“We need that.” The man’s hand remained outstretched.

  {You need a good night’s sleep. This trinket is a want.} Still… {What does a star atlas do?}

  “It shows the realms of the ancients. Where they were, and where their relics might be found.” The sister looked more angry than afraid. “But it needs a special knowledge to use it. And you need to be human.”

  {Of course you do. You ever kept your slaves at knee.} Sight of Day winced at the words his fingers carved into the air. {I’m sorry. You probably don’t know that part.} He took the device from his pouch, placing it on the table. {May I tell you a story? I promise it is not a long one.}

  The woman sat, and after a moment so did the man. “They call me Amber.”

  Sight of Day raised an eyebrow, then turned to the woman. {And you are Jade. I find it convenient you chose names that rest easy on the fingertips of the People.}

  “I find it convenient you know our names,” Jade shot back.

  The Feybrind turned the full force of his golden gaze on her. {You met a friend of mine earlier. He, not being a simpleton, remembered your names and offered them to me. I have kept them safe.}

  She bridled a bit, but Amber nodded. “Amir.”

  {The very same.}

  “Tell your story.” Amber crossed his arms.

  {Sixteen summers past, or winters if you’re feeling depressed, a small group of,} his fingers hesitated, {friends walked two continents to save the world. The wonders they saw were like gazing into the sun. One such wonder was a sky forge, a creation of the ancients that made dragons. And thus, a dragon became their friend too, and promised to save the world it had been born into.} Sight of Day looked away. {The sky forge was in a temple that held many wonders of the ancient world. One such was a device like your star map, but it was a map of the heart. It could take the hidden name of any of the People and speak it aloud. Our most sacred thing, presented as a bauble. We were bent, broken, and afraid. When Commanded, we stop being us, and become another. We can betray a friend, or cross blades with a father.}

  “This device,” Amber pointed to the star map, “knows your name?”

  Sight of Day shrugged. {Perhaps. I don’t know how they work. Their magic will not answer my call. Your people did not want their leashes in the hands of the cattle.} Despite the age of the memories, he shivered. {One friend on the journey took all devices and broke them. He never used my name, but he knew it. Another friend knew my name, and used it to save me. Yet, it wasn’t according to my will. I was … taken from myself.}

  “Like when you’re drunk?” Jade seemed doubtful.

  {Nothing at all the same.} Sight of Day shook his head. {The People are just … gone. What remains is a machine wearing our faces, doing the bidding of another. To see this star map makes me afraid, and I don’t know if anyone should have one.}

  “What if,” Amber started, then settled, thoughtful.

  “What if it could find what’s lost?” Jade’s eyes were piercing. “Would that be a worthy price?”

  {Merchants always think things have a copper baron price. I mean no offence.} The Feybrind leaned back. {It is how you are made, like the sun is made hot, or water is wet.} He breathed in, then out, slowly. {One of my dearest friends in all the world has lost her child. The vile thing here,} he shook the star map, {could find the child, and set that world to rights. I do not know if the rest of the world would spin out of balance, and the People would fall off. Do you understand?}

  “I don’t understand at all,” Amber admitted. “I am a merchant, and I know whether things are worth barons or solars. I have never had myself taken by another. But I know things have value that is not measured in copper or platinum.” His eyes flickered to his sister. “What if you held the device? What if you controlled it?”

  {For how long?}

  Amber shrugged. “I don’t know the future. I know the device has never told us a Feybrind’s name. But I don’t know if it wouldn’t or couldn’t. So, how long? For now, at least. We know the reading of it. Together we might find wealth,” again his eyes moved to his sister, “of a kind we desire.”

  Sight of Day felt around the edge of the star map. Cold, but not icy. Hard, but not brittle. Nothing about what it was made of told him what was within. It didn’t look like a sword, but he’d yet to see a thing the ancients made that wasn’t a weapon. Not even the People. He stood. {I will hold it. We will travel a road. Both will learn from the other. Then we decide.}

  “But, uh, we need that.” Jade half-stood, then stopped. “Without it, we are lost.”

  Sight of Day padded to the window. {With it, all could be lost. Even you.} He slipped over the sill, leaped for the wharf, and slipped into the night.

  Chapter Twenty

  The dockside was warm, if a little smokey. Amir eyed the sky, and the sun eyed him right back. It was hued with orange and ochre, burnished like bronze. This late in the morning it should have burned a clean yellow-white, but Amir figured even suns could have an off-day.

  Larochette tugged at her jerkin. The air in Or’sen was cooler than Imshir but she seemed to run hotter than anyone else. Aside from that slight movement, she appeared composed, calm, ready for the day. Faust glowered as only a giant could, but Amir didn’t think he meant any particular thing by it.

  The three waited behind the High Justiciar, her husband, and the cat. The Feybrind seemed twitchier than usual, his tail lash, lashing every so often, a tension belied by the calmness in those golden eyes. The remains of their school were scattered about in twos, sometimes threes, a rag-tag army of the willing waiting to do the needful. If that’s the poet in me, I shouldn’t quit the soldiering life. I suck at poetry.

  The wharf area was ripe for an ambush, the warehouses presenting ample roof acreage for seedy types to lurk with crossbow and ill intent. Amir rubbed his face, waiting for the inevitable.

  Larochette nudged him. It wasn’t pleasant; the woman had pointy elbows. “Quit fidgeting.”

  “I was born to fidget.” Amir eyed the empty expanse of dock before them. “We’re missing a merchant and his sister.”

  Vertiline turned, offering him a cool stare. “You had one job, Adept.”

  “I am no Adept.” Amir pressed his lips into a line. “By the Three’s grace, perhaps one day, but today dawns weary upon my laggardly soul. Without dedication, I will ever⁠—”

  “Three’s mercy,” she breathed. “You prattle like a child.”

  “Be as may.” He sketched an insincere bow. “Perhaps it was the glint of your ire that scared them off. Sand merchants are brave, hardy souls, but even the stoutest heart can wither.”

  As if on cue, Amber and Jade rounded a bend not five buildings further up. The alarming thing was the retinue accompanying them. Amir saw horses and handlers for the horses, and Khiton’s ass but was that a camel? This wasn’t a problem because of logistics; Amir was confident the merchant had that avenue covered. It was a huge deal because last night there were no people on their ship. Not crew, nor hands, nothing. Now: a party.

  Amber and Jade were late because they’d been recruiting.

  Recruiting this number meant loose lips, which would sink the caravan, metaphorically. No way that many people could be offered coin for a dangerous trip into the plaguelands without casting a wide net, and the minnows that slipped through would trade information to darker sorts.

  Right on cue, Larochette elbowed him again. “There. On the roof.” She threw her arm out at the warehouse roof nearby, over the top of which a ragged assortment of dirty men and women scrabbled. They had both weapons and ill intent. “’Ware!”

  The High Justiciar offered Amir a withering glance, drew glass, and swiped a crossbow bolt out of the air absently. Armitage set off at a hulking run toward the merchants, because the villains on the roof weren’t targeting the heavily armed what-they-presumed-were-Knights. They were after the caravan, no doubt for whatever secrets a sand merchant kept for combing the plaguelands for riches.

  A second crossbow bolt sought Vertiline. If Amir lived to be a hundred, he swore he would never see movements as perfect as that woman’s. She slipped around the bolt, blade caressing its edge, holding it glitter-tight. Golden light glimmered as she spun, holding the bolt against her blade, giving it more speed, and the power of the Light. The bolt flew back as if tossed from an arbalest. It hit the crossbowman in a flare of ruddy glory. His body exploded into flame and ruin, the blast picking up a handful of his comrades and tossing them into the street.

  As appealing as it was to watch the High Justiciar work, Amir knew he needed to get closer to Armitage. He ran down the docks, and almost lost his footing in surprise as he passed Jade sprinting in the opposite direction. No time to think, head down as he was, but something nagged at him. It continued tugging at his mind as a woman wielding a mattock engaged him on his left. He used a rough parody of Ice’s Embrace to step inside her guard, removing her weapon from her by severing her hands at the wrist, took off her head, and almost took a blade to the gut as her companion rushed him.

  It was sloppy, even for Amir, and he knew it was that glimpse of Jade that did it. She wasn’t running for safety. He gritted his teeth, Ice’s Embrace about him now, the cold of it almost in his bones, as he placed left foot behind right, stepped, and cut his opponent from skull to groin.

  She wasn’t afraid. She was determined.

  Amir paused, trusting his comrades Faust and Larochette, those two that made them three, and looked back. Larochette stood behind Faust. The giant resorted to brute strength, tossing a wiry man into the harbour. Larochette was already on the way to back Amir, eyes fixed on the enemy.

  Amir spied Jade. She was heading to the spot Tilly, Armitage, and Sight of Day had been but moments earlier. The horses were troubled, but good Tresward beasts didn’t fret at the spilling of a little blood. The merchant’s sister was rifling through their saddlebags. Not one to be bothered by a bit of honest stealing, Amir didn’t mind the intent so much as the brassiness of the move, what with her brother beset by murderers and their guard scattered about dealing with malcontents. “Attend! Trouble.” Amir pointed his blade toward the horses and stray merchant’s sister.

  Larochette arrived at his shoulder, squinted, and said, “Go.”

  Head down, running fast as wind and twice as hard, Amir vaulted a woman tangling with Sight of Day. She was struggling to pull the arrow from her throat while the cat lay her on the ground almost tenderly. He breezed past two large men with outstretched arms, ducked beneath the swing of a club, and then went down as a woman tackled him.

  He rolled, found his feet, punched her in the head, and was off. He went around the mass of horses—where was the damnable sister—and lurked between a Clydesdale and a roan, calmed his pace, then sauntered past the rear of the Clydesdale as if he’d been there for hours, just in time to confront Jade. The woman had the common decency to look both surprised, alarmed, and ashamed. She had a device in her hands, which she quickly transferred behind her back. “I was, uh, trying to hide.”

  “Me too,” Amir confided. “You know, it’s probably best if you stay here.”

  “Uh,” she offered. “I need to get back to my brother.”

  Amir swatted an arrow out of the air headed toward her head. It clattered to the cobbles, and Jade jerked at the noise. “If you think that’s a good idea.” He leaned close, putting a little husk in his voice. “I can escort you. It is quite dangerous.”

  She fumbled with a satchel, patted the lid closed, and glanced toward the melee. “I think I can get back on my own.”

  “Are you sure?” He flicked blood from his blade, putting on what he believed was a credible show of surprise. “There are thieves and scoundrels.”

  Right there. Her eyelid twitched at the word thieves, but her spine straightened. “As in the one before me, using this nonsense to have at my virtue?”

  Amir widened his smile, the snake before the mouse. “Come, now. We both know that virtue sailed from a different port long ago.”

  He was awarded with a slap. Amir let it land, eyes watering a little, and touched his cheek. Her eyes turned frosty. “I pegged you for a different sort of man last night.”

  “And I believed you a different woman. Perhaps we both stand corrected.” Amir ran a man through who came about the roan, kicked the body to the pavers, then touched his forelock. “An educational experience. Until next time.”

  Haughty, shoulders back, chin up, she glared. “Until next time.” She stormed past the Clydesdale, then broke into a run back toward her brother.

  Amir watched her go, then pulled from behind his back the device she’d tried to hide from him in her satchel. It was clearly made by the ancients, all smooth corners and perfect, shiny facade. Glass and metal in a curious medley that was both foreign yet made perfect sense. She’d found it in one of their packs, and Amir was certain they did not depart Imshir with it, having been through everyone’s luggage on the voyage. He tapped it against his chin thoughtfully, tossed it, caught it, and swaggered back out into the fight.

  Which was, by that point, done. Groans of the dying. The smell of blood and shit. Smoke and fire came from the corpses of those that tangled with the High Justiciar. Amir pursed his lips. I guess I don’t get as much practice today.

  Sight of Day arrived at his elbow. His golden eyes were hard. {What do you have there?}

  “I think you know.” Amir offered it to the Feybrind. “Here you go.”

  The cat took it carefully, eyes softening. As if knowing Amir’s paltry Handspeak, the Feybrind’s fingers moved slowly, over generous in their motion. {Do you know what you hold?}

  “Something important.” Amir shrugged. “Important to you, anyway.”

  {More than you can imagine.} The cat looked at the device. {You would just give this to me?}

  “It’s not mine. It’s not theirs, either. Whoever owned this died long ago.” Amir clapped the cat on the shoulder. “Best take better care of your things next time.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When Vertiline stepped onto the dry, desiccated grass surrounding the ancient spire, she thought, My baby girl was here? What for? She paused, hands on hips, examining the ruin. It was a maw of broken teeth, gnashing a mighty spire that rose to the heavens. The spire was of ancient manufacture, but lifeless. Its surface nearer the ground was pitted and marked as if by fire and catapult, but above, slender pure silver metal still rose.

  There was a broken Artifice on the dry grass. Sand had already walked among its broken legs, trying to find a way in. She spied a body laying among the wreckage. Difficult to tell how fresh but it didn’t have the leathery, sunken look of the fallen passed by years rather than weeks. She breathed, then smiled. Yes. My baby girl was here. And whatever she was after, she found it.

  “What the fuck happened?” Armitage joined her side, his bulk a comforting shadow against the blasting heat. Vertiline had chosen loose linens and a summer hat instead of armour, but the journey here had been merciless. “Looks like someone started some shit they couldn’t finish.”

  “Evanne.” Vertiline pointed to the Artifice. “Look. A fallen machine.”

  “And you think our kid did that?” He glared at the dead machine. “You’re probably right. I’m going to take a look.”

  {I will come.} Sight of Day padded by her husband’s side. {Without me you will find a hole to fall into.}

  “I’ll find the hole even with your help… wait.” Armitage stopped, squinting at the cat. “I didn’t mean that.”

  The Feybrind gave a mock bow. {Lead on, finder of holes. Let it be a big one.}

  Vertiline turned to her entourage. There was the sand merchant, Amber, lord among his retinue of guards and camels. And Jade, his sister, who apparently wanted to see the world. Vertiline thought it difficult to see the world if you never got off your camel and talked to people, but she was not a sand merchant’s sister.

  Amber headed for Vertiline. The man was dogged in his approach, so she steeled herself. His sister I am not, but I carry the Three’s power on the edge of my steel. Surely it’s sufficient for another bout with this man? The merchant squared off against her as if preparing for battle. He was not an ugly man, nor short. His face carried three scars down his cheek, but otherwise his face was pleasant enough if you liked that sort of thing. “I await the promised treasure.”

  “It’s in there.” Vertiline pointed to the ancient spire. “Away you go.”

  His nostrils flared, but he didn’t take the bait. Perhaps being a sand merchant taught patience. “You promised wonders. Prizes worth such that lords would bow to me. I see nothing but sand.”

  “Look there.” Vertiline pointed to his right. “There is some dried grass.”

  “Do not⁠—”

  “Stop,” Vertiline advised. “In a few moments you will say something like ‘do not trifle with me or else’ and I will ask about door number two. I have never been a door number one kind of woman. I carry glass, Amber. I carry glass and Light, and if the ‘else’ is a threat of violence, I will call your bluff.” She smiled, easy as you please.

  His lips puckered for a moment as if he’d tasted lemon. “I meant only that the sun draws high and the heat will be brutal without shelter.”

  “Good.” Vertiline tilted her head, considering him. “We don’t have to be at odds with each other. You know the blasted plaguelands. I know steel and war. It’s just⁠—”

  “Amber,” whined Jade, “have you found the treasure yet?”

  “Just that,” Vertiline finished.

  Amber’s eyelid twitched. “Jade is the jewel of my father’s empire.”

  “Hmm.”

  “She must learn of the world.”