Niamh grew more comfortable with their occasional visits to the harbour neighborhoods of Saanazar, but she never got used to wearing common clothes instead of her grey. It felt too much like deceit. She only attended Anthin’s investigations because he continued asking if Miril and Niamh would help him. She liked being helpful, but she didn’t like lying to the locals, even if they weren’t the good locals to whom she was accustomed.
Towards the middle of the month, they went on a fourth outing. It had been over a month since the box had been stolen and their hope of finding it was small. Still, it seemed wrong to let the culprits get away with it.
Niamh and Miril took a break mid-afternoon for dinner, while Anthin continued to watch a game of dice in case any of the many onlookers mentioned their connections. The guard had had as little success as the priests in pinning down the Green Eye of Sheld gang.
When Miril left the window table to refill their drinks, a man slid into the seat across from Niamh. Niamh’s stomach quickly climbed into her throat. The man was wearing a long off-black cloak, had a scruffy beard and a scar coming out of his hair by his ear, and he was armed with a sword at his waist and two knives buckled between his shoulder and his thigh.
Eyes wide, Niamh asked, “Hello?”
“Good day,” the man said, giving her a nod. “I mean you no harm, if you’ll hear me out.”
“I see…” Niamh mumbled. “And what would you like?”
The stranger adjusted his cloak slightly, revealing a badge fastened to the tunic beneath. The badge was green and shaped like an eye. “We’ve been watching you, and your friends,” the man said. “You seem like good folk.”
Niamh crossed her arms and leaned back from the table even more. “Pardon me—you’ve been watching us?”
“It’s been hard, with the guard looking for any sign of us. Your doing, I believe,” the man said. Seeing Niamh’s face growing even more fearful, he raised a calloused hand to calm her. “That’s not what this is about. We want what you want.”
“And what exactly do I want?” Niamh asked. Her mind was racing, equal parts curiosity and fearful confusion. In her peripherals, she saw Miril watching. Her friend did not come closer though, not wanting to interrupt something.
In answer to Niamh’s question, the stranger shrugged. “To see all the corrupt priests and ambitious conquerors expelled from your order.”
Niamh tried to play dumb, to conceal what she knew—which was very little. “Yes, it’s unfortunate that so many seem to have lost their way. I’m concerned by what you mean by expel, though…who do you work for, sir?”
The man shook his head impatiently. “The Green Eye of Sheld,” he said, and indicated the badge again.
Niamh glanced at Miril, who hovered cautiously nearby. “Do you mind if I invite my friends over?” she asked the stranger. “You already seem to know them.”
“I’m not here to answer all your questions,” the man clarified, with a sigh. “I’m here to put you on a better path. Take a look in the alley behind the third warehouse on Suhnara Road. We put it all back like we found it. You don’t like what you see—then tell the guards where you found it so we can all get back to work. If you do like what you see…well, then keep looking for us, for we’re your enemy.”
With that, the weathered gangster rose from the table. He gave a curt nod to Miril, then sauntered out into the street. The door creaked as it swung closed behind him.
Niamh remained frozen in her seat until Miril hurried over. “Are you good? Who was that?!” her friend questioned.
“Get Anthin,” Niamh said. “I have a lot to recount.” She repeated the message the crook had delivered and the strange way he had approached her. They stared at her with widening eyes as she recalled the man’s words.
“If we like or don’t like what?” Anthin wondered. “Did he say?”
Niamh looked out the window and shivered. “The most unsettling thing is: we have been looking for them this whole time, while they have been watching us. If they wanted to stop us, they could have at any time.”
“I wonder if they’ve been watching us since Calinar Road, or just since we started asking about them in the harbour?” Miril pondered.
Anthin frowned. “I doubt we’re as much of a threat as the guards are.”
“Maybe they were watching us even when we gave the box away,” Niamh suggested.
“How could they know it was us?” Miril asked. “Brother Tolleo seemed to have chosen us at random.”
“It doesn’t matter, I guess,” Niamh whispered. “Should we check the location he gave us? This warehouse?”
Anthin paused. “I suppose so,” he said, and took a sip of his own drink. “Should we call on Aradar first? It sounded like this strange Green Eye man wanted us to wait until we saw what was there.”
“If they wanted to hurt us, they could have. I feel like they are trying to tell us something—or send us a message,” Niamh explained. The man had not intended her harm, she knew it.
“I agree,” Miril said. “Let’s just go.”
“If we need to notify a guard after, I think we should just notify Aradar. I think he’s a good man with good intentions,” Niamh said, as they walked slowly into the street. “Though I’m less sure about some of the others I have seen.”
Evening was settling in when Niamh and her friends reached the warehouse on Suhnara Road. The alley behind it was littered with broken and discarded building materials, packing hay, and remnants of ships’ rigging. Rodents scurried for safety at the arrival of the priests. It took a few moments of looking, but they soon found a rough-around-the-edges leather sack in the weeds behind the warehouse wall. The object inside was clearly the shape of a box.
Anthin got down on his knees to extract the sack from the overgrowth. He uncinched the string that held it closed and pulled out a wooden box—with the intricate carving of Risen Maralaia on its lid.
Miril held up her hands in surprise. “Why?” she gasped. “What was the point of all this?”
Mouth agape, Niamh looked at her friends, then squatted down to examine the box. There was no lock, but it otherwise looked as they had lost it.
“Do we open it?” Anthin asked. “The man at the bar wanted to see if we liked it, but if we don’t open it…then yes, I like that we found it, at least.”
Niamh’s curiosity got the better of her. “Let’s open it. He wanted to show us something.”
Anthin didn’t wait for more. He lifted the lid up on its hinges, revealing the box’s contents. They were, at first glance, much what one might expect to find among an Archpriest’s personal effects. There was a small jewelry box with a ring and necklace inside it. There was a quill and ink set, and a copy of The Tenets of Atmos’ Favour. Anthin lifted out a small glass jar, holding it toward the distant lantern-lit street to see the dark fluid within. It wasn’t labelled. Several letters were collected within the box as well, tied with strings though their wax seals were broken.
Disappointed, Niamh looked at the others. “We should take it back to the Temple and examine it in better light. I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to—we’re probably being watched. They are called the Green Eye for a reason, it seems.” She wasn’t certain what she had expected to find in Roithe’s belongings.
They found a secluded section in the Temple library to safely exhume and examine the box’s contents. Niamh felt far more secure here, away from the prying eyes of the gang. She was a little uncomfortable going through the box, though she understood there was good reason to see for themselves what secrets it might contain. Of course—the Green Eye could have planted things, so it was best to take it all with a grain of salt.
Anthin passed out Roithe’s letters for them to read, and they each unfurled a scroll to quietly assess if there was anything unusual. Niamh’s letter immediately revealed that there very much was.
“Roithe,” began the letter, “As you have instructed, we have ensured that Matriarch Valakono has accepted Lady Teeratha and her advisors as candidates for one of the new Matriarch positions. We will update you as things unfold here, but we do worry that it may be too late to prevent more schemes from unfolding against Lord Gallendris. The siege of Starath continues to our south, and pressure to solidify the government is working in our favour. It is our hope that when the war is over, Noress-That-Was will be yours. Brother Meradar, The Conquest Creed.”
Niamh couldn’t contain her exclamation at the conclusion of the letter. “What?” she puffed. “The Conquest Creed is real?” Everyone had heard the stories of the mysterious Sixth Creed of the Atmos Septi, but it was foolishness. There were no plans to build a so-called “Grey Empire” or subjugate other lands by force.
But in her hands, Niamh held a letter full of names, schemes, and signed by the Conquest Creed!
“What?” repeated Miril. She held up the letter she had been reading. “This one is about the city of Sheld. I’m busy trying to work out the connection to the Green Eye of Sheld.” She eagerly peeked at Niamh’s letter to see the signature.
The other things in Niamh’s letter made little sense. The Matriarchs ruled Noress-That-Was—so Roithe had been involved in plans to appoint someone sympathetic into that government? The Siege of Starath had been over for a long time now, but that helped place the letter back before Roithe’s death in the harbour attack—the harbour attack where he had fought back with powerful magic?
It was hard not to see the signs of corruption all throughout.
“Mine is also about the Sixth Creed,” Anthin reported, “and plans to…betray the Empire of Noress? But they’re our allies in the war! What was Roithe involved in?”
Niamh quickly went to check this year’s registry of the brothers and sisters. Brother Meradar certainly existed, but was assigned to the Cardinal Creed in Noress-That-Was. Returning to their secret aisle among the library’s stacks, Niamh found her friends reading the next set of letters. Their evening continued on this way—and the letters grew more and more confusing. They found many that were addressed to someone called Gravagan, and a few that were signed by this Gravagan. Roithe’s name didn’t appear on those letters, leading them to wonder if Roithe had intercepted letters intended for someone else.
Confounding things further, there was no apparent motive revealed for the mysterious Sixth Creed or Roithe’s involvement within it. Did it truly seek to build a holy empire through scheme and force? Did the Speaker know about it, or did it operate entirely illicitly?
Eventually forced by exhaustion to retire to their dorms, Niamh found herself feeling more confused and shocked than anything else. Who was Gravagan? What did the Sixth Creed want? Why had Roithe really died? Above all—how could the holiest ring of Atmos’ loyal servants have been infiltrated by someone of such veiled and nefarious intentions?
The Green Eye of Sheld had told them to hand the box over to the guards if they did not like its contents. Niamh certainly did not, but neither she nor her friends could predict what effect their actions would cause. They decided to hold on to the mysterious box and its deadly secrets until they could make an informed decision.