“None taken,” the bartender said. “People who ask for me usually shoot first, then get to the questions. This is a nice change.”
“You’re Gant?” I asked incredulous. “Seriously?”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know exactly,” I said. “With a name like Gant—tall, dark, and dangerous?”
“Two out of three isn’t bad,” Gant said, smiling and winked. “I happen to be height challenged. On the plus side, being this tall means it’s easier to kneecap the idiots who equate my height with a lack of intelligence.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Gant,” Monty said. “The tea is exquisite.”
“At your service,” Gant said with a short nod. “Now, how can I help you?”
I had no way of proving or disproving this was the Gant we needed to speak to. For all I knew, he could be trying to get information out of the two clueless tourists who managed to walk into his place.
It was thin, but possible. I looked at Monty who nodded.
“I hear Magnus would like a word with me.”
Gant’s expression changed immediately at the mention of Magnus. He narrowed his eyes at me and nodded.
“You’re on the wrong floor,” he said curtly before pressing his hand to a section of the bar. A second later, runes on the corner of the bar he had touched glowed a deep red then faded to nothing. “Third floor. Now.”
Gant pointed to a set of stairs at the other end of the bar. I glanced over and saw that each of the stairs was covered in softly glowing orange runes.
“Now?” I asked, grabbing my cup of coffee delight. “Can I just finish...?”
“No. Now,” Gant said. “Make sure to take the stairs and don’t speak to anyone here. Go. Now.”
Gant stepped to the other end of the bar and went to the back. Monty placed a hand on my forearm and shook his head.
“Let’s go,” Monty said, leaving his tea and heading for the stairs. “It would be prudent to head upstairs now. Most of these patrons only appear to be human.”
I looked around the restaurant. We now had the attention of several of the tables. Some of the looks were disinterested, but a few looked angry. None of them were welcoming.
“Good idea,” I said, following Monty. “Let’s go, boy.”
Peaches stayed close to me as we climbed the stairs and let out a low rumble as we left the ground floor. The second floor was only a bar—no tables for sitting, just stools in front of a long, L-shaped bar. Sitting at the bar was one person who glanced our way, then ignored us as we kept climbing.
The energy signature on the second floor was impressive. The person read like a sorcerer, but more. We kept climbing and came to a large rune-covered door. Gant opened it from the inside and motioned for us to come in.
The third floor seemed reserved for private events. It was arranged as a lounge with large sofas and comfortable chairs spread out around the floor. A small bar sat on one side of the space, with another large wooden door dominating the opposite wall. The floors were the same wood as the doors and covered in runes.
The space felt familiar, like the Randy Rump.
“This is a neutral zone?” I asked taking in the space when I smelled the coffee from downstairs. I focused on the small bar and saw my mug waiting for me. “That my coffee?”
Gant nodded.
“This level is part of the Balfour estate,” Gant said heading to the bar. “You said Magnus wants a word with you?”
“Yes,” I said, before taking another sip of coffee heaven. “Can I get a bag of this to go?”
“You can’t drink more than that,” Gant said. “Not unless you’re a dragon.”
“Are you a dragon?” I asked. “You certainly seem to get along well with them.”
“No, I’m not,” Gant said, narrowing his eyes at me. “For the record, no one gets along well with dragons. You either follow their instructions or suffer their wrath. There’s no in between with them.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re not exactly human, but you’re not a dragon, either. What are you?”
“Complicated,” I said. “I’m not a dragon, at least not the last time I checked.”
“Only way you can drink that”—he pointed to my mug—“and survive, is to have some dragon in you. So, I’m going to ask again, who are you?”
“My name is Simon Strong,” I said. “This is—”
“I know who he is,” Gant said. “Mage Montague, responsible for the regular destruction of buildings in this city.”
Monty narrowed his eyes at Gant but remained silent.
“Finally,” I said, throwing up a hand. “Someone who speaks the truth.”
“I didn’t say he blew up the city alone,” Gant replied. “You’re just as dangerous to property as he is, especially with your hound.”
“I’m just as dangerous?” I said, offended. “How is it that I can be just as dangerous as a mage who considers blowing up buildings just another Tuesday? This makes no sense.”
Monty glanced at me, ignoring my rant.
“You are a gatekeeper,” Monty said, looking around. “This is…?”
“I’m the Head Gatekeeper,” Gant said. “This place is the entrance to the Balfour estate on this plane,” Gant said. “At least one of them. Magnus will be here shortly.”
“Magnus?” I asked, alarmed as my focus returned to Gant. “The dragon Magnus?”
“Do you know another Magnus?” Gant asked. “Relax. If you were here with the intent to do harm, the stairs would’ve stopped you. If he says he wants to talk, he wants to talk. At least until you piss him off.”
“Talking is good, as long as you can walk away from the conversation.”
“Trust me,” Gant said, “if he wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have gotten past the first floor.”
“The patrons on the first floor?” Monty asked. “Are they all…?”
“Dragons? Yes,” Gant said. “Some of them are part of the Balfour Enclave, but most of them are looking to join. They come here to be seen in the right place at the right time,
