“I don’t know if we can do this, Grevail. Gaston said a few, not ten, or twenty, or however many are out there,” Raela whispered. She lay flat on her stomach next to him and they both peered down into the remains of what had been a large, deep lake.
In the bottom sat an odd structure, like nothing they’d ever seen before. A massive round dome emerged from the dark lake bed like the muddied shell of a giant crab. A chest high wall, draped in dried algae that ruffled in the wind, surrounded the dome’s entrance.
Ten Thavan soldiers sat around a bonfire inside the wall, beside what appeared to be a statue three times as tall as a man, though it was caked in mud and unrecognizable. The maroon and gold striped uniforms of the Keepers were a rare smudge of color amid the earthy browns and grays. The Keepers were what the Thava called the lowest ranking soldiers, who guarded Spiritkeeps and the vast wealth collected from them which eventually made its way to the palaces of Andrada. The courtyard was near a hundred paces from where Grevail lay on the shore at the tip of the oval lake.
“There it was again!” Adellus pointed to the bank on the right.
Grevail swiveled his head that way. Arulan’s pale light bathed the dark lumps of foliage along the shore, but even so, nothing jumped out at him. “You’ve been seeing things since we left Lowtown. Are you sure?” Grevail asked, returning his eyes to the dome.
“I swear I saw movement!” Adellus said. “I don’t know what it was, but something is out there.”
Grevail shook his head. They’d all been jumpy since arriving late in the day to find so many Thava here. For the most part, the Keepers drank and caroused around the fire, though once, one of them rose to walk around the bottom of the lake. Grevail and his friends had retreated into the brush until the man returned to the courtyard and the company of his comrades. Beside that, it had been a long while of biding their time among the tall reeds and grass, awaiting an opportunity.
A flash lit the horizon, followed by the low roar of thunder that like a trumpet blast in a king’s court, announced the arrival of the first fat raindrops. A slow and cold wind accompanied the rain, bending the stunted marsh trees and tall grass around them.
“Oh great…” Raela scowled up at the night sky, then turned her disapproval on Grevail.
Grevail reached into his rucksack nearby and dug out his cloak. He left it in his bag so it wouldn’t get muddy and caught on every bramble. Raela already wore hers, and it was now coated in the dark, abundant marsh mud. She brushed a strand of red hair away from emerald green eyes that turned to search the night like a cat. She would drag him away in a headlock if they didn’t catch a break soon.
For a while they contented themselves with listening to the pop and smack of the gentle shower on their cloaks. Above them, Arulan swam across a twinkling, star-strewn sky hemmed by dark clouds. After some time, the light rain turned to a downpour.
One of the Thava in the courtyard stood and slapped a shining kettle helm on his head. He was likely the leader, a Vario, as they were called. The Thava had many different ranks and names, none of which Grevail was all that familiar with. The distant murmur of the man’s voice echoed across the barren lake bed. The Keepers under his command stood and began gathering their things. The Vario pointed at one soldier, then another, and left the courtyard through the eastern gate, followed by most of his men. They headed toward the bank where they scrabbled out under the onslaught from above. The two Keepers the Vario pointed at were left behind.
“Where are they going?” Tessyn asked.
“To their cam..ca..camp,” Adellus said through chattering teeth.
Grevail shivered from the cold too—the rain already soaked through his old cloak and deep into his clothes. The remaining two Keepers tossed more wood on the fire, perhaps in the hope it would survive the rain. One of them, a short fellow with dark hair, still clutched a bottle in his hand. He took a drink and set it beside the fire.
“We can get passed two,” Grevail said.
“Grevail!” Raela’s face turned incredulous, as if he’d lost his mind. “How do we know they won’t come back?”
“Not as long as this rain keeps up,” he said.
“How are we going to do it?” Tessyn asked.
“I could lure them away,” Adellus said. “It might be difficult in the mud, but I think they’ve had enough drink.” He adopted a shrill voice. “Sirs…brave sirs…might you help a beautiful…and rich…lady find her way out of the swamp!”
Tessyn rolled her eyes. “You fool, Dell. What if they call the others back instead of following after you?”
Grevail ignored Dell’s humor, which he always resorted to when anxious or frightened, and instead considered their options. “No telling what we might find in there, if anything at all. It could be filled with this mud for all we know.” The thought of returning empty handed was enough to make him grind his teeth. Gaston would at the very least give them fifty ess for something, maybe the description would be enough, but he didn’t want to chance it. The rain showed no sign of dissipating and now fell in a steady, unrelenting sheet. A thousand ess could be waiting for them, just inside that dome. “There are only two of them now. This is what we were promised.”
The other soldier, a wide and bald man, busied himself erecting a tent beside the mud statue, struggling to set the tent stakes in the ground. His companion offered little help, but after a short while of curses muffled by rain, both Keepers disappeared inside.
“Are they are sleeping?” Raela asked.
“Staying out of the rain,” Tessyn said.
Adellus pulled his cloak around himself with a shiver. “Perhaps we should join them. We’ll have a little bit to drink…share a few stories…stay nice and dry for a while. Then we’ll ask if we can have a look at this tomb they are guarding.”
Grevail shook his head. “We should go now. We’ll climb over the wall there.” He pointed to where the dome met the western wall.
“I agree.” Tessyn’s brown eyes found his and she shot him a smile that was bright even in the darkness. “We can do this. I didn’t come all the way out here for nothing.”
“Alright,” Adellus chimed in with a resigned sigh. “But I can’t light a lantern in this wind, unless you think the Emberfolk left their’s lit. Ash and embers, Grevail. Emberfolk?”
Grevail inclined his head at Tessyn. “Is the torch dry?”
Tessyn stuck a hand inside her bag. “It’s still wrapped. Should we light it inside?”
“It’s bound to be pitch black in there,” Adellus said.
“You can’t light it in the dark? Well, we can’t go inside without light.” Raela’s eyes darted from one of them to the next.
“I’ve got some flint,” Adellus grunted, “but if I could see in the dark we wouldn’t need the torch.”
Tessyn rose to her knees and looked toward the dome. “I can light it from their fire. They are drunk.” She shrugged at the questioning looks they gave her. “It will be easy.”
After a moment, Grevail nodded. “You should be the last to go in then.” If anyone knew how to tiptoe around two drunk men, it was Tessyn.
Tessyn returned his nod with confidence, but her hand tightened around the bag in a white-knuckle grip.
Grevail’s heart quickened, the way it always did before he stole something, but this wasn’t picking a pocket or pilfering a few rolls from a baker’s stall. This was bigger than anything they’d ever attempted before, far bigger. Ashes, stealing from under a Thavan’s nose! “Alright, follow me. Remember the plan. If anything happens, we meet where we camped last night on the river. Grab your bags,” Grevail said and snatched his up.
Muddy waterfalls poured from the shore into the empty lake, streaming to the center and pooling around the courtyard wall. The Thavan’s fire struggled to stay lit, whisking this way and that in the mild wind, sending wild shadows across the dome.
Grevail scooted to the edge of the bank and after a moment of studying the drop, slipped over. With a wet splat, he sunk in mud to his ankles and felt it gush into his shoes. Ducking his head from the rain, he trudged down the shallow incline, pausing every few moments to shake clumps of gunk from his feet. His friends, one after another, dropped from the ledge—the sound of their movements overpowered by the downpour.
As he crept toward the dome he lost sight of the fire and the tent on the other side of the lichen lined wall. The tomb still loomed above, a menacing, intimidating form basked in the orange of the fire. He made his way, slipping several times, until he came to the flat bottom. He was now only thirty or so paces from the wall and directly before the southern gate. He was sure it wouldn’t open, packed with ages of gunk as it was, even if he wanted to open it. He looked over his shoulder to see his friends crouching in the moonlight like wet monoliths protruding from the mud.
He turned toward the corner of the western wall. Roots and rocks stuck out of the bank on his left, but surprisingly little debris littered the lake bed—only flat, smooth mud. How long had the tomb been at the bottom of this lake and how had it remained intact?
After crawling down the western wall and pausing every so often to listen for any movement from the soldiers, he came to where it met the dome. The Keepers would be right on the other side now. He found himself holding his breath, even knowing that it didn’t matter in the rain.
His friends slipped and slid on the mud as they waddled toward him but made little noise, even to his ears straining to hear them. He waited until they reached his position and when they did, stood to peek over the wall. The soldier’s boots lay between the flaps of the tent, side by side. Water saturated the courtyard and yet more continued to fall, exploding like a trillion tiny pinpricks in the firelight. They can’t be sleeping in this, he worried. That tent must be soaked through.
He sank behind the wall again and took in his friends. Tucked into hoods, their faces were grim in the moonlight.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Wait,” Raela said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
He stared at her. “We are too close to stop now. Do we go home with nothing? To what? Aeson and Lowtown?” He reminded himself where they were and lowered his voice. “I’m going in there. You can stay out here if you want.” A distant flash of lightning pursued by a deep rumble punctuated his words.
Raela searched his eyes, as if she really were wondering if he was insane. After a moment, she spread her hands. “Fine.”
“It will be fine,” Adellus whispered. “We’ll be back at Maedra’s in no time at all with a story to tell and bags of gold.”
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Raela rolled her eyes. “We can’t tell anyone anything…” she began but only shook her head and swung her gaze back to Grevail.
“I’ll go over first,” Grevail said, giving Raela no more time to question what they were about to do. After a deep breath, he stood and jumped into the air, plunking his rear on the wall. He waited, staring at the tent, but the Keepers remained motionless. He swung a leg over, then the other, and lowered himself into the courtyard. His feet sank into the mud but here he felt something solid beneath, as if there might be a layer of stones. No wonder the Thavan couldn’t get his stakes in.
In a crouch, he moved past the tent toward the entrance of the dome, careful not to splash about in the water. White flecks of color were visible where the mud had been scraped away and Grevail assumed the dome may have been that color once, long ago. He reached the entryway and paused to listen but heard only the rain. The doorway wouldn’t be out of place on any home, a bit taller than most, but it seemed so undersized on a building this large. The door itself had been torn off and now laid at his feet, one side coated in a thick layer of black gunk.
He spared a glance over his shoulder at the tent, then with a deep breath, stuck his head inside.
A screech tore through the rain. Grevail whirled and planted his back against the dome. His heart shot into his throat. He searched the night for a source, every muscle in his body winding into knots.
“I’m trying to sleep…this damn rain…” came a drowsy grumble from the tent.
“Sorry, I had a dream and I thought…”
“I don’t care! I want to get some sleep before the Vario comes back, you fool! Shutup!”
“They won’t be back till’ morning anyway and—”
“I said shutup!”
The rain washed over Grevail’s senses—the smattering on the hood of his cloak filled his ears. A long breath escaped his lips before he could stop it. Motion pulled his eyes to the wall. Raela’s hooded head floated above it. She waved for him to return.
He shook his head at her and edged into the doorway again. Brief snippets of color and shapes were revealed by the Thavan’s fire, but not enough to make anything out. A musty odor hit his nose before it was whisked away on a frigid breeze. The floor was solid beneath his feet and when he stretched a hand down, a smooth, dry surface met his fingertips. He leaned out of the doorway and motioned Raela on.
She hesitated, likely scowling at him, but then scampered over the wall, dropping to the ground on the other side. She paused, cowl trained on the tent, then scurried toward him. Adellus appeared atop the wall behind her.
Raela made it to the doorway and ducked inside. Huddling beside him, she peered at the dark innards of the dome as if a monster hid somewhere inside.
In the courtyard, Adellus crossed the rain-swept ground without issue to join them—burlap bag clutched in his hand. “At least it isn’t filled with mud,” he whispered as he crowded in beside Raela.
Next, Tessyn’s thin frame scaled down the wall. She reached the bottom and paused, crouching in water up to her ankles. From her bag she produced the torch, wrapped in wax paper, then crept toward the fire and thrust it over the flames. The paper fell away and drifted upward on a current of warm air. Even against the rain, it floated up and into the dark night, the noise of its papery undulations audible to Grevail.
He released a breath when it disappeared from view, then immediately held another as the torch popped and fizzed in Tessyn’s hand. She kept her eyes trained on the tent, just paces away. The pitch flared to life and she swiveled like a tightrope walker in the water, heading toward them. The flame sputtered and nearly died in a gust of wind, yet before it could be doused, Tessyn reached the safety of the doorway. Crouching beside them in the entrance, the torch in Tessyn’s fist trailed a greasy, black smoke into the air above their heads.
A soft gasp echoed from Tessyn’s lips, and when Grevail turned from watching the tent, he soon saw why. Arched ribs of white stone met at the precipice of the dome and ran down to the floor. They were carved with decorative lines and swirls, intricately woven across each block that made it appear as if they were moving in the light of the torch. On the curved walls of the dome between these ribs huge glass mosaic scenes glittered like gems in a jewelers showcase. In one colorful illustration, a long line of people walked toward a domed building on a brilliant green hill. On another, a figure in strange armor knelt inside a black arch shaped like an arrowhead. An owl soared through white fluffy clouds on yet another panel.
Just as Gaston said, though still difficult to believe, there was no sign that water ever entered the dome. Grevail supposed the inside looked the same as it had when it was built. His gaze returned to ground level. Red and black floor stones sparkled in the flickering light of the torch, and just ahead in the center of the room, a set of stairs disappeared into the ground. He didn’t see anything to take. Perhaps they could pry something off the walls, if Gaston would accept it.
“This is…” Grevail said, but couldn’t find the words.
“This is what the Thava don’t want anyone to see,” Tessyn murmured, voice reverberating off the thick walls.
The noise reminded Grevail of their precarious position. “Come on,” he said and waddled in a crouch toward the steps, muddy shoes sliding on the smooth floor. The red and black stones disappeared from Tessyn’s torchlight into murky darkness, like a shimmering path to the underworld.
After a look at his friends, Grevail started down. Tessyn took the lead, lighting the way, and they continued downward with the plopping of muddied feet that was all too loud in Grevail’s ears. He scanned the darkness for the things his imagination conjured lurking beyond the light. The walls were made of huge stone blocks, fit tightly together without a hint of mortar. Tessyn’s torch gasped and nearly went out.
“Wait,” Adellus said and stopped to rifle through his bag. “I’ll light the lantern with your torch before it goes out.”
“Good idea.” Tessyn extended the brand toward him, but her eyes remained locked on the darkness ahead.
Adellus removed a bit of cloth from his bag and dangled it over the torch till it lit, then shoved it into the lantern globe atop the wick. It soon produced a strong, steady light, and he tossed the rag to the ground, using a boot to extinguish it. “Guess there isn’t much chance of it starting a fire,” he said, directing a nervous chuckle at the cold stones, then fixed his gaze on the darkness ahead and took a deep breath. He took the lead and resumed the descent.
When it seemed the stairs would continue forever, they came to a small, circular landing where they huddled at the center as if the walls were about to collapse. Breath misted from their cowls in the cold damp air and goosebumps skittered across Grevail’s skin. The same red and black floor tiles sparkled even more here than they had above, like stars in the night sky. A square tunnel bore into the stone ahead and above the entrance, a plaque glowed dully in the lamplight.
“Is that gold?” Raela asked.
Adellus walked to it cautiously, then popped onto his toes and brought his face close. “Looks like bronze to me.” He swept a hand over the face, coaxing a thick cloud of dust into the air. “An owl?”
Carved into the shining bronze surface, the round eyes of an owl looked back at them as if surprised, or…eager for company.
“Well?” Tessyn said, moving the torch around the room. “We’re not stopping here are we?”
“I’m not,” Grevail said. Breakers claimed owls meant something to the Emberfolk, and nobody knew more about Emberfolk than Dawnbreakers or Conveyors.
“Me either,” Adellus said and took a step forward as if Grevail had challenged him.
Entering the tunnel in a tight knot, they found it to continue for some time, straight and unchanged. The stone remained undecorated, but very well built, and when Grevail ran a hand along the wall, he could not tell where the blocks joined. If he closed his eyes, he might think it were all one piece. Tessyn’s torch fluttered and then the flame vanished altogether. She cursed and tossed it to the ground.
“I wonder how big this place is,” Raela wondered.
Adellus held the lantern at arm’s length, fending off the darkness. “Huge, I’d say…for how long we’ve been walking. There has to be secret passages and rooms in here.”
As if the words were a foretelling, two doorways materialized in the lamplight, intersecting the tunnel ahead. Adellus crept forward and stuck the lantern into one of the gaping black holes in the stone. The same floor tiles and wall stone disappeared into blackness.
“Which way?” Grevail asked.
“This one?” Adellus suggested, swinging the lantern at the tunnel on the right.
Tessyn grimaced at the tunnel mouth. “Why?”
Adellus shrugged. “Why not? I’m going this way.”
“Why do you get to decide?” Raela asked.
“I’ve got the lantern. Feel free to go your own way,” he quipped over his shoulder as he slunk into the entrance.
Raela muttered under her breath, staring at his back. “You’re going to get us all killed and…”
Keeping on Adellus’ heels, Grevail didn’t hear what else she said, but only moments later the tunnel ended in a rectangle of inky black. There was no hint of what lay beyond but a few paces of floor.
Adellus turned to give them an uneasy look.
“Well, Dell,” Raela said. “You’ve got the lantern.”
Adellus frowned at her, then faced forward again, swallowing. After a moment of staring into the blackness, he took a hesitant step forward.
Inside, the light revealed a circular room twenty or so paces across. Perpendicular niches were carved into the back wall, one atop the other like a bookshelf. Placed on these shelves were many strange, egg-shaped objects, about as long as Grevail’s forearm and as wide as his head. Dark black in color, they reflected the light, as if polished.
“What are they?” Raela asked as they shuffled in a tight cluster to the center of the room.
Adellus held the lantern over his head and craned his neck to search the ceiling, just a few paces above. “Eggs?” He lowered the lantern to the shelves, illuminating a huge black spider on the cusp of a shelf. The spider extended long, twitching legs into the air as if it was about to leap.
Adellus flinched, almost dropping the lamp. “Ashes, it’s bigger than my—”
As if disturbed by the movement, the spider skittered down the wall toward their feet. Adellus leapt clear with a coarse shout while Raela emitted a panicked squeal and threw herself from the creature’s path. The spider cut a jagged line across the floor between Grevail and Tessyn in its escape.
Adellus whirled to stare after it, then, sure it was gone, shook with a nervous chuckle. “That was close…I hate spiders.” He turned the lantern toward the shelves again, and as he did, his elbow clipped one of the egg-shaped jars. Teetering back and forth, it flopped over and rolled into the air, then hit the ground with a crack, splitting in two. One half rolled away and a torrent of bright coins spilled across the floor after it in a cascade of clinking of metal.
Adellus’ unbelieving eyes met Grevail’s for a moment before he dove at the pile and plunged his hands into the coins. He removed one and held it in front of his face. “Ashes,” he cursed, voice heavy with disappointment. “It’s bronze too. Bronze? Who puts a bronze coin in a tomb? These are supposed to be gold!” he growled, tossing the coin to the floor.
Grevail knelt to grab one. A small hole pierced the middle and sharp angular symbols of some kind ran along the outer edge. Bouncing it on his palm he discovered it was very light, and looking at the edge, very thin. “Gaston would still want them, might be worth a lot to a collector.”
The realization that they may still be valuable swept over Adellus’ face. He wasted no time scooping them into his bag. “Better than nothing,” he said, and went for another handful, but then slowed, gaze wandering to the remaining eggs on the shelves. “I wonder what else might be in these?”
“Right.” Tessyn said, eyeing the egg-like containers with him. “Those might have been bronze, but the others…”
With excited murmurs, they dashed to the niches. Tessyn brushed one from a shelf and it hit the ground with a thud, but unlike the other, remained intact. She frowned at it and snatched a different egg.
Raela put one between her thighs, and twisted at it, biting her lip from the effort. With a loud sucking sound as if it had been sealed, half of it came away in her hands. “It’s two pieces! Pull at the top!” She turned it over and a deluge of green beads scattered at her feet. She cursed and set about gathering them up. “Might be worth something too!”
“Open up,” Adellus groaned, prying at an egg. It split with a po,p and emitting a gleeful chortle, he upended the container into his hand. A dark stone figurine of a man slid into his palm. He frowned at the thing. “A collector would want this…whatever it is,” he said as if reassuring himself and shoved it into his bag.
Grevail grabbed one of the egg-like containers from the shelf too. It was smooth, like porcelain, and when he squinted he could see a nearly imperceptible line where it came apart. It was a distinct egg-shape, though the bottom was flat. He twisted the top off and upended it. A giant green emerald between two strands of silver chain clattered to the ground and twirled across the floor.
Tessyn gasped, clutching an egg to her chest. “Grevail!” she breathed.
Adellus laughed. “We’re rich! Hightown here we come!”
Raela emptied another and a horde of rings bounced across the floor, glittering in the lantern light. Emeralds, diamonds, silver and gold. Raela fell to her knees, frozen in disbelief, though it lasted only a moment before she set about sweeping them into her bag.
Giggling like a child, Adellus popped the top off another egg and turned it over. A belt buckle encrusted in giant red rubies slid out onto the ground. He shared an incredulous look with them, shaking from fits of silent laughter. “Grevail…you’re a genius!”
Grevail knelt and grabbed the jar Tessyn knocked from the shelf earlier. Twisting off the top, he dumped it out on his knee. A silver figurine of a chair came out, or more accurately, a throne with a high back. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, but heavy. Gold patterns shrouded the silver like the fanciful swirls they had seen on the stones around the mosaics, while diamonds embedded into the surface sparkled in the lantern light.
“Ashes,” Raela said, staring at what Grevail held. “That alone has to be worth a fortune!”
Tessyn tore her wide eyes from Grevail and yanked the top off yet another egg. “Give me some gold!” she said wishfully and upended it. They all watched as a black ball of sludge appeared at the lip of her container, then slipped out and flattened on the ground with a sharp slap.
“Aghhh…” Adellus said and threw a hand over his nose. “What is that?”
Raela fanned the air in front of her face. “Tessyn!”
Tessyn stared at the sludge, wrinkling her nose. “What? How could I know that was in there?”
Grevail exhaled as his nostrils filled with an overpowering, pungent odor. “Let’s get these open and see what’s worth taking.”
They made sure to check every strange container, taking each from the shelf and emptying them. Statues, jewelry, bronze cups, even a pair of very large and strange looking shoes. It all went inside now brimming bags, along with things they couldn’t identify. Gaston would know what they were, and more importantly, how much they were worth. When they finished, the shells lay scattered around the room at their feet.
“Well,” Raela said and hoisted her bag over a shoulder. “This will have us set for a while.” She slipped Grevail a begrudging grin.
“A while?” Adellus said in disbelief. “I’ll never have to think about coin again.”
Grevail smiled at them. “See? I told you it would be easy.” He had, if only to convince them to come, but even he would’ve never dreamt it to be this easy. “We’re not done yet, we’ve still got to get out of here.” He struggled into motion toward the doorway, heavy bag thumping against his back with every stride. Adellus took the lead again, rucksack in one hand, lantern in the other.
They returned to the hallway and Raela started back the way they had come, but Adellus paused at the intersection. “Let’s go this way,” he said and pointed his lantern in the direction they were headed before the detour. He nodded at the tunnel adjacent to the egg-room. “We’ll go down this on the way back.” He paused as a thought came over him and an eager grin sprang onto his face. “There might be even more rooms down that way!”
Raela frowned at him and resettled the sack on her shoulder with a grunt. “Why? We’ve got all we can carry. We have more than enough to leave Lowtown…that’s what we wanted. There are Keepers outside, if you’ve forgotten…we still need to get out of here.”
Grevail turned to the darkness waiting beyond Adellus. “But what else could be down here?”
An excited glint entered Adellus’ eyes. “We could find something even better! Gold coins!” He marched down the hallway, motioning for them to follow.
Tessyn chuckled and walked after him. “We’ll be fine Raela. Those Thava won’t be up till dawn with all the drink they’ve had—and how can we pass this up? After all your reading about adventure, I’m surprised you don’t want to experience any of it.”
Raela shook her head at Grevail as he started after Tessyn. “You’ve all got heads full of ash…if this gets us caught…” she said to his back, but after a moment, her footsteps echoed behind him.
This tunnel went on for much longer, though still the hallway remained unchanged, until Grevail began to wonder if perhaps they should turn back. After some time, it dipped into a shallow slope and the air became even colder. Just as he was about to voice his concerns, Adellus came to a sudden halt. The end of the tunnel had materialized at the edge of the lantern light.
The eagerness they expressed earlier had disappeared, replaced by an uneasy silence. They exchanged worried looks, though said nothing, and their gazes returned to the black beyond the lantern. Adellus jerked forward, as if forcing himself to move and Grevail did the same at his shoulder. He probed the darkness for any hint of movement—strained his ears for any whisper of noise.