A dog barked and splashed in the rain.

Eris clenched her eyes. She tried not to listen, but every yap pierced her eardrums and rattled her skull and jolted her like a shock of static electricity. It was like being back at the academy with a servitor rattling away at her door. She might drift back to sleep between raps, only to be shaken awake by tremors in the air.

More barking. More splashing. The wetness she didn’t mind, nor the cold, nor the numb all around her body; but if there could just be quiet…

Eris clenched her eyes. She tried not to listen. And it almost worked, she almost fell back asleep, when a shard of glass was pulled from her hand.

Her eyes shot open. “Bastard!” she swore. There was a man over her, holding her hands, and she tried to push him away, but when she righted herself she saw his green eyes and soaked slicked-back hair and realized it was Robur.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. She could hardly hear him over the sound of the downpour. “We really must remove this glass at once.”

She checked her arms. No manarashes. Indeed she felt fine, although groggy. Her memory was hazy on how she found herself in this position—for a brief few seconds. All returned presently. She remembered the collapse of the spider, the emergence of Rook, the sun coming down on her skin…

The sun was gone again now. Yet apparently they had won, for she was still alive.

She nodded for Robur to continue. He did so, quickly, pulling free the largest shards of glass still embedded in her palms. Then he cast a spell: the smallest pieces of shrapnel were forced, as if her skin were gelatin, to the surface, then the ground.

Eris frowned at him. “Where have you learned this?”

“Since it became clear to me you were injured—very frequently, I have been studying medicine. I had already as well—this spell was in the orc’s other book, along with others.”

He wasn’t finished with his sentence before he lost her interest. She looked about the bailey for Rook. She didn’t need strain herself to find him, for the barking, splashing dog was at his side. Pyraz threw himself against Rook from the front. Jumping in excitement.

“We will have to replace these bandages soon, once everything is dry,” Robur said. He wrapped her hands in linen. She still wasn’t watching.

Rook did not look well. Eris saw him only from the back. Once the worst cuts were covered she said, “I am fine. Tend to him. What has happened? Where is Astera?”

Robur stood but didn’t reply. Eris looked to Jason, who she saw stood with his back to the keep’s walls. He let himself be soaked by the rain.

Pyraz barked again. He splashed and waded through the water—the bailey was filling like a lake—to Eris, then back to Rook. Eris stumbled after him, and it was only then that she saw.

Rook and Aletheia held each other tightly. He cradled her like a child, and when Eris approached he looked up, but he said nothing.

A pool of empty mail armor laid halfway submerged at Rook’s legs.

Eris knew immediately what had happened. Her first reaction was a visceral one: they traded one liability for another. The idiot elf for the useless child. She disliked Astera more yet wanted to travel with Aletheia less. Yet as she watched the man she was infatuated with hold this girl, something in her softened. She recalled the story Jason told of the freeing of Lord Arqa and the terrible fate that befell the creature which now sobbed in Rook’s arms. Even Eris felt pity at that. No child deserved to be disregarded so. True, she would have made the same choice as Astera, without any hesitation, but then she would never have pretended virtue; she would never have made assurances to anyone of selflessness or protection; she would never have lied to say she would be something she was not.

She might also have worked harder to find some other way out of the bind with her wits before acquiescing to the vampire’s dilemma.

To tell the truth, she was surprised the elf did it in the end. Aletheia’s life seemed a waste of immortality to Eris. But she didn’t say so. She said nothing and watched onward.

The remaining dwarf waded closer. He put a hand on Rook’s shoulder. “Lad,” he said. “Let’s move inside. Ye can’t stay here forever. We need to treat our woonds.”

Aletheia snorted. She shivered, but Rook nodded, and he stood her up, and together they all moved inside the tower. Jason grabbed Arqa’s sword and Astera’s things and brought them inside. There rain battered down against the walls like a thousand undead soldiers. It was dry but only just, and to be safe they proceeded down the stars, taking cover in the darkness belowground.

Eris found a sconce and lit it. Robur tended to Rook’s wounds. Aletheia sat on the steps, snorting, still crying, and after a time Eris realized that what possessed her wasn’t sorrow or despair, but fear. Paralyzing, all-possessing fear which petrified her and thawed only very, very slowly.

“That was the damnedest thing I’ve ever saw,” the dwarf said.

“I should hope so,” Eris said.

“You’re amazing,” Jason said. It was to no one in particular.

“I am aware,” Eris said.

“Everyone,” Rook said. “Everyone has done so much more than I ever could have asked.”

“Do not sound so surprised we won,” Eris said.

“To tell the truth, Eris,” he said with a pained smile, “I’m shocked.”

She smirked back at him. Aletheia snorted again; that was when she controlled herself. For the first time her eyes opened, red beyond belief, and she looked straight to Eris.

Confusion. Pure confusion. She breathed heavily.

“How,” she started. “I—how?” She looked between everyone around her, and to Pyraz, who wagged his tail and jumped on her again. He assaulted her cheeks with licks and she was forced to laugh, but only for a second before tears returned. “What happened?” she finally managed.

“Don’t you remember?” Jason said.

She looked at him. “I—I remember…we were here. Right here. And there was…Astera…and you…”

Her breathing picked up. Rook pulled away from Robur and went to her on the stairs and wrapped himself around her.

“It’s okay,” he said as she burst back into tears. “I’m here now. The monster is gone. You’re safe.”

“It hurt so much,” she sobbed, “and then…”

Rook stroked her hair. “You don’t need to tell us. It’s all right.”

Eris had to admit there was something to the way he handled himself with the girl that she enjoyed watching. A reminder of his charisma, perhaps, of how he always knew what to say. It didn’t precisely make her jealous—yet it did remind her of how long it had been since their last intimate encounter. Much too long, in her opinion.

After a few minutes more Aletheia calmed again. “Where’s Astera?” she asked.

Rook hung his head. So it was he told her the whole story. No detail spared, from Darom to Nanos: everything explained in full.

“She sacrificed herself for you,” he said.

“She won’t ever be back?”

Rook shook his head. “No,” he said. “She’s gone. But we’ll always remember her.”

“We are referring to the woman who threw you to the wolves so she might more easily escape,” Eris said. She couldn’t help herself.

Aletheia started to cry again. Rook sighed. He kept his embrace until the girl was calm, and only then looked back to Eris. Yet he wasn’t cross like she expected. In fact he was smiling.

“All things considered,” he said, “I account this a happy ending.”

“Except for the people of Arqa,” Jason said.

“There were some losses…”

“And me brothers,” the dwarf said.

“They went as heroes.”

“And Absalon,” Eris said.

“He said he was happy to die for his homeland, so we should be happy for him.”

“And Astera,” Aletheia said.

“No,” Rook said to her softly. “She made her choice—and she chose to pay for her greatest mistake. She wouldn’t want you to waste the gift she gave you on sorrow.” He cringed in pain for a moment, but only for a moment; his good humor returned thereafter. Eris hadn’t seen him like this since their reunion. She had underestimated how much he cared for this irritating little girl. “Bear with me,” he continued, “allow me to try a line.”

Jason groaned. “Not this again.”

“To Arqa hot from Nanos cold down Hepaz river wide;

The Witch we brought for our plan bold to Darom’s fate decide:

She reached up to the clouds and tore a hole for heaven’s eye;

Beneath the sun a beast dissolved to dust before the sky.”

Robur cocked an eye. “You did that off the top of your head?”

“There isn’t much else going on up there,” Rook said. “Hold on…

And then there came a fall beside the one we came to save;

The elf, whose heart bore all the blame: redemption she did crave.

She brought herself down to the girl we thought so long ago had died;

And gave a soul away for her, and thus that death decried.”

He laughed at himself. “A little somber, maybe. My next one will be better.”

An onslaught of thunder cracked outside. The rain came down ever harder.

“It seems we may be stuck here for some time,” Eris said. “With the master of the house banished, perhaps we are given the opportunity to return to our roots?”

“You read my mind,” Jason said. They shared a look, and they both knew. They had a vault to find.

“Graverobbing,” Rook said. “It’s been so long I’d almost forgotten.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Aletheia said. “Has it?”

“Almost a year,” he said. She tilted her head. It was obvious now, looking at them all together, that they were older. Rook had more scars and more facial hair. Jason was less scrawny. Robur was taller, although not by much, and Eris herself knew she looked less girl and more woman when she saw herself in a mirror.

But not Aletheia. She was older than when Eris last saw her, but a year younger than she should have been.

Eris interrupted to break the silence. “I suspect there is much to find in this place. We should not waste all our time musing about poetry.”

“Just don’t open any vaults,” Aletheia said quietly.

Rook nodded. He tried to stand, but he grunted in pain and lowered himself again to the steps at Aletheia’s side. “I might leave exploration to the rest of you for the time being. I appear to be injured.”

“A convenient excuse, lad,” the dwarf said. “But ye can watch over yer girl. The rest of us’ll give the place a good sweep.”

“Is she part of the team again?” Aletheia said.

“We couldn’t have defeated him without her,” Rook said. They sat together on the steps leading up at the tower’s bottom floor and watched the rain, listening to the torrents. Lightning flashed in streaks along the pooling water. The way back up had been exceedingly uncomfortable, but Aletheia helped haul him, and now they tended a small fire at which they cooked dinner. Smoke trailed into the maelstrom outside.

“But she abandoned us.”

“It wasn’t like that. She…”

“Abandoned me.”

“That was a long time ago. Things have changed, and so has she.”

Aletheia closed her eyes and took a breath. “It didn’t sound like it.”

“We owe her everything. And don’t tell her I said it—but I trust her in battle more than anyone except you.”

She frowned and put her head against his shoulder. “Do you love her?”

Rook laughed. He shook his head. He tried to respond, but he couldn’t think of the right words, so instead he asked, “Why do you ask that?”

She shrugged, then with complete sullen solemnity, “She has big boobs.” When Rook laughed again she looked up at him and, still sorrowful, she added, “And other reasons.”

He held her more tightly. “I love all my friends.”

“But not like you love her.”

However awkward it was to admit, Rook tried to be honest. “Maybe. I don’t know. But maybe you’re right that there are more reasons to want her around than her magic.” He considered. “Then again, someone has to teach you.”

“Can’t you do it?”

“No.”

“I know. But…can’t you try instead? I don’t think she’ll be a good teacher…”

“There’s only one way we’ll know for sure,” Rook said. He smiled at her and roughed her hair. Then he looked to the wall. There Jason had propped up Astera’s sword, the Seeker’s sword, against the wall. The orc’s Elven bow was there, too. He reached for the sword and grabbed it by the hilt and brought it down to Aletheia’s hands. “But I will teach you how to use a sword.”

Rook’s sword was lying in a puddle of blood. Eris picked it up and wiped it off.

“I don’t suppose he’ll want to count that as loot bounty?” Jason said. “Probably worth five talents.”

“I think not,” Eris said. Rook had given her his scabbard before she departed. She slid it safely away. “Be careful where you wave your own.”

Jason still held Lord Arqa’s sword. He kept it at his side, but the blade swept through the air with alarming imprecision.

“I have it under control,” he said.

“We should destroy et. No doubt et’s cursed,” the dwarf said.

“Pretty shit curse if it can be used to kill its wielder.”

“Let me examine it,” Robur said. “I will be able to tell—"

Jason pulled away. “No thanks. No offense but I don’t even know you. I’m not dropping my only guaranteed income from this place. Not until we find the vault.”

“Yes,” Eris said. “The fabled hidden vault. Where, precisely, will we find it?”

“If I knew that, it wouldn’t be hidden.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “Let us start with his study, then.”

So they proceeded down the subterranean halls. Eris read before in old tomes that aristocrats in the dark ages since the Old Kingdom built their keeps in layouts to dazzle and confuse intruders, with trap doors and false hallways and dead ends and interminable corridors impossible to navigate during an assault. Lord Arqa seemed to be of such a school of architecture. They spent hours lost together in those tunnels, arguing over which way to go.

“No!” Eris said. “We have already gone that way! It is left, you idiot dwarf!”

“Are ye doubtin’ a dwarf’s knowledge of the underground?”

“No, I am doubting your memory. You are taking us in circles.”

“Bah! Ye don’t know what we’re lookin’ to find any more than me.”

“I know ‘tis not dust and rubble in the dark.” She folded her arms.

“I believe Kas is correct,” Robur said. “Let us try this direction.”

Thus it went, back and forth. They passed all manner of amenities on the way, including accoutered rooms for guests. So deep underground, in the normally-dry climate of Darom, tapestries, sheets, blankets, and pillows remained largely undecayed. Eris stopped to examine one such room and was amazed to find it hardly even musty.

She snapped her fingers to light candles along the wall.

“Something has preserved this place,” she said.

“I don’t detect any spells,” Robur said.

“No. There is no magic here any longer. Most likely ‘tis the influence of Arqa’s Essence, arresting the decay of more than just flesh.”

“Don’t complain,” Jason said. “Maybe we’ll finally get a good nights’ sleep.”

Their wanderings led them to a horrible stench that hung in the still air. They followed it, and presently they found Lord Arqa’s study. A beautiful library, lined with books. A desk covered in papers. A slaughterhouse for one poor young woman.

Jason threw up to see the girl butchered on the hook across from the desk.

“Stonemother’s beard,” the dwarf said. “Poor lass.”

“What do we do?” Jason gagged. “Can we—can we leave her?”

“We should take her to the surface…” Robur started.

Eris waved them to the side. She held her breath and stepped forward. The girl was naked and bore no identifying marks. Content to know there was nothing more to be done, Eris said, “Make a barrier around her.”

“Why?” Robur said.

“Do it now,” Eris said. Robur complied; a red wall of glass flickered between her and the girl. “More tightly, so it wraps to the walls.”

Once satisfied with the forcefield, she centered herself. There was no mana in the air in this place. She was forced to rely only upon her own Essence. But there was time enough to prepare, so she did, and when she was ready she brought up a column of green fire.

Starting at the girl’s feet, she drew it to the crown of her head. She held it, then intensified the flame. Making it burn as hot as she could. Smoke trailed into the air but the heat was contained; she maintained the effect until she felt as though she had been punched in the chest, winded, out of breath.

When the fire dissipated, nothing remained but ash.

The dwarf said a prayer.

“Now you may forget about hauling her to the surface for a burial,” Eris said. How ridiculous that sounded when enunciated—to bring a dead girl out from underground, so they might bury her again.

Jason nodded.

They all scoured the room. Eris was drawn to the bookshelves, yet she was horrified to see tome after tome after tome written by the same name: Artoros Arqa.

She pulled one off a shelf and glanced it over. A history on some war or another. Then another, and the next, all scholarly works, all disinteresting.

“This man wrote his own library,” she said.

“He had a hobby,” Jason said. He had found the scabbard for Arqa’s sword and finally put the black blade away.

“I am not interested in ‘Notes on the Skanian Purges.’ This is rubbish.”

Robur was at another shelf. “He does have some others. The paper for all these books must have cost many fortunes.”

“Then let’s find the fortunes and split,” Jason said.

Eris gravitated toward the desk. She peered over the papers there. “I am ever-more inclined to agree.” Her eyes scanned the topmost writings. They were largely incoherent ravings, yet as they ransacked everything in sight for some hint as to where to find the ‘secret’ vault, she was forced to read more than she might have liked.

It was of passing interest. Apparently Artoros was an adventurer in his own day, a gentleman thrillseeker, and it was at these efforts where he met the elf Daphana. He fancied himself a tender soul, a scholar, a writer, a scribe, an academic—that was apparent. He also kept extensive diaries. Eris could chart a clear cognitive decline in his writings. Where his scholarly activities began as merely dull, they quickly devolved into lunacy. This intellectual transition coincided with his transition from black ink to what looked like blood.

The lunatic ramblings in one journal amused her so much that she almost forgot why she was reading, when providence supplied what she searched for:

…the blade was doused in the blood of forty virgins for forty tides to create the key. I had hoped the ritual would earn back the village’s trust, yet even now they grow only more distant from me; I have done nothing to them ever, except in the name of love. Yet they scheme and lie and attack my guards and pluck away at my treasury: now they will be shown, and now everything will be secure. The legacy of Arqa will not fall under my watch. Even my steward schemes to rob me. Now no one will access my tribute except me. And I will extend my hand in friendship again to the people, to demonstrate my devotion to them.

Some lines down:

All humans must die! Kill all living things! Slit their throats! Drain their bodies! Make every virgin a corpse! Enslave every cadaver! Starve every plant! Slit every throat! Drain every body! Kill all elves! Black out the sun! Extinguish every torch! Burn Katharos to the ground!

“What a charming man,” Eris mused.

“He says here that he’s installing a chamber under his bedroom,” Jason said. He held a few bound pieces of paper. “But that’s it. No mention of the key.”

“I believe you are holding it,” Eris said.

“What?”

She gestured to the sword and quoted the sentence to which she referred.

Jason regarded the sword in its sheath. He shuddered. “You’d think blood would dry up after forty tides. Even from forty virgins.”

“Perhaps it was one virgin every tide,” Robur said.

“Oh. That’d make more sense.”

“Let’s find his bedchamber,” the dwarf said, “and find this vault.”

“Good idea,” Jason said. “Not so sure I want to hold onto this sword anymore.”

They didn’t need to travel far. A splendid bedchamber was across the hall from the study. Beyond a sturdy banded door stood a perfectly preserved room of splendor to rival the Archon’s birthing room in the Kathar royal palace. Silks draped from the ceiling, a bath to wash in, a bed draped in finery, mirrors on the walls. Everything was red. Together they cleared the walls of hanging velvet and silk and searched for what might be the entrance to some secret chamber. Nothing gave it away by sight, but Eris felt an enchantment that still held on one of the four walls, and she led the party there.

“Raise the sword here,” she said.

Jason did so.

Nothing happened.

She pushed against the wall. “Robur. Does the enchantment on the wall match that of the sword?”

He used Supernal Vision. A moment later he nodded. “Yes. I believe the blade is missing a catalyst.”

“Catalyst?” the dwarf said.

“He means that it is a key, and we have found the door, yet there is yet no lock to slot it into.”

“It’s a sword,” Jason said. “You don’t slot it into locks. You slot it into people.”

A moment. He and Eris shared a glance.

“Blood,” she said. “Douse the blade in blood and hold it against the wall.”

“‘Douse?’” Jason said.

Eris rolled her eyes. She undid the bandages on her hands and ran her open wounds up and down the vampire’s blade. She coated it with her blood—a thin film, but blood all the same.

Jason raised it to the wall—

Nothing.

Silence.

“What did the book say?” the dwarf said. “Virgin blood? Maybe yer blood ain’t the right kind. Are ye a virgin?”

Eris crossed her arms and stared down at him. “As it happens, no.”

“Not me neither,” he said.

“You can count me out,” Jason said.

A few seconds. Everyone looked to Robur.

“Oh,” he said. “Are you certain male blood will work—”

“There is only one way to know,” Eris said.

Robur nodded slowly. After a long pause he stuck out his hands and let Jason nick him. Blood swelled down the fuller of the blade. Then, like a lit torch, he held it to the door.

Something cracked. The yellow stone of the wall shifted. Brick by brick it reconfigured itself, sliding out of place like the mortar had failed and someone pushed each building block out of place from the other side, until a narrow passage revealed itself, leading down a flight of stairs.

Jason clapped Robur on the back. “We’re going to be so rich,” he said, “we need to find you the most expensive whore we can.”

“I—perhaps I should return to Rook—to tell him what we found.”

“That seems wise,” Eris said. “Take him his sword. He will be giddy to know ‘tis safe.” She handed him the sheathed blade.

“I…yes, I will.”

“Don’t get lost,” Jason said.

Robur departed.

“All right,” the dwarf said. “Let’s go see what this vault’s made of.”

Not a single fixture for light anywhere. They were forced to stop on the steps to retrieve a torch from Eris’ backpack—she had neglected to throw several away, through pure lapse in foresight. She handed it to Jason and lit it.

The descent was quiet. Percussive footsteps all the way down, no one said anything. Eris was reminded of the entrance to the underground portal facility in Nanos last year. There was another spiral staircase; another enchanted lock; another search for a secret vault; another three-man expedition; and another adventure with a dwarf and a boy at her side.

This time, however, they emerged in no corridor. The moment their feet hit the final step, they found themselves in a vault.

The ceiling was banded in reinforced, tented domes supported by columns, like starfish propped up to form a roof. Though the style was impressive, the work in each sandy brick was not. The walls were uneven and ugly. The masonry suggested a lack of skill on the craftsman’s part.

That was not the primary attraction, for when Jason raised his torch, they found themselves surrounded by the glittering of gold.

More coins than could be counted. Not just gold but silver, too, and gems, and shelves of jewelry, and all other manner of valuables. All were piled here as if sucked up into the mouth of some great dragon and regurgitated without thought in the most secretive place that could be found. There was no order to any of it, except at the far wall, where stood statues of silver and idols of bronze and a pedestal, and atop it was a gem in which glowed purple light like the galaxy on the darkest of nights.

The dwarf, who was either Ras or Kas, rushed forward to it. “So et’s true,” he said, and he reached out to touch it.

“What?” Jason said. He followed.

“A forgestone of Kem-Karwene. The heart of a manaforge, lad. They said the Vampire of Arqa stole such a piece—but I’ve never seen ‘un meself. I never thought…”

“You knew this was here?” Eris said.

“Ye think me and me brothers came here for charity? The Prince sent us!”

“You said—”

“Aye, I said, and so I meant what I said. The foul undead should be slain, and they have been. But this forgestone is why we came.”

Eris gazed into the shifting violet at the stone’s center. A forgestone. Such a gem could be used at a manaforge to craft anything that could be dreamed. So long as the forge was given a clear command, a wish, it would transform a sliver of the gem into some object. Such was the most miraculous device left behind by the Old Kingdom. Even the Dwarves of Kem-Karwene did not know the secrets to manufacture forgestones any longer.

This stone was worth more than all the rest of the room put together. Not only to the right buyer, but to adventurers who might find some way to use it for themselves.

The dwarf picked it up.

“Put that down, dwarf,” Eris said.

He turned to look at her. “Why?”

“You shall not prance into this vault to scoop up the most valuable treasures for yourself. That stone is mine.”

Jason looked between the two of them, before stepping to Eris’ side. “She’s right. You don’t get first take.”

The dwarf scowled. “This stone is property of the Prince. It was stolen.”

“If ‘twas, ‘twas centuries ago. Now ‘tis ours.”

“It’s the Prince’s and it always will be, human!”

“Kas,” Jason said, “put it down.”

The dwarf, Kas, shook his head. “No.”

“You have contributed the least among all those left alive,” Eris said. “You are not taking this treasure.”

“Then try to stop me,” Kas said. He kept a dagger at his side and he put his hand on it, and he went to push past Eris.

She stepped in his way.

“This will not end well for you, dwarf.”

“Listen to her,” Jason said.

“This is the only reward I ask. Tell yer Rook.”

“We will not,” Eris said.

He drew his dagger. “Step aside!”

Eris looked to the dagger. Her attention locked: she pulled it from his hands. He wasn’t ready for that and the blade flew point-first toward her. She ducked and it clattered against the stairs behind. Kas swore and lunged for her.

“Grab him!” she said.

Jason did. He dropped his torch and jumped forward to grab the dwarf; the two of them became embroiled in a brawl, holding each other back. Eris stepped forward and recovered the forgestone, rolling it away to safety. Then she prepared to cast another spell.

She concentrated on Kas. He shifted and moved, but even so she managed to target him, and she rearranged the fiber of his being. A dwarf was a sturdier creature than a rat. It was harder, took longer than she expected, as she weaved Polymorph; Jason was bruised badly, he was losing the fight, yet just as the dwarf raised to his feet, triumphant in the fight, there came a flash of white smoke.

When the smoke cleared, Kas was gone. His clothes fell to the ground.

A cricket hopped out from beneath the heap. Eris stepped forward and crushed it beneath the heel of her sandal.

Jason rolled to his side. Coughing. “Shit,” he said. He climbed back up to his feet. Bruised, beaten, but he would be fine. He looked at the smeared insect guts on the ground. “Shit. You killed him.”

“He had not drawn his dagger because he wanted to play,” Eris said.

He nodded. Wiping blood from his noise. Eris lowered herself to the dwarf’s clothes and incinerated them with a quick burst of energy. She was exhausted now, her Essence tapped so far belowground, and she closed her eyes to rest for a moment.

“We can’t tell Rook,” Jason said.

“No.”

“So what do we say?”

A long pause. Eris considered the options. “Anything we like. He is no state to disbelieve us.”

“Aren’t the two of you…”

“And?”

“I don’t—I mean, I don’t care—but lying to someone like that—can you keep it up?”

“‘tis a lie for his own good. We will tell him the dwarf went after Robur and became lost. We have not seen him since.”

“…okay. Good idea. We’ll have to pretend to look around a bit, but it’d be easy to get lost somewhere like this.” He looked down at the leftover dagger and picked it up. “I’ll hide this somewhere,” he said.

Eris smiled. “You are sensible after all.”

He nodded to the forgestone. “When money like this is involved, damn right I am.”

Eris wrapped the forgestone in her cloak. She didn’t have the heart to tell Jason then that there was no chance, in an eternity, that she would sell in artifact like this. She would use it for herself—when she found the opportunity to do so. Yet all the same, she found herself appreciating his spirit. There was a man with the right attitude toward profit and profitability.

“Now,” she said. “Let us appreciate how rich we have just become.”