“Where is he?” Adellus asked as he peered around a mossy stone column of the Merchant Row gate.

The night sky would brighten soon and they’d spent hours awaiting Gaston near the bridge. Four cloaked travelers piled high with rucksacks might draw attention, though only a handful of people wandered the cold morning streets.

“He’ll be here soon.” Grevail’s eyes strayed toward the Epikhos’ Khossoroi on guard near the gatehouse. The unusual absence of watchmen at the gates made him wary, yet at the same time, grateful. The Khossoroi would let a thousand people pass and not lift a finger…unless a watchman or Amphid gave them reason.

There was no sign of anyone he considered suspicious when he collected Tessyn and Adellus from Maedra’s the night before. Perhaps Lowtown was too rough for whoever Makhe mentioned. In any case, once they were out of the city there was little chance anyone would find them.

Huddling inside his cloak, Grevail restrained a yawn as goosebumps cascaded over his body in a slow wave. The faint throbbing in his temple mimicked a hangover, just like yesterday, and the smell of spoiled wine filled his nose. The acrid sweet stench followed him since he awoke, but when asked, nobody else could smell it. He thought someone, probably Dell, spilled a drink on the shirt he donned this morning. When this is all over I’ll have a few drinks for sure.

Tessyn corralled a yawn of her own, brushing aside a sliver of dark blond hair dipping from her cowl with a finger. “I’m surprised Gaston is willing to leave his house.”

Adellus chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him outside before.” He turned from the gate and leaned against the city wall, looking up to the crenelated top. “Dessos, can you believe it? I wonder if my father is still there.”

Grevail adjusted his wool cap and tucked his hands into his armpits, fending off the mild cold. “Will you pay him a visit?”

Adellus laughed again, but this time it was tainted with a hint of anger. His eyes sank from the night sky to Grevail. “Maybe once we get our pay. I’d like to show him the bastard he disowned made something of himself.”

“You don’t need to prove anything to him, Dell,” Raela said and moved to wrap an arm around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “We are your family.”

Adellus sprouted a grateful smile. “I left a long time ago. We probably wouldn’t even recognize each other…if he’s even alive.” His demeanor turned pensive. “I hope he is, just so I can show him how wrong he was.”

Tessyn cleared her throat. “What are we doing after we get the money?”

“I want to see Point Rivella,” Adellus said, cracking another smile.

“Me too,” Raela seconded. “I’ve brought all the books I couldn’t leave behind. I have a few we will find useful if we go there.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Grevail said. He used to dream of visiting all the places drunken merchants boasted about over tavern tables in The Scales. “We could go wherever we want.”

Tessyn emitted a cynical snort for Grevail’s optimism. “Well, it hasn’t happened yet. For all we know, Gaston could cheat us.”

A frown turned Raela’s lips at the mention of that. Though it had been difficult to convince her to leave everything behind, after he explained Gaston’s reasoning, she agreed. He couldn’t fault her hesitation, especially after all that had happened. Just a short while, he told her, and they’d be rich enough to do whatever they wanted.

Tessyn’s arms crossed over her slim chest. “I find it hard to believe he really cares about us no matter what he said.”

Rubbing his chin between the clumps of brown curls spilling from his hood, Adellus jerked his head at Grevail. “Grevail knows him best and he believes him.”

“Sure, Gaston said all that when he got caught.” Tessyn’s words were bathed in admonishing tones, as if they all should know better. “And of course Grevail believes him, but do you, Dell? Do you think he really cares about us? Mudrats? If what Gaston said was true, why would he want this…thing within arm’s reach? Why would he take the risk? He’s already rich, isn’t he? He’s got something up his sleeve if you ask me. A lot more profit to be had if he didn’t have to split it five ways.”

“I believe him, Tessyn,” Grevail said, “not Xylen. He can’t overpower all four of us, let alone one. There isn’t any reason for him to lie about what he told me.”

Tessyn studied him with a stubbornness in her eyes as if she intended to continue the argument, but then dropped her hands with a sigh. “We should be careful anyway. If it is worth what he says…”

Grevail hurried to murmur agreement, relieved to see some of her suspicion fade. “It’s a long trip, we have to stick together.” The last thing he needed was for Tessyn to turn against the plan now. When he told her how much the cube could be worth, she nearly jumped for the door in her eagerness to be off, but this morning her reservations about Gaston’s motives returned. He tried to lighten the mood. “Adellus will have to show us around Dessos.”

A small smile spread Raela’s lips. “The great port and northern most city in Eudan. Colla is from there…the lady with the boat tattoo on her neck. She goes on and on about how beautiful it is. The seven fingers, she says, you’ve got to see them at least once in your life!”

Grevail grinned. “You’ll be wearing a fur cap and carrying a long knife in your belt?”

Tessyn rolled her eyes.

The clop of hooves on cobblestone announced Gaston’s arrival and he rode beneath the arch astride a large gray draft horse. He wore a black vest over a purple shirt, both straining around his bulk. His legs, dangling from his mount, fit tightly in dark trousers like sausages. He still wore the many rings and necklaces he usually did, in fact, Grevail thought he was wearing even more. He looked much different when not in a robe with his chest hair exposed as Grevail was accustomed to seeing him. The round man smiled. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Gaston,” Raela returned.

“Ahh, Raela! I nearly forgot how lovely you are. A golden ray of sunshine you are, dear. My memory isn’t what it used to be, but is that Tessyn over there hiding in her hood? Its been years since I last saw you.”

Tessyn retreated further into her cowl with a murmur.

“You said we’d have horses?” Adellus turned from Gaston to peer around the wall again, as if he expected the mounts to be following.

Gaston snickered. “No need to worry. They are at a stable just south of the city—my neighbors complained about the smell you see. You’ll have to walk there. I only have two, but I’ll buy another pair. You can refund me in Dessos. Don’t give me that look, Adellus, it isn’t far.”

“I hope so,” Adellus said with a grim chuckle. “I’d give up my share if I didn’t have to walk another day.”

Gaston guffawed. “Oh, I doubt that.” He leaned forward in the saddle, whispering at Grevail. “I trust you have what we need?”

Grevail nodded.

“Good,” Gaston said, bobbing his head in return. “Let’s be on our way then. We shouldn’t waste any time.”

Gaston kicked his horse into a walk and they followed him toward the bridge gate. The Khossoroi flanking the entrance did not so much as turn their heads as Grevail and his friends approached. They wore crisp and freshly laundered gambesons, checkered in white and blue squares. Blocky helmets atop their heads were shined to a polish, even in the faint light of lanterns spread around the gates. They each wore a sword at their hip—hard and steely as their stoic faces. A strange feeling came over Grevail as they passed through the gate, as if it were a point of no return. He wondered if this would be the last time he ever set foot in the capital.

Raela may have had similar thoughts. “Well…here we go.”

Gaston turned in his saddle to assuage them with a smile. “You’ll be fine, Raela. We’re off on an adventure!”

Gaston led them across the wide stone bridge spanning the Kanarkand. The bobbing lantern of a vessel upstream shone through the darkness—the rhythmic shouts of a man on-board drifting to them over the water. The river, revitalized by recent rain, would become quite dangerous in the coming days. Even now it roared beneath, filling the air with its scent.

On the opposite side, the shadowy buildings of a small village were quiet and still, though chimney smoke sent early gray smears across the dark morning sky. Grevail never spent much time at the bridge village, or South Ferry as the residents called it. The people here were as distrustful of those from Lowtown, if not more so, than even a Merchant Row hawker. Gaston whistled as they crossed the bridge, casting a smile over his shoulder. As they neared the end, two figures became visible standing in darkness beyond the light of a lantern pole at the bridgehead.

Grevail shifted the rucksack on his shoulders, then scoffed at himself. They couldn’t be the men from the tomb. They were both the same height. Jumping at shadows. Anyone was sure to notice the big man, Noz…couldn’t miss a fellow of that size. One of the shadows turned at the sound of Gaston’s horse clopping across the stones and stepped into the lamplight. Grevail’s heart sank at the sight of a watchman’s white tunic.

A flash of recognition crossed Aundan’s face. The man’s thick lips pressed together in a grimace as he drew the club from his belt and darted to the center of the bridge. “Grevail! Where are you going? Running like a coward while you can?” he asked, jabbing the cudgel at them.

Gaston did not rein his mount to stop, so Grevail kept walking too. “Yes, we are leaving.”

Aundan’s eyes lit on his rucksack and widened. “Stop! Stop right there!” he ordered and hopped into the path of Gaston’s horse.

Gaston’s mount halted with a snort. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“I’ll tell you what the meaning of this is,” Aundan said and strode forward till he was nose to nose with Grevail. He put out his hand, palm up. “The bag.”

Grevail averted his eyes. “We are leaving…like you wanted. We don’t have anything.”

“Your rucksack,” Aundan growled. “I won’t ask again.” The other watchman, whom Grevail didn’t recognize, came to stand beside them. The wide fellow with a farmer’s face eyed Grevail and his friends uneasily.

Sweat popped onto Grevail’s brow and his tongue twisted into knots. He sought an excuse, any excuse, but his stalling only made Aundan grow more agitated. He realized there was no easy way out. Maybe he won’t find it tucked away in the bottom, or know what it is if he does. With an exasperated sigh, he slipped the bag from his shoulders and shoved it into Aundan’s outstretched hand.

Gaston clambered down from his horse. “What is this about?” he asked, waddling over to Aundan and pointing at Grevail’s bag. “We’ve done nothing wrong! You’ll hand over his property and we’ll be on our way!” Gaston’s face grew more red with every word.

Aundan handed the bag to the other watchman. “Elus, search this.” Elus stared at the rucksack as if it contained a viper, and looked as if he might refuse, but then gingerly took it from Aundan.

Aundan’s gaze swung back to Grevail, though he spoke to Gaston. “You’d do well for yourself to stop barking orders, fat man.”

Elus set the bag on the ground beside the lantern pole and began digging through it.

Gaston moved toward Elus but Aundan slapped a hand on his chest. Undeterred, Gaston’s voice grew louder. “I’ll have a word with Amphid about this! I am a friend to the Epikhos! What is your name?”

“Oh, are you?” Aundan looked Gaston over with a mocking sneer. “Good. You can tell Talaen why you are here with a known thief,” he said with a nod at Grevail. He turned his gaze on the others. “A thief and his mudrat friends.”

“This is ludicrous!” Gaston bellowed and pushed Aundan’s hand from his chest. “Let us be on our way!”

To anyone else, Gaston might have appeared angry, but Grevail saw desperation.

“What’s this?” Elus asked and pulled the relic from the bag. The watchman turned it in his hands and the gold swirls at the edges glinted in the light.

Grevail’s heart thumped against his chest. A surprising anger crept to the front of his mind. I’m not spending the rest of my life in a Thavan prison. These ashen watchmen don’t want us gone, they want us dead! We were leaving, isn’t that what they wanted?

Aundan turned from Gaston, an expression of confusion twisting his face at the relic in Elus’ hand. “That doesn’t look like the property of a mudrat to me…if there is such a thing. Stolen, I’d say.” He took the cube from his colleague and inspected it. Abruptly, his eyes widened and a grin crept across his lips. “Emberfolk, even. I knew it. I knew you were up to no good.”

Elus straightened with Grevail’s rucksack and came to stand beside Aundan, looking at the relic as if it were about to explode. “That Thavan told us to look for—”

Aundan silenced him with a glance, then turned a vindictive gaze on Grevail. “I’m placing you…”

Grevail watched Aundan’s lips as they began to form the words he knew would come. Will I spend the rest of my life in a cell? Anger consumed him at the thought. He sprang forward and sent a fist hurtling into Aundan’s face. The watchman stumbled back with a grunt, slapping a palm over his nose as Grevail ripped the relic from his hand.

Elus dropped the rucksack and drew his club, but Grevail’s eyes were drawn to a flash of movement beyond him. A shadow lept from the darkness behind the watchmen—a wicked blade gleaming in the mysterious figure’s hands. Elus’ confused eyes followed Grevail’s toward the approaching form, and the watchman narrowly blocked a sword strike that flashed in the darkness like a bolt of lightning, thwacking into his cudgel and tearing it from his hand. A snarling man with cropped gray hair pirouetted amidst a dark cloak, preparing for another swipe.

“An ambush!” Aundan howled.

From the night beyond the bridge, another giant form bounded toward them. Striding forward on long legs, it plowed into Aundan’s back, lithe arms wrapping around the watchman. Grevail’s jaw dropped open. Noz growled against Aundan’s shoulder, struggling to contain the watchman’s frantic movements.

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With no time to recover from the shock of what was happening, another figure drew Grevail’s eye. Instead of racing forward, this shadow remained smooth…calm. A woman emerged at the bridgehead beyond the flailing watchmen and their attackers, a businesslike expression on her face. Blonde curls spilled from her hood to flank grim, pink lips. A blade appeared in her hand, like a cat ejecting its claws, and her arm whipped forward. The knife somersaulted toward Grevail, flashing as it tumbled through the lantern light. He threw his arms over his face.

A moment passed, then another with his heartbeat filling his skull. She missed. A wave of relief washed over him, like a bucket of water dumped over his head on a hot day. The scrape of boots on stone mixed with the muffled grunts of the watchmen and their attackers flooded back into his senses. She missed!

A panicked groan sounded beside him, growing louder the longer it went on. It was the sound of painful recognition, a sound that sent his hackles rising. He lowered his arms to find Gaston looking back at him, pure terror in his eyes. Buried to the hilt in his chest, the woman’s knife moved in unison with his heavy breaths.

Gaston sank against Grevail, opening his mouth to speak yet only a sickening gurgle emerged, followed by a dark jet of blood that splattered onto the bridge stones. The big man gasped, then toppled forward into the legs of his mount. The horse rolled its eyes with a whinny and charged forward, right at the woman, who dove out of the way.

“Ashes, run!” Tessyn darted past the mysterious gray haired man now grappling with Elus over the sword between them.

Raela scampered after Tessyn.

Grevail’s mind whirled. No, not that way! Toward the gates! He snatched up his rucksack and stuffed the relic inside. Slinging it over a shoulder, he sped after his friends.

“Ashes! Ashes!” Adellus cursed on his heels.

Grevail shot a glance behind. Noz and Aundan struggled with each other near the parapet. One shadow gained the upper hand, upending the other over the side. A blood curdling scream pierced the early morning as they tumbled from view. Shouts erupted from the gatehouse as the Epikhos’ Khossoroi flooded onto the bridge with swords bare—Gaston’s lifeless body face down on the stones before them.

Grevail put everything he had into his aching legs. Adellus drew beside him, head tossed back and brown curls bouncing with every stride. Grevail realized his knife was in his hand, but he didn’t remember taking it from his coat. As they raced down the main street of South Ferry, faces popped into windows and doorways.

Something slammed into his back so hard it sent him stumbling. Grevail chanced a look over his shoulder to find a man only paces behind, bushy beard pressed flat against his chest and growling like a dog. Further behind still, a rider burst onto the road, kicking their mount into a gallop. A whistling shriek zipped through the air, and then another. Grevail realized they were arrows just as a shaft buried itself in the road ahead. Shouts from the bridge echoed after them.

An old man still in his nightgown stumbled into the doorway of a nearby building and thrust a lantern at them. “What’s happened?” he called out as they sped by.

A woman’s face emerged from a curtained window on the second story above him. “The watch! We need the watch!” she screamed loud enough to wake the whole village. Bodies spilled from buildings like a hive of hornets incensed by an intruder.

“He’s trying to kill us!” Adellus yelled, voice cracking.

The bearded man’s heavy breaths licked at Grevail’s heels like flames and the pounding hooves of the rider grew louder, gaining with every moment. Raela and Tessyn were near thirty paces ahead, rucksacks wiggling as they ran. If he and Adellus could lure the pursuers away they might have a chance to escape.

“You there! Stop!” A large man surged into the street ahead. The burly fellow took a wide stance and lowered his bald head, steeling himself for a charge. “Stop!” he shouted, barring the way with heavily muscled arms. “Stop now!”

With little other choice, Adellus and Grevail both slid to a stop paces from the big man’s blockade.

The bearded man slowed and stopped too. Gulping down air, his dark eyes bored into the villagers gathering around them. The mysterious hooded horseman reined their mount to a walk and wove through the bewildered townsfolk flowing into the street, halting beside the bearded man. The rider, a woman with her face buried deep in a cowl, slipped a bow across her back.

“What’s happening here?” the burly man grumbled, eyeing first Grevail, then the bearded man.

“He’s trying to kill us!” Adellus squealed, just as the bearded man shouted, “they stole my merchandise! Lowtown rogues they are!”

Adellus turned to face the bearded man. “He’s lying! We stole nothing!”

The bearded man swept graying hair from his face and spit on the ground. He searched Adellus with a burning, obvious hatred. He pointed at Grevail, stroking the unkempt salt and pepper beard hanging down his chest. “That one there, he’s got my merchandise in his bag. Lowtown thief!”

“Is that true? Did you steal from him?” the burly man asked. His eyes narrowed at Grevail’s cap, widened when they fell to his rucksack, then bulged at the knife in his hand. “We’ve had enough of you mudrats sneaking out of the city at night to steal from us, you can be sure of that!” The man slapped a meaty fist into his hand, as if to emphasize his point. A ring on his finger held an opal in the shape of a water drop, a manifest of Aurin, which meant he could be Sacar—a follower of the Thavan Accord. If so, the man would likely drag Grevail and Adellus both to the Thava if he saw the relic.

“We didn’t steal anything from him,” Grevail said, slipping the knife into his coat and raising his hands. They were surrounded by a solid wall of villagers now and yet more poured from buildings, ringing them in. “They killed my friend! We’re not from Lowtown!” Grevail scanned the crowd for Tessyn and Raela. He hoped they didn’t get it in their heads to attempt a rescue. Wiping sweaty palms on his chest, he spun in a circle, warding off the encroaching villagers.

“You villagers understand!” shouted the bearded man. “They are from Lowtown! Would you take their word over mine? Look at them! They know they are caught!” The bearded man and his mounted companion pressed forward like a pair of wolves closing on a kill. The villagers watched in silence, searching Grevail and Adellus with suspicion.

The burly man’s gaze once again probed Grevail’s knit wool cap. “Take off your hat if you’re not from Lowtown.”

“No,” Grevail said, surprised his teeth were not chattering. “I have nothing to hide. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“We’ve done nothing, I swear!” Adellus said, voice cracking, and thrust a finger at the bearded man. “Look at us? Look at him! That beard belongs on a vagabond from Lowtown!” His eyes darted around the wall of villagers as if looking for an escape.

The burly man appeared unconvinced and came closer. “You want the hard way? We’ll show you mudrats! You don’t come to South Ferry looking to steal!”

“We can’t have thieves running loose can we?” the bearded man crowed. “I didn’t think that was the kind of place Eudan was! Fetch me their bags!”

The old man in the nightgown broke through the ring of villagers, lantern swinging in his hand. His shriveled and sun-worn face looked to the burly man. “Ulphon…Ulphon! What are you doing?”

The burly man stopped and crinkled his thick brow, then gestured toward the bearded man. “Illin, this fellow says these mudrats stole from him.”

Illin’s elderly gray eyes swept from Ulphon’s hulking form to the bearded man, then to Grevail and Adellus, sizing them up. His lips tightened. “We’ll let the Khossoroi decide that. We are civilized folk here in South Ferry, not a mob. You remember what happened last time. The Khossoroi will see this matter justice or there will be no justice at all.” Illin directed his gaze over the villager’s heads toward the bridge where a handful of Khossoroi jogged down the road toward them, swords at the ready.

Ulphon growled in his throat. “How long are we to let these vermin destroy our village, Illin? We have to do something! The watch don’t do anything, even when they catch em’. The jail is packed full! If Amphid won’t deal with it, we will!”

“Not anymore!” a woman cried.

“They’ve stolen from all of us!” added an angry man.

“I’ve been robbed three times!” came an irate voice.

Illin sighed, scratching at the short gray hair ringing the crown of his head. He regarded the villagers with an admonishing frown. “We are all tired of those in the city preying upon us innocent village-folk, but we don’t dispense our own justice. That is for the Epikhos to do.” He turned to Ulphon and raised his chin, as if daring the burly man to defy him. “It is what must be done, Ulphon. The watch have warned us once about taking matters into our own hands. I doubt they’ll do it again.”

Ulphon muttered under his breath, eyeing Grevail, but then inclined his head at Illin. “As you say, Illin. As you say…”

The bearded man turned from watching the Epikhos’ Khossoroi trot toward them with an incredulous look on his face. “The Khossoroi? What do we need them for? We can have this over right now!” The frustration and urgency in his voice increased. “They’re from Lowtown…they’ve stolen my things! What more proof do you need? Hurry up!”

Illin’s wrinkled face tightened. “You’ll both wait for the Khossoroi. You can explain it all to the head of the watch.”

“You dimwitted villagers don’t understand?” The bearded man marched toward Grevail, pure rage in his eyes. “You’ll give me my property, NOW!”

A tall woman stepped from the crowd to intercept him. “Illin is the voice of reason around here. He’s the village Alder, and his word is what we go by. You can wait for the watch!” She was joined by a chorus of angry villagers.

The bearded man stood toe to toe with her, eyes locked and jaw clenched. The woman met his gaze as if unafraid, but it was the mounted woman with the bow who spoke. “Ailish…no,” she grunted. Her petulant face, tucked away in her hood, turned to watch the Khossoroi approach.

Ailish whirled to stare at her, then spun again, searching for Grevail. “Just so you know, mudrat,” he began in an ominous voice, “I will see my property back…one way or another. Remember that. No matter where you go…we’ll find you.”

“If you want it back, you can wait here for the Khossoroi, just like they will.” Ulphon said, his words now drenched in suspicion.

Ailish ignored Ulphon and dashed to the woman’s horse, vaulting into the saddle behind her. The villagers erupted.

“He was lying!” Ulphon shouted.

“Stop him!” Illin yelled. “Hold him for the Khossoroi!”

The woman kicked her mount into the villagers, knocking many to the ground as the horse bolted from the highway. The villagers gave chase, picking up stones from the road to toss at the fleeing riders.

Adellus elbowed Grevail, tilting his head toward escape. Together they sank into the preoccupied mob. Grevail kept his head down until side by side, they squeezed through the crowd into the open road. To Grevail’s surprise, no shouts called after them. He and Adellus shared an incredulous look and broke into a run.

Two scurrying forms slipped from the village buildings at the edge of the road and moved to intercept them.

“We thought you were done for!” Tessyn exclaimed.

“Ashes! Me too!” Adellus breathed.

They ran from the bridge village and didn’t stop running even when the last building disappeared. A patchwork of fields dotted with homesteads filled the brightening horizon.

Grevail spotted a path branching off the highway and loped onto it. He continued at a jog for as long as he could, but the burning in his lungs eventually brought him to his knees.

Raela bent over beside him, sucking in air. “Gaston! They killed him!”

“That was the man from the burial! Noz…” Tessyn said between gasps. She sank to a knee, pulling the hood from her head as if it was choking her.

Adellus wiped sweat from his brow with a forearm. “Bury my spirit…”

“I know…I know…” Grevail said and pushed himself upright. “Come on, before they find us.”

“Grevail, stop,” Raela commanded.

“What, Raela? We’ve got to go!”

She marched forward, boots crunching on the road, and turned him by the shoulders. He felt her tugging on his rucksack.

“Ashes, Raela, what are you doing?” he asked, casting a wary eye toward the highway.

A pop came from his bag, like pushing a needle through leather, and Raela stepped around to show him the arrow she'd pulled from it. A dark shaft with dark fletchings, and a sharp, deadly-looking head. “You’re lucky you had that on, or you’d be dead,” she said, concern mixing with anger in her voice. “Buried almost up to the fletching. Had to be only finger’s width from your skin.”

Grevail felt the blood drain from his face. “We should…” he began, but waited for his breath to catch up. He realized he didn’t know what they should do, beside get as far away from the bridge as possible.

Adellus shook his head, directing a curse at the ground. “Where are we going? South?” He turned on his heel to study their surroundings, probing every remaining shadow in the early morning as if it contained another attack. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know.” Grevail hitched the bag on his shoulders with a shudder, imagining what that arrow might have done had he not been wearing it, or had it went a pace higher.

With an exhausted sigh, Tessyn turned from studying the countryside to face them. “We can’t go back to Eudan.”

“We can’t,” Raela agreed and set her rucksack on the ground to rifle through it.

“Why not?” Adellus asked. He paused, mulling the question, then emitted a groan. “Aundan…he’ll have it out for us now. We can’t show our faces in Eudan ever again.”

“I think Aundan might be dead,” Grevail said. He thought it was Aundan who screamed going over the bridge. Somehow, he didn’t think a man like Noz was capable of screaming like that. He didn’t like Aundan, but plunging to death from the Kanarkand bridge was a cruel way to die, even for a scoundrel. “If not for those villagers, they would have caught us for sure.”

Tessyn ran a hand through her dirty blond hair, gripping it for a moment as if she wanted to pull it out. “What did they say to you?”

“He said…he said he’d get back what we stole from him, one way or another.” Ailish. Didn’t look like who Makhe spoke of. How many people are after this relic?

Raela’s eyes descended on Grevail like red hot embers. “So…we can’t go back to Eudan,” she said in a tight voice. “Gaston is dead! I trust you don’t know who he wanted to visit in Dessos?”

“No…” Grevail admitted. “He only said she was rich…”

Tessyn scoffed. “Well that really narrows it down in a place like Dessos.”

Grevail wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell Tessyn to be quiet, but anger wouldn’t do him any good right now. He’d gotten them all into this, and he needed a clear head if he was going to get them out. “We have to go south.”

Raela gulped from a water skin and tossed it into her bag. “To where?” She hauled the rucksack onto her shoulders and strode up to Grevail, thrusting a finger at his face. “We hardly have any money, Grevail! We’re going to starve! Leave that ashen cube in a field! If they want it, they can find it! They’re going to kill us!”

Grevail shied away and turned his eyes forward, but still felt her anger blazing like a fire beside him. He resumed walking. “We have some money. It will have to do until we can sell the relic. One thing is certain, the further we get from the bridge, the better off we’ll be.”

“You won’t throw it away? Even now? You sorry fool!” Raela followed at his shoulder like a cat waiting to pounce. “What if they find us again?”

Grevail pressed a hand to his forehead. He couldn’t get Gaston’s face out of his mind, and the pounding in his skull made it all the worse. “We can’t go to Eudan, we shouldn’t even go anywhere near it. We’d have to go north again to reach Dessos. If we go south, we might have a chance to find someone who will buy this thing without the watch or the Thava after us. We’ll make a new life for ourselves somewhere else. That was the plan anyway, wasn’t it?”

“What will it take? Do they have to kill one of us next? Even Gaston isn’t enough for you? Wasn’t he your friend? Don’t you feel anything?” Raela asked.

Tessyn groaned behind him. “How will we sell it? We don’t even know what it is.”

“Maybe Raela is right, Grevail,” Adellus said. “How will we find a Breaker rich enough to buy that thing for what he said it was worth? Ashes, Gaston is dead.”

“Gaston…” It seemed like a dream, but with every step he took it hardened, becoming real. Gaston was dead. An insidious thought crept into his mind. Is it my fault? He pushed it away. No, Gaston knew what he was getting himself into. There isn’t any way I could have known that would happen. Another dark thought forced itself into his monologue. Didn’t I though? I knew they were still after us…and I never told him. “Gaston said it was worth a fortune. I believe him. We can find someone to buy it. Won’t be easy, but there are Dawnbreakers everywhere, not just Eudan.”

“We are leaving it!” Raela hissed. “Grevail, you could be dead if that arrow had went a pace higher or a hand deeper. What else would you sacrifice?”

“I never made you do anything, Raela. You want to give it up? After all we’ve been through?”

“I don’t want to leave it,” Tessyn said, a grimace twisting her lips. “I don’t like what happened to Gaston, but I want my cut from that thing, whatever it is.”

Raela’s eyes ripped into Grevail like claws. She jabbed a finger back toward the city. “We traveled three days from that tomb and they still found us.”

Grevail stopped and met her gaze. “If we tossed it now, do you think they’d leave us alone? I don’t think they’ll stop looking for us, cube or not.”

Raela paused with an open mouth, eyes glittering, then swallowed an angry reply and snapped her jaw closed.

Grevail turned from her, setting off down the path again. “We need to have a plan. If we can’t come up with something by tomorrow, I’ll get rid of it. I promise.”

Raela cursed at his back. “You selfish, ashen, emberbelly! You just watched him die!”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine, but he kept his own mouth clamped shut. They needed this relic now more than ever. It was worth a fortune to some Breaker, and if they could find them, all of this wouldn’t be for nothing. Gaston won’t have died for nothing. This relic was all they had.

They traveled on in silence, heads spinning, looking for another ambush around every tree. Crops and cattle were the only witnesses to their journey while the wind brought the smell of manure and hay on the dust of the road. They saw no people, except a young boy shepherding a flock who watched them curiously from the roadside. The farmhouses became more infrequent as the road turned west. When they came again to the highway, Grevail stepped into it expecting Noz or Ailish to be waiting.

They went south, becoming engulfed by the expansive wilderness of Eudan. Occasionally, a plume of chimney smoke rose on the horizon, but they were few and far between. Whenever they crossed paths with the rare traveler, Grevail and his friends got out of sight until they passed. The parents tumbled to the horizon behind them, with night soon to follow.

“We can’t go south forever,” Adellus said. “Emberfolk relic or not, they won’t like us in Uruca.”

Tessyn donned her cloak, taking it from her rucksack while she walked. “Old Cophen said he was from Tamirra. He loved to say we northerners know nothing about the Urucan.”

Raela shook her head. “We don’t know anything about anywhere but Eudan. I’ve never been much further than this. Adellus is the only one of us who has traveled at all.”

Grevail already felt like a fish out of water. “We could catch a boat, there are small ports in the swamp, but you’re right Dell, we can’t cross into Uruca.”

“I don’t know,” Adellus pondered, rethinking his earlier point. “The war was a long time ago, maybe they aren’t so bad as everybody says.”

“I’d rather not find out,” Raela said with a toss of her hair. “We’ve already been through enough and I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” Her anger at him boiled away during the day but now seemed to resurface. Her eyes twitched toward his rucksack. “We should get rid of it…now, Grevail.”

“What was that!” Adellus spun around.

Grevail whirled, reaching for the knife in his coat, though it was precious little protection against a sword or bow. After a moment of searching the highway, he realized it was empty. “What, Dell?”

Adellus shielded his eyes from the late daylight, squinting at the road behind them. “I swear…over there by those trees…a man on a horse…looked like one of those…” he trailed off.

“One of those what?” Tessyn asked.

“Don’t start again, Adellus! The weight of you…” Grevail growled. “Don’t say you’ve seen something unless you’ve actually seen something!”

Adellus frowned. “I saw someone!”

Grevail resumed walking. “A farmer?” Still, he shot a glance backward every twenty or so paces. In the road ahead, a narrow stream surrounded by a thick column of trees ran under a small bridge. Grevail motioned at it. “Let’s camp along the stream here? We can fill our skins at least. It isn’t long till dark.”

Without a word, Tessyn angled off the road. She led them through bushes and trunks, weaving this way and that until they came upon a small clearing. She slipped the rucksack from her shoulders and sank to the ground. “Good enough?”

“Good enough,” Raela said and tossed her bag to the ground too, collapsing beside it.

“Should we start a fire?” Adellus asked. “I brought some flint…just in case.”

“No,” Raela said. “Especially if nobody wants to see sense.”

Grevail sat and tugged off his boots, rubbing at aching feet. “Not with those people still out there somewhere…or anything else. It will draw attention.”

Adellus squatted on his heels with a shake of his head. “Gaston is dead. Who are these people?”

Tessyn sprawled on the ground nearby, using her rucksack as a pillow. “Attacking watchmen at the gates too. Whoever they are, they’re a rough bunch. Breakers, maybe?”

“Gaston didn’t deserve that…” Raela said, a tremble in her voice. She wiped at her eyes and rolled to face away from them.

“No, he didn’t,” Grevail agreed. He didn’t know what else to say, or if he should say anything. His gaze strayed to Raela’s back. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll find somewhere to hide it. If nothing else, we can come back for it.”

Adellus nodded as if he agreed, but Tessyn tossed her head with a dissatisfied frown. Grevail ground his teeth as he laid down, wrapping himself in his cloak. I’ve got a fortune! I just have to find someone to buy it!

They descended into silence, broken only by the soft sound of Raela sobbing and the crickets singing as night came. Much later, a wolf’s forlorn howl cascaded over the forest and brought them all to attention.

“Should someone stay awake?” Raela squeaked into the darkness when the echo of the howl faded from the clearing.

“I think we’ll be alright,” Grevail tried to assure her, though he was unsure himself. He didn’t know anything about wolves.

“What about Noz?” Tessyn asked.

“They won’t find us,” Adellus said. “It’s pitch black here and we have no fire.”

“You promise, Grevail?” Raela asked. “Tomorrow you’ll leave it behind?”

“I promise.” Sleep pulled his eyelids downward, even as he fought to keep them open. “It will all be alright.”