he cut to the chase with Mick a second time.



“Even if you heard me, you got no proof,” Mick said, but didn’t deny the claim. “You’re no better, squealing on people who bust their ass to get by. Everyone talks about their boss, only difference here is that they’re rich.”



“And, I can see why you’re complaining,” Booker agreed. “You’ve been working for them for what’s probably been a few years. And, still, you’re on this side of the wall,” Booker’s hand stroked the stone, as if contemplating what was on the inside. “I’ve only worked as an informant for the Phantasms for a day, and I’m already sick of their crap.”


Mick was thrown off balance. “Listen, I’m not sure what you’re trying to say. But, I won’t talk anymore about the Phantasms, no need for any violence or anything. I get it.”


Booker smiled, content with the dog’s crumbling at even the slightest hint of pressure. It couldn’t be helped, extras weren’t meant to stick out like the big players. “I don’t want you to stop, Mick. But, the next time you’ve got something worth talking about,” his eyes met Mick’s, turning away from the wall. “Bring it to me.”


Booker Nanezgani ripped off the tool belt, dropping it to the grass. He had no more use for it.


“What? Why?”


“Because, if you do,” he explained, “then one day, we may just find ourselves on the other side of the wall.” Booker paused to let the words sink in, and it was Mick’s turn to gaze at the stone he worked on, now wondering about what was inside the walls he toiled over. “We together on this, Mick?”


It took a moment of reflection, but the man came to his decision soon after that. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Nanezgani,” he reached out his hand again, more excitedly than he had when the sun was only just rising.


Booker met it, and walked off, happy to never put in another day of real work again. After just a few steps, he wiped his hand clean on his green robe, cleaning it of the grease and feel of Mick’s mitts choking it.


“You’re positive?” Sirius Phantasm asked. Hours after the accord with Mick, Booker was meeting the eldest of the Phantasm children in the castle’s grounds to discuss the mission’s results.


The wizard nodded his head, “I’d stake my name on it. No rats among your dogs. I was almost disappointed.”


Sirius was thoughtful for a moment, but passed over the reward, “If I discover otherwise, you can understand how displeased I’ll be.”


“Trust me, Mr. Phantasm,” Booker said the name with as much feigned respect as he could summon, “if there is, I’ll take care of it myself.”



WC: 1473 / 1000