The hunter had traced a straight shot from the Memorial Park to the back room of one of the shops in the tourist district. It served as the master’s laboratory, its walls and tables covered in a collection of magical artifacts that would have made any wizard in Avalas drool. Some were kept in their pristine state, where others had been disassembled to better understand them. Bones from a dozen species of exotic beasts were also laid out in orderly rows, ready to turn into magical reagents. At least, the hunter thought that was their purpose; he did not understand much of magic.

The hunter felt a sense of pride at serving such a wise man. He was a genius, after all, wise in all the ways he was not. He will be proud of me. The thought filled him up with air in a balloon.

A slap to his covered face disabused them of that notion, sending the hunter back on his heels. The robed man the hunter followed was not much of a presence, physically. He was perhaps tall enough to reach his chest, though the massive hunter was a poor measuring stick. The blow might as well have been a lash from a feather, but it was the thought that truly counted.

“Have I displeased you?” asked the hunter.

“Tell me,” the cloaked man began, “you can speak the language of man, yes?”

The hulking figure fell to his knees, bowing in supplication. “Of course. You taught me.”

“Good, I was worried you had forgotten, you ignoramus!” Another slap, just as ineffective as the last, but just as much a blow to his feelings. “I told you not to show up until you found that orca!” He returned to pacing. “You don’t smell like seawater; don’t tell me she’s come on land?”

“She has; I’ve been tracking her. There is something… off about her scent now.”

“You haven’t been tracking her well,” snapped the master, “or else you’d have her in tow!”

“I know, sir, but I bring news! There is a griffon on Fin Island!”

He whirled around. “What do I care about… wait, a griffon?”

“Yes, sir.”

His face scrunched into a thoughtful mask. He strode over to a machine in the corner, a scrying artifact hooked up to a printer. If the hunter had known the ways of Landmen, he would have thought it looked like a seismograph. The master shuffled through a few feet of the length spool of paper.

“There’s been nothing that’s pierced the Veil since I brought you over… at least, nothing significant. There’s always germs and insects flitting to-and-fro around these parts, but they don’t show up on my reader. The only thing I wouldn’t detect would be…”

The master stood, his eyes blank as he pondered the data before him. The hunter stayed patiently crouched; the master did this sometimes when deep in thought.

The shorter man spun around. “Well? Did you see her?”

“The whale? No, I already—”

“Not the whale, the witch!” He pointed towards a device that looked a bit like a tuning fork. “If I didn’t detect it, that means it’s that witch we’ve been keeping tabs on!”

“I didn’t think of that,” said the hunter.

“You wouldn’t. Now hush, I need to sort this out.”

The man began to pace, scratching at his chin thoughtfully. The hunter did not think much about his master’s looks. To him, all humans more or less looked the same. Still, he had a scent that the hunter recognized as well as his own, all dust, must, and aftershave. It was one of his favorites, making him think of home and comfort.

The slaps he was less fond of, especially the third time around. The Master is under a lot of pressure. Giving him a vent is part of my duties. Besides, they are not proper wounds.

The master stopped, turning to face his servant. “You should have nothing to fear from a witch’s summons, but she can return the orca to Avalas. If that happens, we’ll miss out on this splendid opportunity. These orca parts have been a bonanza.”

“I have more news.”

“Grand,” scoffed the master. “Because you’ve delivered me such good news so far! Well, spit it out.”

The hunter took a step back, out of slapping distance. “There is another party: an ordinary-smelling local. I believe he and the witch fought, and he bested her summon.”

The man held his head in his hands, sighing deeply. “Another interloper? Those mercenaries in Avalas couldn’t seal the deal, and now there’s a witch and some mysterious third party in the mix, too. It’s so hard to run a business these days.”

“Fourth party,” corrected the hulking figure, glad to be out of slapping range. He placed a comforting hand on their master’s shoulder, which he did not object to. “There’s us, the whale, the witch, and this mysterious man.”

The master slipped from the giant’s grasp. “All the more reason to stop dawdling around here!” The man pointed out the door. “I have to open the shop tomorrow, so get your useless ass out there and pound pavement until you get me my orca! I don’t want to see you again without her.”

“Of course, master. I will not disappoint you again.”

The man smiled up at his servant, which made his heart feel lighter. “I’m sure you won’t; there’s a reason you’re my hound. Now, get out there!”

Without a word, the hunter walked out the door. The plan was simple, as all his plans were: walk around town until he caught a useful scent, and then follow it to the source. Then, whatever was there would be caught or devoured. It was simply a matter of time.