“Please,” I pleaded for the third time, “please just check again.”

  The young scholar looked up at me disdainfully and smirked as she pushed her glasses up her nose.

  “As I have told you three times, sir, there will be no other soul stone-producing Wellsprings other than the one at Milford within the next five months.”

  “What about Teritha?” I asked.

  “It just closed two weeks ago. The Teritha Wellspring has a frequency of appearing every eight months.”

  “Veilrend?”

  “The Wellspring appears five months from now, but reports state that the area has begun to…change.”

  “Change?” I asked.

  “The last appearance did not produce any soul stones but instead produced quartz. The saturation point was also reached three hours early.”

  …Huh. I hadn’t heard that news. That was definitely not good. Wellsprings always produced the same materials when they appeared. At least they had before. Nations and nomadic routes were built around the expectations of the Wellsprings. The timing might change slightly, arriving earlier or later, but the location and the materials always remained the same.

  “That’s…weird,” I said, giving up hope. Weird enough that I wasn’t about to risk a trip to Veilrend if there was a chance there might not be any soul stones. I scratched the back of my bandaged hand absently. I had to get a soul stone soon. Not many people knew how long shade walker curses took to activate, but eventually, it would, and I didn’t want to know what would happen when it did.

  The scholar nodded vigorously. “Both the Church and the nobility of Veilrend have created a joint venture to investigate it when the Wellspring next appears.”

  I groaned. Ground dungeon crawling was not going to happen. I didn’t really play well with others—much of the reason I had left the tribes behind. I sighed and banged my forehead dramatically on the counter.

  “Millford it is…”

  The scholar scoffed as she took the ledgers from me and returned them to the shelves behind her. It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t return to Millford. Not entirely, anyway. Actually, with Lyssandra, it might be. Lyssandra was a very, very passionate woman, and the slightest unintentional slight could have been misinterpreted. I would need advice on how to approach an angry woman. That meant another trip to Lilith in the near future, though I had time before I had to leave.

  I walked out of the small study and into the large, chambered hallway of the Records Building. I gave a small wave to the frowning clerk as I departed. Well, that was that. I had a couple of weeks before I had to start the trip to Millford. Plenty of time to stock up on supplies and do some research. Looking around at all the scholars scrambling around, now seemed as good a time as any to get some information on the soul stamps Lilith had talked about.

  Seeing a squirrelly man with over sized glasses passing by, I tapped him on the shoulder. With a start, the man jumped. He had been completely entrenched in the giant volume he held open in his arms—dozens and dozens of lines of script written in an ancient language I couldn’t read. He fumbled with the book for a moment before turning to me with a frustrated glare.

  “Yes?” the man said, looking up at me and clenching his teeth into a smile.

  I put on my friendliest smile. “Sorry. I’m looking for help getting some information on soul stamps and wards for shade walkers.”

  The man looked me up and down disdainfully. “Rune witch.”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Adventurer,” he scoffed, as if it was barely better.

  I swear, everyone had an attitude in this country toward adventurers and rune witches. Mostly driven by the Church, it was lucky they let the rune witches even live—if you could call those kinds of lives "living." Even the bards might sing songs of the Wellsprings and the heroes who discovered different dungeons, but you would never catch one being friendly with a rune witch, even as they played rune-enhanced instruments. Everyone was a critic, but few people were willing to explore new or unique Wellsprings. Those that were left to discover anyways. Fewer were willing to acknowledge they couldn’t survive without the materials provided by the Wellsprings and the people who farmed them.

  I stared at the man, hoping I was making him feel uncomfortable as I watched the smaller man squirm.

  “Not a fan of magic, are you?” I muttered.

  “Certainly not!” said the man with an offended air, then scurried away, a giant tome clutched to his chest.

  Yup, definitely a devotee of the Church. The Church detested anything to do with magic, blaming the curse on the land of Lyvaris on human hubris in the face of Tharuum their god. I knew most people would gladly trade all the magic in the world for Wellsprings that never disappeared. What would a world like that look like? How much more could humanity expand? A world where stone could just be freely mined from the ground without disappearing if not removed beyond the bounds of the Wellspring. Where animals didn't turn into ferocious monsters over time. A world that remained constant. Wouldn't that be nice?

  I sighed, making my way towards the entrance of the university. I trusted Lilith; she knew her stuff, and my life had been in her hands plenty of times.

  Lilith had been certain she could remove the curse and get me past the shade walker the next time the Wellspring appeared. I trusted her, just like she trusted me with the harder jobs. She’d had some unusual requests in the past, and I was the only one willing to attempt retrieving them.

  So that meant going to Millford if there was a chance of getting enough soul stones in time. Sure, I could procure enough trade material for maybe a single stone, but Lilith was greedy. She wanted more than enough to keep for herself, on top of the seven required for my uses. So that meant before Millford, I had to hire myself a bard.

  The pompous bastards were so loud and entitled. They preferred a cheering crowd and a soft bed; bards didn’t choose to enter the Wellsprings unless you bribed them an enormous amount. They spoke of already finished deeds performed in the distant darkness by mythical adventurers and heroes—people they never had to deal with themselves, of course. And here I was with nothing to offer unless I pulled out my savings from the banks. I cringed, thinking of Gremul's smoldering corpse in the depths of the heartscale Wellspring with all my previous supplies…. and my sword. At least I managed to hang on to the dagger Lilith made me.

  Without a bard, though, obtaining soul stones would be next to impossible. I grumbled as the sun beat down from overhead. Stupid bards.

  I made my way out from the Spires district down lower towards the Ironworks district. I would need to pass through the front gates of the city and make my way towards the Bards College in the Red River district where they used a converted smelting compound. Nowhere near as large as Millford’s magnificent hall, the college did well for itself in Jinaral. Its head was a good friend of mine, at least when I passed through the city and paid him enough.

  Jinaral wasn't the largest of cities in Lyvaris, but the reappearance of a Wellspring nearby with stone and iron brought plenty of traffic through. Dwarfed in size by the other two iron-dwelling towns, Jinaral still managed to produce one-third of the entire continent’s iron supply. That meant the Church, ever-present steward of humanity, kept a close watch on supplies and trade here.

  I shivered as I passed under the shadow of the Imperial Church. Large stone walls and carved gargoyles towered over the masses milling below. Depictions of monsters and beasts that appeared after the Blight hung overhead in snarling fury. Children pointedly did not look up as their parents rushed them quickly past.

  Very few buildings were made of stone in the town. Houses were built out of wood as miners had to race against the clock when stone began to appear at the nearby Wellspring, which disappeared within 24 hours of appearing. The Guild halls, the Church, and the Governor’s mansion were among the few exceptions.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Well, that and the wall—a giant wall encircling the mountain that the city was built upon. With the blacksmithing and ironworks performed here, the Scourged Hand ensured the city was secure. Always a friendly bunch, those ones. Id spent my time fighting up north with the Scourged Hand but id fled rather than choosing to rise up the ranks. It was better they didn’t recognize me.

  As I walked by, I heard shouts coming from the steps of the Church. A woman in ashen gray robes stood on a raised platform, yelling to the assembled crowd.

  “9,300 kg of stone! 1,400 kg of blessed vegetation! 3,000 kg of meat! 489 kg of precious stones! 165 kg of materials for our alchemists!”

  With each announcement of this Wellspring cycle's retrieval, the crowd cheered.

  “Tharuum has been good to us this cycle!” the priest shouted. “The Blight was held back so that we might take even more from his celestial bounty! Do not forget to show your thanks!”

  Pairs and individuals slowly went up to provide an offering. A child placed an apple on the pile in front, wilting under a clergyman's frown at seeing a large bite taken out of it.

  “Anything you're going to offer up?” asked a scratchy voice behind me.

  I turned to the chubby man smiling behind me. "Unfortunately, I don't have a coin to my name, you old leech."

  "Liar. Maybe earlier, but you couldn’t control spending a second without stocking up."

  "I'll be in town longer than planned, thanks to the Keepers of the Silent Stone Pact and their insistence on being involved in the distribution of all Wellspring finds. The banks were dispersed throughout the lands, and changing treasure into savings was simple."

  The squat old man stared up at me, his braided beard falling to his colorful garments’ waist. His obnoxious feathered hat marked him as the head of the Bards College.

  "Evening, Sablethorn," I said politely.

  "Be right back, if you don't mind waiting a moment," the man said, nodding his intent to take over an offering of his own.

  I nodded. "Matter of fact, I was on my way to see you."

  The man clapped happily before taking his basket of a few apples he must have plucked himself from the farther edges and some copper coins. When the Wellsprings appeared, all were expected to assist in gathering what they could or offer something up in assistance to the people. The Wellsprings could only support so many people, those that did not provide were not allowed in the city.

  I watched as people passed by, and soon the crowd dispersed until only a few remained scattered around the square. Clergymen helped pack the offerings, which would likely be used at the Church so the locals could see how their contributions were utilized, before being shipped off to the capital.

  The stone and materials were set aside, awaiting meetings with dignitaries over their distribution upon arrival. Jinaral was becoming very busy, especially with the Festival of Tithes approaching.

  Eventually, it was just me, Sablethorn, and the priestess, Sister Solenna of the Ashen Veil. She was a member of the Pyric Communion, one of the more fanatical of the three vocations within Church doctrine. The only other vocation represented in the city was the Keepers of the Silent Stone. As Sister Solenna approached, I saw her scowl.

  "Child Auren, a pleasure," the sister said with poisonous sweetness.

  I put on my most charming smile. "Sister Solenna, I see we have a larger pile than normal of perfectly useful things to destroy in the wind’s name."

  She frowned, glancing over at Sablethorn, who squirmed uncomfortably beneath her gaze. "Be careful speaking so flippantly of our lord Tharumm. It's attitudes like yours that lead to true desolation. Imagine the trouble an adventurer might encounter within the Wellsprings without Tharumm’s favor. I see you have no offering today. Shae, when you always seem to come in bearing so much each time we see you."

  She glanced at my bandaged hand and smiled deeply as I reflexively hid it behind my back. Damn it. Now it was my turn to scowl. Lilith had been talking, and Sister Solenna knew about the shade walker’s curse.

  Sablethorn coughed uncomfortably. "It was a pleasure, Sister, but I'm afraid I need to steal Auren here for some business."

  "Ah yes. New songs for noble adventurous deeds I’m sure," she said dryly.

  I tried not to smirk at this. It was hard to convince people to give up their earthly items as offerings while bards sang encouragements of gluttony and vanity. The Wellsprings presented a challenge for those seeking to prove themselves or gain easy fortune. I didn't understand the Wellsprings fully or why they existed; they were just part of the world I lived in, and ignorance never helped keep anyone alive.

  I smiled as Sablethorn led me away. "You always keep the best company. If the Pyric Communion had its way, they'd have you burn everything—even the clothes on your back—in some insane attempt to appease the gods."

  "You know the only reason she wont report you is because I offer enough for both of us. Besides…..what if it actually worked?" he said slowly. "What if we finally convinced Tharumm to stay?”

  “You think taking his gifts and burning them makes him want to give us more?" I said

  "We don't burn all of it. Just enough to show our thanks" He replied.

  "It's almost as bad as the Silent Stones. If not burning, then hoarding and letting things spoil while preparing for disasters that never come. At least the Scourged hand can point to their enemy. You all are pointing at the wind and hoping or despairing." I groaned

  Sablethorn chuckled as he led through the city gates and out along the well-kept, gardened walkway up to the Bards College.

  We arrived and I stopped, staring up at the massive structure as we walked into its shadow. The Bards College towered over us, bustling with activity as performers prepared for the Festival of Tithes in a few months. Another reason to hate the upcoming trip to Millford—missing the festival was always a disappointment. Maybe Lyssandra would come to Jinaral while I was away. Was it too much to hope we’d miss each other completely?

  Men and women bowed politely to Sablethorn as he swaggered by like the pompous ass he was. He had an eye for talent, but I'd heard he hadn't sung himself in over a decade. His lute, covered in a thick layer of dusty neglect, hung over the door in his office.

  We walked through the front hallway and traveled down to the underground rooms—practice rooms where men and women rehearsed behind thick curtains to muffle the noise.

  Sablethorn turned to me. “Still dealing with those devilish rune witches, aren't you?"

  "Those rune witches make half the accessories for your instruments and help keep your college running," I replied bluntly.

  Sablethorn harrumphed but turned his nose, ignoring me. "You'll be needing one of my children," he said haughtily.

  "We both know they're hardly children if they're willing to go on a voluntary soul stone retrieval mission. You know I also pay them well—and make sure you get an equal cut as your students."

  His eyes had lit up eagerly at the mention of equal pay but immediately frowned at the emphasis I put on the word "students." The grumbling didn’t faze me. The man had a protective grip on his meticulously crafted image, never letting go. Officially, it was a business arrangement to license out the talents of those who proved themselves worthy of the Bards College. Money was the only reason he let me speak to the musicians at all—the fact they were putting their lives on the line was the only reason he didn't ask for more himself. It just wouldn't look proper to exploit his students too openly.

  Sablethorn tried to argue, but I cut him off brusquely. "What I do with my product and who I do business with is none of your goddamn business."

  He motioned with one hand for me to proceed. As I walked by, he grabbed my arm gently. "Try to protect them better than your guide."

  Did everyone in the damn city know?