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‘It is,’ said Garovel. ‘However, I remember there being many more shards than this. I remember a mound of them. As big as a person, one might say.’

Qorvass’ hollow eyes narrowed a moment. ‘Where are you from, Garovel?’

‘I was born a Lyzakk.’

‘Ah. A most ancient brother.’

‘You were born a Lyzakk as well?’ Garovel asked.

‘Of course,’ said Qorvass. ‘But you must have guessed that by now.’

‘I try not to presume too much these days,’ said Garovel. ‘Rather, I find it more surprising that your loyalties haven’t shifted in three thousand years.’

‘Three thousand? I am not as old as that, but yes, it has been a while. My loyalty may not have wavered, but my curiosity has certainly led me to wander on more than a few occasions. But I am curious as to why you did not tell me of your heritage sooner? You must have realized it would have gone a long way with the Sandlords.’

‘Well, I wasn’t a Sandlord. And I don’t exactly have a birth certificate to show you.’

‘Even so,’ said Qorvass, ‘I would have liked to know that I was fighting alongside my kin this whole time.’

Garovel’s skeletal face twisted somewhat. ‘You are very kind. But I get the impression that your experience with the Lyzakks was more enjoyable than mine.’

‘Yes, I am getting that impression as well,’ said Qorvass. ‘Perhaps you would care to share your story with me.’

‘Perhaps I would. But for now, I am more interested in these jewels. I remember hearing about their creation, and I went to see them shortly thereafter. Why are there so few now? What happened to the rest of them?’

‘The War of the Three Sands happened to them,’ said Qorvass. 'Strange that you are able to recognize the Shards but not know their history.’

‘Ah,’ said Garovel. 'I was on the other side of the world when that was going on. So these were what that whole fuss was about, huh? I probably could have guessed as much.’

Hector just had to interject now. “There was a war fought over these things?”

‘Pretty much,’ said Garovel. ‘It was a war between the Sandlords themselves. That’s the trouble with a system built on divine right.’ He looked to Qorvass. ‘But you must know more about it than I do.’

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Hector expected Garovel to ask another question, but the reaper said nothing further. They hurried to catch up with everyone.

Soon, the butlers began showing different people to different rooms. Hector’s room shared a hallway with the Elroys. There were no windows, but to his eyes, the chamber would have been fit for a king. It was almost too nice, in fact. The giant rug at the foot of his bed had been woven with such a complex fractal design that he didn’t even want to step on it.

As lovely as it was, however, he didn’t linger in it for long. He was more interested in exploring the rest of Dunehall, and Garovel seemed to agree with him.

After only a short while of wandering, he and Garovel found themselves in a globular chamber full of paintings and artifacts on pedestals. There was one particular pedestal which caught Garovel’s attention. It seemed to have been relegated to a position by the wall, enough so that Hector might not have noticed it if the reaper hadn’t pointed it out. On its mantle lay a transparent case filled with four large slivers of crimson glass.

And before Hector could even ask a question, Qorvass arrived, flanked by Asad.

‘Hello again,’ said Garovel cheerily.

‘Hello,’ said Qorvass. ‘I see you’ve found the gallery.’

‘Indeed. It’s lovely, as is everything here. But I am wondering--are these what I think they are?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Qorvass. ‘Do you think they are a bunch of shiny rocks? Because you would be right.’

Hector saw Garovel tilt his head.

‘Actually, I was thinking they were the Quta Jaf’lah.’

‘Mm,’ hummed Qorvass. ‘Well, they’re not.’

‘Oh?’ Garovel paused. ‘I see.’

Hector was lost, but he didn’t want to interrupt.

‘Supposing they were, though,’ Garovel went on, ‘why might you keep them here? This seems like an odd place for objects of such value. Hypothetically speaking.’

‘Perhaps they are not as valuable as you are imagining,’ said Qorvass. ‘Or perhaps this place is more secure than you are imagining.’

Garovel laughed faintly. ‘I suppose your suspicion is understandable, but I assure you that my interest is purely academic. And I am quite certain that these are indeed the Quta Jaf’lah.’ He turned to Hector. ‘The Shards of the Dry God.’

Hector was only slightly less lost now.

‘I got quite a good look at them once,’ said Garovel, facing Qorvass again. ‘Ages ago.’

‘Is that right?’ said Qorvass.

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Asad appeared and led everyone inside. Hector moved to help carry Zeff, but a pair of much larger men were already there, so he just stuck close to the children.

The building’s interior left him gawking again. Polished black tiles covered the floor of the entryway, matched by an obsidian lion that looked pretty much life-size, by Hector’s estimation. A team of butlers were there to greet them as well, offering to take luggage that most of the Rainlords chose to hold onto. Hector did the same with his one bag.

‘Wow,’ Garovel said privately. ‘We knew Asad was rich, but holy shit. This place is ridiculous.’

Hector had to stifle a laugh. ‘Do you think he’s richer than Roman?’

‘Ha. Dunno. Now that I think about it, we seem to have a lot of rich friends, don’t we?’

Hector gave a sideways nod. ‘Yeah, I guess so. How the fuck did that happen?’

‘Maybe it’s because whenever you meet a poor person, you usually just save their life and leave, you classist prick.’

‘What--?’

‘You should take a good long look at yourself.’

He knew the reaper was joking, but he also knew that there was some truth to be found there as well. They’d discussed the topic at length back in Gray Rock and come to the conclusion that he should work on achieving a better relationship with the lower classes. Indeed, that had been the purpose of his visits to homeless shelters just prior to his trip to Sair. Thinking about it now reminded Hector of all the things that still needed doing at home.

It still felt a little strange to think of Warrenhold as home. Strange in a good way, though.

He glanced over and saw Emiliana lagging behind her siblings. Hector pulled back to ask her, “Are you okay?”

She looked at him, as if surprised, and adjusted her mask. “Ah. Yes. I apologize.”

Chergoa floated up beside her. ‘Something wrong?’

“No,” said Emiliana. “It was only an odd shiver.”

‘A shiver?’ said Chergoa.

“Goose pimples. They surprised me. But I am fine.” She walked on ahead, not waiting for a response.

Hector exchanged looks with Chergoa before the reaper left to join her.

‘Hmm,’ hummed Garovel privately, who’d apparently been close enough to overhear. ‘A shiver, huh? Is it cold in here?’

‘Not really,’ said Hector. ‘Well, maybe compared to outside...’