Page 16 of Fateless

“Me,” I said glumly.

Rala chuckled. “So humble, this one,” she mused, shaking her head. “But yes. You are both his muse and his rival. You have the attention of the Guildmaster, something he desperately craves. Every time you succeed, he feels himself falling further behind.”

“So what am I supposed to do about it?” I muttered.

“Nothing.” Rala put a hand on my arm. “Keep doing what you do best, little dust sparrow. And don’t worry about Jeran. This is his insecurity to work through, not yours. If Fate wills it, it will happen. If not...” She shrugged. “Then his ambition will eventually drive him to madness, and you won’t have to worry about it any longer.”

She meant it as a joke, but I winced. “Thanks, Rala. I feel so much better now.”

“Anything for you.” She smiled, and I felt my spirits lift just a little. “Now, are there any other pressing life choices I can help you with?”

Only if you know how to obtain a memory stone from a dead city without getting skewered by traps or activating an ancient curse.

I sighed. “Nothing else I can think of.”

Vahn came for me right after Demon Hour.

“Ready?” he announced after I opened my door to his brusque knock. I nodded, and he quickly scanned my outfit: work gloves,rope and grapple, and the satchel over my shoulders that held a few extra things—flint and steel, bandages, waterskins. “You have everything you need?”

I shrugged. “We’ll know soon enough. I didn’t have time to run to the docks and pick up a curse-protection talisman from Nabba, so...”

Vahn managed not to roll his eyes, though I could tell he wanted to. Nabba was a barely tolerated member of the guild, a weaselly little man who sold “protection” and “anti-curse” talismans to unsuspecting souls coming off the sand striders. They were as effective at warding off evil as rotten fruit was at repelling flies.

I dredged up a weak grin. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Let’s go, then,” Vahn said quietly. “The entrance we want isn’t far.”

We left the warehouse, walking into the streets of the Docks District, haze thick on the air. People were just beginning to return to work; dock loaders and sailors passed us on their way to the piers, moving slowly as the air was still chokingly warm. I kept my hood low and my scarf over my lower face as we continued through the dust-filled streets.

Vahn led me to a deserted section of the docks, over a crumbling stone wall to the edge of the Dust Sea itself. Below an abandoned, broken pier, a large stone drainpipe jutted out of the wall. A trickle of greenish water dribbled from the pipe, only to be swallowed by the dust waves below.

“The grate is open,” Vahn said, hanging back from the edge of the pipe. Six feet below us, the great Dust Sea lapped againstthe wall, the constant haze making my throat itch. “Follow the pipe into the sewers. The entrance to the underground ruins is marked with a door. You can’t miss it. Once you’re in the ancient city, pay special attention to the path marked on the map. You don’t want to become lost down there. Any questions?”

So many. But none he would be willing to answer. I chewed my bottom lip a moment in thought. “What do I do when I have the memory stone?”

“Come straight back to the guild,” Vahn replied. “Don’t stop, and don’t talk to anyone. Do not show the stone to anyone but me, understand?”

“Yeah.”

He shifted, facing me dead-on. The suns overhead cast his face in shadow, and his eyes were haunted as they met mine. “You can do this,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it before. “I know you can. You will succeed where everyone before you has failed.” His arms rose, and his thick, calloused hands gently gripped my shoulders. “You can do this,” he repeated, more of a mantra to himself than to me. “You will succeed, and you will come back. I believe in you, Sparrow. Promise me that you won’t fail.”

My throat closed. I took a quick breath to open it and managed a shaky, defiant grin. “Fail?” I repeated. “I don’t think I know what that means. Maybe you could tell me? Because I’ve only ever done it once or... oh, wait. Never. I’ve done it never.”

Vahn didn’t smile. I sighed and put one of my hands over his, gazing up at him seriously now. “I’ve got this,” I told him. “I won’t fail, Vahn. When have I ever not come through before?”

He still didn’t smile. His grip on my shoulders tightened, and he seemed on the verge of pulling me into a hug, something he had never done before. Not once. Even when I was a toddler, the closest he had ever come to showing affection was a quick arm squeeze or a pat on the head. Tears were not encouraged in the Thieves Guild. Moments of weakness were shunned and ridiculed, so I had learned to never let anyone see me cry. I had been hugged once in my entire life, by Rala, who had found me crouched wet-faced and sniffling behind the bar for some reason I don’t even remember now. She had knelt down and held me tight, and I remembered first the shock and confusion of being that close to someone, followed by the feeling of never wanting to let go.

I had been five years old at the time. And sometimes, I wished Rala had never found me huddled behind the bar that evening. If I’d never learned what being hugged felt like, I wouldn’t miss it. I wouldn’t hold my breath every time Vahn stepped close, wondering if this would be the day his perfect control would crack. So far, it never had.

It wouldn’t be today, either. Dropping his arms, Vahn gave me a brisk nod and stepped back, avoiding my eyes. Disappointment fluttered my stomach, but I squashed it down. “You have your mission,” he said shortly. “I’ll see you when you return to the guild. Fate be with you.”

I didn't answer, and for half a heartbeat, he paused, as if wanting to say something more. Something... personal. That he was proud, perhaps. That he never doubted me. But then he turned and walked away, up the embankment, and disappeared over the wall. He didn’t look back.

I clenched a fist and swallowed the sour feeling in my throat. From here on out, I’d be on my own.

I hooked my fingers into the mesh grate covering the pipe and pulled. It swung open with a rusty screech, revealing a dark, narrow stretch of tunnel beyond. After double-checking my person to make sure I had everything I needed, I stepped into the pipe and closed the grate behind me, slipping from the light into the darkness of the underground.

The sewers reeked. Especially right after Demon Hour, when everything had had time to fester in the heat. I pulled my scarf over my nose and mouth—it worked almost as well for lessening smells as it did for filtering out dust—and unrolled the scroll the Circle had given me. The first part of the map contained only instructions:From the pipe, go due north until you come to an intersection, then head west. Keep walking. You’ll know the door when you see it.

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