Books strewn, beakers shattered, drawers pulled from their runners and tossed to the floor, it looked like a tornado had swept through her workshop.

  Eliza had been so tired when they got in, she hadn’t bothered to check, climbing straight into bed. Now, she wished she’d downed a week’s worth of rot brew tea instead.

  “No.” Her blood ran cold—the Sylvan book wasn’t the only thing missing.

  The boy, cat… whatever, poked his head through the door.

  “Rafe got a bloom stone.” She sank to her knees.

  Piece by piece she collected it all, sorting and taking stock, until finally she announced, as much to herself as to Oliver, “A bit of good news. He didn’t take any of my notes. The Sylvan book was out on the table, so he must have thought that was my flame-bloom reference. At least whoever has it can’t make more.”

  “Want to see something really scary?” she added, prying the melted remnants of a metal tool out of a large locked chest. “He was trying to pick this.”

  Opening it, she watched the cat poke his head in. The fur on his back stood on end.

  It contained a five by ten grid of bloom stones. She’d finished the first shipment all at once, proud of her efficiency.

  “Yeah, boom.” Eliza made a poofing gesture with her hand. “I am so stupid.” She slid to the floor. “You know, I thought they’d be useful for cleaning up the pox. It’s still in parts of the empire. Clearing out rats and whatnot, or blasting through rock for mining… or maybe even as fireworks.” She gave a tired chuckle. “I came up with a thousand legitimate uses, but there was only one I ever really cared about, getting a better rank with the guild.”

  All those lives it had cut short—and more still to come—Eliza stared at her creation…

  With a fuzzy nudge at her elbow, Oliver held the spirit board in his mouth. He’d gotten better at manipulating it, moving the puck with his spark and signifying spaces by stopping in the blank areas, so it went much faster now.

  He spelled out, ‘THELE MAY HELP.’

  “You’d really trust him with fifty flame blooms?”

  Oliver tapped twice and, with a huff, lay down beside her.

  “You’re taking this all in stride. Sorry about the whole turning you into a cat thing… We need to get that book back.”

  The cat spelled out, ‘TAKE CARE OF BLOOM 1ST.’

  “Look, thanks for trying to make this easy, but…” Eliza scruffed up what would have been Oliver’s hair, if he wasn’t a cat, which was her fault.

  ‘SET THEM OFF.’

  “In the chamber? I have to enchant it to take the blast, charge it up each time. Doing them all would take a couple months… but, come to think of it, I do have an old place outside of town. It burned down years ago, accidentally…ish. We could set them off there. Think ‘Thele’ would lend us his carriage?”

  The cat spelled out, ‘U GO I GUARD.’

  “No no, I can ward the house for a few hours at least. Let’s go together. But Oliver, I need you to agree, if we get the chance, the book is more important. So, promise?”

  The cat blinked at her.

  “Promise me.”

  Oliver staring at it, the puck moved to the ‘O’ and then the ‘K.’

  Eliza gathered her notes, everything useful about the flame bloom, and stuffed them into a satchel. Then she went through the entire house, ground to attic, closed every window, and charged them with spark, each glowing dim red as condensation boiled off the outside.

  She wanted to do more, but the chill hit, the one in the pit of her stomach, the one that wasn’t exactly cold, and the floor began to wobble. Her spark stretched to its limit, that would have to do.

  Gauging her recovery time, she checked a wall clock. It was three. “We’ve got until six before the wards break. Not a lot of time, but enough. Let’s get going.”

  And with that, the pair, woman and cat, set off.

  On the streets, voices gasped as fingers pointed, but surprised as people were, no one seemed too frightened of a juvenile snow leopard wearing a scarf, probably because, as Eliza noted, he was freaking adorable.

  They were only a few blocks away from Thelemule’s, when Eliza spotted a newsstand. Tossing the girl a coin, she grabbed a paper and read the headline aloud, “Shivari Ship Explodes Bringing Weapons into Greatwen.” There was a clock tower at the end of the road; it was only three-thirty.

  “Oliver, that doesn’t sound right. The sailors I talked to said that ship imported goods for a shop just across the bridge. We have time. Let’s check it out.”

  A short walk later, the visage of a four-tusked elephant was gazing down on them. It was adorning a sign above a shop, the words under it carved in Shivari, incomprehensible to Eliza. The pair entered.

  “No dogs,” a gray-haired woman, her nose in a book, muttered through a thick accent. The shop was packed with all sorts of dry goods, spices and foreign grains as well as jarred vegetables and meats, while a selection of brass cooking pots, round kitchen knives, and a shelf full of curios and trinkets sat near the counter.

  “He’s not a dog.” Eliza shook her head.

  Looking up, the woman watched them browse. She kept an eye on Oliver, but said nothing.

  Eliza selected a fancy tin with a palm tree on the label and brought it to the counter. She had no idea what was inside, but it looked expensive.

  “Is he Elu-Ru?” the woman asked, stressing the second syllable.

  “What’s Eluru?”

  “Eluru…” The woman pointed to a set of figurines on a shelf: A tiny figure with an obese man’s torso sitting atop a pig’s body, another with a baby’s head attached to a hairless rat, and a dozen or so others. They all gave Eliza the creeps, and she saw Oliver rear his head in disgust.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “I can tell,” the woman said, sounding equal parts warm and creepy, “Eluru.”

  “Are they real?”

  “Ha! You walk in with one, and you have to ask?” The woman shook her head. “Of course they are, but there haven’t been any new in Shivar for a long time. The ones there grow old.”

  “What do you mean? Why?”

  “We Shivari no longer have the illuvari. How do you say?… the spark.”

  Eliza gave a sideways stare. No spark? Sure, it was random who got it, but every culture had it in equal proportion. That one wouldn’t, that seemed impossible.

  The old woman shrugged. “It is the way of things, the ‘spark’ too will fade from Nor-e-ah,” she pronounced carefully. “I am sad to see the Eluru go, such beautiful creatures, soon they will live only in stories.”

  Glancing at the shelf of figurines, Eliza found herself staring at a reverse mermaid eating a goat. Unsettled, she touched Oliver’s head and felt him shivering, staring at it too.

  “I wanted to ask about the Capsan, the ship that… sank.” Eliza put the tin on the counter.

  Drawing sour, the old woman spoke, “The police have already been here. Terrorists and thieves? Don’t believe it. Those boys—my nephew, were murdered.”

  “Sorry for your loss,” Eliza said softly, trying not to think about her part in it. She needed information, anything that could help her track down the missing stone. “Any idea who did it?”

  “No,” spat the woman, taking a moment to regain her composure. “But whatever killed them, it did not come from Shivar.”

  A bead of sweat trickling down her side, as much as Eliza felt she deserved gut-wrenching guilt, letting it overwhelm her would do no good. Though her chill still tingled from overuse, she very subtly touched her hand to her belly and, closing her eyes, cast a delusion on herself: innocence.

  She relaxed. “I don’t believe it either.”

  “You’d be the first.” The woman pointed to an empty shelf. “Some local boys came in, threw a rock. I had to spend all morning sweeping.”

  “What did the Capsan transport, exactly? Besides goods for the store?”

  “And why do you want to know?” The woman’s brow furrowed.

  Verses… she needed a lie, but nothing too outrageous… “I was expecting a shipment, some rare books. The seller claims they were on the Capsan, but he named a different ship last week. I think he’s mistaken—intentionally—and refuses to refund my payment. I want to know if he’s lying.”

  The woman looked her over, sizing her up, and then as her gaze fell to Oliver, her expression softened. “They ran all sorts of deliveries, mail and passengers, diplomats even, but they would never deal in such weapons. I traveled on the Capsan once for a trip back home. Those boys were too lighthearted for that sort of thing.”

  “People hide things—” Eliza bit her lip. “Sorry, that was thoughtless.”

  “But true.” The woman’s expression sank. “But true.”

  “You said diplomats, for the Shivari Embassy here in town?”

  Nodding, the woman didn’t make eye contact.

  “You’ve been very helpful.” Eliza slid a gold sovereign across the table. “Sorry for your loss.”

  Eyeing the coin silently, the woman turned her back. Her shoulders slumped, and with an exhale, her body deflated.

  Eliza looked down to find Oliver mesmerized. He was staring at a clock with mechanical parts, tiny gears and sprockets that ticked away with each passing second.

  She crouched down and whispered, “I know it’s weird, but that’s how you have to make them when you don’t have spark.”

  Leaving both the coin and the tin, she held the door for Oliver, and they set out again. Once the shop was out of sight, she dropped her delusion and let her guilt return.

  ? ? ?

  At the end of a long road filled with pubs, breweries, and restaurants, two of them ‘the first in Greatwen,’ sat a large blue sign emblazoned with the word ‘Thelemule’ next to a picture of a stylized explosion. While the house that sat under it was similar to Scaggs’, it was a story taller and made of pink and white bricks.

  Wood slats still covered the windows on the top floor, and though most of the glass had been cleared away, a shard crunched underfoot.

  “Careful where you step.” Eliza nudged the cat.

  This damage had been her doing, and she felt every inch the arsonist she was as she lifted the door knocker, shaped like a dove carrying a hammer, and let it fall against the brass plate.

  A few seconds later, Stephan opened the door, and Thelemule stepped out from behind him.

  “Any luck?” The old wizard shrugged apologetically.

  “No, look—”

  “—Drake’s looking for you,” he interrupted.

  “What, why?”

  “He said he went by your place, and that you weren’t there, and that if I saw you, I should send you to him as soon as possible.”

  Eliza’s stomach twisted. “Okay, I’ll go right over. Thelemule, you offered to help?”

  “Yes?…” He gave a curious smile.

  “Could I borrow your carriage for a day? I can bring it back tomorrow. It’s just, I can’t be sure of any I’d hire.”

  “What do you need it for?”

  Thelemule being the last person to trust, in all of Noria, with a massive chest filled with bloom stones, she bit her lip.

  Amused, he shook his head. “I only meant, do you need a driver? Horses? I am at your disposal, dear Eliza.”

  “No driver, but a horse or two would be lovely. And they don’t need to be fast, or well trained. I have a charm for that.”

  His gaze fell to Oliver. “One word of caution. Don’t bring him with you, to Drake’s I mean. Transformations are a rarity. He’s liable to vivisect the boy.”

  —And her bag full of flame-bloom notes, it wouldn’t be a good idea to bring those either, but she didn’t dare leave them with Thelemule.

  “He’s welcome to stay here,” the old wizard added.

  “Hey, boy.” She knelt next to Oliver. “Do you have anywhere you can hide out of sight, besides my place?”

  The cat blinked, then raced out of the entryway and bolted straight up the side of Thelemule’s house, disappearing over the roof. The next she saw him, he was in the air, leaping to a neighboring building. He landed, dropped down to street level, and, as he trotted back, his blue scarf fluttered to the ground behind him.

  “I am so glad you didn’t pick dog.”

  ? ? ?

  The rickety bump-bump of the wheels going over cobblestone smoothed to nothing as the taxi neared Drake’s house. Eliza looked down to see the streets here, in the northern edge of the Nobles District, were made of smooth concrete. She guessed mages were responsible for their construction.

  As marvelous as this all was, exhausting her spark on that charm made it too numb to tell time, so she was anxiously scanning her surroundings for clocks, and as they cut across an intersection, one came into view: The largest clock in the world, in fact, sitting atop a tower at the seat of government, the Chamber of Councils. It was going on five. If she rushed the meeting, she could still make it home by six—if the taxi was fast.

  Drake’s home was of a newer style with a flat stone front. Four stories high and with no yard to speak of, it was built on a row of six that created one giant wall, an intimidating sight.

  Eliza gave the driver an extra florin to wait.

  When she knocked on Drake’s door, it hummed three short tones in melody then opened. Drake was on the other side, sitting cross-legged. Curiously, it looked like he’d been waiting there and was just standing up.

  “Scaggs, thank you for coming so quickly.” He showed her into his front foyer where everything was made of black polished stone: the walls, the archways, the gently sweeping staircase, even the chairs. And juxtaposing it all, an enormous copper globe engraved with constellations sat in the middle, reaching all the way up to the second-story ceiling.

  “You’re welcome,” said Eliza, trying to ignore the spectacle and get this over with quickly. “Now, what’s this about?”

  “I heard reports that you were out late last night?”

  She wondered if Thelemule had told him about the chase, but if Drake was going to give up his source, he would have already. “Yes, I was doing work for a client.”

  “A client, really? You weren’t looking into that ship?” Drake didn’t look angry, but then again, he never did.

  “I was at the docks, getting back to the job I was on before the explosion. I wasn’t asking about it, but people did talk, and I listened.”

  “Oh, all right.” He smiled. “Is that all? Just please steer clear of anything political. Things are… delicate, and I need control of all the players. So, would you like an update?”

  “Sure,” she said, eyeing him. “Why so chatty?”

  Feigning a hurt face, Drake motioned to himself before returning to his usual smile. “We think the Shivari might be working on a spark weapon of their own, similar to yours. The blast pattern on that ship showed a double explosion, one at the bow and one near the stern. Any insights?”

  “Well, if the blast from one bloom hit a second, it could set it off. But I was there and I don’t remember a second bloom.”

  “I have an eyewitness who says there were two,” said Drake.

  “But I—”

  “—Was the boat turned to face you?”

  “I don’t know. It was dark,” said Eliza.

  “My witness had a better angle on it, that’s all.”

  That was possible. The blast had seemed large for a single bloom, but still…

  “Well maybe,” she answered. “But I thought the Shivari didn’t have the spark?”

  “I’ve heard that rumor too. We’re looking into it. But come on, why would they be any different?” He shrugged.

  “Are you saying they hide it?”

  “No, but you just did.” He nodded with a smirk. “Seems obvious. That’s why we’re looking into it.”

  “So, why tell me?”

  He raised a fist to the air. “Isn’t that obvious too? Because you might be the only one who can defend Noria. So please do be careful. Don’t go doing anything dangerous, and come to me if you need anything.” Then stepping over to a black stone table, he slid a drawer open and pulled out a bag.

  It was big… and black… and jingled.

  https://discord.gg/fQtFt2sYdf (There is some exclusive content on Discord, but it's best to read the entire book first)