“How did you find out the thread was here?” I asked, flinting the candle to life. “You haven’t faced a hyena in twenty years.”

“I’ve been shopping in here before.” He led the way down the stairs, through a crudely constructed gate, and into the dark.

The candlelight didn’t have much range, but it illuminated enough that I could see the stone walls and low ceiling of the tomb. The echo of our footsteps told me it was most likely multiple rooms, and my ears were proven right when Jember led us through two more doorways.

Jember handed me the candle and leaned his staff against the stone wall, and I followed his lead as he sat in front of a stone coffin.

“Hold it close.”

Already, with the candle close to a carved line, I could see something glint. He took out a needle and stuck it down into the small slit, prying up a small glimpse of the thread. He repeated the action a few times, until there was enough of a loop sticking out from the slit to pinch with my fingers.

“No,” Jember said, when I tried.

I sighed and settled down to watch him loosen a little more. “Can I help you?”

“Just hold the candle steady.”

It was another few minutes of silence before I said, “How much of this do I need?”

“A meter.”

“The candle won’t last that long, at the rate you’re going. Let me help you.”

“If the thread breaks it’ll be useless to you. Don’t be in such a rush to die.”

“I’m not going to die.” He scoffed, and I bit back the urge to drip hot wax on him. “What do you care, anyway?”

“I’ve invested fourteen years of my life in keeping you alive. I don’t like to see my investments wasted— Ah.” The end of the thread revealed itself and he wound it around two fingers. “Won’t be much longer now.”

It was work-related, and so I knew I could trust his word. And sure enough, the rest of the thread came up more easily, as if guided by the end he was winding. The candle was barely half used by the time he cut the end of the thread with his knife.

“That’s a little bit more than a meter,” he said, handing it to me. “Enough to knot the end.”

I tucked it into my pocket. “Thanks, Jember.”

“And when we get home—”

“I work on my amulet.” I grinned and shrugged. “No rest for the weary.”

“Or for any debtera, for that matter,” he said, and I almost thought I saw him grin too. “Get used to it.”