Augustin strode out of his bedroom, affixing the clasp of his cloak and letting it drape elegantly from his shoulders.
“Don’t blame yourself. You had no way of knowing the demon would abduct him, and today, of all days.”
“Sure,” Braiden said, though the guilt still sat heavy in his belly. “I just wish — well, at least this way, we can secure some of that cinderling silk that we’ll need for the Heirloom.”
It all seemed too convenient, though, how everything clicked together. This wasn’t the first time Braiden had considered it: the cinderling silk, the escort that Elder Bahul had requested,the demon wanting to lure Braiden below, and the Heirloom card itself.
Braiden frowned as the horrible puzzle pieces fell into place.
“They knew,” he breathed.
Augustin looked up. “I’m sorry?”
“Valefour and his messenger,” Braiden said, gesturing toward the front of the shop. “Those are the biggest windows in the building. Why choose to go in through the smaller window in the storage room? Your bedroom? Somehow they knew that the card was in there. Maybe the whole point was to knock it loose from the wall in the first place. I can’t help thinking this is a trap, Augustin.”
“And it still could be,” Augustin agreed. “But between the four of us, I’m confident there’s nothing we can’t overcome. And remember, everything else aside — cinderling silk, Valefour, the card — the whole point of this quest is to rescue Bones.”
“Right,” Braiden said, ruffling his hair and facing the door, as if to psych himself up for their journey. “We can start small, murder any cinderling spiders along the way. At least that’s something to look forward to. Everything else will follow. And — wait. Is that Gregor?”
Sure enough, the grave keeper was coming down the path. But the sun was shining. That alone was unusual. Something tucked under his arm gleamed.
As Gregor drew closer, Braiden saw the deepened circles under his eyes, the exhausted slump of his shoulders. And the object in his arms: a polished, varnished wooden frame.
The Heirloom.
Braiden rushed out the shop door. Gregor thrust it into Braiden’s hands.
“Take it,” he said, “and let me be done with this beastly thing. Took me all night. Something took hold of me. I couldn’t stopworking until it was finished. A muse, or madness? Don’t ask me which.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Braiden murmured. “It’s even more beautiful than when I first saw it.”
“As long as the payments keep coming, you’ll hear no complaints from me,” Gregor said. He saluted weakly and turned right back around. “And now I’m off to the Deadlight. Need to catch some sleep before nightfall. Enjoy that thing, whatever it is.”
Braiden waved at his back, not feeling any more reassured about all these convenient coincidences. But now the Heirloom was finished and prepared to receive its string.
He stepped back into the shop, knowing that this one thing needed to be done before they embarked on their quest. He collected the strand of Mothergoat wool he’d spun, then reached for a length of moongrass filament.
“Is that really it?” Augustin asked. “Gods, it looks splendid. Have you come any closer to understanding what it is?”
Braiden breathed slowly.
“Yes,” he said. “My grandmother’s greatest mystery.”
And he prepared to string the Heirloom.
Soon into the morning, they’d all completed their preparations. Warren took over the task of evenly dividing the rations along the counter, secreting enough food for five days into each of their rucksacks.
“Just in case,” he said, “but we can always stop by the Underborough to restock if necessary.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Augustin said. “I believe I’m sufficiently rested and should be able to spare a fleetfoot spell to expedite our travels.”
Elyssandra carefully arranged the rations at the bottom of her satchel, then stuffed in a wad of her backup cloaks, essentially all the same garment, just in varying shades of green.
“Honestly,” she muttered under her breath. “There have to be demons out there who aren’t quite as rude. Imagine taking an entire person down there with you. Imagine stealing a person away”
Braiden stared at the Heirloom still sitting on the counter.And imagine taking this entire whatever-it-is down into the dungeon with me, he thought. He searched the shop floor for the plushest throw to use as a protective wrapping, covering the Heirloom in a bundle.
Craghammer raised his eyebrows. “You’re taking that thing with you?”
