Emberflame's Arc

Chapter 9 of 11

At dawn, the chief's boots stopped at Emberflame's bench. The order was short: stand the next gate watch alone. Emberflame set down the silver and looked toward the wall. The white wolf's post was empty. The sentinel was gone. Whatever came next would arrive with no warning, and no one between it and the gate but them. Emberflame climbed the stone tower beside the gate and grabbed the rope to the brass bells. They strung a thin line of stone-thread weave between the bell arm and the gate latch — any push on the gate would pull the bells. They fit a copper tube with angled mirrors against the parapet, so they could see past the wall without showing their head. By noon, the bells rang sharp and clear. Through the tube, Emberflame saw a figure at the gate with an empty crate and a folded note. They did not open it. They rang the bells again, hard, and the crew came running. The watcher dropped the crate and ran. The gate held. The chief climbed the tower steps and looked at the rigged line, the bells, the mirrored tube. A short nod, like before. The watch was kept. The tower had caught what the wolf could not. But the dropped crate sat inside the gate now, and the folded note was still tied to its lid — another message from the watcher, waiting to be read. A low hiss came from the parapet. A small shape uncurled from the shadow of the bell — sleek black fur, a long scaled tail, yellow eyes fixed on the gate. The dragon cat Emberflame had rigged as a second alarm stretched and padded down the steps. It stopped beside the crate, sniffed the note, and growled once. Emberflame followed it down and cut the string. The note read: Open the tin. We need to talk. The watch was won, the gate was sealed, but the watcher had named their price — and Emberflame would have to answer it next.