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to be no more than an intricately ornamented band adorned with precious stones, the type of ancient trinket the wealthy and the powerful liked to flaunt to each other in the Goodlands. Nine square links connected to each other by smaller round hinges made up the sinuous gold bracelet. Each link was filigreed and decorated with different and elaborate designs. Stunning opalescent red crystals of a kind Sariah had never seen before were expertly inlaid on each link.
    Sariah had never worn anything like it. She had never fancied rich dress or ornamental jewels. She was a stonewiser, for Meliahs’ sake, pledged to the stones’ austere ways. But she had to admit to the bracelet's outstanding workmanship, to its exuberant if gaudy beauty, to the shock that the mere sight of it provoked. It evoked the Blood's sumptuous past, the luxury and prosperity of the Old World, the catastrophic losses to the rot. The bracelet was not only incongruent with herself. Like a knife to the heart, it struck a painful contrast between the promising past and the barren present.
    When Petrid laid it carefully on her arm, Sariah realized she had allowed herself to be misled by the bracelet's striking appearance. It was by no means a harmless trinket. It was an object of treachery. It didn't feel like any metal Sariah knew. On the contrary, if felt warm and malleable, oddly resolved to cling to her skin and peculiarly heavy.
    Whispering a ritual prayer in the old language, Petrid brought her wrist close to his mouth. His lips hovered over the bracelet's ornate clasp, a tenth link, smaller than the rest, shaped like a striking red-pupiled eye. He kissed the golden pin dangling from the little chain with a lover's passion, with a believer's zealous faith. Then he slid the pin into the clasp's hinges and pressed it into place.
    What happened next was more than strange. It was astounding. In one subtle pulse, the eye on the clasp disappeared under a silvery lid. The bracelet's round hinges contracted and vanished. Like a coiled serpent settling to feed on its kill, the bracelet fit itself snugly around her wrist.
    What mysterious force fueled the remarkable bracelet? Sariah couldn't begin to guess. She didn't believe in magic. Instead, she believed in ignorance, a condition which rendered people vulnerable to the unexplained. Could there be a wising on the bracelet? Where stones lurked, wisings could easily hide. Aye. It had to be. She couldn't wait to discover how the bracelet worked.
    The chief executioner exhaled a long breath, all too glad to finish the job. “Nine months to honor Meliahs’ nine sisters,” he said. “Nine months to find and submit the tale you seek. Pray thus for their gifts to Pride, Courage, Strength, Hope, Shrewdness, Loyalty, Generosity and Faith. But never trust on the last of the nine, Mercy, for she squanders her gifts on others and has little compassion for her bearer. When the time comes, she will not hesitate. She'll suck you dry of your essence before abandoning you to your sworn fate.”
    Sariah couldn't repress the shiver that ran the length of her spine. She didn't understand Petrid's strange words, but she remembered every one of them. She would have to think more on that later. The gaudy bracelet felt too heavy on her arm. It was a mark of her banishment, a warning to all Domainers that she was nonexistent in their world and that a meeting with her, however brief, was liable to cause great losses.
    “My brothers will complete the transaction,” Kael said in a flat tone, as if he was vying for a sack of flour or a load of potatoes. “We'll be taking our leave now.”
    “Not just yet.” The broad-nosed, bearded man who had shot at Sariah stood on the executioner's deck blocking their path. “I want my turn at her.”
    “If I recall correctly,” Kael said, “you shot your last stone and killed the other woman.”
    “I paid to shoot at this woman.”
    Kael's eyes narrowed on the man's face. “I know