Page 68 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

Julita lets out a wordless crow of victory. Ha! They’ll be starting to see they can’t get away with their degeneracy. I get the impression she’s spun around in my head with excitement. You were amazing, Ivy. It’s incredible what you can do now that you know how to work with your magic.

I chuckle under my breath, not able to fully share her enthusiasm. Like when I pulled the shadows over us on the side of the road, the effort has left me a little dizzy.

I’m not sure I could do much more than this and stay focused.

But it is pretty incredible that I was able to help even as much as I did. I kept Rheave hidden so he could attack the scourge sorcerers in ways I wouldn’t dare to attempt with my own magic yet.

We gape at the smoke for a minute like the other bystanders, just to fit in. Then Casimir tucks his hand around my elbow with a careful tug. “We should probably?—”

His voice cuts off as we turn and find a cluster of five men and women closing in on us, their gazes unnervingly intense.

Rheave pushes in front of me in an instant, his hands rising defensively. I grab his sleeve to hold him back, though my stance has tensed.

The man at the front of the group holds up his own hands in a gesture of surrender. “We’re not with… them. We just want to talk.”

The woman next to him folds her arms over her chest beneath her long cloak. “And it seems we have a lot to talk about.”

Julita’s presence stirs uneasily. Hmm. Rather presumptuous, aren’t they? I don’t know any of this bunch.

Casimir puts on his best innocent expression. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean.”

With a scoffing sound, the man rakes his hand through his scruffy black hair. He drops his voice lower. “We know you three hit their temporary armory. We were right there—because we were planning on trashing the place as well as we could. You beat us to the punch.”

The woman jerks her head toward a quieter corner of the square with a swish of her sandy-blond ponytail. “So can we have this conversation somewhere it’s less likely to get us killed?”

Apprehension prickles over me, but the group hasn’t made any aggressive moves, even though they’ve got us outnumbered. The cautious twitch of their gazes reminds me more of our own wariness than the cocky air most of the Order members and allies give off.

If there are other people in the city willing to strike out at the scourge sorcerers, shouldn’t we find out what they can tell us? It’s not as if Julita’s said anything concerning about them—she won’t have known most of the city commoners, I’d imagine.

Rheave keeps his protective pose, but Casimir seems to agree with me. “We’ll come. But we want to stay somewhere we can easily leave if we feel the need to.”

The woman laughs, making the scar across her cheek jump. “The sentiment is mutual. Come on.”

The group tramps over to a side-street and then down it to an open-ended road by a stable no one appears to be attending to at the moment.

The three who haven’t spoken so far spread out as if to watch for unwelcome interruptions. The man dips his knobby chin to us. “Since you trusted us enough to come along, we can do the first introductions. I’m Emor, and this is Voleska. We’ve been trying to figure out a way to get these Order of the Wild pricks out of our city since they first showed up.”

Voleska studies us. “You aren’t from Pima. I’d have noticed you before.”

I’m not ready to give her our names yet, but I’ll acknowledge that point. “We were in the capital when the palace there was attacked. When we heard about the uprising in Eppun, we came to see what we could do to help before the situation gets even worse.”

Emor hums and glances over his shoulder toward the smoke still wafting up toward the sky. “You’ve made a decent start of it, I’ll give you that.”

“What have you been doing?” Rheave asks. “You have gifts—can you use those?”

He nods to the obvious signs of their dedication sacrifices: Emor is missing a little finger and Voleska her left thumb.

It’s not generally considered polite to prod people about their gifts, but I can’t help being glad Rheave didn’t know that—because I’d like the answer too.

Emor doesn’t show any sign of being offended. He rubs the stump of his missing finger. “Unfortunately, mine isn’t good for much other than ensuring our people have decent meals.”

He glances at Voleska a little awkwardly, but she simply shrugs. “I didn’t receive a gift, and fairly so. I was a lot more selfish at twelve than I’ve learned to be since.”

Yikes, Julita murmurs.

Rheave’s eyes widen. I don’t know if he was aware that not every sacrifice is recognized by the godlen it’s made to.

I suppress a shudder at the thought of losing a whole thumb for nothing, but Voleska spoke without rancor. I guess a situation like that would make you rethink a lot of things about your life.

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