The Shattered Crowns

"If you'd told me you were a Sorcerer, we could've escaped a lot easier," Lock muttered as he leaned back in his chair.

Mirak frowned. "If I'd told you I was a Sorcerer, I'd be dead by now. Executed without hesitation."

Lock waved his hand dismissively. "Even the Watcher wouldn't be that stupid. A Sorcerer's too valuable. They'd probably have stashed you in Koona's library under one of the Great Houses. Imagine it—you, a Publici, reading the same books as a noble." He snorted at the absurdity.

Mirak's fork paused midair, his voice soft but wistful. "I could've read those books?"

Lock shrugged casually. "Probably. Can't say I've ever seen a Sorcerer become a Publici before. You'd be a rare case."

"But I thought people hated Sorcerers," Mirak said, frowning as he spooned up some broth. "Isn't that why the Sorcerer Kings were overthrown?"

"It's true, people don't trust them. But…" Lock trailed off, clearly weighing his words. "The Watcher rents out Publici to the highest bidder. Having a Sorcerer under your thumb? That's the kind of power you can't put a price on."

Mirak took another bite, letting the salty warmth of the broth distract him. "I would've liked to read those books," he said quietly. "All that knowledge…"

Lock grinned. "Why not try now? Pledge yourself to a noble house. They'd take you in a heartbeat—Publici or not. You're free now, no buyer's mark. You could even ask to study in their grand libraries."

The idea turned Mirak's stomach. To serve the very system that had chained him, treated him as property? It felt wrong, like he'd be betraying himself.

Lock must've noticed his hesitation because he raised a finger, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Or," he suggested with a sly grin, "you could join me. We'll sneak into one of those libraries and steal the books instead."

Mirak blinked, curiosity flickering across his face. "What would I need to do?"

Before Lock could answer, another voice chimed in, interrupting their conversation. "Mind if I join you, friends?" The tone was light, almost playful, and full of unsettling youth.

Lock's shoulders stiffened. "We're on a job," he grunted, his voice sharp and dismissive.

The stranger didn't move.

Mirak turned to glance at the newcomer. The figure wore a white cloak, their features obscured by a deep hood. "Haven't seen a Publici thief in a while," the stranger remarked. "Makes you wonder how you managed to get in here."

"We all have to make a living," Mirak replied evenly.

The figure nodded in mock agreement. "True enough. But a word of caution—most folks don't think highly of the Publici. I doubt you need me to remind you of that." They gestured casually toward Mirak's hands, where faint scars from his shackles still lingered.

Lock didn't bother hiding his irritation. "We're talking shop. Leave."

Instead of leaving, the figure sat down. "And I'm sure people would love to know what you really are."

Lock's jaw tightened. "What do you want?"

The hooded figure leaned back slightly, their voice dripping with smug confidence. "I came with an offer."

Mirak's ears caught fragments of other conversations around the Thieves' Amphitheater.

"Did you hear about the mines?" someone whispered nearby. "A cave-in killed a bunch of Publici and a Watcher, too."

"Resin's going to be tight now," someone else added bitterly. "Bet the nobles are behind it."

Another thief muttered, "I heard it was a Publici uprising."

"As if!" a voice snapped. "The Saki would crush them. A rebellion's as likely as a Sorcerer helping a thief."

A gruff voice cut through the noise. "Don't care who did it. Just know it'll be harder to scrape up enough resin for my kick. Almost got caught trading a stolen necklace today."

The hooded figure's fingers twitched, and a faint cracking noise followed as if they were scratching at dry skin. Flakes of red and white fell from their neck. "Listen to them," the figure said, their voice low but steady. "Talking about the death of a Watcher. I wonder what they'd do if I mentioned the two of you. What would the King of Thieves do? Kill you here and now for making it harder to trade in Koona?"

Mirak's gaze snapped back to the figure. His tone was sharp. "I thought there was no fighting in the Amphitheater."

The figure tilted their hood toward the door. "You can't stay here forever. Resin runs out. And once you step outside…"

Mirak's skin prickled as Atta coiled within him, answering his unspoken call. Lock's fists clenched, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the table.

"Careful," the stranger warned with an almost teasing tone. "No fighting here, remember? Besides, I only needed to get your attention. Now that I have it, let me explain my offer."

Lock exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed. "Let's hear it, then."

The figure's voice shifted, almost playful. "You speak well for someone from the Silver—"

Lock's knife was out in an instant, pressed against the stranger's throat. The noise in the Amphitheater died as silence swept over the room.

The figure, unbothered, calmly pushed the blade aside with their palm. "Easy, friend. I only wish to extend an invitation. No need for threats."

Mirak placed a hand on Lock's arm. "Let's hear him out," he said, trying to de-escalate.

Lock's muscles remained taut for a moment longer, but he eventually lowered the knife. Slowly, the hum of conversation returned to the Amphitheater, as if the brief moment of tension had been erased.

The hooded figure adjusted their cloak. "I'm here to invite you to join a rather prestigious group of thieves. We operate beneath Koona, in the labyrinth."

Lock rolled his eyes. "Not interested. I've no desire to skulk through tunnels for no reason."

Mirak, however, leaned forward, his tone skeptical but curious. "Why us? Why recruit Publici?"

The stranger gestured broadly. "We don't care about the labels others slap on you. All that matters is potential. And you two—" the figure pointed at them—"have it in spades."

Lock twisted his knife idly. "There's bound to be better recruits than us. Leave."

"No," the figure said firmly. "I was sent specifically for Lock Elsher and Mirak Windgust. The Revenant doesn't make mistakes." A sly smirk crept into their voice.

Lock's grip tightened. "You know our names?"

The stranger chuckled. "They don't call me the Eye of the Revenant for nothing. I know everything worth knowing."

Mirak folded his arms. "Then why not tell us what you're offering? Why should we care about your labyrinth?"

The figure tilted their head. "And what's your plan? Stay above ground? Navigate the Saki patrols and the nobles' disdain while finding 'honest' work? Good luck with that."

Lock snorted. "If we don't get caught, the Saki can't jail us."

"True," the figure replied smoothly. "But can you avoid the harassment of being Publici?"

After a pause, the hooded figure continued, "Follow me. Hear the Boss's pitch. Turn it down if you want, but don't burn this bridge. You might regret it."

Lock muttered under his breath, "Following some ghost into a maze... this screams trap."

Mirak nodded reluctantly. "Agreed, but we don't have many options."

Lock glanced around, his contacts nowhere in sight. "No. We don't."

"If you bring up the height difference," the figure said idly, "I'll tie you up and drag you to the Boss myself."

Before either could respond, a drunken thug staggered toward them, leering. "Oi, boys. That cloak gives a lot away, don't it?"

Other drunkards nodded in agreement. "What's a Revenant doing in our Amphitheater?"

The figure didn't flinch. "And what would your wife think of you harassing people here? Isn't she the 'sun of your life'? If she knew about your… habits, I imagine she'd be quite cross."

The thug's bravado faltered. "How do you know that?"

The hooded figure smiled faintly. "I know many things. Like the fact that your son is a guard for a noble house. What would he think if the Revenant paid him a visit?"

The thug's confidence crumbled, but his friends weren't so easily deterred. They gripped hidden weapons, eyes narrowing.

Unfazed, the Revenant agent continued, voice dripping with menace. "And what about the rest of you? Shall I inform the Boss of your little secrets? Families could vanish. Dockworkers, nobles—no one is off-limits. Even that snitch in the corner."

The tension snapped as the thieves began arguing among themselves, insults flying. The hooded figure tugged Mirak's arm, guiding him and Lock toward the exit.

"These tunnels are a labyrinth," the figure said with quiet finality. "People who don't belong often go in… and never come out."