"You are joking, surely?"

They were inside the Auroch's Head Inn.

“I’m not joking.”

Eris gazed into Rook's blue eyes with a look that oozed disbelief. It was quiet and smoky and late and on their table were their backpacks, which they were careful not to flaunt too carelessly. Whenever the wench passed them by Eris shifted in her seat to block any possible view.

"You must be," she insisted.

"We promised him a share."

"On condition that he participated in the expedition. He did not."

Rook leaned back. "That wasn't notarized."

"Of course it wasn't notarized, he is illiterate!” She noticed the volume in her voice and quieted herself back down to a whisper. "We do not have enough to waste it on—freeloaders."

"Would you have given Lina her share?"

"Had she survived, yes, as a matter of prudence. That was the deal we made, but she fulfilled her end. Better than I might have hoped, in fact."

A look of brief disapproval crossed his face, but he replied in an even-tone, “It won't be prudent to have Algis telling everyone we robbed a Spire—easier to give him what we promised.”

Eris frowned. She looked Rook over. He was a square-jawed, strong-featured young man, broad-shouldered and tall. Very handsome, she thought. And surprisingly reasonable.

She did not like him.

"Fine,” she said. “But when next we go out, we are replacing him."

"Fine."

"Your charity is admirable only so long as we return to town with enough to feed ourselves." She felt something shift on her foot and remembered. "And your mutt. What is his share, by the way?"

Pyraz was sleeping under the table.

"A quarter for him." Rook's words were joking, but more distant: he held a hand to his head as if overcome with a migraine. "Only I'm his steward for now, until he gets his hands back. If he’s really the Pyraz.”

"That is the name on the amulet, the blade, the sepulcher..."

"They might have buried him with the dog."

"They did not 'bury him,' they put him at the top of a tower. And if they did do such a thing, why did we find a mutt but no man?”

"So?"

"So, I do not know, but I suspect he, Pyraz, was somehow transformed."

“Into a dog.”

“Into a mutt.”

"Is that possible?"

"Anything is possible when dealing with the arcane. I’ll admit it seems unlikely, but more likely than your theory of the disappearing warrior.”

Silence fell after that. They ate well—Eris' first hot meal in months.

The two had little in common with each other. The conversation ceased inelegantly. They were both exhausted, and although Eris would never admit it, shaken from what they had seen. The wound on Rook's head was still swelling and when Eris stood she was overcome with lightheadedness. It would be days at least before they could travel again. Longer. Maybe weeks.

Weeks in Vandens. What a cruel fate. Yet not as cruel as life on the road might prove.

The Auroch's Head charged fabulous nightly rates. The two young adventurers paid them without much sense of what was or wasn't fair; come morning they were grateful for a landlord who took gold without asking questions. Rook's headache devolved into a clear concussion the following day and for the next week he remained mostly in his room, with his mutt, and Eris was left alone.

Alone, surrounded by people.

Vandens was a busy port town, the only bay in all of Rytus. It was from here that Dwarfs shipped most of their goods south across the Erimos peninsula, to Pyrthos and the rest of Esenia. The dock was run mostly by humans. It reminded Eris of her early youth in the streets of Katharos. That was not a reminder that excited any nostalgia. When she left her room on the inn's second storey, when she proceeded to the port or market to restock on supplies or visit the Old Kingdom library, she was overcome with a sense of vulnerability. Shadowy figures surrounded her wherever she went.

She tightened the lace on her cloak and carried on. Should anything happen, this time, there would be no repeat of the scene in the Spire's vault. Beyond that, the most she could do was find isolation; and in isolation, comfort.

At late afternoon on the second day she watched the sun set across the shoreline just north of town. In the woods she was alone again. There she felt at peace. There she could think unmolested. She savored silence. Through all her life silence was the thing she had most lacked. Silence and…

Her attention turned toward the jade bracelet. Her jade bracelet, recovered from the Magister's vault in the Spire.

She twisted it on her wrist.

There were magnets beneath her skin. Like her blood was made of pure iron and every pint was trying to break free from her veins. Only when she turned the bracelet was there any pain, but the discomfort lingered whenever she focused her mind on the part of her body where flesh brushed against jade.

She experimented with it for an hour before giving up. It was a ward, but whether its power held against shades or demons or steel or magic she couldn’t say. No doubt time would render clear the answer. Her hope had been to find ancient books of spells when venturing to a Spire, but any artifact was better than mere gold.

One week became two. Eris never had money before. At first she was frugal, until she walked the stalls of the markets. Frugality did not survive first contact with desire. There was so much to want. She looked older than she was and, at least in speech, gave the impression of maturity; but in fact Eris was only sixteen, and she was still possessed of a girlish infatuation with things. All manner of things, but above all, nice things—of the sort she never before was permitted to have.

She couldn’t resist the urge to taste them now.

She bought a gold-fringed hand mirror. She purchased furs and pillows and a silken gown, and she took them all home to her room at the inn, and she wallowed in them. The mirror above all was her favorite. Not just because it showed her herself, but because of how incredibly fine it was. She ran her fingers across the gold along the polished glass time and time again. Like a little girl with a stuffed animal she held it to her chest and slept with it in her bed.

Someday, she promised herself, she would drown in jewelry and finery and more mirrors just like this one. So much gold and silver would be strewn across her body that a dozen servants would be employed just to help her walk. Even the Archon would shudder at the ostentatiousness of her wealth. That was in her future. She could see it clearly. One day.

For now, the mirror was all she had. She guarded it jealously.

It wasn’t until her coffers were more than halfway spent that Eris realized how quickly gold could go. Travel and action were hard, and so she felt a pang of sorrow; yet her ambition was not satisfied to be bounded in a place like this, like a prison, for the rest of her life. Even if all her wishes of wealth came true today she would not be content to stay put. She demanded more from life. She possessed an image of herself that she was determined to make manifest.

Also, at the current rate of income, she would starve before the end of the month. Preparations were therefore necessary.

She knocked on Rook’s door. It opened. He stood there, on the other side, in a new set of clothes. His blond hair was freshly cut. The gash on his forehead was gone and their eyes met nearly on-level. He was tall, but only three inches taller than her—Eris was herself a very tall woman.

He did clean up nicely, she thought. Now he seemed almost regal. As for her…

Rook took one look at the fur draped over her shoulders and burst into laughter.

She clenched her jaw. Her heart sank while fury rose.

“What are you wearing?” he said.

There were more ways to respond than words. She was a trained mage. She could make an example out of him. Even just to send a message. Make him laugh at that. A tempting idea.

Instead, she sneered.

“I was cold in my room,” she lied.

“Rats aren't known for warmth where I'm from.”

“You are filled with bravado for a man who, not two weeks ago, was nearly killed by a statue.” Her voice oozed irony: Eris spoke in tones of perpetual insincerity. Malicious mocking smiles, high pitches pursued by stabbing punchlines. More remarkable was when she spoke only to speak. “Charming though your remarks are, I did not come here to be insulted. Shall I depart, or may I come in?”

He stepped to the side. “I'm sorry, that was rude. Come in." He whispered as she passed him by: "Just be careful around Pyraz.”

The mutt was on the bed. His tail wagged as she entered, but he otherwise remained inert. For a while they stood together in that room in silence. Eris wanted to speak—she had a great deal to say—but couldn’t find the words. She found it easy to degrade, to lie, and to coerce, but to communicate was more challenging. She lacked experience.

Rook took a seat at the mutt’s side.

“There are a number of things we must take care of,” she began. “The least of which is to determine where we next intend to go.”

“I think it’s more fun to start with talking about what we’ll do with our shares of the winnings. But if you insist.” He reached into a satchel on the ground and withdrew a piece of paper covered in crude drawings. “I met a halfling named Zydnus who’s interested in coming with us. He gave me this.”

Eris took it. No matter how long she stared at the ink on the page, she couldn’t decipher what it showed.

“I hope you did not pay for it,” she said.

“He said it’s a collapsed mine near Kaimas.”

“Ah, I see. There are rocks…the cactuses, I suppose, are there?”

He snatched it back. “I thought those were flamingos…” The paper was stowed away. “Zyd says the dwarf who owned the place went missing. His wife is offering a bounty for his body.”

“Digging through rubble! How exciting. Have you considered there may be a cemetery closer by we could rob instead? No doubt exhuming corpses is easier than moving fallen stone.”

Rook smiled. “I knew you’d say that.”

“You know me too well already.” She stood. “I say we return to the Spire. The Oldwalls must have something worth scavenging. If you are determined to play miner, so be it, but I will not come.”

“Okay,” he said, still smiling. He leaned back. The expression on his face very peculiar. Eris could only frown.

“Okay,” she huffed. It was something of a bluff, but she intended to carry through with her promise. So she turned. Just as she reached the door, though, he called out to her:

“You know what they mined at Kaimas, don’t you?”

“Should I?” she said with disinterest.

“No, I suppose not. I only thought you would.”

“You may account yourself disappointed.”

“Then you wouldn’t care to know that it’s a Manastone mine?”

She stopped in the doorframe. Turned back to him. “Manastone?”

Now his smile was gone. He shrugged. “I thought it might make a difference to you, but clearly I was wrong. Forget it.”

“Near Kaimas, you say?”

“Not three days to the north.”

Eris bit her lip. She was silent for a long time. Manastone was extraordinarily valuable and well worth stealing for that reason alone, but it had other properties of interest to a magician like her. Uses normally limited only to the elves in Seneria and the Magisters in Pyrthos. This changed everything—embarrassing though she found admitting it.

“…if there is a bounty out for this dwarf, like you say, it may not be such a terrible waste of time…”

“No, you’re right. Clearing away rubble—that sort of thing is better left for slaves. I shouldn’t have suggested it to you. Forget about it.”

“Truly, I think it may not be so bad…”

“Are you sure?”

“Why…yes. After all, the Oldwalls will be standing yet for millennia to come, whereas this Erkent may be recovered by other adventurers sooner before later. We should make haste, then, before such a fate befalls us.”

“In that case, good." Rook bounded up to his feet. Somehow Eris received the impression that he was not surprised by this outcome. "I’ll introduce you to Zyd tomorrow morning. Make sure you have everything you need for the journey.”