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Griff admired his continued dedication to keeping Sanjarka safe.

“And Lucile?” Griff asked.

Sasha’s eyes lit up like they always did whenever he talked about his daughter.

“Still running mental laps around her father. I swear to the Goddess, that girl reads books faster than I can buy them. With any luck, I’ll be able to hire a proper tutor for her soon.” He nodded toward the Vantoric relics on Griff’s belt with a grin.

“Who knows? Maybe by the time she’s old enough, the Vantoric artificers will have relaxed their restrictions on accepting foreign apprentices.”

Recalling how protective Amelie had been of her inventions, Griff gave a quiet snort.

“Perhaps.” He started past Sasha.

“If anyone asks, important business required my immediate attention.”

“Understood,” Sasha said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you.” He glanced toward where the High Commander and High Merchant were still arguing, his voice heavy with disapproval as he added, “Though right now, I doubt anyone will notice.”

Nodding his thanks, Griff went to slip past Sasha, only to pause when he felt a hand on his back.

Turning, he found a silver-haired older gentleman standing there, leaning on a cane.

Dressed in a traditional Sanjarkan tunic made of flowing silk and dyed a modest series of blues reminiscent of lapping ocean waves, the man fixed him with a polite smile.

“Excuse me. Inspector Denton, right? I was hoping I might steal a quick word.”

Griff cast a longing look toward the door.

Then, muffling a sigh and ignoring Sasha’s smirk, he nodded at the man.

“Of course…” The man looked vaguely familiar, and he searched his mind for why.

He rarely forgot a face, and the name came to him after a moment from earlier introductions when he’d first arrived.

“…Lord Heneford. This is a lovely theater you have.”

Lord Heneford rapped his cane lightly on the floor and gave a booming laugh.

His voice was a low, honeyed drawl.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it mine, Inspector. I am but one of many kindred spirits who view the arts as a worthy investment. Now, the act we’re about to see: that is another matter. I have a particular penchant for identifying diamonds in the rough and providing them with the opportunities and resources they need to truly shine!”

“Ah,” Griff said, relaxing.

He’d learned to trust his intuition over the years, and something about the man put him immediately at ease.

“So, I have you to thank for tonight’s show?”

“Indeed. Unless of course you dislike it. Then, I had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

That elicited a chuckle from Griff.

After dealing with the Pentarchy all night, he found the eccentric old man just the breath of fresh air he’d needed.

“Hey now, don’t try to pull a fast one on me,” Griff said with a grin.

“I assure you, I will get to the bottom of it.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt. You must leave all of Derimay’s criminals quaking in fear of your name!”

“Now you’re the one who exaggerates.” Griff shook his head, smiling.

“I’m just one man, doing his part to make the city a safer place.”

Lord Heneford gave a theatrical bow.

“For which I and my compatriots are immensely grateful. Congratulations, by the way, on solving your latest case. All those poor Khordanite nobles, forced to live in fear of exposure…” He clutched his cane to his chest for a moment before shrugging.

“Though of course, they wouldn’t have been so vulnerable to blackmail had they not had so many secrets to hide.”

Griff furrowed his brow.

“Are you suggesting that they had it coming?”

“Of course not! After all, we all have our secrets.” Lord Heneford’s blue eyes gleamed, and he leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Speaking of, any other monumental cases in the works, Inspector? The quality of the gossip is the only reason I bother accepting these invitations anymore.”

Griff’s lips twitched with amusement as he shrugged.

“Nothing worth discussing. This blackmail case ate up most of my time for the last few months. Now that it’s over, there are plenty more awaiting my attention.”

“Oh, no doubt. It seems like there’s always trouble of one kind of another afoot these days. Still, thank the Light we haven’t had to contend with open rebellion. Why, look what happened in Ilthabard to our north! Surely you have some juicy tidbit to share. What about your hunt for Blackjack?”

Mention of the infamous thief instantly set Griff back on edge.

That was one case he was never eager to discuss, no matter how often it haunted his thoughts.

“Sorry to disappoint, my lord. But I can’t discuss any ongoing cases with the public. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, of course,” Lord Heneford said.

“My apologies, Inspector. I didn’t mean to pry. But in my line of work, you can understand why the hunt for Derimay’s most elusive thief might be a matter of personal interest.”

Griff jerked a stiff nod.

“In any case,” Lord Heneford continued, “I have complete and utter faith in you, Inspector. I’m sure you’re closer to catching that rascal than you think.”

Before Griff could muster a reply, the lights abruptly went dark.

Worried murmurs and shouts erupted all around them on the balcony.

Griff had his revolver out in an instant, scanning the vicinity for any hints of danger.

“What is it?” Lord Heneford said, his drawling voice laced with fear.

“What’s going on?”

“Stay here,” Griff ordered, ignoring the man’s questions.

“I’m sure everything will be all right.”

Leaving the friendly investor there, he returned to Sasha and found him speaking with the small squad of protectors that had been standing guard outside.

Though he didn’t possess a Vantoric pistol like Griff, he had his standard-issue baton drawn, the enchanted metal crackling with electricity.

He looked up at Griff as he approached.

“Any idea what’s going on?” Griff asked.

“Not a clue,” Sasha said.

Griff could barely make him out in the darkened theater.

“The Void-cursed lights are all powered by Vantoric runetech. Maybe the controls malfunctioned?”

Griff frowned at that.

Vantoric runetech used runeflame to power fantastical inventions.

In his experience, it rarely failed without a reason, and certainly not on so grand a scale.

Something was wrong.

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

“We have this area secured. Go see if you can hunt down anyone who knows what’s going on.”

Griff nodded.

“Be back soon.”

Slipping past Sasha and the protectors, he made his way into the hall.

It was even darker here than on the balcony, barely any ambient light trickling in from outside.

Taking a steadying breath, he reached up and removed his aura blockers, bracing himself for the sudden rush of auras.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too bad out here in the hall.

Behind him, however, he could sense the thousands of latent auras from the audience, each a swirling burst of color waiting for him to focus on it.

Tucking his glasses in his coat pocket, he started down the hall.

He moved slowly, his pistol at the ready with the barrel pointed toward the floor.

He scanned the hall as he went, but didn’t spy anything suspicious.

A pair of approaching auras suddenly bloomed ahead of him at the end of the hall.

Both flickered in agitation, writhing with bright, hectic streaks of orange.

He paused, crouching down to wait for them to approach.

He relaxed when he recognized the auras’ owners as the pair of protectors he’d seen patrolling the floor when he first arrived.

“Don’t attack,” he called, rising slowly to make himself known to them.

“I’m an inspector with the Watch.”

“We know who you are, sir,” the woman on the left said.

“Any idea what happened to the lights?”

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”

The guard on the right shook his head.

“As best we can tell, they just went out. We didn’t want to stray too far from our posts to investigate.”

“Smart thinking,” Griff said.

“Carry on with your patrol. Protecting the people inside should remain our top priority. I’ll go see if I can learn more. Can you tell me where to find the light controls?”

They told him, and he nodded his thanks, creeping past them down a spiral staircase to the ground floor below.

Following their directions, he soon found the control panel near the theater’s main entrance.

Like most Vantoric runetech he’d seen, its sleek silver exterior gleamed with an intricate series of inlaid runes.

To his uncovered eyes, their auras blazed bright blue with latent magic.

Relying on his aura-sight, it didn’t take him long to trace the threads of magic and determine that the runes had been suppressed.

Someone had used a simple spell to temporarily overload the device.

But…why?

It would be easy enough to repair, the lights coming back on their own within the next few minutes.

The theater was swarming with protectors, and he’d seen no signs of an attack.

So what…

He stumbled, almost losing his footing as the entire building shook.

Screams erupted nearby, and he looked up from the panel, his eyes widening when he saw droves of people swarming out of the theater into the hall.

Scattered protectors in their midst shouted for order, urging them to return to their seats.

But it was obvious that they were fighting a losing battle.

The crowd was too panicked to pay them much mind.

Gritting his teeth, Griff shoved his way through the crowd, using his aura-sight to try to trace the source of the explosion.

A blast big enough to shake the entire theater should have left a good deal of magical residue behind.

Sure enough, he sensed the lingering essence of another runeflame spell on the air.

He squinted his eyes against the plethora of auras now blazing around him, careful not to focus too hard on any one of them.

Even still, the flickering bits he sensed from the corner of his sight soon left a dull throbbing in his skull.

It took longer than it should have thanks to all the distractions, but eventually, he tracked the disturbance to a small corridor off the main entrance.

If his memory wasn’t mistaken, this led to the theater’s main vault, used to store any valuables belonging to the patrons while they attended a show.

He’d been offered the courtesy when he arrived but had declined.

He felt a sinking sensation in his gut when he saw the thick smoke obscuring the door to the vault, along with more blinding auras he couldn’t decipher.

He had a sneaking suspicion he knew where this was going.

Yet, as the smoke began to clear, he was confused to see the vault door still shut and secured.

But then…what had that blast been?

And what was the purpose of the conjured smoke?

Like the lights, it didn’t make any Void-cursed sense!

He was still pondering the mystery when the lights flickered back on.

The runetech must’ve finally finished resetting itself.

Glancing back toward the theater entrance, he took in the current situation.

Protectors had stationed themselves around the room.

Having apparently given in to the crowd, they’d switched from trying to herd people back inside to overseeing a (mostly) orderly exit out the front.

There was no sign of the Pentarchy.

Most likely, Sasha intended to keep them secured on the balcony until the situation was under control.

Griff approved.

“Sir, get away from there!”

Griff turned to see a harried-looking protector bearing a captain’s sigil stalking toward him.

“Are you in charge of security here?” he asked.

The protector’s scowl deepened.

“I am. Now please, back away from the vault. This is a restricted area.”

Griff admired the man’s dedication to protocol, even if part of him chafed at the wasted time.

“I’m Inspector Denton with the Watch.” He gestured to the sealed vault door at the end of the hall.

“Mind opening that for me?”

The captain’s eyes lingered on the silver badge affixed to Griff’s chest. When next he spoke, his tone had grown noticeably more polite.

“That vault is the latest in Vantoric runetech. It’s utterly impenetrable without the proper rune keys. I can assure you, sir, that no one has entered since I personally sealed it a half hour ago.”

Studying its exterior with his aura-sight, Griff had to agree.

It would take some seriously advanced spells to breech that many active wards without setting off all manner of traps and alarms, and his aura-sight detected no such magic.

Still, he couldn’t shake the ominous premonition growing in the pit of his stomach.

“Please, Captain—humor me. Something strange is happening here, and I intend to figure out what.”

Grumbling under his breath, the protector reluctantly moved down the hall to the door and pressed a small seal against a pad there.

With a series of clicks, it unlocked.

“There, you see,” the protector said as he tugged the heavy metal door open with a loud creaking noise.

“Like I said, there’s nothing…”

He cut off, freezing in mid-motion as his mouth hung open.

Gazing past him, that sick feeling in Griff’s stomach intensified.

There was indeed nothing: the vault stood completely empty.

Griff slowly strode past the stunned protector, scanning the interior with his aura-sight.

Still no signs of any foreign magic, save the vault’s inherent wards.

Had someone stolen the captain’s key, then replaced it without him noticing?

But no, that wouldn’t have tricked a rune key tied specifically to the man’s unique lifeforce.

How in the Void had someone pulled such a miraculous heist off without leaving a trace?

As Griff came to a halt in the center of the room, he glanced down at the bare metal table there and sucked in a breath.

The room wasn’t entirely empty after all.

A pair of playing cards sat on the table, face down.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out and flipped them over, already knowing what he’d find.

Sure enough, it was a Jack of Spades and a Jack of Clubs.

Blackjack had struck again.