“I’ll answer as best I can.”
“I’ve no doubt. We’ve gleaned unpleasant gossip about extra muscle masquerading as lowly laborers. Is there any truth to those tales?”
“I don’t know, but most students have heard similar stories. I know I have. It might be true. The only ones who’d know for sure are the Starwatch Guard.”
“Let’s try a more apropos inquiry, then. We know outsiders are forbidden from entering the grounds on an ordinary, run of the mill day, but that exemptions exist. What are those?”
“Not many,” answered Kimiko. “Potential students are encouraged to go on a tour before acceptance. I did when I was ten. Rich folks who want to patronize Starwatch or give a gift are also welcome with an escort.”
“Give a gift, huh?”
“Yeah, wealthy families are always bestowing heirlooms and books to the library if they don’t have children. It’s how we get a lot of our scrolls. I’ve helped sort through some donations. And of course people are allowed onto our grounds during the Fete.”
“The Fete? Is that some mysterious galen celebration?”
“No, it’s the Eclipsing Radiance festival practiced throughout the entire country. To honor Adonas and the summer solstice on 21 Nashrenir. Aren’t you Asdori?”
“Yes, I’ve participated in the festival before. Glory to the sun god and all that. I’m not sure what relevance it has for our conversation though.”
“Here in Arroyo Starwatch hosts it.”
“Kimiko, my dirt poor little minion, I could kiss you.”
*
Cyriana lifted her head from entwined fingers resting atop a pillow when the door to her bedchamber whacked ajar. Maylene strode in with Baskaran and Eloran in tow, the latter mumbling curses and threats.
“Where’s Thorkell?” she demanded.
Cyriana lowered her head and stared upward at the ceiling. “Surveillance with Zalla.”
“Whatever. We don’t need him anyways. The Eclipsing Radiance next month.”
“What of it?” inquired Cyriana. “I didn’t think you’d turn religious and start converting us heathens.”
“I couldn’t care less for Adonas. He’s just one more prick lording over us and making my skin hurt. But we’re all attending his grand festival in Nashrenir.”
“Are we now?”
“Not being an Asdori native I must admit a certain ignorance,” Baskaran declared.
“Eurus has a jubilee for the Depthless One, doesn’t it?” asked Maylene.
“The Awakening Tide, yes.”
“Same thing, but here in Asdor the sun god is worshiped above all others. It’s one of the few religious festivals the Draugan Empire tolerates and hasn’t chosen to stomp into dust. According to Asdori traditions, revelers are hosted at affluent citizens’ homes on the summer solstice. Everyone is supposed to be equal under the sun’s gaze, but this is the only day we pretend it’s halfway true. Starwatch fulfills that role here rather than some rich family. Everyone in the city is welcomed onto grounds sanctified by the galens. Locals and foreigners alike. We only need to pretend to be sun god devotees.”
“That’s our night,” Cyriana affirmed, jerking upright into a sitting position on her bed. “Someone pour a libation to Adonas, because he’s lending a hand to our dastardly schemes.”
“All we have is wine,” replied Eloran.
“Never mind then. I can’t permit spilling a drink that tasty. We’ll mumble a prayer in his name later if we remember.”
“Wait, won’t there be Draugans at a grand city event?” questioned Baskaran.
Maylene smirked and shook her head. “Gods no. There isn’t a Dashan worshiper alive who’d be caught dead at a pagan festival.”
“But there will be heightened security,” Eloran noted. “The galens would be fools not to hire additional goons.”
“Even so,” Cyriana said, “I’d say being invited to waltz right onto their front lawn negates the danger of extra swords. Maylene, where are revelers allowed to mill around?”
“All walkways, gardens, courtyards. Basically anything the sun touches. They’re poetic, I guess. It’s mostly restricted to outdoors, but a few buildings will host feasts.”
“And Starwatch Tower?”
“Oh, yes. Though we’re only permitted to explore ground level.”
Cyriana felt an uncharacteristic giggle escape her throat. “This is truly beautiful. Finding a way into the tower was our most difficult challenge. A hundred extra patrolling guards won’t spoil my mood so long as we can saunter through their entry. Skulking higher will be easy compared to infiltrating barred gates.”
“And our homeland truly does not matter?” questioned Eloran. “It’s abundantly obvious Maylene is the only one among us with squinty eyes.”
“You’d better choose your words more carefully, old timer,” she threatened. “Because you don’t want to call an Asdori squinty ever again. I’ve never been above strangling my elders.”
“Smarten the hell up, Eloran,” Cyriana rebuked. “Or she won’t be the only one lambasting your thick skull. And remember I hit much harder than she does. But racist slur aside, the question is a good one. Can a Shiylan or Eurote stroll into the Fete without raising the guards’ hackles?”
Maylene glared with murderous intent at Eloran. “Next time there’ll be no warning. I’ll shove my boot up your arsehole and that’ll be the end of it. I’ll have you coughing up cured leather for days.” She softened her features a smidgen and faced Cyriana. “The festival is open to all, no matter their culture or moronic beliefs. Adonas touches everyone, so his celebration is based on the same inclusiveness.” Hazel eyes shifted to encompass Eloran. “Even though I’ve now learned the merits of excluding certain undesirables.”
“This is the best news I’ve heard since meeting our shadowy benefactor,” Cyriana admitted. “Give your cute little pawn coins for another semester. I’d reckon she’s earned it.”
“Might keep the lass under our thumb if we spoon feed her silver in dribbles.”
“We have a month to plan our heist. If we miss this there won’t be another golden opportunity. Not unless we kick around here until next year, and no one wants to spend that long with Eloran. I mean to seize the chance we’ve been given with both hands and not let go.”
*
17 Kilessin
Maylene threw the door open, unbuttoned her jacket and tossed it to crumple on a chair. She grumbled while kicking dusty boots into one corner.
“Crappy day?” inquired Cyriana.
“You might say that. Had to traipse around to five different alehouses to learn pertinent information on the festival. Wouldn’t have been too bothersome if I didn’t need to stay sharp-eyed and sober all the while. And every chump I talked to only wanted to drone on and on about the free food and fancy spectacles.”
“Spectacles?”
“Apparently Starwatch has acrobats and knife throwers and jugglers and fire eaters. Plus all sorts of other performers. Want to know their names? My knowledge of the security is lacking, but boy have I got plenty to share regarding the damned entertainment.”
“I’d rather discuss the relevant intelligence you gathered.”
“Not terribly encouraging, it must be said.” Maylene snatched leftover bread crust from a platter and shoved it into her mouth. “Starwatch guards perform a cursory search on everyone who enters during the Fete.”
“How cursory?”
Chewed morsels of wet bread splattered from her mouth. “Not enough to offend the dignity of nobles and various officials. I’d likely have no trouble sneaking a lock pick in, provided I felt like taking the risk. Anything larger and we’re playing with fire. No bags or satchels are allowed on the grounds either, and all weapons are confiscated.”
“It seems we’ll pay a price to be permitted entry.”
“I’ll say.”
“Then I think it’s high time we become generous donors.”
“Oh?” Maylene licked one fi
nger and used it to collect surviving bread crumbs on the plate. “Stricken with a bout of magnanimity these days?”
“Only insofar as it helps further my ruse.”
“This is assuming the highbrow scholars even accept your tokens of affection.”
“I know they will. Galens are as gluttonous as us ordinary folk. Their desires might follow different paths than ours, is all.”
“And what gets a galen hot and bothered?”
“Books, my dear,” responded Cyriana. “Literature is what they drool over.”
“An unappetizing concept to imagine.”
“Time for Rope to climb off his arse and make himself useful to us. And time for you to do a little shopping.”
“What do I have a mind to purchase?” inquired Maylene.
“Things you already own.”
“I see. Feeling a little vague today, are we?”
“It’ll all make sense in the coming weeks. I’m enduring an unexpected stint of brilliance.”
“I suppose we’re all due eventually.”
“I’ll gather the necessary funds for you while I have a chitchat with Cord. It’ll also give me time to conjure a shopping list. Don’t hesitate adding to my recommendations as the aim becomes clear.”
“If it ever does.”
“Shush.” Cyriana flung her own coat on and strode through their open entry. “Genius at work.”
*
20 Kilessin
Sunlit rays shone through verdant foliage rustling in the breeze to illumine dappled flowers coating the forest floor. Cyriana watched a songbird flit from one branch to another and serenade all those present. She closed her eyes and felt a caressing wind rake through unbound hair, happy to relish in the tranquility until it was inevitably ruined. The wait was not long in coming.
“Nature blows,” Thorkell grumbled. He bent down to swab filth smeared across the toes of one boot and inadvertently rubbed his face against a drooping shrub. He glowered at the offending bush, which responded with anticipated indifference.
Perched cross-legged against a collapsed log shrouded in spongy moss, Maylene growled. “I’ve already told you why we’re here.”
“Yes, yes,” he snorted. “I know. We can’t risk performing your exhibition in a populated area.”
“And still you insist on complaining.”
“Merely because I understand your purpose doesn’t necessarily mean I respect it.”
Maylene unstoppered one small vial and poured clear liquid into a clay bowl resting on the ground. “Is Zalla whinging like a misbegotten brat?”
“I like it out here.” She crouched and sniffed a blue-tinged flower. “It’s peaceful.”
Cyriana directed a finger at the blooming plant. “Know what type of flower that is?”
“No idea.”
“You forgot?” asked Thorkell. “You’re mortal like the rest of us?”
Zalla wiped spores from her fingertips and climbed upright. “I have to learn the information first before I can remember it forever. It isn’t sorcery.”
“You know Thorkell, you could have stayed behind with Eloran,” asserted Cyriana. “But you demanded to share in the secret.”
“Curiosity is a cruel mistress indeed,” he bemoaned.
“Only for those who are stuck with you.”
“This perilous medley you’re brewing,” said Thorkell, shifting his attention.
Maylene cocked a brow. “What about it?”
“How’d you inherit the recipe? Since you’re neither a galen nor an apothecary. I wasn’t aware lock pickers meddled in distilling deadly cocktails.”
“You’d be surprised. But in this instance I have an acquaintance who loves to tinker and experiment. And before you ask, Cyriana and you don’t know him. But he’s fabricated some of my more outlandish requests. I happened to be with him when he stumbled on this concoction. Scared the ever loving crap out of us both. So far as I know he hasn’t shared the formula with another soul. And he’d probably smack me in the mouth if he knew I’d divulged it to you three.”
“To be fair you haven’t actually told us what the ingredients are.”
“She recited the whole list to me,” Zalla affirmed.
Thorkell scrunched his brow. “Wait, you shared it with her and not yours truly?”
Maylene shrugged and set aside a pouch. “I needed someone to learn it in case I’m unable to brew a batch. Unlike some people I know, she’ll never forget.”
Zalla smiled at Thorkell and tapped her temple with a forefinger.
“Plus I’ve come to trust her,” Maylene said. “Though even the fact that I’m disclosing these results is bad enough. I’m a crook, but my associate isn’t. He never wanted this to be used for ill and was rightly afraid it would be. Which is why you’re tolerating my caution.”
She settled one empty flask on the ground and lifted a bowl brimming with thick gray paste. Her eyes scowled into the dish until she produced a satisfied grunt and stood.
Thorkell’s irritated eyes perked. “Time to finally learn what all the fuss is about?”
Maylene stepped back and dusted her hands. “Redundant warnings first. This shit is dangerous. And I’m going to tell you that again and again until I’m certain it sinks in. This is far and away the most volatile and hazardous substance I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Seems strange to manufacture the stuff if it’s got your stomach all aflutter,” declared Thorkell.
“The reasons are that it also happens to be fiendish, exceedingly beneficial and crucial to the heist. I don’t see a clever way around our obstacles otherwise. If I found a stratagem to achieve our purposes without unveiling my infusion, then I would. And I’d be happy about it. Problem is my options are limited given the discouraging schematics Rope provided.”
Maylene collected her clay bowl in delicate hands and poured gray sludge onto a mammoth stone bulging from the ground. Using a wadded cloth, she scraped gooey remnants off clay and retreated. She retrieved a bottle from her bag, yanked its cork free and poured water into the bowl over what remained of the gray muck.
“You can pin blame on the galens for constructing a tower that’s nearly immune to thievery,” said Cyriana. “They’re the ones forcing more creative solutions from us criminal elements, if you ask me.”
Thorkell flinched when a falling leaf darted near his face and attempted to swat the intrusive foliage aside, striking only air. “What’d you and the tinkering man name this stuff?”
“We didn’t,” Maylene remarked. “Giving a name implies existence, and we preferred to delude ourselves into believing it doesn’t.”
“We’re delving dangerously close into the philosophical. Or is it the nonsensical? A name doesn’t grant power or confer meaning. Just makes it simpler for us to discuss the subject, since I don’t want to point and call it, ‘that stuff’. I believe yours deserves one. What say you to Gray Soup? Or maybe Gummy Goo.”
“I don’t think you’re giving this the proper deference.”
“Congealed Chowder?”
“Call it whatever you want.” Maylene withdrew one candle from her haversack, along with a dagger and flint. “Always apply this indoors or under shade like we are now, away from direct sunlight.”
“Why’s that?” Thorkell questioned.
“It reacts to heat.”
Maylene sparked her candle to life and crept closer with an eye on the glowing wick. She placed one hand atop the rock and touched a pulsing flame to lumpy muck. A sallow orange discoloration crawled over gray and sizzled as though broiling meat. She snuffed her candle and retreated, thrusting out one hand when she glimpsed how close the others stood. “Get back. You’ll still see it fine, trust me.”
The luminance intensified and shifted to glaring white, emitting harsh hisses and tossing sparks that shone like shooting stars. Stone melted beneath the shifting radiance and subsided, gouging a smooth hole straight through. Sharp crackles quietened gradually, intense white softened and embers cease
d bursting to life.
Cyriana shuffled closer and stared into the burrowed pit. Pale pinpricks fizzled and spewed halfhearted crackles at its bottom, but the reaction had otherwise died.
“That is more than a little terrifying,” mumbled Thorkell. “I won’t say this often, but I did indeed fail to give necessary respect.”
“You can see why I insisted we hike out to a patch of deserted wilderness,” responded Maylene.
“For once I don’t feel the desire to argue with you. Not after that demonstration.”
Cyriana turned back to Maylene. “Why did it stop?”
“The reaction only lasts for a short time until the stuff eventually burns itself out. We haven’t isolated the components enough to know which one has a brief life. There might be a way to lengthen the process if we swapped one ingredient for another, but I don’t feel like discovering more potent alternatives.”
“One can hardly blame you.”
“Oh, and one more thing. Never let this concoction come into contact with your skin.”
“Shouldn’t it be harmless without the addition of fire?” Thorkell queried.
“You’d think that, but no.” Maylene gathered her supplies and dumped them into the awaiting haversack. “Like I said, the stuff is volatile. We suspect that heat from your flesh might potentially cause a reaction to start. Especially if you’re nervous or sweating. It won’t generate the heat needed to chew through stone mind you, but it’ll still eat down to the bone.”
“Gods.”
“You suspect it might?” asked Cyriana. “You aren’t certain?”
“There’s enough we don’t know about its characteristics to warrant caution.”
“What about once the brew cools? Is it still dangerous to come into contact with?”
“Nope. You can shove your hand in there right now and play with what’s left if the urge strikes. When the burning dies, it’s safe to touch. And it won’t reignite, even if you scrape the remains into an oven. The reaction gives no repeat performances.”
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