Of Thieves and Shadows

By B. S. H. Garcia The Heart of Quinaria Novels Of Thieves and Shadows Novelettes From the Ashes *From the Ashes is free to my mailing list subscribers at bshgarcia.com/subscribe* This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance, to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2023 by B. S. H. Garcia All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address Lost Relic Publishing: [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. Cover design and illustration by Jeff Brown Graphics Interior design by B. S. H. Garcia Map and interior illustrations by Jared Garcia First edition: June 2023 ISBN 979-8-9867208-0-7 (paperback) ISBN 979-8-9867208-1-4 (ebook) www.bshgarcia.com For Jared, who wouldn’t let me give up on this damn book. Please visit bshgarcia.com/map for a scalable, full-sized PNG. I highly recommend pulling this up on my website so you can reference it at your leisure while reading. Otherwise, the following two pages offer a zoomed in version that is easier to read. Thank you! Contents Epigraph PROLOGUE 1. KONAR 2. ZAVIK 3. ELAYSIA 4. LUMIRA 5. DAVIER 6. JAKKI 7. ZAVIK 8. KONAR 9. DAVIER 10. ELAYSIA 11. JAKKI 12. LUMIRA 13. ZAVIK 14. DAVIER 15. KONAR 16. JAKKI 17. ELAYSIA 18. LUMIRA 19. ZAVIK 20. DAVIER 21. LUMIRA 22. ELAYSIA 23. JAKKI 24. ZAVIK 25. KONAR 26. ELAYSIA 27. JAKKI 28. DAVIER 29. ZAVIK 30. ELAYSIA 31. LUMIRA 32. DAVIER 33. ELAYSIA 34. LUMIRA 35. JAKKI 36. ELAYSIA 37. JAKKI 38. ZAVIK 39. KONAR 40. ELAYSIA EPILOGUE Author's Note-Please read! The Inhabitants of Quinaria The Races of Quinaria Glossary Acknowledgments About The Author One of the first conditions of happiness is that the link between man and nature shall not be broken. —Leo Tolstoy Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you. ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil Rykahl hadn’t eaten in six days, and not solely because of the throbbing laceration snaking down the corner of his eye past his otherwise chiseled jaw. The plate of food before him—a steak cut and formed into a pyre atop roasted vegetables garnished with some flower the kitchen deemed edible—lay untouched and steaming, his knife planted in the middle. He drove it in further until the pottery cracked from pressure and the blade struck the table beneath. Father wouldn’t be pleased. He cherished the family heirlooms so. Satisfied, Rykahl caught the skirt of a servant girl and motioned for her to remove his plate. The palace’s newest head cook undoubtedly paced in the kitchen, awaiting word of his satisfaction. Pity. They were running out of cooks. “Husband, is everything alright?” His wife’s voice, shrill as a hatchling, spoiled the moment. He clenched his jaw and welcomed the tension throbbing from his teeth down his throat. “If tonight’s meal doesn’t please you, we should let the kitchen know.” “Aren’t you quite done with your meal, my dear? And the children too, yes?” Rykahl pushed away from the table, honeyed wine in hand, and leaned against the wall. His gaze lingered on their unfinished dinner plates. “On with you. I’ve a visit to prepare for.” They answered him with the sound of chairs sliding against marble. Wide-eyed and silent, his youngest three scurried by with heads bowed and limbs hidden in a sea of silk the same blood-red shade of the dining room walls. They flocked to their mother like the frightened poultry they were, heeding her whispers before she turned them over to the maidservant. His wife shuffled toward him and stopped half a body’s length away. She never drew closer. No need. Three boys were enough to put the concern of heirs out of his father’s mind, and if tonight went as planned, they’d become obsolete. She tugged on her gemmed necklace, exposing a jutting collarbone, lips parted for whatever plea she’d rehearsed. Rykahl held a finger to her lips. “Your beauty wanes swiftly as of late. I’d advise against tainting what’s left of your redeemable qualities by meddling in matters you can’t fathom.” A servant gasped. The corner of Rykahl’s mouth lifted. Hair veiled his wife’s eyes as she lowered her head like a hound caught stealing from the butcher. “I didn’t intend to displease you. I thought with your father’s condition, this might not be a good night—“ “That’s why I don’t leave the thinking to you. One can only imagine our nation’s downfall, were you left to think on it.” The harpist in the corner plucked a sour note, severing the melancholy tune he played variations of every evening during dinner. A cause for celebration. Rykahl finished the rest of his wine and hurled the cup at the harpist, who ducked before it smacked the wall behind his head. The servants froze. Plates stacked in one’s hands. Dirty rags in another’s. Clearly, they needed motivation. Rykahl snatched his wife’s drink and finished it in one gulp. The cup rolled off the table and clinked on the ground as he marched toward the harpist. “Best melody you’ve played in ages, minstrel. Let’s ensure the good performance continues.” Rykahl seized a sword from the armor display. “Move aside unless you want to sink with your ship.” Mouth agape, the harpist melted into the star-shaped leaves of the potted plants and watched silently as Rykahl hacked at the instrument until it was no more than kindling. “Now out. All of you, out,” Rykahl screamed at the gawkers. “Haven’t you work to do? If not, I relieve you of your duties for the evening. Go