“We, the guild, ran afoul of the scribes a long while back,” Yallander explained. “Since then, they’ve refused selling us new runes and even stopped rejuvenating runes in places that are obviously connected with the guild. Operating in darkness may be what people consider normal for thieves, but it isn’t quite so simple.”

  Vidar’s mind worked furiously. This might turn out well for him. Really well.

  “You’re looking to buy runes? I can sell you runes.”

  Yallander held up a hand to forestall. “Perhaps. What we are in most dire need of is a teacher in the art of rune crafting.”

  “Teacher?”

  “You will be well compensated, and we’ll keep you safe from the rune scribes’ guild, to the extent that’s possible.”

  “I’m no master,” Vidar said, carefully choosing his words. The thought of teaching did little to excite him, but he didn’t want to rate his skill too low, or Yallander might reconsider becoming a paying customer. Also, that protection was a valuable proposition. “My runes work just fine, but teaching is not something I have experience in.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful teacher. Please return here tomorrow morning before daybreak. By then, we will have gathered a few students for you. Your rate will be ten silver per day for a few hours’ work. I’m sure that will suffice?”

  “I’m not sure,” Vidar began, then his eyes widened as realized how much Yallander said they’d pay him. Ten silver. More than enough to live comfortably on, even if he couldn’t sell or rejuvenate a single rune, and only for a few hours of work, no less.

  Vidar narrowed his eyes. “As you say, this service would be invaluable to you. I’m sure twenty silver is a more reasonable rate. Don’t you agree?”

  He found himself slipping into the other man’s speech pattern, like some experienced merchant peddling his wares by cozying up to his potential customers.

  “Fifteen,” Yallander said, his voice flat. “But that includes you rejuvenating a few runes in this building.”

  Vidar stood and reached over the desk, grabbing Yallander’s hand to shake it. “We have a deal. Tomorrow, then?”

  “Before first light.”

  Nodding, Vidar turned and headed out.

  “Vidar?”

  He turned back around. “Yes?”

  Yallander gestured to a kenaz rune on the wall near his desk. “Do you mind?”

  The first thing that leapt into Vidar’s mind was that he absolutely should demand compensation, but then he thought better of it. This was the thieves’ guild, after all. Building up some level of goodwill would probably be more valuable to him in the weeks and months to come.

  “Of course,” Vidar said, walking over to rejuvenate the rune. He gave it just enough essence to last through the day and the night, if he was right about how much would be expended through the already present opening. It required even less than he expected from his own stores of essence. Only the finger he used to touch the symbol with was affected, and not by much.

  Vidar briefly examined the symbol. Perhaps the well-crafted, rigid lines of this kenaz rune, compared to his self-crafted ones, served to make the rune more efficient. It was the only reason he could think of. Well, he did think of another. Perhaps he was simply improving. It did make some sense that he’d get better at all the different aspects of this new art of his. Vidar would have to ask Alvarn.

  With the rune rejuvenated and a nod of appreciation from Yallander, Vidar left. Filled with unanswered questions, it was time he found Alvarn.

  There was a lot to keep in his head, everything from the last couple of days. Things were happening so fast. Vidar barely kept up. Now, with a steady supply of silver, he could afford to slow down a little.

  As luck would have it, Alvarn was right by the midpoint on the stairs when Vidar arrived a little later.

  He hurried down the steps. “You’re here!”

  “Where were you?” Vidar asked, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. He was glad to have found Alvarn again, but realized he felt a little hurt.

  Alvarn winced and hung his head. “News of the incident right here with the other boys quickly spread and reached the scribes. They punished me by revoking my right to roam beyond the walls of this place,” he said, pointing up at the sizable building towering over them. “I’ve been sequestered in the basement for the last several days, doing nothing but empowering newly crafted runes until I could barely breathe.”

  “Harsh,” Vidar said. “You didn’t even do anything.”

  “They are not a kindly bunch. Sorry I missed our meeting,” Alvarn said, looking up at the huge set of doors at the top of the stairs. They were opening. He nodded to a side street, and once the two were out of sight, he asked, “Have you made any attempt with a kenaz rune? I’ve been worried about you and wanted to come search Andersburg, but I didn’t dare enter that part of town.”

  “Do you have to make rounds and rejuvenate runes again or something?” Vidar asked.

  Alvarn shook his head. “I’m banned from doing even that for the time being.”

  “So you’re free?”

  He nodded.

  “Good, because I have questions. Do you know someplace warm nearby we could go and talk?”

  “How about I treat you to some food?” Alvarn asked.

  Vidar grinned. “That would be acceptable.”

  The lingering scent around Vidar made the first proprietor refuse them entry to his inn, but it didn’t take long to find a second place where no one raised any eyebrows. The clientele was a little rougher, but they gathered around their tables with cards or dice as they downed tankards of beer. The rowdiness was not something Vidar would have anticipated this far uptown, but drunken abandon was apparently not limited to the poor.

  They were seated in the far corner, where they would get some semblance of privacy as they spoke. While they waited for the food to arrive, Vidar couldn’t contain his questions any longer.

  “Where does the circle come from?”

  Alvarn, who was nursing a tall glass of beer, looked up over the rim with confusion plain on his face. “What circle?”

  “The circle. You know? The circle you see in your mind when you make, rejuvenate, or trigger a rune. How does that work?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You did trigger a kenaz rune, then?”

  Vidar waved that question away after taking a large gulp of beer out of his own somewhat dirty glass. “Of course, of course. You don’t see a circle in your mind? And trigger a rune by making an opening at the top to let essence flow out?”

  “Ah, now I see,” Alvarn said.

  Vidar nodded, pleased to have Alvarn finally understand what he was getting at.

  “You’ve been doing it all wrong,” Alvarn continued.

  Choking on his beer, Vidar croaked, “What?”

  “Well, perhaps wrong is too harsh. You’ve been doing it in a different way than what’s been taught to me by the guild. No wonder, really, since you haven’t been taught at all.”

  “So, what do you see?”

  “No shapes. We’re taught to visualize the essence flowing from ourselves and into the rune we’ve crafted. If we’re triggering one, we let that essence flow through the rune.”

  “Doesn’t sound so different from what I’m doing.”

  Alvarn emptied his glass and raised his hand to order another. “I suppose not. In the end, if it works for you, then it works. I’m not well-versed enough to tell you if this circle of yours will have adverse effects. Just be careful.”

  Vidar gulped down his beer to keep up. “Why do sowilo runes need more essence to work and why are some runes easier to rejuvenate than others, even if they’re both light runes?”

  A hiccup escaped through Alvarn’s suddenly open mouth. “You made a rune of your own? And you interacted with a sowilo rune?”

  “I did. Why? What’s wrong?”

  Alvarn’s voice took on a hint of stern reproach. “I told you to be careful.”

  “I was!” Vidar protested.

  “After two years as a student, I’ve just recently reached far enough in my studies to create sowilo runes for myself.”

  He brought out three wooden discs and placed the first one on the table. A kenaz rune. “First, we master the light.” After that, he brought out a second rune. It was just a single vertical line. “Then the chill, isaz. Only once we’ve mastered both are we allowed to even look at a sowilo rune.”

  He finished by adding a warmth rune to the table. All three discs were small, not much larger than twice the size of a silver coin.

  “That sounds horribly inefficient,” Vidar said. “Never seen an isaz rune before.”

  “They’re uncommon here where we have such long winters and cool summers. Farther south, they’re worth a fortune. I’m making plenty and sending them to my father.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Your father?”

  “I told you already, he’s a merchant. I’m only here because he wanted another source of revenue. He’s stockpiling those I send him now so he can sell them once I get my writ.” Alvarn sighed. “I’m rather sure he’s already selling some. Not a patient man, my father.”

  “How much can he sell a chill rune for?”

  Two more glasses of beer arrived at their table, along with their food. Alvarn immediately took a long gulp from the beer while Vidar finished his first glass so the barmaid could bring the empty glasses back with her. He let out a small burp and nodded his thanks to the young woman.

  “We’re getting off track,” Alvarn said. “I shouldn’t have agreed to teach you anything. You don’t understand the danger despite having almost been killed by your attempts.”

  “You did the right thing in teaching me, even if it was barely enough to get me started. My first attempts at painting a rune on a wall exploded in my face.”

  Alvarn just sighed.

  “I think I got the lines wrong or something.”

  “I’m not teaching you another thing,” Alvarn said.

  “You’re just going to let me continue with trial and error? What if I get it wrong and one of my students ends up hurt?”

  “Students?” Alvarn asked, raising the glass to drink like his life depended on it, his eyes wide and wild.

  “I’ve been asked to teach.”

  “No,” Alvarn said. “I must forbid it.”

  Vidar narrowed his eyes. “Forbid?”

  Alvarn just groaned and finished his second beer.

  “Maybe you should eat something,” Vidar said, nodding to the bowls in front of them.

  “Maybe I should. You’ll be the death of me, Vidar.”

  “How so?”

  “This will all come back to haunt me one way or the other.”

  Alvarn was not as excited for him as Vidar had hoped, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with the distraught rune scribe.

  “I might’ve found a new rune,” he said, hoping to steer the conversation in a new direction and perhaps cheer up his new friend.

  “Really?”

  “There was this padlock. When I tried smashing it to get through a door, something resisted my shovel.”

  “That’s what a lock is supposed to do. So, you’re a thief, then?”

  “No. Well, yes, but no. Sort of, but not anymore. In this case, I was just curious and cold. The thing is, my shovel stopped before it hit metal. It was almost like a shield, you know?”

  Alvarn actually shoveled a couple of potatoes covered in a brown gravy into his mouth and spoke around it. “What does the symbol look like?”

  A glint of excitement appeared, but it fell when Vidar continued.

  “The whole padlock—I did get it open after a few more smashes—was covered in rust, so I don’t know.”

  When he saw Alvarn’s expression, he added, “I don’t know yet. I’m working on getting the rust off.”

  “It would be the discovery of a lifetime,” Alvarn said skeptically.

  “You said it yourself. There has to be more runes out there.”

  “Where did you find this lock?”

  Vidar cleared his throat and looked away from Alvarn’s intense gaze. “A church.”

  Alvarn groaned again and hung his head. Then he remembered something and looked back up. “Speaking of long-forgotten runes. The sewers!”

  “What about them?” Vidar asked, taking another sip of beer. It flowed down his throat and settled in his stomach pleasantly.

  “You have to take me down there.”

  Vidar glanced up and down Alvarn’s bulk. He wasn’t very fat per se, but there was considerable bulk to him. “I’m not sure you’ll fit. Actually, I am sure. You won’t. The entrances are narrow, almost absurdly so.”

  He gulped down some stew and swallowed. “Why do you want to go down there, anyway?”

  Alvarn grinned. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes looked a little tired, like the beer was getting to him. “I know of a bigger entrance. There are a few, by the water intakes.”

  “Really? How do you know that?”

  “I’ve been researching them for quite some time. Just recently, I got to speak to the ones in charge of administrating the place. They wouldn’t lend me a key, however.”

  Vidar fished his key out of the pocket in his coat. “This key?”

  “Let’s go together. Today,” Alvarn said. “And I’ll show you runes lost to time.”

  Excitement spread like wildfire through Vidar’s gut, and he fueled it further with several deep pulls from his glass of beer. “I’d love nothing more. You said we’d find these where the water enters the tunnels?”

  His answer made Alvarn’s already flushed face turn even redder from excitement, and he leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows. “That’s right! The water is somehow losing its salt content. Runes must be involved somehow!”

  Vidar pursed his lips and sat back. “If these secrets are so readily available, how come no one’s discovered them before?”

  “I’m sure they have,” Alvarn scoffed. “Everything is buried and secreted away. When those who made the discovery are long dead, the knowledge fades. Soon enough, even the paper carrying the secrets turns to ash.”

  “The library fire.”

  Alvarn nodded and suddenly stood, the back of his knees pushing back the heavy wooden chair so it screeched against the floor. “That’s right. Fires, multiple. Mishandling of sowilo runes several times. Let’s go!”

  “Right now?” Vidar asked, shoveling the last of the food into his mouth and draining his glass. He burped and wiped at his mouth with his coat sleeve, then hurried after Alvarn, who was already at the bar, paying for their meal.

  “I wondered if the front of the warmth rune could get hot enough to start a fire. Almost burned myself once.”

  Alvarn blinked, and his shoulders fell forward. “I shouldn’t bring you into this. You’re far too inexperienced.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You really are,” Alvarn insisted. “Yes, you can easily start a fire with the front of a sowilo rune. It is one of its main purposes. It can even get hot enough to melt metal. Some blacksmiths use runes for their forge, rather than coals.”

  “I might not know a lot about the uses of different runes yet,” Vidar said, following the larger man out into the cold darkness of the street, “but I know a lot more than you about the sewers. You need me.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Alvarn allowed. “Together, then?”

  “Together,” Vidar said, holding out his hand.

  They shook.

  Alvarn showed the way. “I think I mentioned it to you before, but I asked to be sent specifically to Halmstadt because of the sewers and the secrets they might hold. What is gold and silver when put next to discovery and unraveling of ancient things?”

  “I’d take gold and silver,” Vidar muttered, reaching in to trigger the sowilo rune in the front pocket of his shirt. Warmth spread across his chest, combating the worst of the cold.

  “I’m not so sure, my friend,” Alvarn said. “I see the glint in your eye.”

  “That just means I’m not hungry right now. When you need coin to eat, everything else matters little.”

  He felt somewhat of a fraud speaking the words, having been on his own for such a short period of time, but the sentiment still rang true to his own ears. Vidar knew hunger, and he knew cold. Cold, he knew better than most.

  Alvarn got a searching look on his face as he continued, “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply… Anyway… discovering new runes is one part of what we’re doing today. The other is examining how the seawater is cleaned, the mechanism behind it. Many of the intakes are damaged, and the Crown cares not. Seawater flows freely through many parts of the system. Undrinkable seawater.”

  “Ah, I understand,” Vidar said. “You’ll find out how to repair it, then force the Crown to pay you enough coin to live out the rest of your life in a palace somewhere. Clever.”

  “What? No! I intend to repair the system, to provide drinkable water to everyone, and then bring that same system everywhere in Sveland and beyond. The lack of drinkable water is a scourge upon this land.”

  “Our hero,” Vidar said, deadpan.

  Alvarn blushed furiously.

  “Good thing you met me, then,” Vidar continued.

  “My hero,” Alvarn teased back, adjusting his glasses. “I’ve been in contact with some less savory types, trying to get my hands on other means of getting in.”

  “Lockpicks?” Vidar asked.

  “And explosives. There are options.”

  “Sowilo rune?”

  Alvarn stopped, closed his eyes, and looked up into the air with a heavy sigh. “Didn’t think of that. Why didn’t I think of that?” A moment later, he shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “The metal. It’s too thick. The length of your key proves it. With the lock that deep into the metal, it would require far more essence than what any one man is able to provide.”

  “Right,” Vidar said, wrinkling his nose at the smell carried toward them on the wind. They were nearing the sea, and the acrid scent of brine, decaying fish, and sulfur momentarily made his eyes water. A lifetime of living by the sea still hadn’t made him used to the smell, not with both his family home and Andersburg being relatively sheltered from the worst of it due to Halmstadt’s elevation changes.

  “Really makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?” Alvarn asked as he drew in a deep breath through his nose.

  Vidar made a gagging sound to show what he thought of that sentiment.

  “Where are these doors, anyway?”

  They were headed toward the sea in a straight line. If they didn’t deviate, they’d end up right in the middle of the harbor. Heavy carts were pulled up the incline of the street, wares heading into town from the large shipping vessels currently docked. Loud curses were flung back and forth by sailors straining under the physical labor. Vidar made out a few Dennerish ones, but several other languages were represented, all of them mixing together into an incomprehensible mess.

  Alvarn nodded to the right, and they headed to a narrow street running parallel with the main thoroughfare.

  “Isn’t there a better way to get their imports into town?” Vidar asked. “Looks mightily strenuous.”

  “My father uses oxen for carrying supplies and dragging carts inland, but they’re banned in all major cities of Sveland.”

  “Why?”

  “Their, uh, droppings. They are not clean animals.”

  “Oh.”

  Vidar thought for a moment. “Can you ride one?”

  “You want to ride an ox?”

  “No, but could you?”

  Alvarn looked at Vidar, then turned his gaze back to the sea. “I doubt the ox would appreciate it. In the desert, people ride camels quite a bit, but I don’t think they’d survive in our colder climate.”

  “So we don’t get anything to ride?” Vidar asked. “That doesn’t sound fair.”

  “If you have the coin for it, people will happily pull you around in a wagon.”

  “Happily?”

  Alvarn shrugged. “It’s one way to make a living.”

  They were near enough to the sea now to hear the waves. Seagulls filled the air, and their screeching made Vidar want to claw his ears out. “I hate the sea,” he muttered, following as Alvarn turned down another street, then another.

  The street ended with only open sea before them. The cobblestones turned to a wooden jetty running along the edge in both directions. Quite a bit of open air separated them from the water. The drop made Vidar’s knees weak, and he didn’t dare walk all the way to the edge. Someone should’ve installed a railing or something. He wondered how many people fell into the sea from spots such as this every year. Quite a few, he guessed.

  The wind pushed them both back when at the top of its strength. It carried a terrible chill.

  “It’s down there,” Alvarn said, pointing down.

  Vidar got down to one knee and leaned in close, trying to see through the tiny gaps between planks. There was quite the drop. Wooden poles jutted out from the ground below to support the jetty. “You must be joking.”

  “There’s a ladder nearby.”

  A wave crashed in against land far below, swelling high enough to reach halfway up to the supporting beams.

  “We’ll drown!”

  Alvarn waved for him to follow. “No, we won’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “If you don’t have the guts, lend me the key and I’ll go.”

  “I’ll never give this key to anyone. Ever,” Vidar said, following along the edge to what looked like a half-collapsed, deserted building right next to the jetty.

  They pushed inside through a heavy-looking but unlocked metal door.

  “Spent a lot of time lockpicking this one,” Alvarn said.

  Vidar peered up. “Why didn’t you go through the hole in the wall?”

  “It’s on the second floor and I don’t know how to fly.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Broken bits of furniture and stone and wood from the ceiling and walls, among other debris, were strewn about everywhere. No, not everywhere. One part of the floor was cleared of rubble. Part of the wooden hatch still remained, but it was obvious even to Vidar that it’d been hacked to pieces.

  “Axes are more pricey than you’d think. Took me a whole day to get through,” Alvarn said, massaging his shoulder as if remembering the strenuous work. The inlaid lock was thrown to the side, still stuck in the wood. Vidar tested his key, but it did not fit. Where the hatch door had been, a mostly empty hole now gaped open. Wind swirled up through it and the metal rungs bolted into the side of the wall beneath them were spotted with ice and covered in rust.

  “You climbed down this?”

  “I did,” Alvarn confirmed. “The ladder is solid, but you have to be careful. It’s slippery in places.”

  Vidar leaned out over the opening, then shuddered and pulled back. “After you.”

  “Don’t fall down on top of me,” Alvarn said, pulling on a pair of gloves.

  “You don’t happen to have another pair of those on you?” Vidar asked hopefully.

  Alvarn got into position on his knees, then let one foot drop down to stand on the top rung. He grinned, a manic glint in his eyes. “Afraid not.”

  With that, he climbed down, disappearing from view.