Prologue

An unlikely visitor traveled to the foothills of the Falling Mountains, where ash and dust over the prison camp marked the entrance to the coal mines. A bitter stench coated his throat, even through the cover of his cowl pulled over his nose and mouth to filter the fumes. Black smoke rose from a water pump on the surface, draining the mine where the men worked underground, harvesting the island's primary fuel source.

Only the convicts worked the coal mines. The hard labor so dangerous, only the desperate and deprived could be forced into such hazardous conditions. Where rations were sparsely distributed, the workday was long and without break, and the poisonous gas and crumbling conditions usually killed a man before his time was served.

The guards showed him to the guardhouse, into a room where the warden met with prisoners if they needed a bit of motivation after not meeting their quota. Torturous acts were endured here, as evidenced by the stains on the floor and the windowless walls. A pair of kerosine lamps lit the space from the desk where he sat, waiting.

A steam whistle blew in the yard outside, signaling to the workers that the day was done.

Chains slid across the dusty concrete floor. The prisoner he'd requested to meet wore shackles around his hands and ankles, bound securely per protocol. They locked him to a chair that was nailed to the floor in front of the desk.

He was shirtless and covered in similar filth. If the visitor hadn't know his natural hair was auburn, he'd assume it was grey, the way the mines had stained his features. When he locked eyes with the visitor, his grimy face broke out into a grin. Black coal lined the spaces between his teeth.

"Giver and Greed," Gavriel said, "it took you long enough, but I knew you'd come through. I told those treasonous bastards you'd come for me."

"Not enjoying your new accommodations, Inspector?" The visitor smirked.

He grimaced. "It's a kind of hell here. Some of these men remember when I sentenced them." He looked off; a shiver jerked his shoulders. "They do bad things to me when the guards go to sleep. And the mines"—he coughed as his breath rattled in his chest—"are darker than any place in this realm. Sometimes men will drop dead beside me, or a cavern will crumble on top of a team. I've watched men drown when the pumps stop working. The guards whip us for any reason at all—"

"I'm sorry to hear it." The visitor sighed. "Why don't you tell me how you got into this mess, and let's see what can be done about it."

Anger swelled in his eyes, recalling the memory. Gavriel then told him a story about how he appealed Nicolai Attano's prison sentence in exchange for being his hitman. It had all gone downhill from there. The bender, of course, had double-crossed Gavriel as he was known to do.

"That fucking Attano," he growled. "He fed me the wrong names, so we hit Niner sympathizers, not our opponents."

"You hired him to purge our leadership of those who oppose us, and instead gave him the opportunity to kill off our very valuable supporters?" the visitor asked.

The prisoner sputtered, "It wasn't my fault! He had help! And when I get out of here, I'm going to—"

"Calm down, Gavriel. You aren't going anywhere."

The man across from him shrank a size. "What do you mean? Haven't you come to release me?"

"Why would I do that?"

The old inspector swallowed hard. "I thought... I thought this was just temporary. To appease the law—"

"You were the law," the visitor hissed. "You knew exactly who Nico Attano was killing off and you let him. The others wanted to be cruel, Gavriel. They told me to leave you up here to rot after what you did. I disagreed. I thought you might want to know what the OIC decided—give you the opportunity to find some peace before the mines took you."

"After all I've done, the OIC would turn their backs on me? The Nine?" Calloused hands fisted around his chains. "All the remnants I caught and delivered to you! You would have none of them without me!"

"Who the fuck cares about a few descendants? We now have Chaos, despite you." When Gavriel's eyes widened, the visitor smiled. "That's right, Inspector. I caught the girl and cleaned up your mess. Next, I'm going to replace all the sympathizers you killed off, spread the influence of the Nine to every Third—from the Lowlands, through the Mez, to the Upper Notch—and when I'm finished, Order will be reestablished on the Isle."

"And what about me?" He jerked at his bindings, and the rattle of each link echoed through the space. "You'll leave me here? I still served the Order of Inner Courts for years. I found Hightower, where our patron saint split the void and gave us a precious source of power. What about what I've accomplished for Order?"

The visitor shrugged. "I suppose the OIC would let you come back. When you finish serving your time." He stood from the table, leaving the brief meeting. "Thank you for your information about the Attano. I figured as much but needed further insight into your arrangement with him before moving forward."

"Wait!" Gavriel cried behind him, pulling at his chains.

He ignored the prisoner, continuing out the door where a pair of guards stood watch.

"You're making a mistake! There are rats in the OIC!"

He paused at the door, sparing him one last look. "Don't waste more of my time, Gavriel."

"Hartsong!" he shouted. "Theo Hartsong and his daughter. They're the reason I'm in here." Gavriel cried. A well of tears spilled from the corners of his eyes and collected the ash soiling his cheeks.

"Hartsong?" he repeated.

Gavriel nodded his head enthusiastically. "Yes. Vanya was the one who gave me the wrong names. She conspired with the Attano to set her father up as the High Overseer."

This both surprised and pleased the visitor very much. "Good to know. Thank you for your time, Inspector."

"Firenze! Firenze, please, don't leave me here!"

Felix Firenze brushed down his coat and returned to a waiting carriage, with the information he needed, back to the city of Lynchaven.