The Emberstone glittered, shining in his hand. The pinpoint of pale blue light behind the glass circle became an inferno, until he was blinded, then died away. He held the relic extended, standing beside his bed in Alisia’s house. Through the open window beside him poured Nila’s yellow light.

The sound of laughter drifted into absolute silence. A woman’s laughter. Grevail turned to the window, pricking his ears and searching the still, dark buildings across the way. The laughter sounded again—this time closer. As he made his way to the window the planks under his feet neither groaned or whined, though he knew they did.

Like a cascading harp, the laughter bubbled from the courtyard. He leaned through the window…and his breath froze. A soldier stood in the courtyard, looking back at him from inside massive slabs of black metal. The face remained obscured in the darkness of a helm, yet Grevail knew their eyes met. The menacing being raised a hand and jabbed a finger at the window. Grevail flinched, and though it was only a moment, when he opened his eyes the soldier was gone.

A dream, he reminded himself, but even so, the silence of this place was unnerving. The chiming laugh of a woman sounded again, now in the street beyond the courtyard. With a frown, he left the window. Down the stairs he went, through the eerie, silent house and out the front door.

The courtyard was empty and no strange soldier stood waiting for him, even if it felt like something should be. The vines hanging from the walls shimmered in a wind he did not hear or feel. The Emberstone glowed like a lantern in his hand, casting shifting blue light across the courtyard.

“Grevail…” said a woman beyond the courtyard wall. Her voice tickled at his memory.

Grevail walked to the gate and pushed. It floated away from him on silent hinges he knew squealed horribly. He stepped into an empty street lined with trees that wavered from the same invisible wind as the vines. Nila, tiny and motionless in a starry, cloudless sky, painted the world in her sickly yellow light.

“Grevail…”

He recognized the voice behind him, nearly forgotten. He turned, and as he did, the world fell away. Trees tumbled, tossing dirt into the air from their roots and grass wilted flat before his eyes. The cobblestones dropped from under his feet. Buildings crumbled to foundations, then into dust, vanishing into black. Nobody was there. Only himself in an eternal sea of night.

“Grevail…”

He spun again. His mother stood exactly as she was when he last saw her. Curly black hair rested on her shoulders and black eyes held him lovingly, as if they never stopped. She was the same handsome, petite woman Grevail recalled from his childhood,.

“Why…” Grevail began.

His mother stopped him with a hand. “Grevail, you must find the Emberstone and come to me…” she paused, as if unsure what to say.

“I don’t have it. Where are you? What happened to you?” Grevail went to move toward her but did not budge. He looked down at his feet to find them floating in black. “Where are we?”

“I know you miss me…my little pumpkin.” Painful recollections of those words were pulled from the blackest reaches of his memory and he was forced to look at them—to remember what he’d spent most of his life forgetting. His mother’s face softened at the wetness stinging his eyes.“I am close. Find the Emberstone and come to me.”

“I thought you died? Is this a dream? Tell me where you are!”

She smiled, and like a ray of sunshine it basked him in beautiful, natural warmth. “I’m very close dear. Not far at alllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll…” Her melodic voice caught and dragged as if she’d been frozen in time. Her face stretched and flattened like a hide at a tanner’s shop, then snapped back into place. She became faded, like a painting that sat too long in the sun, and ripples spread across her body as if she were a reflection in a pond.

His mother expanded outward, her body stretching in a horrifying manner. Grevail tried to back away, yet despite flailing limbs, did not move. Her distended stomach ballooned toward him and he closed his eyes with a shout.

Grevail sat up in bed and swung his legs to the floor, gripping his head. The slithering itch was still there, burrowing out of his skull toward the relic. He experienced many dreams since he came into contact with the Emberstone, and they only seemed to become more numerous and detailed as the days wore on. A variety of people had appeared in them too, but never before his mother. He hadn’t dreamt of her in…he didn’t know how long. He shook his head and pushed it all to the back of his mind. All I have to do is steal that stone. Revenge for Raela, Dell and Tessyn.

He stood, throwing on his old clothes that were full of holes, then headed downstairs. Usha, in the kitchen as usual, handed him a plate with a buttered roll, two boiled eggs and a few slices of ham. Grevail inhaled the meal, as he did every morning, thankful for anything to eat. Even so, the wide woman held no love for anyone in her kitchen beside Alisia and shooed him away before he swallowed the last bite.

Afterward, he went searching for the others. Voices drifting through the cloth hung in the doorway of Alisia’s sitting room caught his ear, and when he pushed it aside, found her atop a red settee in conversation with three people he did not recognize.

“Ozra,” Alisia said to a thin girl sitting across from her who sported a bushy clump of curly brown hair atop her head. “I need you down there to hear what he talks about. Do not under any circumstances draw his attention. We can’t risk that. Remember what Aritane and Auphen learned about Patalla. If Riphale mentions anything about the Urucan, no matter what it is, come back to me immediately. Do you understand?”

The girl issued a confident nod.

“Good,” Alisia said. “Off with you then. Be careful.” The girl bounced to her feet and rushed past Grevail out of the room while Alisia turned to a round man who had been sitting beside her. “For you, we need to know who Eryth supports. The next time she comes into your shop, I want you to find out.”

“What if she becomes angry?” the fat man asked, seemingly disturbed by the idea.

Alisia adopted a firm tone. “You will slip it into a conversation naturally…unassumingly…don’t ask her outright. Make light of Carbathe’s claims…or mention that another customer supports Daryn. Everyone has an opinion, it’s just a matter of getting them to voice it. We think Eryth has some intimate knowledge of goings on at the Council House but I have to know which we way she leans before we proceed further.”

“I don’t know when she might come again, Alisia…but I will do what I can,” the large man said, rising from the chair and bending in a small bow.

“Of course, of course. Whatever you can do,” she said as the man left, brushing past Grevail. Alisia then spoke to the last woman, an older, pretty brunette in a dress fine enough it wouldn’t seem out of place among the mansions in the north of town. “For you, Lady Renthil, I have a special request. So far we’ve failed to discover if Seirod has any…preferred type of woman…or desires women at all for that matter. We’ve seen none around him. I want you to—”

Lady Renthil gasped, an indignant look on her face. “Alisia, you must not be suggesting that I throw myself at him! I believe in our cause just as much as anyone could, but I would never—”

“Of course I’m not asking you to do that, Ellyn,” Alisia interrupted, bewildered. “I only want you to find out what gets his rooster crowing. What does he like?”

The anger drained from Lady Renthil’s face and she seemed relieved, but it lasted only a moment before she spoke in a worried tones. “I think he has grown wary of me, Alisia. What if he suspects me? He is hardly friendly as it is.”

Alisia reached across the table between them to place a hand atop Lady Renthil’s. “I understand if you do not feel comfortable, I do, but we need to know as much about him as we can. I cannot force you to do anything and I never would, but please, if you see an opportunity…consider it.”

“I will try my best, Alisia. I know it is important to us.” Lady Renthil said and stood, inclining her head to Alisia before leaving past Grevail. Only as Alisia’s eyes followed Lady Renthil toward the exit did she seem to notice he was there. “You don’t expect to be out on your own just yet do you?” she asked with a teasing smile. “Your first assignments have gone well but not so well as that.”

“How long will I have to wait to get at Seirod?” he asked, aware of the scratching on the inside of his head pulling him toward the man’s home.

“If things keep going well…not long.”

Grevail grimaced. “Can’t you tell me anything about him?”

Alisia stood, sweeping lustrous black hair over her shoulders and came to stand with him. “I know it must be frustrating for you, but I can’t let all of our hard work go to waste. If you want to know everything, I must trust you as much as I do Auphen or Aritane.”

For a reason Grevail couldn’t put his finger on, her murky blue eyes always seemed to instill a calm in him. Looking into them now, he felt almost as he did with the Emberstone, as if he were being sucked into a whirlpool. “I’m ready to prove myself.” A scoff echoed in his head. I’ve never been one to fall for every pretty girl I see like Dell.

“Great,” Alisia said, taking a cloak from the back of the settee and throwing it over her shoulders. “You will come with me. I have some time before my agents are due back and there is something I’d like to try.”

Grevail raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well, now that we’ve seen Patalla himself with Carbathe, I think Daryn must be informed in any way we can.”

“You want to go to the Council House and talk to him?”

Alisia shook her head. “Not with him. We may only have an audience with the Council of Nobles on Grievance days, and the next is days away still. He would not receive us if we were to arrive unannounced, but I do have other contacts there who might be able pass this information to him.” She walked from the room, waving him after her.

“Grievance days?”

“Grievance days. Those are the days in which anyone in Tamirra can go to the Council House and air their grievances to the Council of Nobles at the Pillar of Justice.” Leaving the house, they walked across the courtyard and into the street.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Have you ever tried to tell Daryn what you’ve found before?” he asked as Alisia set a brisk pace down the road. “Does he have any idea what is going on? I heard what Carbathe said that night.”

Alisia sighed. “We’ve tried, I assure you, but it’s not like we can just walk into the Council House and demand to speak to him. We’ve gone on previous Grievance Days, but Carbathe and the other nobles were there on those days too, and we cannot reveal what we know to them or they will be sure to make trouble for us. Even if we did get Daryn alone, there is no guarantee he will believe us. It is our word against Carbathe’s and unless Daryn was there to see it himself, how would he know we are telling the truth?” She slapped a fist into her palm with a growl. “Sometimes, I think they are trying to keep us away from him. There is no way for us to know what the Khos thinks of Carbathe, but Daryn can’t know what we do, otherwise he’d have to do something.”

“Who are we meeting?”

“For the past while I’ve been volunteering at the kitchens in the Council House for an old friend who works inside. Of course, I am not doing this for charity. I do it to gain access, learning what I can and perhaps eventually, get closer to Daryn. The servants there sometimes know just as much about the goings on as the nobles, if not more so. Once we do get inside, we will need to find Bavin, the Khos’ steward. He may be interested in helping us get this information where it needs to go. You know how to scrub a pot, don’t you?” she asked, grinning at him.

He did not have time to reply, for as they rounded a corner, a knot of men in the road ahead drew his eye. They were marching along together, pumping arms in the air and repeating a chant that echoed up the street. “Lesabre is unfit! Lesabre is unfit! He’s not our Khos, he’s not our man, he must be made to quit!” Every man wore the purple rose on the chest of white tunics and many carried cudgels in their belts.

The group slowed beside a shop where a crowd was gathered, perusing baskets of garish vegetables set out on tables. A man in the lead raised his cudgel. “Daryn Lesabre is unfit for duty! He must be removed! Carbathe for Khos!”

“Daryn must be removed!” A man in front of the shop agreed, raising his fist in kind.

“Carbathe for Khos!”

After a few cheers of encouragement from the shop patrons, the men resumed their march past Grevail and Alisia. Grevail ducked his head, diverting his gaze to the ground, but Alisia stared lightning at the men.

“Carbathe will never be Khos! He’s a traitor!” spat an old woman outside the shop, jabbing her finger into the face of a man with his fist raised.

The man stepped close and put the fist under her nose. “Watch your mouth, old hag!”

The shopkeep, swathed in an apron, lept through the shop door and ran to put himself between them. “Ashes, Oiren, she’s an old woman!”

“Old or not,” Oiren said, glaring at her, “she should know her place.”

The crowd descended into shoving matches and the shouting of accusations. Soon, the villagers had organized themselves into two roiling gangs. A brawl looked imminent, but after a short standoff and much hand-waving of the shopkeep, the two groups dispersed with only threats. The shopkeep wiped a hand across his brow and with an incredulous shake of his head, returned inside.

“See what his henchmen do?” Alisia said, face made from stone. “That man will stop at nothing to be Khos. Even if it means destroying our city.” With a scowl, she resumed walking. “Come on.”

A short distance down the road they entered a large square ringed by buildings that Grevail had seen a few times before from a distance. Townsfolk wandered across the oval-shaped space like fish in a pond, while in the center, a statue several times taller than a man and made of white stone towered over them. It was of a woman dressed in common clothes with a sword raised over her head. The figure had a fierce snarl on her face and an open mouth, as if belting a soundless shout across the river toward Uruca.

“Who is that?” Grevail asked as they passed the base of the statue. It was quite an impressive structure—taller than most every building around the square.

The anger washed from Alisia’s face as she glanced up at it. “Delphine,” she murmured, a proud smile warming her lips. “The hero of Tamirra during the civil war. She and many others joined the hill tribes in fighting for Eudan independence. The Urucan attacked Tamirra and won a difficult victory, then laid waste to the city. Delphine helped many people escape, and afterward, the survivors led a resistance against the Urucan. They never gave up, even when it seemed overwhelmingly dire. Delphine fought until the war was won. Then, when the peace treaty had been signed and the Urucan were forced to cede the Phantha, she helped rebuild Tamirra. I’ve been to the capital once, and the streets you have there curve every which way, but here, you might have noticed they’re all straight as a good plank. That’s because this city is no like other. It was built all at once.”

“I suppose she is why you call yourselves Delphine’s companions?”

Alisia looked at him, befuddled, then a chuckle bubbled out of her. “You pieced it together, did you?” Snickering, she walked from the statue, pulling Grevail along with her.

As they left the square, a flag with the purple rose of Carbathe hanging from a tavern eave caught Grevail’s eye. Next door, the blue and white stripes of an Eudan flag peeked from the window of an inn. Nearly every building displayed their allegiance where those passing could see it, and Tamirrans in the street proudly donned patches or sported embroidered handkerchiefs hanging from a pocket that let all know who they sided with too. Alisia’s claims of an imminent coup seemed obvious now, so obvious only a dolt could miss them.

Yet he had been that dolt when he first came to Tamirra. He had walked past all of these things and hardly noticed. Not only that, I somehow have become embroiled in it. It was still hard to believe a coup could really be possible, even after what he heard that night at Carbathe’s estate. Surely, Carbathe could not challenge the Khos and his Council of Nobles, and certainly not the Epikhos. Amphid would settle the matter before anything could happen.

Alisia led him along the straight streets of Tamirra toward the eastern edge of town. When they stepped onto the highway south of the Council House, the road was brimming with townsfolk and travelers, as it usually seemed to be. Bustling shops lined the road and lining even those were more rows of hawker stands. The calls of merchants and murmur of a crowd reminded Grevail of Merchant Row, though the memory inspired little more than a feeling of painful regret now.

The Council House soon rose ahead—the odd white dome cresting above the other buildings like Arulan on the horizon. Alisia walked toward the double doors of the entrance, which were guarded by two men in white watch tunics. Grevail swallowed, remembering Joszi’s threat of a thousand ess to bring him in. If his only chance of getting closer to Seirod was by helping Alisia, then it would be a risk he’d have to take.

Alisia planted herself in front of the watchmen and cracked a smile. “Hello,” the diminutive woman said. “I’m here to see Kallidra.”

One of the watchmen, a dark eyed, broad-shouldered man with a scruffy beard looked down his nose at her. “About what?”

“I come to help her in the kitchens. I was here a few days ago—”

The man turned his dark eyes from Alisia to Grevail. “Him too?”

“Yes.”

The watchman rubbed at his jaw, frowning. “Sorry, miss, but no visitors are allowed today.”

“What? Why?”

The man shrugged and spread his hands. “I don’t question the orders, I just carry them out. They said no visitors to the kitchens…so no visitors to the kitchens.”

Alisia stared at him. “I was just here a few days ago and there was no such rule! Who gave the order?”

The man laughed, then spit on the ground at their feet. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, stitched with a purple rose to wipe his mouth. “Get out of here or you’ll spend the night with the jailer.”

Alisia glared at the handkerchief, then at the watchman. “You don’t scare me…traitor,” she whispered like death itself. “I’ll be back.” She held the man’s eyes for a moment, as if daring him to act, then strode away.

The guard watched her go before settling bemused eyes on Grevail. “How about you, Delphine? Do you want some company tonight? No doubt the jailer would prefer her, but the old man does get lonely down there, he might make due with you.” The man issued a gruesome chuckle.

Grevail clamped his mouth shut around a growl and turned away, hurrying after Alisia. He caught up to her as she stalked away from the Council House, looking angry as a swarm of bees. “What now? Is there another way inside?”

“Not that I know of. You saw his handkerchief, didn’t you? I told you they are trying to keep us away from Daryn…but they can’t do it forever. We will get through to him eventually…even if some of the watch are in on it.” She cursed, balling her fists. “Traitors! Come on, I need a drink and some time to think. We’ll go to the Lucky Harvest.”

“What about your agents?”

The young woman shrugged and her murky blue eyes narrowed in anger as if she were thinking about running right back to the Council House. “They know what to do if I’m not there. Aritane and Auphen should come by eventually. We need to think up a plan to reach Daryn.”

The Lucky Harvest wasn’t so busy when they arrived and not long after seating themselves, a young man came to thump tankards on the table in front of them. Grevail took a grateful drink of the ale. Anything that helped to lessen the now seemingly ever-present throbbing scratch in his head was welcome.

Alisia looked glum as she drank, glancing at the sparse patrons of the tavern as if another of Carbathe’s henchmen were among them.

“What are your next plans?” Grevail asked.

She twisted her lips in a grimace. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I wonder what good we’re doing if nobody wants to listen. My Delphines risk their lives all the time…yet most people don’t seem to care. It feels like we are fighting an insurmountable battle, and every day the enemy grows stronger while we dwindle in number.”

“You’re not thinking of giving up, are you?” Grevail asked. “I mean…I didn’t believe you before, but after hearing Carbathe for myself, it is hard not to.”

Alisia sighed. “That is the problem isn’t it? Not everyone can be there at those times to hear it for themselves. Somehow, most people can’t see what is right in front of them. If only we could find some physical proof of their schemes!”

Grevail frowned at the resigned defeat in her voice. It was such a foreign emotion for her to be overcome with. Every moment he’d spent with Alisia so far, it seemed she thought of little else than stopping Carbathe. “There has to be something else we can do…some other way we can reach Daryn or…something.”

She nodded in agreement, but the sadness did not leave her eyes. “Maybe Aritane or Auphen will have some ideas. We need to get Daryn alone somehow, but with the watch itself infested by Carbathe’s cronies, I don’t see any easy way to do that.”

Grevail stared into his mug, realizing that he wanted to help her. He thought of slapping himself. We are supposed to be finding the relic, Grevail, and avenging your friends that you got killed, not getting involved with…whatever this is. Still, for some reason he couldn’t say, he felt compelled to help her, whatever his help was worth. After all, he would have been sleeping rough and stealing to eat by now if not for her. “How did you come to lead the Delphines?”

She shrugged as if it didn’t really matter, then stared at him for a moment as if that was all the response she would offer. “Years ago, when Carbathe first started causing trouble, most people didn’t take him seriously. They still don’t, as it turns out, but back I couldn’t find anyone who thought he was suspicious until I met Aritane. We started by handing out flyers in Delphine’s Square…that’s how we found Auphen. He was bothered by Carbathe too, in fact, Auphen’s family used to own an estate out of town, much like the one you visited that night…but then Carbathe forced them out and took it for himself. Auphen knew even more about Carbathe than we did. We thought Carbathe wanted to be Khos so he could push even more people off their land that he would then keep for himself, but as we investigated, we realized it was even worse than that.”

“How did Carbathe force Auphen’s family off their land?”

Alisia issued a disgusted scoff. “In every way he could. He argued they owed more tax or that they didn’t really own it at all due to some error in the ledgers ages ago and many other scandals he invented. Auphen thinks Carbathe sent saboteurs around to damage the place too…even set the house on fire once. Wasn’t long before his folks couldn’t afford the tax, and were too terrified to stay even if they could. He lives with them now not far from here and spends all of his time not spent with us taking care of them.”

Grevail drank the last of the ale and stared into the bottom of the mug. “I can see why he wants revenge.”

“The both of you are not so different, you see. I think that’s why he likes so much.” He looked up to find her watching him over the rim of her own mug. “I think I know what I’ll have you do next, Green.”

“Green?”

“That stone in your ear. Aritane says everyone has those in Lowtown. What are they?”

Grevail sighed. “They are called merits. It means you belong in Lowtown.”

“Will you ever go back to Lowtown?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I belonged there.”

They drank in the tavern until each of them had consumed several tankards, or at least he thought, but it was hard to remember just how many. Alisia, he discovered, was quite fond of cursing and crude jokes when her blood was thin. She told him stories about her Delphines and their exploits, while he told a few of his own about Lowtown, though he didn’t think they matched hers. Aritane and Auphen never arrived, nor did he and Alisia formulate a plan to reach Daryn, but when eventually they rose to leave, Grevail was surprised to find he had trouble keeping his balance. Outside, dusk was settling over the town and the streets were clearing of the day’s business.

“You know, when Auphen brought you in, I wasn’t so sure as he seemed to be,” Alisia said, offering him a drunken smile as they walked. “But…you…you’ve done pretty well.”

Grevail grinned back. “Good enough that you’ll tell me about Seirod?”

She raised a finger in warning. “Not yet…not yet, but close.”

“So what was the thing you said…you wanted me to do?”

“I have someone else for you to watch, Green. His name is Aramis.”