Hyrestl was in the middle of pulling bread out of the oven when Jak burst into the kitchen.

“Hyrestl? We need to talk. Where’s Rylen? Why weren’t we told sooner he disappeared?”

“Shh!” Hyrestl let the bread fall to the counter unceremoniously. “I don’t know! Why do you think I let you know?”

“Why aren’t you out there looking for him?”

Hyrestl took a lantern off the shelf and lit it, then tugged on Jak’s arm, pulling him into the cellar and closing the door behind them. “Could you just wait? I’m up to my neck in customers!”

“What do you mean customers? I have the same problem as you do! Maybe even worse! I’ve got people breathing down my neck to fix all manner of tools that are broken.” Jak gripped the front of Hyrestl’s shirt. “Do you think they have patience for me to dawdle during the festival? No! This is do or die! This is bigger than either of our businesses! If we fail here, then it’s our necks on the line!”

Hyrestl took a firm hold on Jak’s wrist and twisted sharply, breaking his friend’s grip on the front of his shirt. Jak dwarfed him, but Hyrestl wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

“I have been looking. I’ve just been doing it at night when no one will notice. Do you think we have a chance if our enemies figure out what we’re up to? Then we’ll really have messed it all up. I can’t play it low while abandoning my business to search for an Eran no one cares for!”

“Flaming crowns!” Jak stepped back and brushed his hands against his pants in a nervous gesture. “They could come for him any day, you know that? It was going to be simple. They come under cover of the festival, pick him up, and we’re done. Easy, right? Why does he have to go missing now, of all times?”

“Keep it on the down-low,” Hyrestl urged. “Notify Kassim and Adilah. They’ll get in touch with their people. They can see further than we can. Don’t forget what our duty is. We’re here for close protection. Besides, isn’t the tower watching?”

Jak shook his head. “The tower can’t catch everything. They rely on people like us to direct their attention.”

Hyrestl kept his mouth shut. He had been suspecting Jak and the others were supplying the tower with reports on his travels these past years. This only increased his suspicions.

Jak let out a deep sigh.

“Y’know, he’s probably run away.”

“He’ll come back.”

“We don’t know that. If I were him, I wouldn’t.” Jak took another deep breath. “We’re so close, you know? I get to run my little smithy with my family for the rest of my life after this.” He stepped past the barman. “You’d better do your best.” He opened the cellar door and went back up.

Hyrestl wiped the sweat from his brow. A blood vessel stood out on his forehead. He punched one of the shelving’s wood supports; there was the sharp sound of cracking wood, and the shelf shook and rattled. He flexed his hand and shook it out as he went upstairs.

***

Bardullah glared across the table at the man he was to obtain a briefing from.

Toamla was lying facing the ceiling across the top of a high-backed wooden chair. Not only that, he had it tipped forward and balanced on its two front legs. His hands intertwined behind his head.

Bardullah wanted to kick the chair out from under the man, but he couldn’t. After all, this sorry excuse for an ambassador was exactly that: an ambassador. One simply did not kick the chair out from under a diplomat, no matter how they were using their position in mockery of nobles and princes.

“I must say, dear Prince Bardullah, your country has the most exquisite chairs I’ve ever had the chance of sitting in. They are most comfortable.”

“I’m glad you appreciate it. We spare no expense for the comforts of ambassadors. Now, if you please, let us get on with our discussion.”

“Of course, down to business.”

Bardullah had to repress a sneer. Toamla’s physical position said anything but business.

“The king would like to know exactly what birthday you were celebrating with your antics yesterday.”

Toamla smiled. “Oh, the king knows. I’ve spoken to him myself on the matter. That is, not recently, but in previous years. I would never break my, um, house arrest that you’ve put me under.”

The prince blinked. “Is that so? Then you shouldn’t have any trouble divulging the details to me, as I am one of the foremost princes.”

Toamla started rocking the chair a tad. The movement startled Bardullah as it first tipped first in his direction before going the other way.

“Hmm, I just don’t know. If your king hasn’t told you, wouldn’t you think there’s a reason why he doesn’t want you to know?” Toamla looked over to Bardullah. “It would appear as if you’re trying to snoop in the king’s business. Not to mention business he doesn’t want you knowing.”

Bardullah felt himself growing hot under the collar. “It is my business to communicate any discourses that occur with the ambassadors of Ara-Era. What you did the other day could be interpreted as a declaration of war. I need to understand clearly what you meant by your display, Toamla-Kegol.”

The man tsked.

“Excuse me?”

“Pardon me. I was just spitting out something I found between my teeth.”

Bardullah’s lip curled. “How vulgar.”

“A treaty.”

“What?”

Toamla stood atop the chair and paced across the top of it one way, then the other. He did so in such a way that it looked like he hung from the very edge of one side with his toe before heading to the other. Each time the chair would begin tilting in that direction, such that it came up on only one leg before settling down again as he advanced. Despite himself, Bardullah’s bottom lip fell, dumbfounded. But Toamla’s face was utterly serious.

“Your king and father created a treaty with us at the end of the war.” Toamla looked straight at Bardullah. “That is what I was celebrating.”

“But why now? You haven’t made such a display in other years.”

The ambassador sighed. “If you wish your question to be answered, look to your king, not me.” A merry glint came to his eye. “You’re all so frantic about improving your station here in Gwyan. It’s no wonder the king has been waiting for at least a semblance of political stability to act on his wishes.”

Bardullah finished taking some notes, then closed his book.

“It is not your place to comment on the affairs of our court, Toamla. We gave you a chance to join it, but you repeatedly made a mockery of us. I should add, you continue to do so.”

Bardullah stood, and Toamla hopped down from his perch and sat on the chair. He held out his hand to the other.

“It has been a pleasure speaking with you today, Prince Bardullah.”

Bardullah looked at the hand as if it were a rattlesnake that would bite him, but gave in and shook it.

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“Good day, Toamla.”

The man waved as Bardullah left.

In the hallway, his knuckles turned white clutching the book. Toamla was giving him the runaround. Something told him that Toamla somehow knew about the King’s Desire. His comment about the ruler waiting for political stability nearly said as much.

If Toamla’s display truly had something to do with the treaty, why was he making a big deal of it right now? Not to mention that convoy was preparing to head out at about the same time Toamla made his display. Did that have something to do with the treaty? Bardullah made a mental note to read it over when he had the chance.

Meanwhile, he was going to draw up a request to inflate tariffs on Ara-Eran timber coming into Gwyan in response to the irresponsible and reckless display. The request required royal approval.

The king had allowed tariffs to be raised before in response to Toamla’s recklessness. This request shouldn’t be any different. Unless his so-called celebration was legitimate. Politically, the king wouldn’t be able to agree to such a penalty if he was in the right.

If it was rejected, Bardullah would definitely know there was something different concerning Toamla’s recent actions that kept the king from retaliating in an appropriate manner.

It wasn’t enough to link Toamla and the convoy, but everything was aligning a little too well. At the very least, if the king rejected the tariffs, it would verify that there was actual meaning behind the ambassador’s actions and words this time.

***

Prince Bardullah lounged as he sipped hot cider in the chill of early morning. Usually, he would be staying in the overly spacious and luxurious rooms of Night’s Eye. However, he simply hadn’t felt like it. The place was so…big and tall. The smallest doors in the place were twelve feet high and four feet wide. The tower was far more ancient than anything else in Gwyan. Of that Bardullah was positive. It was undeniable to any who saw it that it had been crafted by the giants of ancient days. Of all the ruins left by them, Night’s Eye was in pristine condition.

For some reason, Bardullah didn’t feel like a prince when staying there. He felt like a child wearing his parents’ clothing. Like he was trying to be significant but only ended up feeling ridiculous.

The sky slowly lightened, and he could see the faint outlines of all the gardens and palaces of the nobles spread out beneath him in the valley. The palace he was currently staying in had been built far up on the side of a mountain that overlooked the town of Edge. It was also one of the palaces closest to the edge of the cliff.

The view wasn’t as spectacular as the one he had in Night’s Eye, but he was fine with that. The noble who owned the palace, Najireem, owed the Daum family a few favors and not a small amount of debt. Bardullah wasn’t above helping him pay it back.

A morning breeze picked up as the light grew. The sparkle of frost could now be seen on the grass and leaves.

“Prince.”

Bardullah jumped and turned. Harbiya was standing beside him, also cradling a mug of cider. Steam rose from the hot liquid.

“Eh, heh, heh! I’m sorry. I do that to more people than just you, trust me. I really don’t do it on purpose.”

Bardullah sighed and adjusted himself comfortably in his chair. He motioned to the other chair for Harbiya to sit in. He did so, put his feet up on the table, and took a deep swig of cider.

Bardullah pursed his lips in distaste as if he were sitting at the same table as a street urchin. Which he in fact was.

He took a sip of his drink and set it down. “If you want me to talk to you, you’ll have to remove the soles of your feet from my view.”

The man rolled his eyes and set his feet on the ground again. “Of course, Your Honor.”

“I don’t see how you have any servants left,” Bardullah said snidely, “considering they are all of higher birth than you. I can’t see how they stand it.”

Harbiya looked at him quizzically, then realization dawned on him. “Oh, no they don’t stand it, except for a few. I just keep them around so I know who is plotting to kill me. I actually had to replace a large portion of my staff because they all left. But please, don’t worry about it, Prince. Such affairs are my own.”

“Speaking of servants, have you been able to connect with any to help you with your work?”

“Of course. The Kamwa I’ve come into contact with have already been very helpful. Though, they deny having worked for anyone in the past. Strange, that. I thought all the nobles were controlling them.”

Bardullah was quiet for a moment and glanced around them. “Nobles would never mix themselves up with thieves.”

“Oh, you’re right, of course. My apologies.” Harbiya looked around also, as if not understanding why the other man was on guard. Then he nodded in understanding. “Superstitious lot, you nobles. Of course, not that you don’t have reason to be. You can hardly be wrong in your intuition, dear Prince.”

Bardullah resisted the urge to give a sharp retort and changed the subject.

“What are the movements of the convoy?”

“They haven’t set out yet. However, we’ve been able to trail some of their scouts, and they’ve returned to the captain. We could assume the same for the rest in the next week. Based on the information the scouts have provided, I think they’ll make a decision and begin to move.”

“So, they’ll likely be setting out in a week. Is the plan set in place?”

“Yes, with the…servants I’ve been able to find, we should be able to pull it off.”

Bardullah gave Harbiya a level gaze. “You don’t have to emphasize the word so much. It gives away that you mean something else.”

“I wasn’t born into verbal backstabbing like you nobles. If words were knives, every noble would have a thousand wounds upon their backs and not a single one in the front.” He picked up his mug and mumbled into it. “Most dishonorable.”

“What was that?”

“Oh, just thinking to myself, my prince.”

Bardullah glared at him. “So, your scouts will mirror the movements of the most forward scouts of the convoy by staying far ahead of them. What about splits in roads? How will you manage that?”

“Our scouts will naturally have to separate. Once the true direction of the convoy is found, they will double back and follow the group until they stop for the night. Then, they will pass by them while they’re sleeping to get ahead of them once again.”

Bardullah stroked his short-trimmed beard. “The toughest part of this is exercising the strike to steal the King’s Desire before the convoy reaches it. How are we going to implement that?”

Harbiya shrugged. “I’m just a street urchin who’s been following your orders. You’re the mastermind here. Eh, heh, heh, heh!”

Bardullah mused for a bit, while the other took another swig and downed the last of his cider. “Speaking of which, Prince Daum, what did your elders say to a match between your sister and me?”

The prince’s lips pursed imperceptibly. “They were completely against it.” His eyes looked out to the valley. The light had grown to the point that he could see the mottled fall colors of the forests. “Honestly, I myself am sickened by the idea.”

Harbiya’s face softened, but his eyes glinted. “That saddens me, Prince. For I have only ever looked on her in love. Isn’t that enough? It is a pity that our births should erect barriers in our future lives even before we are aware of them.” His hand clutched his shirt over his heart.

Bardullah squinted his eyes in annoyance.

“But of course, our leaders are far wiser than the masses beneath them. I should resign myself to my fate.” A sharp light suddenly gleamed in his eyes as the cold blue clouds in the sky were painted red by the sun. “And nobles should resign themselves to their fates.”

The chill morning breeze picked up and rustled the drying leaves on the trees.

Bardullah took a sip of the warm liquid. As he raised it to his lips, he could feel its humid heat rise and ward away the cold on his face. He placed it back on the table and the chill returned.

“If we obtain the King’s Desire and I am made his favored son, I’m sure my elders will reconsider. It may take some time to put on a show of me reclaiming it from the…Kamwa,” he said quietly.

“The what?” Harbiya cupped his hand to his ear.

Bardullah glowered at him. “The servants.”

The man blinked a couple times, then made an O with his mouth and nodded. He gave Bardullah a wink.

“In any case,” Bardullah continued, “rest assured we will keep our end of the bargain if this succeeds. If not, you’ll just have to resign yourself to your fate.”

Harbiya nodded, but his attention had been drawn to the glittering gold on the temple of Edge. Its large domed roofs and tall thin spires stretched along the ridge of the hill. His gut was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t discern what it was. Unconsciously, he rubbed the silver bracer upon his right forearm.

“Have you heard the myths of the Kamwa who are able to sniff out even the most worthless copper coin?” Harbiya said and watched Bardullah shifting in his seat uncomfortably; he grinned.

“What if I told you they were true? The King’s Desire must be something that exceeds the wealth even found in this town. Otherwise, the king wouldn’t have use for it, right?”

“Those are just old wives’ tales. There’s nothing to them.”

The skin crinkled at the corner of Harbiya’s eyes. “But you’ve experienced it before, haven’t you? Something that you thought you’d hidden away where no one could find it goes missing. The only thing in its place is upturned dirt, a clear spot amid the dust, or simply no trace at all.”

Bardullah glanced away from Harbiya.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harbiya said. “It only matters that in my…searches to find servants, I’ve come across a few that can do just that. Kamwa of Acrabha.”

“The tunnel passes are heavily guarded,” Bardullah said. “No one can leave Acrabha for the interior without the royal guardsmen knowing.” It almost sounded like he was trying to comfort himself.

“Well, perhaps they aren’t true Kamwa of Acrabha, but I think they’ll still be helpful.” He got up out of his chair. “By your leave, I’ll need to return to the capital to make preparations.”

The prince nodded. “I’ll be here until the end of the Sun Festival. Send word of how things went as quickly as possible. If the servants you’ve found live up to their names, I’m sure they can swipe the King’s Desire right out from under the convoy’s noses.”

“Oh, by the way,” Harbiya said as he turned back, “what was that whole business with Toamla and him putting on a show? I assume you had to speak to him about it.”

“He didn’t give me a reason. I assume he simply got bored and decided to mess around with us.”

“Eh, heh, heh, heh! Sounds like something he’d do.”