Esmeralda jolted awake, drenched in sweat, her heart hammering against her ribcage. Her hand fumbled on the nightstand until it found the bottle of Arzan spirits. Her fingers trembled, spilling some of the precious liquid as she brought it to her lips. Even the small amount she swallowed burned its way down, dulling the claustrophobic feeling that clung to her like a second skin.
Esmeralda changed out of her soaked garments and decided to skip breakfast as she started her daily stretching routine. Esmeralda was about halfway through her stretches when there was a knock on her door.
Esmeralda wasn’t expecting anyone. Moving silently, she slipped to the door, her hand reaching for the hidden dagger attached to the frame. She unfastened it in one smooth motion, leaning toward the peephole where a thin Xandran boy stood outside, his eyes flicking up as if he sensed her eyes on him.
“Yes?” Esmeralda asked.
“Mistress Esmeralda?”
“Just so. What business do you have here, boy?”
“I have a package to deliver,” the teen answered, his voice waiving from the exchange.
Esmeralda considered having him leave the package but decided it was best to keep the exchange as routine as possible.
“Oh, could you wait a moment?”
“Of course.”
Esmeralda put on a modest blouse and fished three silver deni out of her coin pouch before returning to the door and opening it.
The teen flinched as the door swung open. Esmeralda handed him the deni as he handed her a medium-sized parcel.
His eyes widened at the sight of the tip before knuckling his forehead and taking his leave.
Once the door was locked, Esmeralda set the parcel on the table, eyeing the plain brown wrapping with suspicion. She extended a delicate thread of ley, probing for enchantments. A faint pulse of energy stirred—a quiet hum from within. Focusing, she refined the thread, confirming the box wasn’t enchanted but held something magikal inside.
Esmeralda exhaled slowly, her gaze fixed on the box. Whoever had sent this knew exactly what they were doing, putting her in a difficult position. After a tense moment of deliberation, she decided the risk of opening it was worth taking.
Esmeralda slowly peeled the brown paper off to reveal a stunningly beautiful, lacquered jewelry box. Esmeralda stared at the box, her pulse quickening. Had she agreed to something dangerous during one of her blackout binges? The thought gnawed at her, and she could only hope it didn’t involve anything drastic to clean up whatever mess she might have stumbled into this time.
Esmeralda gingerly opened the box to find the ugliest ring she had ever seen. The ring was made of silver, its bulky face large enough to cover two fingers. Nine jaggedly-cut aquamarine gems formed a circle around a central stone, each gem oddly sharp, almost as if designed to repel rather than attract. The center gem, large enough to resemble a child’s marble, pulsed with an eerie, faint blue light.
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Esmeralda noticed a scrap of parchment attached to the ring and a sealed leather missive tube. She removed and unrolled the scrap of parchment to find a message. She immediately recognized the handwriting as Balrik’s.
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Esmeralda,
I apologize for sending a parcel and message in such a fashion. Unfortunately, time is of the essence. You are probably curious about the ring, and rightfully so. The ring will allow me to communicate with you without exposing you or me. The middle gem will light up when the ring receives a transmission from its twin in my possession. The smaller gems will then light up using Vestigare semaphore. I suggest keeping a writing utensil and parchment nearby before you start.
The tube is warded; if opened without the keyword, its contents will burn to ash. If the Vestigare capture me, deliver it to the one who knows the keyword. I prepared it in this fashion to protect you, giving plausible deniability if the tube ended up in the wrong hands. The location of the individual is encoded in the ring along with the rest of your instructions.
-B
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Esmeralda reread the message before lighting the parchment with her lantern and tossing it in the hearth.
Esmeralda gathered a few sheets of parchment, a pen, and an inkwell and returned to the table. As the implications of the magikal ring sank in, a weight lifted from her shoulders. She wasn’t alone anymore. For the first time in what felt like years, she had a direct link to the only person who knew her beyond the mask of a double agent—her father, and his guidance. The isolation that had clung to her like a shroud began to fade.
Refocusing on the ring, Esmeralda trickled ley into it. After a few ticks, the sixth gem on the bottom lit up, followed by the third gem on the right—signaling the first letter of Balrik’s message: “f.”
She quickly decoded the instructions and couldn’t help but admire Balrik’s plan. It was convoluted but clever, keeping them both safe. And if anything went wrong, she could warn him in time for an alternative approach.
Esmeralda reread the orders and address before burning the parchment. This time, she sat in her plush chair, watching the paper curl and turn to ash. For the first time in years, she fell asleep without needing a drink.
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Esmeralda shot awake to a heavy knock on her door.
“Who is it?” she called, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Agent Aon,” the voice from the other side of the door answered.
“Be right there,” Esmeralda replied, stifling a yawn.
She realized she hadn’t changed from yesterday’s clothes. Smoothing out the wrinkles, she chewed on some mint, fastened her belt, and stepped out the door.
Agent Aon waited in the hallway, hands clasped behind his back.
“‘Apologies for the intrusion,” Aon said, his tone brisk. “There’s pressing business.” He turned and led her down the hall.
The Grang Vestigare agent led them outside to a carriage in the street, and after they boarded, he finally spoke.
“Reliable intel suggests Balrik’s right-hand man, Fulope, is coming to town. I suspect it’s tied to the egg, though I’m not sure how.”
Esmeralda kept her face neutral. She hadn’t expected Balrik’s operation to start so soon after receiving his message.
“I don’t know much about Fulope. Is he a wanted individual?”
“Fulope is Balrik’s fixer. His friend too. Most of his businesses are legit, yet he’s managed to keep himself clean—despite his close dealings with Balrik,” Aon said.
Esmeralda noted Aon’s intimate knowledge of Balrik’s operation with quiet admiration. Fulope had always been Balrik’s confidant, operating just as Aon described. For a moment, she thought of the Ramon she’d once called “uncle.”
“If he is not wanted, how will we question him?”
“We’ll get creative,” Aon said, his predatory grin widening, his beady, inky black pupils staring past her hungrily.
A chill ran down Esmeralda’s spine. The thought that Balrik might have underestimated Aon’s ruthlessness gnawed at her, leaving her with a lingering sense of dread as the carriage lurched forward.