They slipped past the rest of the layered walls of Urk with no more comfort and clearance than the first.
Emerging into the rubble-dusted streets, they quickly noticed what about the city had changed. It was no light trim; there were gaping holes in each wall, a straight path from the outside to the steps of the Eternal Palace. Residents, outsiders, and pilgrims alike came and went through these holes, noting that there was now an expedited path through the city with none of the bureaucracy at the expense of a gamble of structural integrity. It was an easy choice to make for anyone whose feet hurt from standing in line for many hours.
Gate guards and mustering squadrons of the city’s military swarmed to the holes like ants to a kicked anthill or an army of beavers to an undammed torrent. Despite the commotion and the heightened presence of guards, the four of them opted to take the new path on the evening of its grand opening, rationing that being where the crowds were gave them better odds. And they were right.
Fortunately, the rapid work of the city’s officials—running and yelling and toting huge lengths of wood to hang uselessly at the oversized gaps in an attempt to bar them closed—was centered on the principle that anyone from outside a wall should not be permitted inside that wall. There was considerably less concern given to the idea that someone from inside a wall might be making their way out.
They joined the smaller, trickling flow moving against the current, the scattered individuals who, in the face of citywide catastrophe, wanted to get home and lock themselves behind half a dozen locks and bar the door with an official Children of Endkiu battle axe plus additional package with dual functionality as a security bar, and figured the holes in the walls were the fastest and therefore best way to go about it. They whispered or cried out—but not so much any volume in between, fascinatingly—that this was the holy war foretold by the church’s teachings. Rumors spread at the speed of sound and a volume that did no more favors for Root’s headache than any other voice all evening.
And so the four of them cleared the walls, each district in turn, and then the outskirts as well. They reached the dunes and trekked out across them, following the road southeast when it was visible beneath the shifting, colorful sand.
They walked in full and total silence. An hour passed from the last footstep taken in Urk’s city bounds without a single word spoken.
Root was the first to speak.
“Maybe a pause,” she said, breathing hard, boots sliding in the sand. Up ahead, Azriah set the pace, and he walked like the armies of Urk speed-walked at their heels. “It’s late. Maybe we should find somewhere to make camp.”
Azriah turned and looked back at Urk, lights and smoke in the distance. He fixed Root with a hard, assessing glare.
“I wouldn’t risk stopping tonight. We don’t know how far their search will spread in the coming hours. We should walk through the night, get as far from the city as we possibly can.”
The words were like lead weights tied to Root’s weary bones. Her stomach grumbled—but the thought of food sent it into revolt. Her head hurt. Her feet were like cement bricks. She could barely keep her eyes open. “We can just post a watch. We need sleep.”
Azriah looked at Vit, then at Beel. The other three were in far better condition. “Most of us got enough sleep last night.”
“We can pause for a breather,” said Vit quickly. “Anyway, we should figure out what to do about… you know, everything.”
Root, Vit, and Beel dropped their packs in the sand and dug out their water. The sound Azriah’s pack didn’t make when it didn’t hit the ground was the loudest. After an apologetic realization, Vit shared some water.
“So we let the dust settle,” said Vit, looking back towards the smoke rising from Urk. “Then we go back. Another heist. We get the flute back.”
“Another?” said Beel, choking on his water.
“And how long do you want to wait?” asked Azriah. “They’re not going to forget this in a hurry. And I doubt Syrus is going to be so stupid a second time.”
At the name, Vit’s mouth formed a hard line. “We can use the tunnels. Take our time learning them ourselves. Maybe, I don’t know, wandering through them with a… really long stick out in front of us? Back to the basics, like we were saying before the king took the reins. We can find out where they’ve got the flute, get in, and get out. I know the vault now. We can do it.”
“No,” said Azriah, and his tone made Root pause. “After what we just did… Syrus followed us through the tunnels. Syrus knows about the tunnels now, and he’s certainly not going to keep that to himself. I don’t know what his deal is, but… no. No, the tunnels are out. They’re a death sentence anyway. Going back in there at all is a death sentence. Do you get that?”
Vit held Azriah’s gaze with a hardened and cold expression that looked far from home on Vit’s face. “Well we have to do—”
“Have to,” scoffed Azriah. “Have to. We don’t have to do anything. We should never have come here in the first place. Am I the only one who saw that place? The halo protections, the palace fortifications. The armies. If that’s what the landscape looks like around these things—and that’s what we’ve been competing against, that’s the power that’s trying to collect the set, then it’s pure dumb luck we got three of them in the first place. We just gave the church a guided tour through the gaps in their security. No one is ever pulling that off again—not us, not anyone.”
“Then we’ll figure out something else,” said Vit. “We did it once.”
“And look where it got us! Nowhere. We gained one, lost one. Net nothing. On the run. We got a sixteen-year-old girl killed.”
“We didn’t,” said Root. “We aren’t responsible for what happened to Penny.”
“Yeah? So without us she was just going to waltz into the palace on her own?”
“We didn’t tell her to go snooping around! We gave her clear, simple instructions. If she’d followed them, she would’ve been fine. It was her idea to go try to kidnap a venomous snake. She got herself killed by being stupid!”
“Root…” Vit butted in.
“You can’t be serious.” There was a burning fury in Azriah’s eyes; the muscle alongside his nose twitched. “Penny was our responsibility. We recruited her, we put her in danger. She died because of us, Root. And you…” He took a step towards her that made her flinch. “You need to learn to take responsibility for your own damn actions. You had a part in this! You treat everything like it’s some big joke, like none of this matters, like no one else has anything on the line! While we’re all gearing up for a dangerous heist—which you insisted we run—you’re up all night getting drunk and hooking up with some girl! And look what it cost us!”
“That’s not Root’s fault,” said Vit. “It’s… it’s mine. I froze up. We all would’ve made it out if I hadn’t—”
“Stay out of this, Vit,” said Azriah.
“Don’t fucking talk to them like that. Plus, the king—”
“You guys…” whined Beel.
“No. I’m done,” said Azriah. He turned and leaned down as if to retrieve a bag from the ground. His brief moment of confusion didn’t help matters.
“Wait,” said Vit. “Come on, let’s… We can just take a break here. A nap, some time to cool off. Then we’ll cover more ground, figure out a plan once we’ve all had some time.”
Azriah waved this away. “Do whatever you want. Throw yourselves back at the palace. I don’t care. I’m done with this insane errand.”
“But we need your help.”
Azriah splayed his arms. “With what? With what? We still don’t have any clue what we’re doing! We don’t even know how many of these things there are! Five? Thirty? Two hundred? We’re running around lost, putting ourselves in danger, for what?”
“No, no,” said Root. “I get it. But listen—you don’t have one right now. You’re not carrying a periapt! I know how you feel, that’s how I feel on my off-turns too—like I don’t know what to do, don’t want to continue.”
Azriah balked, staring at her, at the words she’d just thrown at his feet. He blinked. “That’s insane. You understand that that’s insane, right? What I’m saying right now, this is me. I’m telling you how I feel. When I have one of those things, I’m not me. You’re being corrupted and puppeted. I’m done with it—all of it.”
He turned and stalked off up the dune.
“Azriah!” called Vit. They took a step to follow him. He didn’t turn back. He crested the dune and kept walking, vanishing into the desert haze with only the clothes on his back, Orne Tyn, and Vit’s canteen, still clenched in one white-knuckled fist.
The silence swarmed back in and wrapped them tight, the three of them, Root, Vit, and Beel. Root sank down to her knees—not just because she was tired, but because suddenly there was a new heaviness, a new weight on her shoulders, saddled across her like water pails on a yoke.
What in the worlds were they supposed to do now?
David sat at the end of a very large and very expensive table. Made from solid cedar, the stories said it was once owned by Samesh, and that he and Endkiu had laid out their belongings atop it before setting out on their legendary journey, piled their riches on it when they returned. Sure, the Grand Priests had added some embellishments of their own over time to make it better suited for the modern age and a more ornate setting for important dealings. Gilded corner caps, gemstone-studded legs that fixed the obnoxious wobble of the original’s wear, and even cupholders.
Leslie sat on David’s left. Others rimmed the table or stood attentively along the wall: a few important seekers, two of David’s aides, and plenty—plenty—of muscle. David and Leslie listened intently as people came and went, giving updates in a flash and then gone to make space for another message.
“All breaches in the city’s walls are patched with temporary measures,” said the head of palace construction. “We have one hundred men stationed at each, guarding from both sides, to ensure no one is able to bypass the gate checkpoints while these points remain weak.”
“Well then ensure they don’t remain weak,” snapped David. “And while you’re at it—stronger walls. Metal. Steel. Reinforcements rivaling those of the palace vaults.”
“Repairs are underway, of course, Your Holiness. Materials are being sourced from the quarries out north and assessments made on the integrity of the surrounding sections of the walls. And I have my best people devising plans for upgraded protections, though without an estimate of budget—”
“Anything needed.”
“Understood.”
David looked past the guest at Elijah, who had just appeared in the doorway of the long chamber. He waved him in.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Syrus Bortoot, sir, as requested.”
“Yes, bring him in.”
Syrus entered—a short, spectacled fellow, one of Leslie’s seekers. His shirt was unbuttoned to a most unprofessional depth, but beneath it he wore the spokes, a heavy gold pendant.
“Your Holiness,” said Syrus, bowing his head.
“Mr. Bortoot,” said Leslie. “They say you pulled the alarm last night. We’d like your report.”
“Of course.”
“The old south entry, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What was the reason for the alarm?”
Syrus cocked his head. “Well, you see, I left the Evening of Generosity a little early—bit of a migraine as you know I tend to have.”
“Always when something needs doing, it seems.”
Syrus chuckled. “Heh. Well, can’t control ‘em! Anyhow, I ducked out early. Took a little walk through the halls, and then some guards came running by—said something about a bandit in the Hall of Relics. Well, I thought to double back, see if my services were of any use, but my head… Heh. Well, I was down near the south historic wing by that point, so I thought I’d make sure the guards on patrol there were at their sharpest. And they were doing great work as always, so I went on—thought I’d leave via the old south entry, but, well, when I got there, I saw four shady types lurking around.”
“Four?” asked David, leaning forward.
“Oh, yes. Three humans and a spirit.”
“Did you get a good look at them?”
“Not particularly. I, well, I yelled: ‘Halt right there!’”
David winced. “Thank you for the full demonstration, Mr. Bortoot.”
“Certainly. So I yelled to them, but they turned and started to flee. So I pulled the alarm in an effort to trap them in the hall, call for backup and all that.” Syrus’s expression changed. “I understand that the crown was taken temporarily by a small spirit. Recovered, but with the jewel missing, isn’t that right?”
“The spirit you saw,” said Leslie. “Was it the same? Short, pink, prone more often than not?”
“This spirit was somewhat more red, I’m afraid. Although, they had something with them. It did appear to be the jewel. It seems they were in cahoots, I’d wager.”
“The jewel?” said David. “You saw it?”
“I do believe so.”
“And the bandits?”
“Slipped out before the doors closed, I’m afraid.”
“And—sir, if I may interrupt,” said Elijah. Then he addressed Syrus. “The reinforcements…?”
“They took quite a while to arrive. I’d gotten all the way down to the door and recovered a bag dropped by one of them, as they surely informed you.”
“Yes,” said Elijah. “We searched the contents. The jewel was not among them.”
“Anything of note?” asked David.
“Travel things, mostly,” said Elijah. “Clothes, bedding, food, water. There was a small notebook—writings relevant to the Seekers. I’ve had it sent to your office, Leslie.”
“Thank you,” said David with the abruptness of a dismissal. “Is there anything else to report?”
“That is all, Your Holiness.”
David nodded, and Syrus left the room.
“A notebook,” said David, turning to Leslie. “A sure enough sign: these are the bandits responsible.”
“Likely,” agreed Leslie. “But if they left the palace—”
“It’s too late to assume anything less,” said David. “We must adapt and pivot. I will say more in narrower company.”
Leslie nodded.
They heard more guard reports, more talk of the citizens’ gripes—smashed roofs, fears of outsiders, fears of who had entered the city, continued rumors that the holy war had begun. Valid fears, but David could not turn his thoughts away from who might’ve left the city.
Eventually, another guard entered—one of Elijah’s direct subordinates. He carried a small box like it might explode. Elijah entered just behind him.
“One moment, Captain Amin,” said Leslie. “We are quite occupied at the moment with this gentleman’s reports about sales spikes for church-branded security goods—”
“Sir, I’m afraid this is quite urgent.”
“Ah, very well.” Leslie dismissed the presenter with his big poster showing an arrow moving up and to the right. It was the best word they’d gotten all day, and the only arrow David liked to see, as they usually got him quite unnerved, being so sharp looking and reminding him of wasp stingers, which outright terrified him. Not to mention, when they went up so sharply, heights…
The guard set the box in front of David while Elijah dismissed many of the others from the room. When he closed the door, it was only the four of them remaining.
Leslie looked around, brow furrowed. “These were all dependable ears—trustworthy enough to speak on the crown’s missing jewel, at least. I don’t know what could be more sensitive.”
Elijah waved to the guard, who bowed to the pair. “Grand Priest Mammona. President Sheridan. Last night, after—er, after everyone fled the Hall of Relics, I returned to the room as part of our security sweep once we’d determined that the siege was… was… perhaps ‘imagined’ isn’t the right word…”
“Yes, get on with it,” David snapped.
“Of course, yes, well, there was a panel on one of the room’s columns. It was popped out—ajar. We investigated. More tunnels, of course. An expansive string, and there were many more doors into new sections also left ajar. We lost some men…”
“Twenty-three,” said Elijah solemnly.
“My,” said David. He put on a look of grief for two and a half seconds. “Anyway, continue please.”
“The most expansive stretch of tunnels discovered to date, Your Holiness. And near the end, we found a room. Storage of some kind. We are still investigating the other contents. But among them, we found this.”
Elijah opened the box. Inside was a single brick.
“Great,” said Leslie sarcastically. “We’ll be needing a lot more where that came from if we want to get the walls patched up.”
“Sir,” said Elijah patiently. “The markings here—the number, the face. I’ve determined this to be one of Capsoul’s prisoners. A possession, a spirit in a brick.” Elijah licked his lips, pausing. “I… spoke with the spirit, but only briefly. He’s identified himself as… Ago Sog. He requested to speak to you directly.”
David’s mouth dried up like the desert. His throat constricted. “Ago Sog…?” he whispered.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” said the brick. “I knew only one of your predecessors. Grand Priest Jacob, his name was. Quite an impression he made.”
David leaped back, pushing out of his chair and cowering near the wall. “Why have you brought this here?” he demanded. “Fiend among fiends. Would you invite Habub himself in to dine at our table? What is the meaning of this?”
“Now, I insisted,” said the brick. “I have information for you. The identities of the thieves who stole m— who stole your halo.”
“Only the jewel is unaccounted for,” said David. “Certainly it is the most important piece. The crown is hardly worth the dented mass of gold it’s built from; the piteous diamonds it wears are like gravel with no jewel.”
“I’m well aware of the properties,” agreed the brick. “Although whatever you’ve got is a fake, I’m afraid to tell you. A decoy. The mote periapt has left this city.”
“And, what, you’ve come to gloat? Robbed from you, now robbed from me?”
“Certainly not. Your stories speak so little of me, it seems.”
“What, then?”
“Well, like I said: I know the identities of the thieves.”
David stared into the little carved face peeking up out of the box. “Is that so… Tell me, then—and truthfully, as we’ve already learned as much from our own sources: were they humans? Spirits?”
“Three humans—more or less—and a spirit.”
“And the spirit’s color?” asked Leslie in some attempt to be helpful.
“So here’s my offer,” said the brick, ignoring him. “I know their identities, yes. And I’d like to see them come to justice. They abandoned me down in the tunnels, see, and tricked me, promised to help me and then betrayed me. I will go find them for you. I’ll hunt them down and bring the halo back for you. All you need to do is release me from this brick.”
Elijah opened his mouth to answer, but David didn’t need his word of caution.
“Certainly not,” said David. “Release you, the great tyrant-beast of Urk, the Unsightly King? Ha!”
“But you see—” began the king. David gestured to Elijah. Elijah nudged the lid of the box, which snapped shut with a loud ki-lok!
“I will see that he is returned to Capsoul,” said Elijah, lifting the box.
“No,” said David, waving a hand. “He still has the information we want to know—that much I believe. Say nothing to Capsoul.”
“But sir—”
“He remains here. Securely.”
Elijah hesitated, then nodded. “The vaults, perhaps?”
“No. Bring him to my quarters. Have a new safe brought up and secure him there.”
Again, Elijah paused for a long moment. “Pardon my saying so, sir, but I do not believe this is wise. He’s renowned for his wiles, his manipulation, his cruelty…”
“Do as I say, Elijah.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” David retook his seat. “I do intend to speak with him further, you understand, and I will not be easily enthralled. But I will learn what I want to know.”
End of Arc 3