Brok
“This is a terrible idea, Brok. Rabbits are surface creatures! Surface! We do not go into mines!”
In the dim light of the kobold mine, Barnaby’s fluffy form looked almost indistinct, like something out of a particularly creative nightmare. Not for the first time, I wondered what in the name of all the gods had gotten me into this situation.
Ignoring his whining, I descended another rung. The metal ladder creaked in protest but held. “Your human alias is literally ‘Warren’. I’m pretty sure you have one.”
“My warren is a villa in Sicily! With sunshine! And windows! And absolutely no darkness that goes down forever!”
“And I’m sure Reynard will be happy to take that from you too, if we don’t find a solution to your problem.”
Instantly, Barnaby shut up. I almost regretted my snappishness. But I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to be here either. I wanted to be in a warm kitchen, with a beautiful woman smiling at me, offering me chocolate.
Instead, I was descending into a kobold’s mine because Grix had been dodging my calls for a week. One week since Isengrim had served that Challenge, and my agent—the one who was supposed to help me navigate supernatural politics—had gone completely radio silent.
The ladder ended abruptly at a stone platform. I stepped off, my boots splashing in a shallow puddle that smelled like old pennies. Dim crystals embedded in the walls pulsed with faint greenish light, barely enough to see by. It was probably intentional. Grix liked making things difficult.
Barnaby practically fell off the last rung, landing in a graceless heap beside me. The impact sent water droplets scattering across the stone, and he scrambled to his feet with an indignant huff.
We stood at the entrance to a passage that sloped deeper into the earth. The walls bore the distinctive straight cuts of kobold excavation, precise and methodical. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, the rhythmic sound grating on my already frayed nerves.
“Do you really think he’ll help us?” Barnaby’s whisper barely carried over the sound of dripping water. “He hasn’t answered your calls. That seems like a pretty clear message.”
“He’ll help.” The passage forced me to duck, my shoulders brushing both walls. “Kobolds are petty. He’sjust punishing me for turning down that other client. Besides, we have a secret weapon.”
I paused and shot him a look out of the corner of my eye. “Youdostill have it, don’t you?” I wouldn’t put it past Barnaby to sabotage our plan by eating the most important part of it.
Fortunately, Barnaby still had some self-preservation left. He patted the leather pouch hanging from his belt. “One last protein bite. The final one from Hazel’s batch.” The pain in his voice was genuine. “Are you sure this will work?”
“Kobolds have a thing about tributes. Especially food offerings. It’s considered deeply disrespectful to refuse one.”
I’d learned that the hard way during my time as Grix’s client. Hopefully, that knowledge would come in handy today.
“So he has to help us?”
“He has to at least listen.” I hoped. If there was anything that would make Grix change his mind, it was probably Hazel’s cooking.
Barnaby opened his mouth, likely intending to express his doubts again. Before he could say anything else, three young kobolds emerged from a side passage and yelped. “Is that Barnaby? OMG!”
They all said the letters individually, as if they were participating in some kind of insane spelling contest. I already felt old.
Their scales gleamed in shades of light bronze and copper, so they couldn’t be more than twenty years old. Practically children by kobold standards. They were all armed with glowing rectangular devices that looked like much fancier versions of smartphones.
The tallest of the kobolds rushed forward, nearly dropping his device in excitement. “This is amazing! Can we get a picture? My followers are going to lose their minds!”
Barnaby’s ears pricked up. “You… want a photo with me?”
“Are you kidding? You’re trending on CrystalGram right now!” A second, shorter kobold gestured enthusiastically. “The Challenge, the drama, Reynard coming back after all these years? This is the best content the supernatural community has had in decades!”
The third kobold, a female wearing bright crystal jewelry, was already positioning herself next to Barnaby. “Do you mind? Just one quick shot?”
Barnaby straightened his back. Suddenly, his earlier panic seemed to drain out of him. Even his fur shone a little more brightly. “Of course. I’m always happy to meet supporters.”
The young kobolds clustered around him, angling their devices for the best shot. The leader kept up a running commentary as he tapped and swiped his screen.
“Okay, everyone smile! This is going to get so many reactions. The Osterhase himself, right here in Grix’s mine!” A soft chime echoed from the device as the image was posted online. “Oh man, the comments are already rolling in. ‘Icon!’ ‘Legend!’ ‘Looking good, B!’”
“Can you do the ears thing?” the female asked, bouncing on her clawed feet. “You know, that cute twitch you did in the Spring Equinox special two years ago?”
