Grevail opened his eyes with a groan. How his body ached. It was still early, just after dawn, but the sky had yet to take on much color. He rolled over and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, wincing at yet another headache. Goosebumps sprang onto his skin while he massaged his temple and the sickly sweet smell of spoiled wine still hung in the air too. He cursed. What will it take to get this damn stench out of my nose?
“Raela…Dell…” the words died in his mouth. Two black leather boots were planted a few a paces away. Tucked into the boots were a tight pair of black trousers, and above that, a blue linen shirt sprouting chest hair between the laces. Finally, his gaze met a bemused face.
The man sported wavy black hair to his shoulders and a thin mustache. A silver earring dangling over his shoulder was of an axe and dagger, a manifest of Bostra and Ilen. Blue eyes sparkled over a narrow and hooked nose. “Trouble in Eudan?” he said in a light, airy voice.
Grevail scrambled to his feet but one of those black boots slammed hard into his forehead and sent him to his rump.
The man smiled. “Now, now, Grevail. Do not try to run…or draw that knife in your coat. I promise, you will regret it.” He patted the sword at his hip for emphasis. The cadence of his voice was odd to Grevail’s ears.
“Who are you?” Grevail mumbled, head swimming.
Before the man could answer, Raela came awake with a shriek that brought Tessyn and Adellus up from their bedding with bewildered expressions.
Another man Grevail hadn’t noticed hushed Raela the way one might a child from where he leaned against a tree. “Don’t worry miss, you have nothing to worry about. Just do what we say and you’ll be fine.” This man was tall and muscular. A scruffy beard covered his chiseled jaw and combed brown hair crowned an intimidating frame. He too had a sword at his waist, while the handle of a small, hand-held crossbow peeked out of a holster on the opposite hip.
“Who are you?” Grevail repeated.
The first man spoke. “Oh, I will entertain you…I suppose. I am Iphik.” He motioned toward his companion, “and that is Grix.” He swept back a leg for a garish bow, then straightened and paused, studying their faces. Grevail realized he was waiting for a reaction. Iphik’s lips turned down as if annoyed. “We are Sifters. The infamous Astranid Sifters to be precise.”
A sudden hardness in Grevail’s stomach almost made him double over. For the first time, he noticed the leather cloaks hanging down their backs and the broad-brimmed black leather hat in Grix’ hand. A silver pendant shined on Iphik’s chest. A rabbit pursued by a wolf, ringed by links of chain. Anybody with the coin to hire Sifters wanted someone caught surely and quickly. Grevail had seen them once—when he was a boy they chased a man down Merchant Row. They caught him of course, everybody knew Sifters always got their mark.
Iphik acknowledged Grevail’s discomfort with a toothy grin. “Ah, I see you know what a Sifter is, even if you have somehow not heard of our exploits!”
“What do you want?” Grevail asked.
“Which one of you has it?” Grix rumbled and searched each of them with a stare hard enough to bully a mountain.
“Have what?” Adellus moved as if to stand but sank back when Grix put a palm to the sword at his hip.
Iphik threw back his head and laughed. “Do not be a fool.”
“I’ve got it,” Grevail admitted. He pulled his rucksack across the ground to him and retrieved the relic, offering it to Iphik. “Here…it’s yours, just leave us alone. We don’t want any trouble.”
Iphik snatched the cube from Grevail’s hand and held it in front of his face with a smile. “You do not want trouble? I am sure you do not…but you have found it, my friend. Unfortunately for you, you must come with us.”
Raela frowned up at the Sifter. “You have it, why do you need us?”
“No more questions,” Grix demanded. “Prisoners don’t get to ask questions.”
Grevail’s heart sank as a grim feeling of certainty washed over him. “Will you take us to Eudan?”
Iphik sighed and a look crossed his face that could have been pity, but it disappeared in a casual smile. “We most certainly could, my friend. You are in possession of this,” he held the cube in front of him, flat on his palm. “There is likely a warrant for each of you in Eudan, especially after that incident at the bridge.”
Tessyn drew her brows down. “How do you know about that?”
“Questions,” Grix muttered.
Grevail ignored him. “Where are you taking us then, if not back to Eudan?”
Iphik ignored him in turn. “Grix…get the chains. I will see that our new friends…stay friendly.”
Grix grunted and marched into the trees toward the highway. Iphik tossed the cube back and forth in his hands but kept a sharp eye on all of them.
“It’s not the Thava is it?” Raela asked, fearful eyes glistening on the verge of tears. “Please…”
Iphik stared at her a moment before he responded. “The Thava do pay well, though everyone pays us well when we are the best Sifters money can buy. No man or woman can escape—no suspect too elusive. Grix and I have hunted them down by the thousands to the seediest places in Eudan. We know all there is to know about this art.” He paused to judge their reactions. “It will not be the first time we have seen a merit in the ear of our marks, though people from Lowtown are usually not worthy of our services. Mudrats, is that what they call you?”
“We found that cube, we didn’t steal it,” Raela said, though her quivering voice did not sound convincing.
Iphik laughed again—a genuine full throated warble. “Miss, you truly mistake me for a fool. It is probable that this relic is the least you are wanted for in Eudan. Murder may well be on the warrant too!”
Adellus growled in his throat, eyes burning Iphik to ash. “We may be thieves, but we are no murderers.”
“That is not what I have heard. In fact, rumor is…they suspect you in the death of a man named Gaston…and a watchman.” Iphik shrugged as if it really didn’t matter.
Grevail wracked his brain thinking of how they might have been blamed for Gaston’s death, or a watchman…but a watchman, not two watchmen. Perhaps one of them had survived somehow.
The rustle of brush and the clink of metal announced the return of Grix. He held a few lengths of chain in his hands that he tossed to the ground beside Adellus. “I want no trouble while I’m fitting these on you,” he stated and made Adellus turn his pockets out before patting him down. Then, Grix put the clasps on him. A band around each wrist and a band around each ankle, connected by rusted chain.
The tall Sifter gave them all the same treatment—tugging on the clasps to make sure they held. Grevail was last and Grix pulled open his coat to reveal the knife he kept there. The Sifter slipped the knife out of the loop and bounced it in his hand. “It’s cute,” he said with a mocking smile.
“Very good,” Iphik said when Grix finished. “Up with all of you and out to the road. Do not worry about your bags, you will not need them.”
“My books!” Raela said.
“You have much more to worry about than that, my dear,” Iphik said.
Raela wobbled to her feet, gazing at her rucksack with tears in her eyes. It had taken her ages to collect them all, and quite a sum of money too for the ones they couldn’t steal, and now because of him she would lose them. She turned red rimmed and contemptuous eyes on him.
Grevail stood with an apology ready, but stopped when he realized how stupid it would sound. He had every chance to do as she wanted before this, and now it was too late. Raela moved toward the highway at the direction of Iphik, ripping her gaze from him.
“Move,” Grix said and shoved Grevail into motion. He stumbled forward and shuffled after Raela in the half-strides the fetters allowed. They walked through the trees with only the clink of their chains disrupting the natural ambiance and after exiting the forest, found a wagon drawn by two horses as well as another lone mount waiting in the highway.
Grix herded them into the wagon and then jumped in himself. Several chains were bolted to the wagon bed and at each end a rusty clasp. Grix clamped one of these clasps around the chain between their feet and secured it with a padlock.
“Please tell us where you are taking us, it’s the least you could do,” Raela pleaded.
“You’ll know soon enough,” Grix said.
Iphik climbed into the wagon seat while Grix mounted the horse.
“I told you I saw something,” Adellus mumbled.
Grevail met his eyes, and after a moment, inclined his head. “I should have listened to you. I’m sorry, Dell.”
Raela glared at him. He had little doubt what she was thinking. We should have thrown it into a bush and went on our way.
“Not that it would have done you any good.” Iphik snapped the reins and the two brown rumps in front of him moved onto the highway. “You stood little chance of escaping us.” He turned and directed a grin at Grix who followed behind the wagon at a trot.
To Grevail’s surprise, Iphik led them south into the rising Parents and not back toward Eudan. He and his friends said nothing, but Grevail knew that like himself, their minds had to be racing. Iphik and Grix talked to each other little and not about anything Grevail found useful.
At mid-day, as the Parents rose to their zenith, Iphik stopped to distribute food and water. Boiled eggs and cured ham. Grevail gobbled down what was given to him, stomach grumbling as he did so. In truth, he was surprised Iphik had given them anything, and even more that it was food he couldn’t afford on a good day.
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The headache didn’t go away when he ate something as he hoped. Iphik’s kick left him with an odd tingling sensation behind his forehead that only seemed to grow as the day wore on. He hoped the blow hadn’t left him with some kind of permanent damage. After resting a while, the Sifters packed them back up and they continued on.
The countryside they passed was vast and empty of human habitation. Hills crowded the horizon to the west, from gently rolling to those split in jagged cliffs or others peppered with rocky outcroppings. A doe and her fawn wading through a field of tall grass raised their heads to watch the wagon pass. They saw few travelers, but as dusk approached, a long line of wagons appeared ahead, one after the other like a trail of ants. A man wearing a large straw hat sat in the lead wagon, and motioned a greeting at Iphik as the wagons came near. A spade stood out on the sideboard of his dusty cart.
Iphik pulled the reins and waved the man down. The man directed his own wagon to stop in the middle of the road, so those following could continue.
“Any news from the south?” Iphik asked when the stranger halted.
“Brigands reported a few days south of here…raiding guild wagon trains, but they wouldn’t hesitate to rob you too.” The man sucked at his lip and spit over the side of the wagon. “Rumors about a shimmerbeast in the hills north of there too,” he added as an afterthought with a chuckle.
Iphik grinned. “We’ve heard rumors too, but that’s all they’ve been, as usual. Any word from Tamirra?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” the man grumbled, scratching at his patchy beard. “Uruca this, Uruca that…you know how they are. Supposedly some noble down there is causing a fuss with talk of a coup. Always the rich itching for a fight when most folk just want enough food on the table.” The man laughed with a shake of his head. “What about up north? We’re headed to Eudan.”
Iphik watched the other wagons rumbling by. “Quiet as can be when we left, except for news of Talaen’s nephew. He was killed not long ago and Amphid is in a rage over it.”
“We heard.” The man’s eyes drifted from Iphik’s hat, to the silver emblem on his chest, and then finally to Grevail and his friends. His eyes lingered on Grevail’s merit before he abruptly spit on the ground again. “Looks like you’ve had a successful hunt.”
Iphik nodded toward the canvas piled high behind the man. “You as well.”
The man grinned. “True as the dawn, but mine is easier to catch.”
Iphik shared a laugh with him. “Well, we best be on our way.”
The man bobbed his head and prodded the horse pulling his wagon into motion. “Safe travels, Sifter.”
Iphik flicked the reins and the horses trotted off down the highway.
“Spades,” Raela muttered when the wagons finally passed.
“You do not like the spades?” Iphik said without turning around. When nobody answered him, he continued. “I have heard the complaints but they are no cause of trouble for me. The members I meet seem good, reputable people.”
“Not like us then,” Tessyn said.
Iphik flicked the reins again with a rueful shake of his head. “Do they steal? Some of them, surely, but not all.”
“Oh, they steal,” Tessyn growled.
“And get away with it too,” Adellus added. “They steal and nobody bats an eye. Nobody can make a living off the marsh without their blessing, and I’ve seen what they do to those who don’t follow their orders.”
“So tell me,” Iphik said over the creak of the wagon axle. “How did you come to live in Lowtown? Did the spades kick you out of the swamp too?” He turned on the wagon seat to look at them. “I have wondered about the people there.”
Grevail watched Iphik’s face, wondering if Sifter’s were capable of sympathy. It’s worth a try. “My parents were rooters—before the spades,” Grevail said, putting a solemn look on his face. “They were imprisoned and I never saw them again. I was sent to an orphanage, but I didn’t like it and I left. I didn’t choose Lowtown, Iphik, that was how the die rolled for me. We’re not dire criminals, you know that. You’ve already got—”
“Imprisoned for what?”
Grevail didn’t want to tell him his parents were Breakers, as many who had been left destitute by the Spades had become, so he lied. “They stole food…to feed our family.”
“Imprisoned and never seen again when they stole a bit of food?” Iphik asked, clear from the tone he thought Grevail was lying.
Raela spoke up. “My father dealt in furs before the Spades threatened to kill him if he didn’t pay their tax. He only found relief in drink, but it was the Spades that killed him. Does that sound like good people? Iphik, we are only trying to get by. You have your cube, you don’t need us anymore.”
“A sad tale,” Iphik said as if he truly meant it. “I’ve known those who could not go a day without drink. A terrible thing. I never claimed I supported every little thing the Spades do, but I do not wholly condemn them, as some would.”
A silence stretched before Adellus spoke. “I was a prince,” he said smartly, “but the women of my kingdom were driven mad by my beauty and so they banished me. I ended up in Lowtown.” Grevail grimaced at him. Now is not the time, Dell.
Iphik snorted a laugh. “Obviously, your majesty.”
“It’s true,” Adellus said. “I left behind a fortune, too. If you take these chains off us, we can go back and get it. I’ll give you half.”
Iphik turned to raise an eyebrow at Adellus. “You truly take me for a fool?” He cast his eyes to Tessyn. “And what about you? Tessyn, was it? Are you a princess?”
She scowled, cutting honey-brown eyes defiant when they locked on his. “I’m not answering your questions if you won’t answer ours.”
Iphik shrugged and cocked his head to the side. “I only wish to shorten the trip with conversation, miss.”
She turned away and looked to a row of large hills on the horizon. “Plying us for information is what I think…to make your job easier.”
“Think what you will.” Iphik smiled and turned forward. Grevail suddenly felt foolish. A Sifter wouldn’t let them go. Anybody else…maybe, but not a Sifter.
A short time later, the barren hillsides became dotted with homes trailing chimney smoke into the cloudless blue sky, and buildings began to cluster around the highway like a vine around a fencepost. A smattering of people watched them enter the small village with wary eyes. A little girl playing with a doll near the edge of the highway offered the procession a wave, giggling when Grix returned her greeting.
Iphik pulled the wagon off the road before a dilapidated and dusty building with a veranda roof on the verge of collapse. A sign out front said, ‘Bit of Everything’. Painted below that, a basket filled with fruit and bread, though it had faded to near illegibility.
“We need supplies for the rest of our trip,” Iphik said. “Do not move, or Grix will discipline you.” He jumped down from the wagon and walked toward the building.
Another round of goosebumps ran up and down Grevail’s body, but soon died away. At least the acrid stench that had been in his nose all day had vanished for the time being. Grix remained mounted, appearing unperturbed at doing so. He busied himself watching their surroundings, but his eyes never strayed far from the wagon.
“So…” Raela whispered, “how are we going to get out of this?”
“These are spring locks, shouldn’t be too hard if I can get something strong enough to pick them with,” Tessyn said. “I need a slim piece of metal that I can bend into shape.” She looked at Grevail. “Stop answering his questions, he isn’t your friend. He’s fishing for information.”
A woman in a bright blue dress with a wicker basket on her hip came into view around the corner of a building and jerked to a stop as if surprised, gazing at the wagon. After a moment, she came forward, shielding her eyes from the light. “Rislyn? Is that you?” she asked Tessyn. “It’s been so long!” The woman stopped beside the wagon and smiled up at her. “You’ve grown into such a beauty!”
Tessyn’s mouth hung open. “I…”
“Miss,” Grix said from atop his horse and the woman turned to face him. “These are criminals in transport. Please step away.”
“Oh!” The woman slapped a hand to her mouth and jumped backward. She leveled a scowl at Tessyn and spun away, marching past the wagon.
Grix watched her leave with a bemused grin.
Tessyn reacted to Grix’ amusement with a scowl of her own. “Embers consume him…” she muttered. “Where are they taking us if not back to the capital?”
Grevail tried to push a finger between one of the clasps around his ankle—they were already beginning to chafe. The tingling on the inside of his skull had moved to the left, and when he turned his head that way, it skittered back across his head to the front. He shook his head in an attempt to dispel it. “It has to be the Thava.”
“But why not to Eudan then?” Adellus asked. “It was closer when they found us and there are plenty of Thava there, the most important Thava around.” With a suspicious glance at Grix, he lowered his voice even more. “Can’t be the Thava.”
“Maybe if we can get him talking he’ll tell us,” Grevail said.
A cold chuckle escaped Tessyn. “Was that your plan by telling him your sad life story? To befriend him?” She nudged Raela in the ribs with a mocking grin. “You too?”
Grevail frowned at her. “Yes. Do you have a better idea?”
Tessyn stared at him a moment before a frustrated sigh escaped her lips. “No, I don’t.”
“Grevail has the best ideas,” Raela muttered.
“Maybe if we started yelling that we’ve been kidnapped, creating a fuss, someone would believe us and demand they let us go,” Adellus wondered.
Raela rolled her eyes. “Who are they going to believe, Adellus? Sifters? Or us, with merits in our ears?”
“They might not even know what merits are,” Adellus said. He rubbed at the clasps around his wrists. “I’ve never met a Sifter before but I’ve heard lots of stories. I wonder if it’s true they can sense a crime before it happens.”
Tessyn snorted. “They’d have double the chains on me by now if they could sense what I’ve been thinking.”
Grevail had heard those stories too, everyone had. He’d seen Sifters plenty in Eudan, they even came into Lowtown sometimes, and not even the Khossoroi were likely to do that. Sifter was the kind of thing every sprout wanted to be when they grew up at one time or another.
The shop door opened, ejecting Iphik, and their conversation died away. The man whistled while he sauntered down the boards laid over the dirt with a burlap sack in his hand, heavy with something or another. Goosebumps sprang onto Grevail’s skin as the Sifter approached and he silenced a curse, wondering if he’d come down with a sickness. Iphik threw the bag onto the wagon seat with a thunk and hopped up beside it. “Any trouble?” he asked Grix.
Grix shook his head.
“Good,” Iphik said. “Let’s be on our way then.” He flicked the reins and the horses hauled the wagon away from the shop.
As they pulled back onto the highway, Grevail realized the smell had returned. He ground his teeth in frustration. Everything was moving so quickly, he didn’t have time to think. Something bothered him, but it remained just out of reach in his mind, disappearing around a corner whenever he grasped at it. The houses and shops turned to farmhouses and fields before all signs of humanity but the road disappeared. Once again, the vast wilderness of Eudan swallowed them up.
They saw little else but rolling hills and forests for the rest of the day. They stopped once so the horses could drink from a stream. Grevail and his friends were given more food and allowed to relieve themselves if needed. The Sifter’s sequestered themselves a short distance away and talked in low, heated tones. Arguing, it looked to Grevail. Iphik took something from his bag and handed it to Grix. A short time later, they were loaded back into the wagon and headed south.
As they rode along, Grevail realized that the slithering itch that had been at the front of his head was now in the back. The smell of spoiled wine had gone too. The goosebumps were still there, but to a lesser extent than they were before. He turned to look at Grix behind the wagon.
As night approached, Iphik pulled the wagon off the road and down an intersecting cart track, Grix following on his mount. They stopped on a flat grassy area not far from the highway.
“We will camp here,” Iphik declared and grabbed his burlap sack, hopping to the ground. “You will sleep in the wagon.”
Grix dismounted and stretched with a groan. “Any mead in that bag?”
Iphik only laughed and began clearing a spot on the ground. He went to a nearby stand of trees that lined the road and searched through it, eventually emerging with a handful of kindling. The Sifter made a fire from it, only big enough to boil a small pot of water.
Grix contented himself with cleaning the small crossbow he kept in the holster at his waist. Grevail wondered how powerful such a tiny bow could be. Maybe it was for hunting rabbits or other small game, but for some reason, he didn’t think it was.
“Any progress on picks?” Raela whispered to Tessyn.
Tessyn shook her head.
“Me either,” Adellus said. “We could slip away in the night. Grab the cube while we are at it.”
“You’ll pick his pocket?” Raela whispered and raised an eyebrow at Iphik, who sat holding a steaming pot over the tiny fire.
“The cube is in Grix’ saddlebags,” Grevail said.
Raela’s eyes crept toward him, a growl forming in her throat. “We are leaving it behind.”
“What are you whispering about over there?” Grix asked, still scrubbing at the small bow with a rag.
They fell silent and Grix’ question went unanswered. Without much else to do they laid in the bed of the wagon, jostling and nudging each other to get comfortable. Iphik gave them some bread, even some salted olives, then unhitched the horses and brushed them down.
Grevail laid awake well into the night, staring into the dark sky, even after he heard the sounds of fitful sleep coming from his friends. Crickets chirped into the cool air, and amid their calls, the low murmur of conversation between the Sifters.
Something gnawed at him. He never saw Iphik give the cube to Grix for sure, but he knew it was in those saddlebags. The scratching in his head pointed toward Grix’ horse as surely as if it were glowing in the darkness. Something pulled him toward it, a feeling he couldn’t quite describe, like being sucked into a whirlpool. He tried to convince himself it was his imagination, and when he awoke it would be gone, but the more he thought about the events of the day, the more he came to believe it. He knew it was true, like the dawn came every morning. Ashes, what is that thing? What has it done to me?