Grevail knocked on the slim door in the wall surrounding Erphele’s residence. A steady stream of people passed behind him on the highway near the south gate of Tamirra. He kept a wary eye out for Thavans, or Sifters, and tried to make himself inconspicuous.

A small square in the door slid open with a clack, framing an older man’s face like a portrait. Dark and suspicious eyes narrowed at Grevail, sizing him up. “Yes?”

“I’d like to have a word with Erphele,” Grevail said.

A furrow developed in the man’s brow below a deeply receded hairline trailing slicked white hair. “About what?”

Grevail raised his chin and assumed an air of confidence. “I have an offer for her.”

The man guffawed. “Get out of here!” The square slammed shut.

Grevail pounded on the door, ducking his head from the stares he felt on his back. “I have information she will want. It’s about the Sifters and…what they were looking for,” he growled into the door.

The small trap slid open again. A seriousness had entered the man’s eyes but the rest of his face still held a patronizing annoyance that Grevail thought looked more at home there than a smile ever would. “The Sifters? What about them?”

“I’m here to talk to Erphele,” Grevail said again.

The man considered Grevail shrewdly. “Wait here.” The tiny door snapped closed.

Grevail turned to study the crowd on the highway. Behind him, Erphele’s mansion towered over a white wall twice as tall as he was that stretched a good hundred paces in either direction. Alisia wasn’t joking when she said Erphele’s place was fit for a queen.

Just when Grevail thought he was being ignored, the small door clacked open and the man’s face again filled the space it vacated. “Lady Erphele will see you,” he muttered in begrudging tones and swung the door inward over a courtyard of white paving stones. Grevail stepped inside.

The man made no attempt to keep the disdain from his wizened face while he bolted the door. He wore a white doublet with lace at the neck and cuffs, while his blue trousers were piled atop shining dress shoes. Not a guard, even if he has a dagger at his hip, Grevail thought, but looking at the size and opulence of this place, Erphele must have a guard or two on hand.

“She will arrive shortly,” the man said in a way that suggested he was finished talking, though his gaze never strayed from Grevail.

Grevail nodded and folded his arms across his chest in the hope it would put him at ease. Several horses were tucked inside a nearby stable at the edge of the paving stones, tossing their heads. A thick tangle of vegetation sat between him and Erphele’s mansion, which rose like a mountain over the garden. Made of soft white stone, it glowed with a dull shine beneath the morning sun in contrast to the lush green before it.

After some time spent suffering under the servant’s watchful eye, Grevail spotted a woman in a blue dress cutting a winding path through the garden. Erphele, he assumed, yet she was accompanied by another, older woman.

When the women came to a set of stone steps that dropped from the garden to the courtyard, the servant walked to place himself between them and Grevail. Erphele paused at the crest of the stairs, studying him with a frown, then hiked her dress and descended. “You claim to have information about the Sifters?” she asked in a cool, commanding tone when she reached the bottom. With sharp blue eyes and golden blond hair, Erphele was a striking woman. Her voice and posture emitted an aura of authority, as if she knew that Grevail would answer any question she posed.

He bobbed his head. “I have information on what they were looking for.”

“What was it?” The old woman beside Erphele brushed a lock of gray hair from her forehead and scoured Grevail with skeptical black eyes. Her face seemed oddly familiar, he realized, but couldn’t pin down why. The simple wool dress she wore was out of place beside Erphele’s finery, but no more so than his own clothing was.

“A relic,” Grevail said, narrowing his eyes at the old woman. “Emberfolk.”

“What do you want?” Erphele asked. The chest of her dress was studded with exquisite white opals that must be worth a fortune, enough to buy an Emberfolk relic several times over. “Why have you come here?”

“I need your help and you need mine,” he said. “You want to know where the relic is, and I—”

“Who says we look for anything?” the old woman barked.

Grevail answered her question with reticence. Whoever the old woman was, she wasn’t a servant as he had assumed. They regarded each other in stubborn silence for a moment, neither party giving ground, until Grevail spoke. “I know you are.”

Erphele glanced at the old woman for a moment, then cleared her throat. “We’ll hear what you have to say.” She turned to the white haired man, who stood with a hand on the dagger at his belt, watching Grevail. “Ophin, I have need of your service,” she said and spun to ascend the steps.

A dissatisfied frown broke over the old woman’s face at Ephele’s words and she hurried to catch the lady. Ophin waved Grevail after them and took up the rear, still with a hand on his dagger. As they walked along a stone path curving through the shady garden, the old woman motioned and spoke to Erphele in heated tones, but Grevail couldn’t make out what she was saying.

The garden, like everything else he’d seen, seemed to be something one might find at a palace. There were types of plants here Grevail had never seen before and it reminded him of Darunen’s garden which, as the legends said, supposedly contained every plant in the whole world before it was lost forever. The greenery ended at a grand white staircase rising to Erphele’s home that the women were already climbing and Grevail followed them up. Topping the stairs, he found an expansive terrace encircled by railing that overlooked the garden.

His eyes were drawn to a young woman admiring the view. She wore a yellow dress, but it was her dark complexion and frizzy hair that tugged at his memory, just as the old woman had. With a soft gasp, he remembered where he’d seen her. His foot caught an uneven stone and he tripped, nearly falling face first into the ground. Ophin spun and drew half the knife at his waist, only to stop with a roll of his eyes when he realized Grevail merely stumbled.

She was in the dream! Had Erphele not only sent the Sifters, but Xylen too? No, not Erphele. It was Articia’s face he remembered from the dream—the person who’d written the note handed to him by the woman now standing at the edge of the terrace. The smell of her lemon perfume seemed as if it was in his nose again. Was it me in that dream? He shivered, remembering himself talking with Xylen’s voice. What else could it have been? Xylen’s dream? He tried to forget what the relic might be capable of, even as the thought of touching it again filled him with dread. He squashed the feeling and forced his feet to move after the women. If Articia had sent Xylen, he could use that information to his advantage.

Erphele whisked beneath the massive portico crouching over the entrance of her home and through the open door, followed by the old woman. Another red-headed liveried servant stood beside the entryway. The man gave Grevail a considering look with brown eyes and adjusted the belt around his waist that held a sheathed long dagger.

Inside, Grevail found a foyer of gleaming white stone, just as lavish as the outside. He followed Erphele down a hallway to a room that held several chairs and a cold, empty fireplace. The noblewoman sat, waving for him to take a leather chair across from her. The old woman sat on Erphele’s right while the red-headed guard came to stand behind the women.

“So,” Erphele began when they were all seated. “What is it?”

Grevail thought everyone must hear his heart thumping away. “I know where it is.” Though he’d spent much of the day thinking about what he would say, now that he was here, it was hard to remember any of it.

To Grevail’s surprise, the old woman spoke first. “We have no interest in relics.” Erphele’s lips twisted, as if annoyed, but the old woman went on. “Are you Thavan? You should know better than to enter Lady Erphele’s home and accuse her of such things.” Erphele’s eyes widened.

Grevail hoped his own face was still, though he was not surprised she was lying. Nobody would admit they sought an Emberfolk relic to just anyone, and an Emberstone at that. I’ll have to prove it to her. He fastened the old woman with a steady gaze, the best he could muster. “If the Thava knew what I know, they’d have put you on the pyre long ago.”

The old woman’s brows flattened and a scowl bent her lips as if she were about to give Grevail the rough side of her tongue, but Erphele broke in. “Articia, let’s give him a chance to explain himself.” She turned sharp blue eyes on him. “Well,” she said in a cool, mediating voice. “What do you know?”

“I know that you sent Xylen.”

Erphele barked a laugh as if she thought it ridiculous, shifting in her chair. “How do you know that?”

“I was in the tomb that night too. I saw him die.” His voice didn’t even waver when he said it. He would have killed us, Grevail reminded himself. “I’m not here to play games. I know you want this relic and I know where it is.”

Articia visibly tensed, as if the old woman were thinking of leaping out of her chair to strangle him. Instead, she motioned at the red-headed guard standing behind her. “Kaeno, send in Ophin…then fetch the Sifters.”

Grevail suppressed more surprise at the old woman ordering Erphele’s servants about, but did not dwell on it long. There were many stories about the vast array of methods Sifters utilized to coax information from prisoners. “If you do anything to me, I’ll never tell you where it is. No matter how much you torture me. I’ll die before I say anything.”

Erphele dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. “There will be no torturing.” She nodded at Kaeno, as if giving him permission to follow Articia’s command. The red-headed man fixed Grevail with a stare meant to keep him in place, though Ophin soon entered and replaced Kaeno’s glower with his own.

Articia eyed Grevail with unease, as if he were an unknown, possibly venomous insect. “I’d like to know why you are telling us this.”

“I need access to where it is being kept.”

“Where is it?” Articia asked.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Grevail was shaking his head before she finished. “I want a deal before I tell you anything.” Realistically, there was little he could do if they didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain. The only leverage he had was that he could sense the cube, and he’d rather not tell anyone about that, though he had the feeling he might have to.

“What kind of agreement?” Erphele asked, pursing her lips.

Articia shot Erphele a glare. “How can we agree to anything if we don’t know where it is? Is it in Uru’ Phagia? On top of the Elderstones? At the bottom of the Spasian?”

Before Grevail could reply, Iphik and Grix entered the room, followed by Kaeno. Iphik’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the sight of Grevail. “Lady Erphele!” he exclaimed. “It is the Lowtown thief! Grevail!” The Sifter swept the broad brimmed black leather hat from his head and marched forward, coming to a stop beside Grevail’s chair. Grix followed with a stare hard enough to crack stone.

Erphele tapped the arm of her chair with a finger. “Sly little thief you are,” she whispered before raising her voice. “He claims to know where the Emberstone is, Iphik. The one you lost, if you remember.” Her eyes hardened on Grevail. “We were told you were captured…by an Arbiter? Is that true?”

“I escaped.”

Articia scoffed. “Nobody just escapes an Arbiter…not for long. How do we know the Thava haven’t sent you here? How do we know you didn’t tell them anything?”

Iphik gave Grevail a considering look. “I doubt Joszi would let you out of his sight, even if he thought he could ferret out a few Dawnbreakers by doing so. Where are your friends?”

Grevail’s jaw tightened. He expected this question might come, but it still left him nearly speechless. “Dead.” He lowered his eyes to the floor when despite his best efforts, they moistened.

“Why are you after the relic then?” Grix asked, absentmindedly fingering the silver pendant on his chest. The tall Sifter’s brow furrowed in suspicion. “You said you didn’t want it and we should let you go.”

If only I had listened to Raela. The stablehand would pay. Seirod would pay. They would all pay for what happened to his friends. He stood little chance of surviving an attempt at killing any of them, but he could steal that relic. If it was so precious that his friends could die for it, then he would deprive them of it at the very least. “I want revenge.”

A sympathetic look softened Erphele’s face.

Articia gave a roll of her eyes for Erphele and thrust an accusatory finger at Grevail as if she’d just spotted him pickpocketing a purse. “What do you want?”

“You help me get inside and I’ll steal it. Afterward, you’ll give me a thousand ess as payment.”

“A thousand ess?” Erphele’s eyes widened in shock.

“Where is it?” Articia demanded in a gravelly voiced, like a dog with a bone it did not want to part with.

“A house in the north of the city.”

“How do you know?” Erphele asked.

“The stableman is there,” he said with a look for Grix and Iphik. He didn’t want to tell them he could sense the relic, though he knew they’d inevitably ask how they are to find it inside Seirod’s mansion.

Grix rubbed his head with a growl. “I’d like to have a word with him.”

Iphik nodded in agreement. “As would I.”

“What does the house look like? Do you know who owns it?” Articia asked.

“I want a deal before we go any further. You get me inside and I’ll steal it for a thousand ess,” Grevail said. Articia snorted.

“Three hundred,” Erphele said. Articia made a choking noise like she was being strangled.

“Eight,” Grevail returned.

“Four.”

“Five.”

Erphele considered the offer, raising her chin to look down at him with glittering blue eyes. “Agreed.”

Articia breathed an incredulous sigh imbued with disgust for Erphele, but spoke to Grevail. “Well? We need details.”

“It is inside a mansion at the north wall with a rearing horse on the gate.”

“The wealthy live along the north wall.” Iphik frowned. “Are we to break inside? Is that how we are supposed to steal this relic?”

Grevail shook his head, keeping a close eye on Erphele. “A man named Seirod lives there.” Her lips parted, if only by a hair, but it was enough for him to say she knew the name.

Articia frowned, twisting her lips. “Seirod…do any of you know of him? He must have hired this stableman,” she took a long breath and inclined her head at Grevail, “if what he tells us is true.”

Erphele looked wary now, her regal aura fading. “Seirod? I’ve heard the name before. I received an invitation…from a man named Seirod,” she said.

Articia cocked her head at Erphele. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was Erphele’s turn to roll her eyes. “I receive invitations to things all the time from people I don’t know, Articia. I’ve never met Seirod, but he did mention…” she retreated from what she was about to say with a look at Grevail. “You knew I had an invitation, didn’t you?”

Grevail nodded. “I overheard.”

“So,” Articia said as if she was not happy with the direction of the conversation. “We are to attend a party…and then what? Do we go gallivanting through the man’s house while he watches us? Perhaps we should just ask him where it is?”

“I know where it will be,” Grevail said.

“How do you know where it will be?” Articia growled as if her patience with Grevail’s vague answers was at its end.

“The stableman will recognize you,” Iphik said, “as he will me and Grix.”

Erphele strummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Would Seirod recognize you?” she asked Grevail.

“No. I’ve never seen him before.”

Erphele spent a long moment studying him. “You will be my servant,” she decided.

“Raina,” Articia pleaded, “this is foolish.”

Erphele dismissed her. “I won’t pass up this opportunity, Articia. Whoever Seirod is, he would not dare do anything with all the eyes he claims will be in attendance.” She gestured at Grevail. “What do we have to lose? He does not have anything to gain by lying to us.”

“This is so…so…stupid!” Articia hissed at Erphele. “We could draw attention!” She turned her anger on Grevail. “He could be lying!”

Erphele’s piercing blue eyes analyzed Grevail down to the threads of his clothes. “What other choice do we have? If he’s telling us the truth it may be our only chance. You’ve always said you would stop at nothing…”

Articia pinned Grevail to his chair with a distrustful gaze.

“What about us?” Grix asked.

Erphele swung to the Sifter. “You will come with us. Seirod wouldn’t dare touch Sifters, no matter what he knows.”

“You don’t know that!” Articia slapped the arm of her chair. “We must investigate this man first and find out who he knows! We must know who he is!”

“There isn’t any time, Articia,” Erphele said in a calm rebuttal to Articia’s vitriol, as if the conversation was over. “The party is tomorrow night.” She stood and looked down her nose at Grevail, like a queen issuing a command. “You will stay here until we are to leave. Ophin, please prepare a room for our guest. If he wants any food or drink, see that it is brought to him. Kaeno, Master Drakis will arrive soon, please show him to my study.” Kaeno inclined his head.

Erphele swung to Iphik and Grix. “For the time being, the two of you will investigate Seirod’s property. It’s just as he described, along the north wall. Don’t let yourselves be seen and find out what you can. Any information will be useful for tomorrow.” Erphele studied Grevail, as if reassuring herself, then left the room. She was followed closely by Ophin who whispered urgently at her shoulder. Iphik and Grix regarded each other in silence.

Articia’s eyes never left Grevail. “Erphele may not have the time, or the foresight, to dig any deeper,” she began when the woman left, “but I do. How did you track the relic to Seirod’s house?”

“I am interested to know as well,” Iphik said.

He’d thought up all sorts of lies for this, but now the question had been asked, he realized all of them would lead to more questions that he didn’t have good lies for. Instead, he decided to tell the truth. These were the last people who would run to tell a Thavan, and if anything, it might deter them from sticking a knife through his ribs. “I can sense it.”

Iphik guffawed.

Articia’s eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. “I’ve heard stories…”

Iphik turned curious eyes on her. “What kind of stories?”

“Stories about relics, Sifter,” Articia snapped.

Grevail wondered if Articia might be Erphele’s relative, it could explain why Erphele let her order around the servants. “Are you a Breaker too?”

“It is none of your business what I am.”

“If that’s the case, then maybe the business between me and Erphele is none of yours.”

Articia’s lips tightened. “I’m only interested in the relic, that is all you need to know about me.”

“What do you know about it?”

The old woman’s face slackened and a hint of surprise widened her eyes. “Not much more than anyone else I suppose.” She waved a hand at the Sifters. “Will you excuse yourselves? This does not concern you. Lady Erphele has given you a task.”

Iphik had watched the exchange with obvious curiosity, and showed no sign of doing as Articia ordered until Grix tapped him on the shoulder. “We should get over there,” the tall Sifter said.

Iphik nodded, but cast a searching look on Grevail as if wondering what he was hiding before they headed for the exit.

“There isn’t anything else you can tell me?” Grevail asked Articia again.

Articia glowered at the Sifter’s backs as they left. “Are you curious?”

Grevail nodded. “I am.”

“Why?” A cold smirk broke over her wizened lips. “Most wouldn’t even touch it, much less be intrigued by it. Are you a sibling?”

Grevail scrunched his brow. “Sibling?”

“Sibling is what Dawnbreakers call each other.”

He’d never heard Dawnbreakers call each other Siblings, but they were a secretive lot. The first line from the letter in the dream entered his thoughts. I have an important task. You know what is owed to me, Sibling. He shook his head to dispel it. Was this woman lying to him about being a Dawnbreaker? Who else would go through all this trouble for a relic, even if it were worth a fortune? I’m still after it, aren’t I? “All I want to know is why everyone wants to kill each other over this thing.”

Articia gave an incredulous waggle of her head at his apparent ignorance. “They say Emberstones hold all the secrets of the world. All that have ever been or ever will be.”

“So I’ve heard.” Grevail recalled Gaston saying Dawnbreakers thought the stone would reveal how to reach Eldimirian. “Eldimirian? Is that what you think you’ll find?”

“A land where there is no ash,” Articia intoned. “A land where there is no Stricken. A place of paradisaical beauty and bounty.” The old woman scoffed. “Of course…anyone would like to find that, wouldn’t you?”

“Only Dawnbreakers think Eldimirian is real. I’ve never seen ash. Plenty of beauty and bounty right here too. Eldimirian sounds like a nice place but I’d rather have gold in my pocket. Gold is real.”

“Ahhh,” Articia breathed through a secretive smile. “You don’t believe what the Dawnbreakers say? There are many Dawnbreakers in Lowtown, or so I’ve heard, but you are not one? You couldn’t believe as the Thava do or else you would never have touched the relic in the first place. What do you believe?”

“I believe in putting food in my stomach.” Nobody in Lowtown discriminated against Dawnbreakers, those who worshiped the Emberfolk, or Sacar, those who worshiped the Paragons. Everyone in Lowtown was a mudrat no matter what they believed.

Articia seemed to accept that answer. “Tell me, how do you sense the relic?”

Grevail rolled his shoulders. “It’s like a tickling on my brain. I can tell the direction it is in.”

“It is drawing you to Seirod’s home?”

“Yes.”

“How did this happen?”

Grevail hesitated, his desire to know more about the relic at war with the idea of this woman knowing more about him. Amma’s hours of questioning had not faded from his memory. “I held it.”

“You held it…” Articia raised an eyebrow. “Did you notice any strange things happening around you?”

“Well, everything has been strange since I touched it.”

Articia’s eyes remained focused on his. “The Thava fear the Emberstones. They would rather lock them all away, or perhaps destroy them, if not for the Conveyors. The Siblings seek the illusive Eldimirian, but I…I think these objects contain power—a kind of power we can’t imagine.”

“Power?” Grevail wrinkled his brow. Everyone seemed to have a different idea of what this relic was.

“The power to move mountains. The power to divert rivers and travel across oceans in the blink of an eye. The power to perceive the world in a way that we simply cannot otherwise. I’ve heard some say that they think these stones are alive.” The old woman laughed as if it were a joke. “You can sense it. Why do you have this connection and nobody else? You are tied to it.”

“Tied to it?” A mild panic roiled Grevail. “I’m not tied to it. I just can tell where it is. If it goes far enough away I can’t sense it. How could that happen if I was tied to it?”

Articia shrugged. “Perhaps it isn’t a bad thing? Don’t you want to be powerful?”

“All I want are the ess Erphele and I agreed upon.”

The woman seemed to sense his discomfort and a knowing look sharpened her features. “Riches always come with power and power always comes with riches. Isn’t that the dream of everyone in Lowtown? If you were to unlock the secrets of the Emberstone, you could be the richest and most powerful person in all of Voxetta. It is capable of things we can only dream of.”

Grevail struggled to keep a straight face and pushed Vidian from his thoughts. Whatever the Emberstone was, it would be far from his mind when he finished with Seirod and Arxaro. “It could do anything or nothing at all, just so long as you’ll pay me to steal it. After that, it’s all yours.”

Articia smirked. “You pretend to be disinterested, but I think you want that stone as much as I do.”

Grevail’s jaw tightened and he met her eyes. “Only if it gives me my revenge. Did you promise Xylen power?”

Articia stared back at him, a flicker of anger heating her gaze. “Xylen could not sense the relic like you can. He was not bound to it as you are now. I’ve heard tales of this before, you know,” she said, narrowed eyes burrowing into his. “They say sometimes, on very rare occasions, the stones choose someone. If that is true…you will never escape it. It will always have you in its grasp.”

Grevail swallowed and forced himself to release the white knuckle grip he held on the arms of the chair, but refused to look away. “We’ll see about that.”

The old woman’s lips slanted in a cruel grin. “I agree. I think we will.”