“I’ve told you ten thousand times not to touch my things!” a high, female voice shrilled from down the hallway that led out of the gambling hall.
“You have too many of them,” a deeper woman’s voice replied. “Why do you need all of it? A woman should only need her clothes, a knife, and a bowl. That’s the way of the steppe.”
“We’re not in the stupid steppe,” the first voice retorted. “Pallas forbid we have anything to make our lives a little easier.”
Two women, who looked only a little older than Shara, emerged from the back room of the shop. One was pale and slender, with an aristocratic face, light hair, and eyes the color of the sky after a rainstorm. The other was tanned, with dark hair gathered into coils, and taller than any woman Ephyra had ever met.
“Hayu, please tell Numir that if she ever moves my books again she can sleep outside since she misses the steppe so much,” the blueeyed one said.
The tall woman snorted. “Hayu, tell Parthenia that her books are cluttering up the room, and that she doesn’t even read them, she just keeps them so that we all think she’s smart.”
“Hayu, tell Numir that I am smart and that she’d know that if she’d ever even read a book—”
“Ladies,” Shara said from her perch at the bar. She swept a hand back toward Ephyra. “We have a guest.”
The two women, entirely focused on each other, suddenly stopped and turned toward Ephyra.
“How do you do?” the smaller, light-haired girl asked, her voice lilting and sweet. “I’m Parthenia.”
She was one of the most beautiful women Ephyra had ever seen. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Ephyra.”
“This is Numir,” Hayu said, grinning at the tall woman beside him.
“My tracker,” Shara explained. “Parthenia’s the language expert. She knows just about every language in the world—even the extinct ones.”
“Especially those,” Parthenia said, her eyes gleaming. “I specialized in ancient Nehemian translation at the Great Library.”
Shara craned her neck over the bar, as if searching for someone in the back room. “Where is Hadiza? I told everyone to meet here at midmorning.”
“You know my sister,” Hayu said with a sigh. “She considers ‘on time’ to be whatever time she shows up.”
“What lies are you spreading about me now, little brother?” A voice sounded from the door of the shop. A woman stood there, hands on her hips. She had short, curly black hair and the same medium brown skin as Hayu and Shara.
She eyed Ephyra as she strode up to join them at the bar. “You must be our new client.”
Ephyra was unnerved by the group’s familiarity, not just with one another but with her. “Ephyra,” she said. “Shara said you all could help.”
“I’m Hadiza, Shara’s lorist,” the girl replied.
“She knows everything there is to know about legendary artefacts,” Hayu said proudly. “Seriously. Everything. Just ask her.”
“Do you know about Eleazar’s Chalice?” Ephyra asked.
Hadiza’s eyes widened, and Ephyra heard the others inhale sharply. The room was still for a moment.
Hadiza whirled on Shara. “You didn’t tell us she was looking for that!”
“I didn’t?” Shara asked. “That’s so weird, I definitely remember telling you. Must’ve dreamed it.”
“No, you did not tell us, and I’m betting it’s because you knew we wouldn’t show up if you did,” Hadiza said. “Funny, that.”
“Well, now you know.”
Hadiza let out a heavy sigh. “Even if we wanted to find the Chalice, how exactly do you propose we do that?”
“You doubt me?” Shara asked. “As it so happens, this job comes with a head start.” She nodded at Ephyra.
“My father was searching for Eleazar’s Chalice,” Ephyra said, pulling her father’s journal out of her bag and flipping to the drawing of the Chalice. “I found his journal. The Thief King—the first Thief King, I mean, wrote to him about it. My father’s notes say that the Thief King had something . . . a key.”
“It’s a start,” Shara said encouragingly. “Badis left all of his possessions to me when he died, so we must have it somewhere.”
“Shara, this is reckless, even for you,” Hadiza said. She eyed Ephyra. “Let me see the journal.”
Ephyra hesitated.
“If we’re going to work together, you need to trust us,” Hadiza said.
“I don’t trust you,” Ephyra said. She didn’t trust anyone. “But I do need your help.”
Reluctantly, she handed her the journal. Hadiza flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning.
“It looks like Badis had the good sense to turn this job down,” she said at last.
“Badis isn’t in charge anymore,” Shara retorted. “But I’m not going to force anyone to do this. It’s your choice. All of you. It won’t be easy. Or safe. If word gets out that we’re looking for the Chalice, we’re going to start running into trouble.”
“You mean the mildly inconvenient fact that we might get murdered just for looking for the Chalice,” Hadiza said. “Seeing as it’s happened to every other treasure thief who’s tried. Someone doesn’t want it found.”
Ephyra set her jaw. Beru had always been the one who knew how to extract help from others, how to sweet-talk a captain into letting two penniless girls aboard their ship, or get a groundskeeper to overlook the two of them squatting in an abandoned house. She’d even persuaded Anton to help them find the Chalice—although that hadn’t ended well.
Ephyra’s skills began and ended with killing people, and protecting Beru. And she’d already failed at one of them. There was only one way she could think of to get them on her side: Tell the truth. But even the thought made her skin prickle.
“I don’t expect you to agree to this,” Ephyra said. “I know the risks. So do you. But this isn’t about just treasure or power to me. I need to find the Chalice because . . .” She swallowed roughly, fighting against her urge to keep this secret at any cost. “I need it for my sister. She’s been sick for a long time, and healers can’t help her. I think the Chalice can save her.”
She saw Parthenia’s expression soften. Numir looked thoughtful.
“That’s sad and all,” Hadiza said. “But that only explains why you’re willing to do this. Shara, why are you?”
“Because no one’s ever found the Chalice before,” Shara said. “If we do it, we’ll be legends. The undisputed best thieves in the world. The others will bow before our glory, and we’ll forever get the best jobs, the best pay, and no one will ever dare mess with us. No more getting our jobs scooped by other crews or having fences try to cheat us. Besides, aren’t you just a little curious about this powerful artefact that so many have died trying to find?”
“No,” Hadiza said.
“I am,” Parthenia offered.
“You’ve both got a death wish,” Hadiza said. “You really don’t understand what the Chalice is, do you? It’s not a treasure. It’s a weapon.”
Shara opened her mouth to reply, but Ephyra spoke first. “What if it was Hayu?”
Hadiza glanced toward the bar, where Hayu was putting away the cups.
“What if you had to watch your sick brother suffer? And what if you found a way to cure him? Wouldn’t you do everything in your power to try? Or would you stand by and say it’s too dangerous and let your brother die?”
Hadiza swallowed. “Of course I would try.”
“Then you understand why I need to do this,” Ephyra said. “You know why I need you. All of you. I promise, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to save my sister.”
With all of their eyes on her, Ephyra felt uncomfortable, but she held herself still and didn’t show it.
“Where’s your sister now?” Numir asked.
Ephyra turned to her. This truth, she didn’t need to give away. “She was too sick to come with me. I left her at home. If I don’t go back to her with the Chalice, she’ll die.
”
That part, at least, was true. Beru’s time was running out. Ephyra had already spent a week tracking Shara down. She needed to find the Chalice, and once she did, she would hire a scryer to find Beru before it was too late.
“So,” Shara said after a moment. “Are we in?”
“I am,” Numir said without hesitation.
“Me too,” Parthenia agreed.
Shara looked at Hadiza.
“Fine,” Hadiza agreed. “I’ll do it.”
“Well, it’s settled, then. Wrap up your affairs, do whatever you need to do.” Shara grinned, quick and wolflike. “Next time we set foot in Tel Amot, we’ll be legends.”
Their first stop, according to Shara, was the original Thief King’s hideout. Most of his possessions were still there, and if Ephyra’s father was right, the key would be there, too. It was just outside the city, and Shara promised they would reach it before dark.
The morning was still cool as they set off, Numir warbling a traveling song from the steppe while Parthenia egged her on.
“Sing ‘My Wife Is an Eagle’ next!”
Numir glared at her. “That’s not a real song and you know it.”
Ephyra pulled ahead of their bickering, falling into step with Hadiza. “Your brother says you know everything there is to know about legendary artefacts.”
“My brother is fond of exaggerating, especially about me,” Hadiza replied.
“But you know something about the Chalice, don’t you?”
Hadiza nodded, not meeting her gaze.
“Who made it?”
Hadiza was silent for a long moment. “The Chalice wasn’t made,” she said at last. “At least, not by an artificer. They say it was the original source of the Grace of Blood itself. Where did you think the Graces came from?”
Ephyra shrugged. “I hadn’t actually thought about it, to be honest.”
“Well, the legends state that there are four sources of Grace,” Hadiza said. “The Prophets were the first to gain their powers, the Grace of Sight. And they then bestowed the sources of Grace upon those they believed were worthy.”
“Who did they give the Chalice to?”
“The Chalice was given to a medicine woman. She was able to use its gift to heal the sick. At the time, there was a plague overtaking the city. The people went to their Prophet Behezda to ask if the plague would end. Behezda’s prophecy said that the plague could be cured if the blood of an innocent queen was spilled at the Red Gate. The medicine woman told the people of the city that she would become their queen and sacrifice herself for them. They crowned her the next morning. By nightfall, she was dead.”
Ephyra shivered despite the heat of the sun. She’d known only in vague outlines the story of the Sacrificed Queen. Now, it seemed to take on a new meaning, reminding her of Beru and the choice she’d made to leave Ephyra and let herself fade away.
“At first, the city thought the queen had sacrificed herself in vain,” Hadiza went on. “The plague was still just as rampant as before. For years they asked Behezda what her prophecy had truly meant. But as they later found out, when their queen died, her esha was released back into the land and was remade. Children were born with the Grace of Blood, like the queen. Her death helped create new healers, and she became known as the Sacrificed Queen.”
It was strange to think that Ephyra’s own Grace was linked to this queen, the first person with the Grace of Blood. “What about the Necromancer King? How did he come to possess the Chalice?”
“Years after the queen’s death,” Hadiza said, “the Prophet Behezda had another vision. She saw a terrible war—the dead rising up against the living, an army of revenants that would sweep through the desert. And the Chalice would be at the center of the chaos to come.”
“The Necromancer Wars,” Ephyra said.
Hadiza nodded. “Yes. When the Prophet Behezda told this prophecy to the new healers, those who had been born with the esha of the Sacrificed Queen, they took the Chalice and hid it in their temple outside the city. They called themselves the Daughters of Mercy. Whenever a child showed signs of having the Grace of Blood, the Daughters of Mercy would take them back to their hidden temple to train them.
“A few hundred years passed in this manner. But for all the Daughters’ efforts to track down those born with the gift, the Grace of Blood had spread beyond the desert. Still, the Daughters of Mercy kept the Chalice safe, and the Necromancer Wars seemed like they might never come to pass.”
“But they did,” Ephyra said. “How did they fail?”
“Four hundred years after Behezda’s prophecy, a boy with the Grace of Blood came to the Daughters of Mercy to be trained. He was a curious child, with abilities that grew stronger every day. The Daughters of Mercy became concerned about this child and banished him from their ranks, casting him out to the desert to die.”
“But he hadn’t done anything. They cast him out simply because he was powerful?” Anger came hot and swift and unexpected. She’d never known this part of the Necromancer King’s story. Everything she knew about the man had taken place after he’d crowned himself the Necromancer King, when he was already powerful and terrifying.
Hadiza looked at her curiously. “He had only shown that his power was greater than what the Daughters of Mercy could control. They feared him, and that fear led them to turn him into an outcast.”
Ephyra looked out at the dry land around them. She could imagine, a little, what that would have been like for the Necromancer King. Alone with his great power. Ephyra’s own parents had been frightened of her, the way the Daughters had been frightened of the Necromancer King. But Ephyra—she’d had Beru, at least. She’d never been truly alone until now.
“The boy remained in the wilderness for years, living off the land,” Hadiza continued. “Using the creatures and plants to keep himself alive. And he slowly started to push the boundaries of his power, the boundaries of nature. He learned how to raise the dead. Not humans, at first. Over the course of his travels, he glutted himself on the esha of people and creatures he found out there, taking their lives for his own. When he was strong enough, he returned to the Daughters of Mercy and demanded that they give him the Chalice. Having tasted the sweetness of power, he wanted even more of it. He used the strength he had stolen from others to take the Chalice. The Daughters, too fearful to use the Chalice themselves, were no match for him.”
Ephyra curled her hands into fists at her sides. She could imagine the kind of power the boy had commanded. She could imagine him wielding it against those who sought to stop him. She almost understood it.
“The rest you probably know,” Hadiza said. “He declared himself the king of Behezda, and with the power of the Chalice raised a revenant army to march on neighboring cities. Those who resisted were killed and then raised to become a part of his terrible army. He eventually marched on the Kingdom of Herat. His army had another effect, too—it sucked the land of life to keep the revenants alive, creating this desolate desert.”
“How was he finally defeated?”
“He wasn’t,” Hadiza said. “In the end, he was stopped because the Chalice’s power turned on him. Every revenant he made drew a little more of his power, until he was weak enough for the Daughters to seize the Chalice back. Without it, his revenant armies crumbled. The Prophets, who usually refused to meddle in mortal affairs, took it upon themselves to punish him for his crimes.”
“Why didn’t the Daughters just destroy the Chalice?” Ephyra asked. “Why hide it?”
“No one knows for sure what they did with it,” Hadiza replied. “I’ve heard a lot of stories. All different. None with any proof. Some people believe they did destroy it. But I think they couldn’t, that doing so would destroy their own power. So instead they hid it away where no one could find it.”
“No one,” Ephyra repeated. “Except us.”
“It’s my turn to ask a question,” Hadiza said, narrowing her eyes. “I know you’re hiding something from us.”
/> “Everything I told you is true,” Ephyra said. “My sister—”
“I believe that,” Hadiza said. “But there’s something else you’re not telling us. And if what you’re hiding means trouble for Shara and the rest of us . . . well, you better hope it doesn’t.”
She held Ephyra’s gaze for a long moment. Ephyra didn’t look away.
“Messing with that kind of power . . . it’ll get you killed,” Hadiza said at last. “So you better be sure it’s worth it.”
Ephyra swallowed. “It’s worth it.”
The hideout of the original Thief King turned out to be inside the ruins of what must have once been a colossally huge statue. All that was left now was a foot the size of a house and some rubble. It stood in the middle of nowhere, nothing but desert shrub surrounding them for miles.
“What is this place?” Ephyra asked.
“This was a monument to the very first rulers of this land,” Hadiza said.
“You mean, before the Prophets?” Ephyra asked. “What’s it doing out here?”
“No one really knows,” Hadiza admitted. “Nehemian legend says that the Creator God was angry that the people of the desert city built such a grand monument to someone who was not divine—the stories say he struck down the statue and scattered it throughout the desert in his wrath. Most likely, it was destroyed by a windstorm or something.”
“Some windstorm,” Parthenia said.
Ephyra turned to Shara. “Your predecessor built a hideout here?”
“Not exactly,” Shara replied. She had her ear pressed up against the large stone toenail, knocking at it carefully. “This hideout existed long before Badis found it. He was just the most recent occupant. Aha!”
She drew away from the toenail as it gave a low rumble and started to cleave open, revealing a stairwell that led into darkness. Shara flicked on an incandescent light that hung around her wrist, and led them down.
After a while, the stairs leveled out into a large stone chamber. The darkness faded into dimness as Shara darted around the room, turning on the lights.
With the room illuminated, they could now see what looked like a workshop. A large desk sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by tall bookshelves. The shelves were in disarray, books lying open on the ground, loose pages carpeting the floor as if a shamal had come through. Three wooden chests were splintered open, their contents scattered around them.
As the Shadow Rises: Book Two of The Age of Darkness Page 6
