Book Twelve

Thick as Thieves

 

“Seven Misfortunes befell the planet of Calis,” Riyo reads. The Eastern Icebound Wall slopes downwards ahead of them. The sun crashes down upon bleached white rock and gritty sand, making a mockery of the chill winds that cut through the gaps between the peaks behind them. Sweat slides down the back of Riyo’s neck and dampens her brow. She wears her shirt around her waist and has to shade her eyes as she walks to keep the fierce glare from them. High above, the Glimmering Resplendence that gives the desert before them its name sheds its glow, and purple light plays across Riyo’s bare shoulders and dyes her blonde hair a shade of lilac.

“First came the cold.”

Ravi walks ahead of Riyo, refusing to look back at her. Her brazen near-nudity is only adding to his discomfort as his feathers trap burning air close to his skin. Rolleck claims it was even hotter inside Yl Torat, which makes him glad he didn’t end up going.

“Blizzards swept the continents, froze the seas down to their deepest trenches, turned the deserts to tundra.”

“That sounds nice,” Rolleck the Lost says. He is also shirtless, exposing his bronze muscles to the wrath of the sun to save his few remaining shirts from staining. He stares out towards the Resplendence and the unending sea of sand that rolls below it.

“Next came the darkness,” Riyo continues. “Hiding the world from itself and dividing families. Swallowing the light away inside itself.”

“It does sound uncomfortably familiar,” Emerald says. She is luxuriating in this heat. It feels like home. She just wishes ‘home’ didn’t bring her such mixed feelings. “But that doesn’t mean it was the same creature.”

“Nightmare,” Riyo says. “The rise of creatures imagined only within the minds of those suffering. Those in pain. Malignant monsters with nothing but hate within them crawled through the world.”

“That beetle was a pretty bad dream,” Glitter says. He has covered the inside of his glass with a thick layer of ice to protect his crystal from the merciless heat. He can sap that heat, take that energy into his control, but he cannot use it within himself. His father once noted that, although he could manipulate energy in fascinating ways, the power that sustains him is generated within his crystal. It is not the same kind of energy, but something he had no description for.

“Mana. A blanket of twisted power that warped the surface of the planet, that grew strange plants and melted rocks, that span into unending vortexes or soaked into the very material of the planet.”

“Destruction. Rains of fire and geysers of lava. Ash on the wind and the shimmer of heat from horizon to horizon. All things broken down until nothing was left but dust and flame.”

“I feel like I’ve visited a place like that,” Emerald says.

“Desolation,” Riyo says. “Stillness complete. The draining away of everything that was left. Rage and hope and sadness, all leaking away until even the air was apathetic.”

“Then The End. There’s no fluff about that.”

“It’s pretty straightforward,” Rolleck says.

“So these Misfortunes aren’t just natural disasters, but entities?” Ravi asks.

“Maybe,” Riyo says, snapping her book closed and shoving it back in her pack. “The Darkness was certainly conscious, and it was trying to do something by gathering all that power.”

“But what?”

Riyo shrugs. “Take over Valos? Do the same think they did to Calis?”

“Why, though?” Glitter says. “What do they get out of it?”

“Who knows,” Rolleck says. “But after Saviour’s Call I’d be pleased not to meet another one to ask about it.”

“Would it be too optimistic to hope we could sneak onto Calis and take the Sunlight Stone without them noticing?” Emerald says.

“A stealth mission!” Glitter says. “We could be like ninjas!” A bandana of snow whips out of his shoulder and ties itself around the top of his body.

“That would be the ideal,” Riyo says. “But I’d prefer to be strong enough to squash them by the time we get there.”

“Is it possible to be that strong?” Ravi asks.

“I intend to find out.”

“It’s always good to have realistic expectations,” Rolleck says, coming to a halt atop a sun-scorched rock. “Look, it’s the tunnel.”

They all cluster around him, sheltering their eyes and peering down the ridge. The Border Line wends its way out of the mouth of a gaping hole in the Icebound Wall, brown iron and brown wood standing out starkly against the white sand of the desert. It disappears out amongst the dunes, but not before slicing through a bustling hub of civilisation. Flat-roofed houses of the same white stone the travellers are standing on cluster around the train tracks, shading their faces with awnings of white cloth. Smoke curls into the air from cooking fires tended by white-robed figures and the sound of children’s laughter floats to them across the stifling air.

“What are those carts?” Ravi asks, pointing to a row of camel-towed contraptions that only he can make out.

“They’re probably sifters,” Rolleck says. “The desert isn’t exactly a pleasant place to live. The only reason anybody does is because there are gemstones in the sand. They rain down from the Resplendence and get buried by the wind and eaten by the worms. I hear every few hundred years there’s a great monsoon that turns the whole desert into a glittering treasure box.”

“Some of them are even charged with mana,” Riyo adds, “which makes them super expensive. The World Force has a chunk of its budget set aside for buying stuff like that.”

“Speaking of the World Force,” Ravi says, pointing.

“We can’t see that far, Ravi,” Emerald says.

“Uh. Sorry. The extra platform at the train station has a carriage parked next to it with their logo on it.”

“Huh,” Riyo says.

“Your master?” Rolleck suggests.

Riyo shakes her head. “He doesn’t usually advertise himself when he’s out and about. He used to wear blank robes anytime we left Ragg, which wasn’t very often.”

“Do we need to be worried about them?” Emerald asks.

“No way,” Glitter says. “They’re the good guys.”

Riyo and Rolleck share a glance.

“I think I’d just rather not get involved with them anyway,” Riyo says. “My master might not be here, but that doesn’t mean they won’t know about me.”

“Then should we just skip the place entirely?” Ravi says.

“We can’t,” Riyo says. “Giggly said the book came from a dig site in the desert, but we don’t know where it is. We’d die before we searched one millionth of the desert ourselves.”

“Do the Cult have a chapter here?” Rolleck says.

“Probably.” Riyo skips down off the rock. “Let’s go find out.”

 

 

Riyo reluctantly puts her shirt back on as they enter the town. The smell hits first, and hits her like a space train, turning her saliva glands to waterfall mode. As they pass the first cook fire, she leans in beneath the awning and takes a deep, soulful breath. It weakens her knees and makes her shiver with delight. Everyone else stops with her, Rolleck frowning and Emerald shaking her head in despair.

“A powerful smell, isn’t it?” the man tending the pot says. “The desert is bountiful for those who are tough enough to endure her fetid breath.”

“What is it?” Riyo begs.

“Sand eel,” the man says, lifting a spoonful from the pot and offering it to Riyo. “With cactus spice and sunfruit sauce. We call it makira.”

Riyo closes her eyes and slurps from the spoon. Her eyes spring open again, and she goes rigid before falling over, throwing up a cloud of sand.

“Ghhrflk,” she says.

The man nods, sagely. “That is how it affects outsiders.”

Riyo is turning red. “It hurts,” she says. “But in a good way.”

“I will sell you a flask to take with you,” the man says. “It is not my business, but travellers often stop here to ask me about it. The restaurant in the station do not like me for it, for my makira is better than theirs.”

“What is your business, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ravi says, eyeing the bubbling pot with a newfound wariness. He has never been fond of spicy food.

“I am a trawler, like everybody here in Westunnel. My name is Tarkal.” He ladles some makira into a clay gourd that he takes from a pile by his home, then stoppers it. “Eight phene.”

Rollecks eyebrow rises. “That’s expensive.”

“Pay the man,” Riyo glubs from the floor.

Rolleck looks at her, then shrugs and hands over the coins.

“Many things are expensive here,” Tarkal says, pocketing the coins. “The gems make us rich, and those who come here thinking they will find the gems make us richer.”

“We didn’t come looking for gems,” Glitter says, making the man jump.

“Your luggage talks?”

Glitter draws on a disgruntled face. “I’m not luggage. My name is Glitter.”

“M-my apologies,” Tarkal says. “I was just surprised.”

“Hmph. We came to find some ruins.”

“Ah. Ruins we have here in plenty. Some few people come in search of them, too.”

“I got this book,” Riyo manages, scrambling to her feet. She pulls the book from her bag and waves it at Tarkal. “Do you know which ruin it came from?”

Tarkal stares at it for a moment, then shakes his head. “I am sorry, but no. You may wish to speak to the Sunlight Cultists. If anybody is able to help you, it will be them.”

“Where might we find them?” Emerald asks.

“They have a sign a few buildings south of the train station. There is usually one of them outside waving a shiny gem that he claims is a weaker version of the Sunlight Stone itself.”

Riyo frowns. “No one’s even supposed to know what it does. How can he know his does the same thing?”

“You will have to ask him yourself,” Tarkal says. “Most of the Sunlight Cultists are a bit mad, after all, but he is the maddest I have met. The people here do not really like him.”

“Okay. Thanks for your help Mr. Tarkal,” Riyo says.

Tarkal watches them leave, stirring his makira. Not so slowly that it will burn, not so quickly that its flavours cannot diffuse. The large metal box with a face, the scaled creature that might be a dragon, the police officer with a sword strapped to his arm.

“Very strange,” he says, glancing towards the train station and its mobile headquarters. He rubs the coins in his pocket together. “Strange enough?” The coins make a slow metal noise. He takes his makira from over the fire and places it carefully on the ground by his house. “Strange enough.”

 

 

“Behold!”

The man wields a staff of gnarled, dark wood. Twisted in amongst its tendrils is a stone that shines like someone hid a lightning strike inside a diamond. Its radiance is a little diminished, however, by its bearer, who wears a cloak of chicken feathers and two different hats, one atop the other.

“The power of the Sunlight Stone!”

“Wow!” Riyo says. “What does it do?”

The man seems taken aback that they have actually stopped to talk to him.

“Why,” he rallies, “It holds the power of the sun!”

“So… it’s bright?” Ravi says.

“And hot?” Glitter says.

“Yes!”

Rolleck glances at Riyo. “Still sure you want to go all the way to Calis for one?”

“Pfft,” Riyo says, then turns back to the madman. “How do you know that’s what the Sunlight Stone is? No one’s ever seen it.”

“Someone has! And it was me!”

“When? How?”

“At some point! And in some way!”

He waggles his staff at her again, and Riyo scowls and shoves it down. It is quite hot.

“Is there anyone else here?” Emerald asks.

“Yes, but he has not seen the stone as I have!”

“Even so,” Emerald says, and ducks through the door behind him. The others follow, ignoring him as he waves his stick at them.

Glitter looks at the door, then draws a sad face on. He turns to the man and his staff.

“I hear it sometimes, you know?”

“What?” Glitter says.

“The Sunlight Stone.”

“Oh.”

There is a protracted silence.

“It says I look cute.”

“I see.” Glitter looks back at the door. “Um. I’ll just… uh…” He plops himself down by the door and pretends to be a cabinet. The man stares at him for a long time, then turns back to the street, looking for someone else to tell about the power of the Sunlight Stone.

 

 

Ravi grimaces at the smell inside.

“Like walking into a pile of unwashed socks,” Rolleck mutters.

“Hello?” Emerald calls. The room is lit only by the shaft of sunlight leaning in through the door, and it illuminates a mess. Unwashed crockery covers most surfaces, interspersed with empty bottles and gourds that stab through the musty smell with the tang of alcohol. A pile of cloth in one corner begins to groan and dislodges a pair of plates that clatter to the ground.

“Ah shit,” it says, then sits up to reveal a surprisingly handsome face, topped with tousled chestnut hair and graced along its square jaw with only a couple of days’ worth of stubble. The man notices them and his eyes go wide. “Take whatever you want!” he cries, covering his face with his hands. “Just leave me the butterscotch biscuits.”

“Um,” Riyo says. “Is this the Cult of the Sunlight Stone?”

The man tentatively lowers his hands and glances at them one by one. “Yes?”

“We need your help. See I have this book-”

“Hang on,” the man says, holding up a hand. “Hang on. We’ve started off wrong, here.”

He rolls from his bed of piled blankets and old clothing to reveal he is wearing a suit that wouldn’t look out of place in a high-class restaurant in the centre of Ragg. He brushes some of the wrinkles out of it, then throws open a curtain to let in the furious sun, which dazzles him. He blinks it away, then turns and strides up to Riyo with a perfect smile.

“Artem Lassiter,” he declares, holding out his hand and shaking Riyo’s as if it is something he is trying to kill. “Leader of the Westunnel chapter of the Cult of the Sunlight Stone, at your service.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says.

“May I get you something to drink?” He looks around at the room, his expression becoming sheepish. “Ah. Excuse me.” He clears his throat. “Order.”

Riyo’s instincts tell her that he has just opened his reality, though she cannot feel it without hers open. She reaches back towards the hilt of her sword, prompting the others to tense up too. Eyes flash to corners and exits, and the whole space seems to fill with a danger that wasn’t there a moment before.

Artem remains oblivious. Instead, he watches the table in the middle of the room. A plate leaps from it and swoops over his head, planting itself carefully by the sink in the corner. Other objects begin rising, and Riyo’s eyes widen.

“Get down!” she yells, diving to the ground. A book hits Rolleck in the back of the head, and he grunts and drops to the ground too. Ravi and Emerald follow, household objects bouncing off them and spinning past them. The room becomes a windless hurricane, flinging items hither and thither in a mad rush. Artem stands at the centre, still. Things whizz by inches from his body, but nothing hits him.

It ends. Riyo peers around, then climbs carefully to her feet. “Wow.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” Artem says, seeing them all sprawled on the floor. “I can be a little absent minded.”

“You’re a crafter?” Riyo says.

“Yes, yes.” He stands even straighter, brushing some imaginary dust from his now-immaculate jacket. “My reality brings order.”

Ravi stares around at the room. It is spotless. Books are stacked perfectly on shelves, plates are not only ordered, but cleaned, too. Clothes are folded and waste binned.

“If you can do that,” Emerald said, “how did it get so bad in here in the first place?”

Artem scratches the back of his head, chagrined. “I, uh, tend not to notice the mess. Nobody really comes here except Trost, and he just stands outside.”

“Uh-huh,” Emerald says, folding her arms.

“But today, you have come!” Artem says. “How can the Cult assist you?”

Riyo plucks Gangles’ book from her pack and shows it to Artem. “I was given this book. It’s supposed to be from one of the ruins around here, but I don’t know which one.”

Artem inhales through his teeth. “Where did you get that?”

“A man named Gangles McIves gave it to us,” Rolleck says.

Artem blinks. “He’s not dead?”

“No…”

“Well he bloody well should be! What was he thinking giving you that?”

Artem goes to snatch the book, but Riyo pulls back.

“You must give that to me. Its very existence is dangerous.”

“Why?” Riyo says, letting a knife drop from her sleeve and into her hand.

“I don’t know,” Artem hisses. “But the World Force is looking for it. The ruin you seek is under their control.”

“Behold!” Trost shouts outside. “The power of the… Hey!”

“Shit!” Artem says. “Hide it!”

Riyo shoves the book back in her pack just as the door slams open. Emerald is standing closest to the door and finds herself looking down at a thickly muscled woman in plate armour. Her short, white hair is plastered to her head by sweat, and the golden symbol of the World Force gleams on her breast. She is followed in by a slim, hunched woman with purple hair that falls over one side of her face and heavy bags under her eyes. She has a grey uniform on that matches the two soldiers with crossbows behind her, but hers has a cloak that falls over one shoulder.

To her credit, the large woman doesn’t flinch much when brought up short by a dragon. After a moment’s hesitation, her eyes scan the other occupants of the room, finding weapons and faces.

“I am Lieutenant Marigold,” she says, addressing Emerald.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” Emerald says. “I am Emerald of Yl Torat. Do you have business with the Cult? We would be happy to move on.”

“We have business with you, travellers,” she says. “We were informed of your arrival and your intent. We are currently conducting an investigation of some of the ruins around this area and felt the need to inform you that they are therefore off-limits to explorers.”

“I see,” Riyo says. “Which ruins specifically? And where exactly are they?”

The lieutenant narrows her eyes at Riyo.

“Heh,” her second says, then, “sorry,” when her commander turns her glare on her.

“It might please you to make jokes,” the lieutenant says, “but rest assured that the consequences of defying us will be no laughing matter. This investigation was ordered by the head of the Research Committee himself.”

“Tch,” Riyo says.

“Well,” Rolleck says. “We’re still a little low on funds. We could try trawling for a little while?”

“An excellent idea,” Ravi says. “A few gems could provision us all the way across the desert. Right, Riyo?”

“Uh, right,” Riyo says. She is still staring at the lieutenant with a scowl.

“Just keep yourselves out of trouble,” the lieutenant says, before turning on her heel and marching out. The purple-haired woman gives them a sardonic smile before sloping away.

“Behold!”

“Shut up.” The lieutenant’s voice carries through the open door.

“And the head of the Research Committee is…?”

“Elvolar Lightseer,” Riyo grumbles.

“He’s getting in your way without even knowing it,” Ravi says.

“Oh, he knows it.” Riyo turns back to Artem. “How do you feel about the World Force keeping you out of ruins that might lead you to the Sunlight Stone?”

“Those ruins are of no use to any of us,” Artem says, his expression stern.

“Pfft. If my master doesn’t want me going somewhere, I can be damn sure it’s somewhere worth going.” She turns to the others. “We’ll just have to find some other way in. Split up and ask around.”

They all nod, and Emerald leads them back out into the sunlight.

“Behold!”

“You-” Artem says.

Riyo wheels on him and points her dagger at his aquiline nose. “Are you going to try and stop me?”

His eyes widen and he raises his hands. “The purpose of the Cult is not just to find the stone,” he says, eyes fixed on Riyo’s. “We also ensure that people are not killed by lack of knowledge. By unpreparedness. The Cult’s expeditions for the stone are always made up of-”

“The strongest, the best, the most capable,” Riyo quotes. “I know.”

“You… are a member?”

“Honorary,” Riyo says, lowering her dagger. “One of your members helped me out, once, and I helped him in return.”

“I… I see.” He shakes his head. “Even so, I cannot tell you what I know. I cannot trust that you will not do something reckless with the information after what I have heard. We also have strict orders not to interfere with the World Force.”

Riyo grimaces. “That’s fair. But.” She slips the dagger back into the sheathe in her sleeve. “Gravity Mould.” Her reality engulfs his, and she presses in against it, forcing it closed.

He yelps and takes a step back, glancing around with anxious eyes.

“By the time I reach the stone, I will be the strongest, the best and the most capable. That means I’ll be able to get into those ruins and take that map no matter what you or the World Force, or even my master, have to say about it.”

She closes her reality and heads outside, leaving Artem Lassiter to shiver alone in his spotless chapterhouse.

 

 

 

 

Rolleck the Lost is a police officer. He is therefore accustomed to being lied to and double-crossed. One thing he has learned in his time serving whatever law happens to exist in each place he visits is that people are very good liars. He had believed, when he first started, that he would get better at identifying a lie or deception, but too much of that art is dependent on what you know. For example, as someone brand new to town, how could he know there would be any benefit to a local trawler in reporting people’s movements to a temporary World Force outpost?

“Tarkal,” he says, making the white-robed man jump. A little of his makira slops over the side of the pot.

“T-traveller!”

“I’m not here out of anger.” Rolleck perches himself on the low wall between the two props that hold the awning aloft, his free hand towards the trawler. “I’m just curious as to why you spoke to the World Force about us.”

“Ah, well.” He glances around, then clears his throat. “They told us when they arrived to tell them about anything… unusual.”

“I see. Did they say why?”

“No. But it is the World Force, so…”

“That’s interesting.” Rolleck looks at his nails. They are rather dirty. He wishes Riyo would give them a few minutes to themselves upon encountering civilisation before throwing them into whatever calamity she will inevitably be a part of. “In most places, people look on the World Force with suspicion. They don’t get anything out of people voluntarily unless they’re afraid or… incentivised.”

Tarkal swallows.

Rolleck sighs internally. Liars he doesn’t know are difficult to spot, but he has become quite adept at figuring out their motivations after he realises that he’s been lied to.

Tarkal sees that he will not get away with lying again. He checks up and down the road and lowers his voice. “The World Force has much more influence here than you know. They may not have any jurisdiction in this place, but they have jurisdiction over the things in this place. Anything related to Calis is their domain. The ruins, the mana gems… they can take anything from us, and we can do nothing. Our deference towards them is self-preservation.”

Rolleck sighs out loud this time. “That’ll make our job a little difficult.”

Tarkal nods. “Nobody here will tell you what you wish to know for fear of what the World Force might do to their livelihood.”

“Well,” Rolleck says, standing up, “I won’t ask any further about it. Good day, Tarkal.”

“Thank you, friend.”

 

 

The market by the train station is bustling with a sense of life that Glitter has never seen. Though he had seen many people together in Saviour’s Call, he had only actually entered the city once it was in crisis. The people had been terrified and angry all together. Here, there is no emotion that overshadows any other. An angry woman throws an overripe pineapple to the ground in disgust. A child laughs as he manages to catch his friend and turn him into the Sand King – a creature that eats children foolish enough to roam too far off into the dunes. A man frets over his stall, glancing every other second at the Carriage with the World Force logo on it. Another stall owner sighs almost as frequently, her store packed with useful kitchen items that nobody seems to be buying.

The spectrum of emotion is dazzling, and Glitter is sure he hasn’t so much as cracked the ice. There is still so much more he needs to learn before he can beat Emerald at a card game. He sits, inactive, beside the train station wall. People glance at him with curiosity from time to time, but then move on with their lives and tasks. Here he hears voices of many pitches, speaking words both familiar and unknown to him. He sits, and listens, and resists the urge to whistle along with the rhythm of industry that surrounds him.

“…saw the Lieutenant earlier. Is it true that she’s a crafter?”

“No way. All the crafters jump straight up the ranks…”

The Lieutenant had been very rude to Mr. Trost outside the Cult chapterhouse. Glitter doesn’t think very highly of her.

“…from Horologium. He said they’ve been searching that place since before the World Force showed an interest.”

“I think if there’s something there worth finding, I’d rather the World Force found it than the Thieves Guild…”

Glitter pops to his feet, shocking the speaking man over backwards.

“Sorry!” Glitter says as the woman still standing begins to back away. “I wanted to know what you were talking about.”

“Deep sands,” the woman says helping her friend back to his feet. “Get away from us, creature!”

They watch him as they back off, then both turn and run. The rest of the market has stumbled to a stand-still, staring at Glitter as though he has broken their favourite vase. He draws a sad face on his glass, and watches as surprise becomes fear. Once again, the people are unified in their emotions.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Don’t apologise to them,” a woman says behind him. Glitter had felt her approach, but now he turns his full attention to her.

She pushes up a pair of circular, tinted spectacles and smiles. “People who can’t get excited by the chance to meet someone new are people with no imagination. Boring. Pedestrian.” She jabs the end of a paper parasol at the gawking masses. “Go about your worrying, dullards.”

She then doffs her trim bowler hat towards Glitter and bows, letting a long braid fall over the shoulder of her suit jacket. “Eleanor the Luminous, collector of art and fanciful knick-knacks.”

“Hi! I’m Glitter.” He tries to bow, but inevitably overbalances and has to throw out a lance of snow to keep from collapsing on top of her.

“A pleasure,” Eleanor says, not even flinching as snow winds its way back into Glitter’s body. She returns her hat to her head and throws her braid back over her shoulder. She then puts up the parasol, casting her into shade. “Perhaps you will walk with me?”

“Sure!” Glitter says. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a short walk.” Eleanor gestures away from the market. “But I think it will help you find out what you want to know.”

“Great! Riyo’s going to be so pleased.”

 

 

Ravi sips his water carefully. It has cost him most of the money he had left. Tarkal hadn’t been lying about the cost of everything here. He hopes one of the others has some ideas for how they can feed themselves, because his perusal of this café’s menu has only left him feeling hungry and poor. The awning above provides a little shelter from the sun’s relentless cascade, but Ravi’s eyes hurt from its reflection off the sand. Between slow and uncomfortable blinks, he watches the chunky train carriage that houses a company of World Force guards and all their operations. He has been watching for a while, now, and learned very little.

Something plunks down onto his table, and he looks up to find a white-clad man climbing into the chair on its opposite side. Ravi can only tell that he is a man rather than a boy because of the impressive beard that falls from his chin. He is perhaps half Ravi’s height and, though his turban hides the extent of it, his forehead suggests is he balding. When he gets settled and turns to look at Ravi, his eyes are fully black.

“Like mine,” A voice next to Ravi says. He jerks his head to the left, but the seat next to him is empty. He looks quickly back to the man.

“Piercing, I know,” the man says. “But then, yours probably see better.” He takes a drink from his glass. “My name is Colourful.”

“Huh?”

“That’s my name. Colourful.” He grins, and his teeth are a very neat. “That’s unusual too. There’s a lot unusual about me.” He turns to look out towards the train station. “There’s a lot unusual about you, too.”

“Um,” Ravi says.

“What I’m saying,” Colourful says, “is that we stick out. So if we were to sit in the café closest to their little headquarters and sip the same glass of water for hours at a time, not only would they notice, but they might even do something about it.”

“Uh,” Ravi says.

“New to the gig.” Colourful nods to himself. “It’s fine. A lot of people think they have an idea of how to be sneaky, or maybe they just underestimate how paranoid others can be. Either way,” he turns to Ravi again, “you won’t learn a thing here.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ravi takes a nervous sip of his water. He is almost out.

“Because we have a lot in common, you and I. It’s something I think we can discuss. Though,” he jerks his head a little towards the World Force carriage, “perhaps somewhere else?”

Ravi can see his point. Now that he thinks about it, the woman at the bar had looked quite suspicious at his order. The people that passed the café tended to look at him rather than the few other patrons sitting outside. And the two guards outside the carriage hadn’t so much as twitched a muscle while he was watching.

He sighs. “Okay. Fine.”

Colourful smiles and grabs his drink. Ravi watches a little too keenly as he gulps down the ice-cold water. He picks up what remains of his own and throws is down. It is well on its way to boiling.

Colourful bounces from his seat and waves for Ravi to follow him away from the station. He sways a little with each step, and Ravi has to measure his own to keep level with the little man.

“I’m sure you’ve guessed,” he says, beady eyes focused on the road, “but I’m traited, like you.”

“My mother told me there were those like me all over Valos, but before I left my village, I knew of only myself and my sister.”

“It brings us all together, in some ways,” Colourful says. “But it’s not the be-all and end-all of who we are. You might be a bird, I might be an ant, but we’re still people. People who can be friends. People who can be enemies.”

Ravi glances at him, but he is still staring ahead.

“I hope we can be friends, Ravi Matriya.”

“Ohhhh, he knows your name.”

Ravi almost trips. He stops dead and searches the faces of those around him. Curiosity greet him in every eye he meets, but they are all normal, human eyes. All except Colourful’s.

“Of course we know your name,” he says, his grin unwavering. “And a lot more besides. You are welcome to leave if that scares you, but this could be your chance to learn more about us.”

Ravi swallows and focuses on Colourful again. He has mistaken Ravi’s reaction, but the voice in his head hasn’t distracted him completely. He is unnerved by the man’s confidence and manner.

“Who are you?” he asks, fighting down a tingle in the back of his neck that is telling him to run.

“I will give you the choice now,” he says. “Come, and find out. Or leave, and never know.”

Ravi glances around again. The familiar voice from nowhere is not something he can do anything about right now. The faces continue to move around them. The desert heat continues to shimmer. His instincts tell him that Colourful is dangerous, but that he can get Ravi closer to Riyo’s goal.

“Okay,” Ravi says. “I’ll come with you.”

“Good choice,” the familiar voice says.

“Good choice,” Colourful echoes, and pushes aside a curtain door by an alley. “Come.”

 

 

Emerald glides in lazy circles over endless sand. The hot air rises into her wings and drags her higher, the sun beats against the scales of her back and energises her. She has been walking for such a long time, she had forgotten what a wonder it is to soar.

Below, the wind nudges dunes glacially from one place to another. Worms breach the surface to bask in the heat before shuffling back beneath the grains to hunt the sand sharks and skittering lizards that also make their homes beneath the Resplendence. In other places, tracks are worn into the surface for the wind to cover over as camels drag square carts behind them that eat the sand and throw it out again. Trawlers whip them forward and glance eagerly backwards as their meshes filter gems from grains.

Here and there, pillars and segments of wall sprout from the uniform waves of sand, demarking the ruins of an ancient civilisation. Known as the Riklow peoples, they were wiped out in whatever catastrophe created the desert and left the Resplendence shining above it, thousands of years before Sanella crossed this place fleeing the fall of the Reach. Emerald can see dozens of them, and it seems like there is a new one behind every dune she flies over. To search them all would take an eternity.

She swoops back towards Westunnel, enjoying the rushing wind and the feel of adrenalin as the sands jump up to meet her dive. She lands by the trawlers’ base, startling camels and humans alike. Furtive looks coincide with furtive actions as she walks among the trawling machines and the stalls set up in the gaps between them. One such stall is tended by a man taller than she is, and with a girth that makes his white robes look a tent around him. His wares glisten before him in a thousand colours, all polished and ready for the eyes of the jewellers and smiths who come in on the evening train.

“None of them are glowing,” Emerald says, picking up a stunning example of her namesake between two gentle claws and peering through it.

“Why would they glow?” the man says. His bald head is sheened with sweat, but his stern eyes don’t give anything away. Emerald suspects he gets good prices for his gems.

She puts the emerald back. “I had heard that the best trawlers sometimes carry gems that glow. Gems with… power.”

“Mana gems are sold directly to the World Force,” the man says, putting both hands on his stall and leaning in towards her. “You heard wrong.”

The act is probably to intimidate people, and Emerald has to commend his brass to try it on her.

She places a claw on the centre of his forehead and pushes him back.

“I am a dragon.”

“Oh.” The man is sweating a little more than before. “That’s not… uh… not a costume?”

“It is not.”

“Well. Uh. Sorry, but I don’t have any mana gems.” He is off balance, and glances towards the train station when he can no longer meet her amber gaze.

“Or you do, but that you are willing to sell only to those you already know have the discretion to keep it from those who keep this world from being engulfed in nightmare.”

The man remains sweatily stoic.

“Still,” Emerald says, “it must hurt your business to be unable to display your wares.”

“My wares are here,” he says.

Emerald sighs. “Look, I’m not very good at talking around a topic so I’ll lay it out for you, and you can take it to that train or keep it under your turban, I don’t care. My friend is looking for the ruin they have taken custody of and they won’t tell us where it is. She thinks that the reason the Force have been sent here is specifically to stop her getting in, so if she were to succeed, they would leave, and everyone here would be able to continue selling mana gems over the Force’s head.”

“Nobody here sells mana gems,” the man says. His forehead is a waterfall.

“Fine,” Emerald says. “It was a long shot anyway.”

She looks up at the empty sky and its purple light. A few more hours drifting isn’t exactly unappealing. She will just have to leave the long shots to Ravi.

She squats, then her wings crash to the ground at the same moment she springs up. The rush of air displaces a treasure trove of glittering wealth, and she grins at the shouts and curses as the warm updrafts reclaim her.

 

 

“Behold! The power of the Sunlight Stone!”

The beturbaned woman blinks for a moment, then says, “Hey! Where’s Mister Trost?”

Riyo gestures behind her with her thumb at where Trost is reclining in the shade with a cool glass of wiffle juice.

“Oh.” The woman blinks again. “Why-”

Riyo waves the staff at her, its gem glaring into her eyes and making her flinch.

“Power beyond comprehension!” she screams, and the woman adjusts her turban and walks on.

“A bit much,” Trost says.

“Yeah. Being mad is hard.”

“Pfft,” Trost says. “It’s easy. You just wax the noodles. Wax them smooooth and glossy.” He takes another sip of juice. “This is good wiffle.”

“Wax the noodles,” Riyo says, nodding. She turns back to the street, but there is nobody around who needs to learn about the power of the Sunlight Stone.

“Hey. Do you know anything about a map of the mana caverns in a ruin around here?”

“Huh? Nah. Why would I need a map? I’ve been there.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I forgot. But hey, you can tell me how to get there so I won’t need a map.”

Trost sits up so quickly that some of his juice spills. “No.”

“Aww, come on.”

“No, no, no. The gravy there flows thick and fast and thick again. Such danger as I have only seen in your nightmares lurks behind every spider. It is a place you must not go if you ever wish to lose your life savings in a cruise ship bingo hall again.”

Riyo scowls. “I like gravy. The thicker the better.”

Trost gives a screeching laugh. “You know nothing of gravy. Your youth makes you powerful, but it also saps your turmeric. Without it, you won’t reach the Reach, let alone the Stone, let alone the Reach. Now turn, apprentice, and face the Mornington Crescent!”

Riyo feels a presence behind her and spins, staff held high.

“Behold!”

“What are you doing?” Rolleck says.

“The power of the Sunlight Stone!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Light that will shine forever! Heat to warm hearts even as cold as yours!”

“Better,” Trost says, lying back again. “I like the personal touch.”

“Practicing for your future career?” Rolleck guesses.

“Yeah. But imagine the real stone on the end of my staff.” She thrusts it at him, making him grimace.

“Truly a worthy use of the most mythical item of power in all creation.”

“Right?” Riyo and Trost say together.

“I came to give you a warning because I expected you to end up in trouble, but seems like the only trouble here is in your brain.”

“My brain is entirely untroubled,” Riyo says, peering at the end of the staff through squinted eyes. “This stone is actually really powerful. I think it’s been glowing and hot since it was created, without failing. It might have nothing to do with the Sunlight Stone, but it’s still something pretty cool.” She tosses the staff to Trost, who catches it without opening his eyes. “Anyway, what was the warning?”

Rolleck watches the bedraggled man hug the staff across his chest before reaching for his wiffle juice again.

“There’s something weird going on in this town. The World Force have the trawlers worried, but there’s something deeper. Something nobody’s willing to talk about.”

“That makes it the same as every place we’ve visited so far,” Riyo says.

Rolleck sighs. “Yeah.”

“Maybe we can exploit whatever it is to find the ruin with the map.”

“Or maybe it’ll endanger our lives again.”

“You’re such a pessimist, Rolleck.”

“Hi.”

They both whip round. Neither of them had noticed the second from the World Force expedition approaching them.

“Hey, whoa,” she says, her voice slow. “I just came to tell you that the Lieutenant is looking for you. She wants you arrested, really, but I can’t be bothered.” She glances towards the sinking sun and grimaces. “It’s so bright and hot, you know?”

“Why would the lieutenant want us arrested?” Rolleck says, senses straining for any sign the woman has brought reinforcements with her. They seem to be alone, however.

“Ah, well, your friend – the avian traited guy – he was seen talking to a known member of the Thieves Guild. She’s pretty mad about it.”

“Thieves Guild?” Riyo says. “That sounds cool.”

“Yeah?” the woman scratches her head. “Well, nobody else seems to think so. Especially the Resplendence Ward and the Horologium police force. There’s a huge bounty on all of their known members and money for any information about their organisation. Even the World Force has the jurisdiction to bring them in because they’re a cross-Song network of criminals.”

“Hey, they might know about the ruin!” Riyo says.

“Yeah, they do,” the woman says. “They were searching it for that map you’re looking for before Lightseer sent us out here.” She yawns, then blinks. “Oh. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Or anything, really.” She shrugs. “Just go find your friend and get him out of trouble. Oh, and don’t go into the desert at night. You’ll die.” She yawns again. “Bye.” She wanders away down the road, her hands in the pockets of her uniform.

“That was weird,” Riyo says.

Rolleck looks from her to Trost and back again. “How do you even know what weird means? Besides, being lethargic in the sun isn’t really weird. If I got sent out here for months just to guard a place that already fell over thousands of years ago, I’d be unmotivated too.”

“Yeah, but you’d still leave footprints in the sand.”

“Huh?”

Riyo points. The World Force woman has just turned the corner, but there isn’t a single mark on the ground she has passed. He can still see his own approach etched out as boot prints that are slowly catching windblown grains to fill themselves in.

“Huh,” Rolleck says.

“Let’s go find Ravi, then. Maybe the thieves already told him where the ruin is.”

“Or they might have killed him.”

“Again with the pessimism! See you later, Mister Trost.”

“Stay frosty,” Trost says.

 

 

 

Ravi swallows. The velvet-upholstered armchair beneath him suddenly feels a lot less comfortable. The basement feels cold after the heat outside, but it isn’t the reason for the shiver that runs down Ravi’s spine.

The man opposite him smiles. “That is the reaction a lot of people have.”

Colourful leans against the wall to one side, grinning, but Ravi’s attention is captivated by the man before him. His skin has a sharp, red tint. His eyes are made from fire. A single black horn curls from the right side of his forehead and a black goatee points from his chin. His suit is immaculate and deep, deep black.

“But we’re not as dangerous as everyone thinks. It’s not like we’re the Assassin’s Guild or the Beat People Up In The Streets For No Reason Guild. We’re professionals committed to one ideal. It’s our creed to keep killing to a minimum, and intimidation is for extortionists and blackmailers. We are neither. We are Thieves, Mister Matriya. The very best of us take without anybody suspecting anything until long after we are gone.”

“This guy seems strong.” The voice makes Ravi flinch. “Surely it’d be easier if he did just kill people and take their stuff.”

“I see,” Ravi says. “Does that mean you don’t intend to kill me?” His voice quavers a little.

“Intend, no,” the half-devil says. “Of course, our organisation does require some secrecy in order to operate effectively. Very few of us can steal a person’s tongue without them noticing, so sometimes it is necessary to take their life. This is not stealing, however. You see, true theft enriches the thief. To kill takes from both the victim and the actor.”

“So… If I promise not to tell anyone about this, you won’t hurt me?”

The voice laughs in his face.

“It’s a little more nuanced than that,” the man says with a smile of knives. “But let us first discuss the matter at hand. It might be that this idle chatter is completely irrelevant. You see, we share an interest in archaeology, Mister Matriya.”

“Why does everybody know that?” Ravi mutters.

“Our organisation is very well practised in remaining unnoticed. You, if I may be blunt, are not. You walk into this town a robot, a dragon, a traited archer, a Lost police officer and the errant apprentice of the very man who stands between us and our prize. You leave behind you a corrupt tyrant slain, a cursed village freed, a draconic civil war averted and a human one ended. And this is only the things we know. You and your friends are interesting, Mister Matriya. Too interesting to ignore when you arrive in a small town on the edge of the desert.”

Ravi’s heartbeat picks up with every tidbit he reveals, until it feels like a train in his chest.

“That’s a pretty impressive record,” the voice says.

“You know a lot about who we are and what we’ve done,” Ravi says, ignoring it. “But you don’t seem to know much about what kind of people we are. If you kill me…”

The half-devil raises his eyebrow.

“Riyo will destroy you.”

Colourful is no longer smiling. Ravi can feel his beady eyes boring into the side of his head. The half-devil holds his gaze, stares long into his eyes, then nods his head slowly.

“I will take this threat to heart. However, I do not think it will come to that.” He stands and plucks a cane from beside his armchair. He leans heavily upon it as he limps to the corner of the room. Ravi cannot see what is wrong with his leg, but it clearly pains him to move in spite of the cane. He returns with a furled parchment, which he hands to Ravi before collapsing back into his seat.

He nods for Ravi to unroll it.

“That is a map of this corner of the desert,” the half-devil says.

Westunnel is marked at the bottom of the Icebound Wall on the left-hand side of the map. The rest is an empty expanse of yellowing paper surrounding a single black line that represents the train tracks. A number of ruins are spattered across it, but one of them, near the right-hand side of the map, is circled.

“This is…”

“The very ruin you seek,” the half-devil confirms.

“Ask them what they want in return.”

“What do you want in return?”

“He may not look like it, but Colourful here is quite the artist. He also has a perfect memory.”

“They want a copy of the map,” the voice says.

Ravi gives a sigh of relief. “That’s fine.”

The half-devil’s eyebrows rise slightly. “The map could be the greatest clue in the search for the Sunlight Stone since word of the Stone’s existence first reached Valos. It is not a simple decision to allow a competitor access to it.”

“He has a point.”

Ravi shakes his head. “Riyo doesn’t think that way. She’s after the stone for selfish reasons, but if she gets there to find it gone, she’ll just set her sights a little higher. Knowing she has competition from the Thieves Guild might even spur her on.”

“Interesting,” the half-devil says. “You were certainly right that we did not have a good understanding of you and your friends.” He glances at Colourful. “Is it too late to…”

“Yes,” Colourful says. His grin has some genuine amusement in it now.

“Ah. Well.” He glances around, then his eyes light on a bundle on the table by Colourful. “Pass me that, please.”

Colourful dutifully brings it over, then pats Ravi on the shoulder in a consoling manner.

“This is an… apology. For what is about to happen.” He unfolds the cloth of the bundle to reveal a jagged grey stone that seems to shine with ethereal light. “It is a treasure of the desert. Very valuable. If you-”

“What’s about to happen?” Ravi says.

“-break it the sand worms will come rushing towards you. Really, when you think about it, that’s a lot of power. I don’t know if you’ve seen the worms hunt, but-”

“Stop rambling and tell me,” Ravi says.

The half-devil says. “We did not think you would be so easy to convince. We had planned to allow you time to discuss our proposal with your friends, but it is in our nature to be cautious. We… set in motion a plan to help you make the right choice.”

Ravi groans.

“It’s nothing dangerous. Really. I mean, your friends are all very capable people…”

“There’re two factions at play here in Westunnel,” Colourful says through his grin, “and we wanted you to choose ours.”

“Then they would want to turn us against the other faction. The World Force,” the voice says.

Ravi groans again. “I better go warn everyone.” He stands and plucks the stone from the half-devil’s lap. “I’m sure you’ll know once we have a way into the ruins.” He looks to Colourful. “Be ready to join us.”

The ant-man nods.

“For what it’s worth,” the half-devil says as he goes to leave. “You’ve made the right choice. In many ways, the Thieves Guild are a far more powerful ally than the World Force.”

“Not the best first impression, boss,” Colourful says once the bird-man has climbed the stairs out of the basement.

“It’s the results that matter, Colourful. Nigel will be pleased so long as we get the map.”

“The big boss has never met these Stone hunters. How’d he know so much about them before they even reached Westunnel?”

“Nigel’s ways are hidden between the lines in the Scripts. He wouldn’t share them with the likes of us.”

 

 

“Good afternoon!” Eleanor the Luminous says in a voice bright enough to match her name and outshine the array of gems on the stall in front of them. The large man behind the table doesn’t even look at her, however. He is too busy staring at Glitter.

“Hello,” Glitter says, drawing on his friendliest face.

Eleanor snaps her fingers, finally drawing the salesman’s attention to her.

“Ah! Lady Eleanor!” he says. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“I came in yesterday,” she says. “I thought I could enjoy the sun a little before returning to gloomy old Ragg.”

“Of course, of course,” the man says, twisting his hands together. His eyes dart from one end of the market to the other over his painted-on smile.

“Oh don’t be so paranoid, Canter,” Eleanor says with a smile like warm cocoa, “the patrols are elsewhere. I have better timing than you give me credit for.”

The big man deflates visibly with his relief. “I am sorry to worry, my lady. But these are not the best times for us.”

“That’s true, so perhaps we should hurry this along?”

“Yes,” Canter says. His eyes do another lap of the market before he pulls up the front of his robe. Glitter changes his mouth for an ‘O’ of shock, but Eleanor is unfazed. Canter lifts his rolls of girth and pulls a pouch from betwixt them before dropping his robe again. He offers the damp pouch to Eleanor, who takes it in a white gloved hand. She empties its contents carelessly into her other hand then tosses the gross pouch over her shoulder.

“Ah, my lady. Please,” Canter says. “A little more discretion would-”

Eleanor holds up a hand towards him, staring intently at the glowing gem in her hand. It is a crisp purple in colour, and Glitter can feel a strange energy radiating from it. It reminds him of the energy around the tapestry in Witch Gavira’s shop. Eleanor turns it over a few times. “Do you know what it does?”

“No, my lady.” Canter is scanning the market again. “But it has nearly thirteen quizzles of… No!”

“A gift for you, Glitter,” Eleanor says, popping the gem between two of the slats on Glitter’s shoulder.

“Huh?” Glitter says, catching it with the snow within him. It seems to pulse against his crystal. It is not a pleasant feeling.

“You there!” someone shouts from one end of the market. There is anger in the voice that even Glitter can recognise.

“You betrayed me,” Canter says, turning a glare on Eleanor. The look turns to one of confusion immediately. “Where…?”

“Huh?” Glitter says again. Eleanor is still standing right beside him.

“You can still see me, huh?” she says slowly. “You sure are an interesting person, Glitter!”

“I don’t understand,” Glitter says.

“Surrender that gem and submit yourself!” Lieutenant Marigold is marching through the market with a squad of World Force soldiers, her armoured greaves crunching sand.

“This isn’t mine,” Glitter says. “She…”

Glitter’s senses shoot out and find the eyes of everyone around him. Follows their gazes. “Nobody else can see you!”

“You’d better get running, Glitter,” Eleanor says.

“You’re under arrest,” Marigold says.

“I could just surrender,” Glitter says, beginning to panic.

“Riyo wouldn’t like that.”

She wouldn’t. She would probably bust Glitter out regardless of what he said, making things that much worse than they already were.

“You’re a mean woman!” Glitter shouts, throwing forth snow and wrapping it around his legs. He breaks for the other end of the market, a wall of ice forming across the street behind him, startling camels and traders alike.

“Tunnel Vision!” Marigold’s voice carries over the yells of surprise, and a haze of green light flickers into existence in front of Glitter. Marigold and two of her soldiers step out of the haze to block his path.

“Wah!” Glitter says, sliding to a stop and turning to run the other way. A shimmer of green flutters into existence in front of him, too close for him to stop again before he hits it. He finds himself upside down, disoriented. The top of his chassis hits the sand before he can right himself, and then another green haze surrounds him. This time the ground comes up to meet his glass.

“Oof.”

“Surrender at once. You have no means of escape.”

Snow bounces Glitter back up to his feet, and he finds himself facing two World Force soldiers with crossbows.

“Run, Glitter!”

Glitter barrels forward, and two crossbows are raised towards him.

“This is your last chance!” Marigold shouts from behind him.

There is a flicker-flash of blue energy, and the soldiers in front of Glitter are staring down at where their crossbows are pinned to the floor. A wall of green light appears between them and Glitter, but he does not slow. Just as he is about to hit the portal, it shatters like a mirror. An arrow streaks past within an inch of his chassis and pierces the spot directly between the Lieutenant’s legs. A blue flash brings her to a staggering halt, and Glitter bowls past the two stunned soldiers and around the corner, leaving the market behind him.

“What’s going on?” he asks as Ravi jumps down from the rooftops to join him at a steady jog.

“An unfortunate misunderstanding,” Ravi says. “We need to find Riyo, quickly.”

 

Lieutenant Marigold closes her reality and narrows her eyes.

“What happened, Lieutenant?” Private Cardamom says, blinking down the street.

“A Trait-wielder,” she says. “A dangerous group indeed. More so, since they seem to be in league with the thieves.” She puts her hand on the hilt of her mace, still staring down the street past the soldiers trying to pull out the arrows holding their crossbows down. “Tch. Take a camel into the tunnel. It’s time to wake up Sergeant Malbec.”

The soldier’s face pales. “Sergeant Ixel won’t like that, sir,” he says, his voice a whisper.

“I know that. But we’ll need both of them if we’re to keep these bastards out of our ruins.” She turns to the quivering private. “Well? Get to it.”

Cardamom flinches, then whines, “Yes, sir.”

 

 

“So,” Emerald says. She leaves it at that.

“It hasn’t been a brilliant day,” Riyo says. “But it’s not all bad. We got a map.”

“And all it cost us is the enmity of the largest military organisation in the world,” Rolleck says.

“I don’t care about that. My master was going to use the stupid World Force against me sooner or later. We were bound to become enemies.”

“Didn’t you want to join them at some point?” Ravi says, feeling guilty.

“Pfft.” Riyo slumps back on the bed. “I’m going to find the Sunlight Stone first. Once I’ve done that, they’ll beg me to join them no matter what I do on the way.”

“Being wanted criminals isn’t going to make finding it any easier,” Rolleck says.

“Speaking of which, be quiet.” Emerald presses herself against the wall by the window. Their single gas lamp throws its fitful light out into the night where a pair of World Force soldiers stalk. Their spears are topped with lanterns of their own, and their voices carry through the chill air.

“Can they really be that dangerous?” one asks.

“Two of them escaped the lieutenant, and they’re waking Malbec up.” There is an edge to the woman’s voice that betrays her nerves.

“Why are we even out here, then?” the first says. “Shouldn’t we be… I dunno. Leaving town? Hiding in the farthest reaches of space? Doing anything but staying in this doomed little town?”

“You’re out here,” a new voice says, “because it is your job.”

There is a rattle of armour as the two come to a halt nearby.

“Sergeant!”

“I’ll take it you haven’t found the travellers?” Riyo recognises the voice of the purple-haired woman from earlier.

“No, sir. Sorry sir.”

“It’s just as well. Orders have changed. Start knocking on doors and warning people – we’re introducing a curfew until they’re found. Absolutely nobody outside after dark. We cannot guarantee their safety otherwise.”

“Uh… Do we have the authority for that?”

“We do not. We just think people might believe we do for long enough for it to keep them alive. Give it your best authoritative voice and tell them to take any complaints to the Lieutenant tomorrow morning.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Yes, sir,” the first soldier says.

“Where shall we start?”

“I’ll do this street,” the sergeant says. “Take the next and keep going.”

“Yes, sir,” the soldiers say together.

They clatter off down the street, and the room collectively exhales.

“You heard that, right?”

Ravi and Glitter both jump, while Riyo pops up from the bead and bounces to the window.

“You move fast,” she says.

“I do,” the sergeant says. The shadow of her hair is cast across her face, but there is an intensity in her eye that makes it shine like the blood moon. “They are waking my father to hunt you. If you stay, you will die.”

“Who’s your dad?” Riyo says.

“Duke Haellus Malbec.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t know his name – almost nobody does. He has been asleep for years. Even so, you should leave this place quickly.”

“Why are you telling this to us instead of arresting us?” Rolleck asks.

“Because arresting you would be a pain. You fighting my father would be a pain, too. I just want a simple life, you know? The lieutenant doesn’t realise that keeping you in custody would be impossible with our current forces, and now that she’s released father, taking you in alive becomes basically impossible. It’d be better for everyone if you just left.”

“Not for us,” Riyo says. “We’ve got a ruin to investigate.”

The sergeant sighs. “Why do people have to have so much energy?” She retreats into the shadows of the street outside. “Well, I warned you. Twice.”

“Thanks!” Riyo shouts after her, then covers her mouth. “Oops.”

“Just get some sleep,” Rolleck says, shaking his head.

“I’ll keep watch,” Glitter says.

 

 

Private Cardamom joined the World Force several months ago. He received training in the use of spear and crossbow, and was even transported to Ragg to experience life on the Plains of Chaos, where the nightmares spewed from the Reach and met the teeth of the World Force as their only reward for making the journey down from Calis. He had felt, then, that his decision to join up had been meaningful. That he was going to make a difference to people’s lives.

Then he had been made a full private and been assigned to this expedition. He had stood in blistering heat guarding an empty ruin from imaginary thieves for days at a time in between patrolling the sunny streets of Westunnel and checking the people coming in on the train against a decaying collection of wanted posters.

He had begun to think that his choice actually didn’t matter. That he would be burning his skin in the harsh outdoors doing basically nothing for the entirety of the rest of his life.

He curses himself for a fool as his camel plods through sandy darkness. Better to remain stationary until you die than step forward into a pool of lava. The flame of his torch whispers against the stone high above him and makes shadows dance on the edge of his vision. The tracks glint every now and again where the train wheels have worn them to a mirror, and all the movements of light and darkness play games in his mind. There are dragons and demons and giants in there with him, but none of them scare him as much as what he has come here seeking.

Some distance into the tunnel, with the desert long forgotten and only harsh rock to tread upon, his camel grows nervous. The light of the torch lunges forward, but on the left side of the tunnel it breaks upon a deeper, harder darkness. Private Cardamom pulls his camel to a halt and, with shaking hands and legs of paper, dismounts. He holds the torch high over his head and keeps his other hand on the short sword at his belt as he enters the side passage.

It is not long before he reaches its end. It opens up a little, into something of a room. The stones below him are slabs rather than broken mountain and there is harsh grey furniture that can be no more comfortable than the ground. Dominating the room from its centre is a roughly carved sarcophagus, the shapes of hunting ligmists picked out around it.

Private Cardamom approaches it with his breath threatening to choke him. His gloves scratch on the stone as he runs his hand over it. The wounded creature picked out on its lid is one he could not name, but its eyes and teeth are a promise of blood and death. He raises the torch and casts it into the light, then feels a whimper escape his throat. There is blood in truth dripping slowly from the creature’s fangs.

“I could just say he wouldn’t wake up,” he says, his voice high. “I could go back and apologise and never have to come here again.”

“And why would you do that?” A sonorous, muffled voice says.

The sarcophagus begins to shake, stone grinding on stone as the lid begins to slide.

“Oh, Word save me,” Private Cardamom whimpers.

“Your religion of paper and sadness is dead, child,” Sergeant Malbec says, his voice coming clear as the darkness within the coffin is revealed. “I watched it die!”

The lid of the sarcophagus crashes to the ground, throwing up years of dust. Private Cardamom stumbles back and drops his torch. Its flames flicker inside the width of his pupils.

A Black shape rises from inside, looming over the room. Two points of red light pin Private Cardamom to the stone. He feels a terrified warble in his throat, but his heart is beating too hard for him to hear it.

“Good evening,” the creature says. “Does the World Force have need of me?”

 

 

 

The freezing sky is still black when Ravi leaves the hiding place. The Resplendence coats everything beneath it in twilight purple, and by its light he can see all the way down the street. Silence and stillness greet him, and he beckons to the others to follow him out. One of the least stealthy groups in the history of covert operations dribbles out of the building and around the corner. The perpendicular street leads straight out into the desert, and they scurry along it as amaranthine silhouettes.

“Halt!”

The voice breaks the night in two, and Riyo comes to a sudden stop. Ravi bumps into her, and Rolleck into him, and then Glitter falls on them all.

“You are under arrest,” Lieutenant Marigold says. “Come quietly into custody or forfeit your right to safe passage.”

She is standing by the last house before town turns to desert, accompanied by a disgruntled Sergeant Ixel. Further back, a grand, broad-chested man with raven hair and an exquisite goatee is talking to a young private of the World Force. His uniform is accentuated with various symbols picked out in gold, and he is wearing a red cape with a high, wide collar.

“We’d rather not,” Riyo says, crawling out from underneath Glitter and then spitting out some sand.

“Very well. Sergeant Malbec, arrest them!”

The large man tilts his head towards the lieutenant and rolls his eyes. “Women, eh?” he says, loud enough for Riyo to hear him. Then, “I don’t arrest people, Lieutenant. If you just wanted them brought in, get my daughter to do it.”

“The World Force does not kill indiscriminately,” Marigold says through gritted teeth.

“It also doesn’t let criminals get away,” Malbec says. He yawns. “Sethe. It’s almost bed time. Bring them in, there’s a good girl. If you can’t manage it then I’ll have to chase them down tonight.”

Sergeant Ixel growls. “Fine.” She glares at Riyo. “I gave you enough chances.”

She is in front of Riyo, then, her hand lashing out. Riyo’s eyes don’t have time to widen before a flash of blue blinds her for a moment.

“Gravity Mould,” she says, and grabs her sword.

Ixel is back where she started, but there is now blood leaking from a shallow cut in her arm, soaking into the grey of her uniform. Her red eyes are on Ravi and the curse-breaker streaming over his dagger.

“She’s so fast!” Glitter says, loosing snow from his shoulders and whipping it into a soft cloud above them.

“That’s good,” Riyo says, stepping past Ravi. She weighs so little now that her feet barely touch the sand. “Stand back and don’t interfere.”

“But…” Glitter says.

“Just be ready. I’m too slow. I need to be faster.”

Rolleck and Emerald glance at each other, then shrug and back away. Ravi hesitates, then follows them.

Ixel narrows her eyes. “I’m not going to play by your stupid rules.”

She is gone again. Emerald, her arms crossed, tilts her head slightly as the World Force sergeant appears before her. Before she can ram her fist into Emerald’s face, Riyo catches her by the back of her collar. Gravity warps around them, giving Riyo’s throw the power of a trebuchet. Sand splashes and rock cracks as the sergeant smashes into the ground.

Riyo raises her foot and goes to stamp on Ixel, but her hand is in the way. She scowls up at Riyo as her grip tightens on her foot.

“Uh oh.”

Riyo finds herself flying towards the World Force contingent. She slows herself in the air, eyes flashing to the crater she has made. It is empty. Gravity turns away from her, pulling outward in every direction and catching Ixel as she descends from above. It is not enough to keep her from crashing down on Riyo, and they hit the ground together.

Head ringing, Riyo blinks up at the woman on top of her. Her face is soaked in shadows, turning it a sickly grey. Her eyes are cracked with red, and though Riyo’s reality touches her, she fights it.

“Give up,” she hisses.

“Nuh-uh,” Riyo says.

A flicker out of the corner of her eye comes crashing into Ixel, driving her off Riyo and leaving a scratch on her side. Riyo hops to her feet and the dragon-claw sword comes spinning back around like a boomerang into her hand.

“You’re starting to make me angry,” Ixel says.

“You’re just making me curious,” Riyo says. “Are you a-”

Ixel comes at her head on, but Riyo still only gets her sword between the woman’s hand and her neck by instinct. The force of the attack drives her back, and she falls into it, kicking up into Ixel’s midriff with a gravity-assisted foot. The sergeant goes over her head, and the weight of Valos comes down on her to drive her into the ground again. Riyo flings her sword at her, but she swats it aside, muscles straining against the pressure on her. Riyo grabs two of her daggers from her belt and holds them defensively, keeping up the pressure on Ixel.

She growls. “That’s it.”

Sticky red lightning crackles out from inside her eyes, and the shadows leak from her body in puffs of blackness.

“Hmph,” Duke Malbec says, turning away. “Call for me when night falls tomorrow. This is finished.”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Private Cardamom says.

“Hold, sergeant,” Lieutenant Marigold says, but her command goes unheeded. She grinds her teeth and turns back to the fight. “I’ve had enough of th-”

The air explodes away from sergeant Ixel in a bubble of silence. Black flames enrobe her, shot through with blood-red cracks.

“Not good,” Rolleck says, rushing forward, Emerald on his heels.

“Guys!” Riyo says excitedly. “She’s a v-”

She hits the wall of the building beside Lieutenant Marigold. Stone cracks in a spiderweb around her in spite of her attempts to slow herself. Her shoulders go numb, but the pain of bruised bone is beaten to the front of her attention by the closing of her windpipe.

Ixel’s hair is now jet black, slicked back over her head. Her uniform is gone, replaced by a perfect black waistcoat and immaculate white cravat. A cape with blood as its lining flows out behind her into the empty desert night, seeming to go on forever. Her slim red lips part, revealing long, fierce canines.

“Vampire,” Riyo croaks.

The hand releases her throat as a curse-breaker arrow flashes through the space in front of Riyo and embeds itself in the wall between her arm and side. Ixel spins and ducks beneath Emerald’s punch. She catches Rolleck’s blade on her arm and deflects it, then swats aside several follow-up thrusts before driving her first at his chest. His sword takes the brunt of the power behind it, but it still sends him flying back across the street and into a snowdrift.

A hammer of ice smashes down on Ixel and shatters, spreading ice shards and mist into the chill dawn. It splits apart as Ixel blitzes through it, her heel coming down on top of Glitter. It meets Emerald’s tail instead, and the shock of their clash clears the rest of the mist from the air around them. Ixel grabs the tail and whips Emerald out towards the desert, then kicks Glitter in the same direction, releasing a shrill wail.

Both dragon and robot slow as they fly, until they land neatly beside Riyo.

Ixel bares her teeth at her, but she just smiles back.

“Time’s up,” she says.

Ixel’s heel breaks the ground as she accelerates, but she only makes it a step before the sun bursts over the distant horizon behind her prey. Its harsh rays pierce her like spears, and she staggers. In the blinding stillness that follows, something hits her in the back. She blinks against the light, and it begins to fade. Then it turns completely black.

Sergeant Ixel slumps over, and Riyo’s sword jerks free of her and wheels into her outstretched hand.

Sand begins to settle, and the soft morning breeze ruffles Ixel’s cape and sets Riyo’s ribbons flapping.

“Tunnel Vision!” Marigold yells, and Riyo feels her reality nudge up against her own.

“Time to go, guys,” she says. The desert around her gains an urge to see the sky, and every grain of it leaps into the air, shrouding them all in gritty shadow.

“Lieutenant!” Private Cardamom yells. “Sergeant!”

“Don’t let them get away!”

“I can’t see them, sir!”

A moment later, the sand falls with the crinkling patter of a cruel mountain rainstorm. The street is empty.

Cardamom rushes over to Sergeant Ixel. Within the sandstorm, her glamour has faded away, leaving her only her uniform. There is a tear in the back of it, ragged edges soaked through with blood. Her body is cold to the touch.

“Sergeant!” Cardamom says, shaking her by the shoulders.

The world turns, and Private Cardamom finds himself on his back, sand crunching beneath his armour. Pain soars from his upper arms where Sergeant Ixel pins him, but he cannot muster even a whimper in response to it. The Sargeant’s eyes take his voice and his wits. Fear brings his body to unnatural stillness, so that he can barely feel his breaths.

Ixel’s breath is ragged. Her whole body is shaking with a lust she has been dreading. Hiding from. She can feel Cardamom’s heart beating, sending hot blood rushing through his captive body. Just a little pressure and it will flow free. Over her tongue. Down her throat. Just one. Small. Bite.

She screams and rolls away to lie glaring at the softening sky and its shimmering purple mistress. The new-born light paints her skin in flame, and she lets it cremate her. Steal her lust with pain. Steal her hunger with pain. Steal her frustration with pain.

“I’m disappointed in you, Sergeant,” Lieutenant Marigold says, looking down at her.

“Then have my father kill them,” Ixel growls. “Or better yet, arrest them yourself. See how that goes for you. Your reality wouldn’t touch that dragon, nor the traited boy. That crafter is stronger than you, too. In fact,” Ixel sits up, cracks her neck to one side, then yawns, “they might even be able to go up against my father.” She pushes herself to her feet and tries to scratch at the wound on her back, but can’t reach it. “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s the start of your shift, Sergeant.”

“I’ve just been wounded in the line of duty, sir,” Sergeant Ixel says. “I’ve a right to recovery time.” She stalks off, shading her eyes from the fresh sunlight.

Lieutenant Marigold watches her go with clenched fists, then turns back to the empty desert. A smattering of gemstones catch the twinkling sunlight as they fall through the empty sky, then vanish as they are lost to the sand.