Vow of Thieves (Dance of Thieves)

by Mary E. Pearson

  “Apples!” Jase called out suddenly. He was already steering Tigone to the low branches of the trees, plucking ripe red apples as he went. He tossed some to the ground for the horses and gathered more in the folds of his cloak before he dismounted. He bit into one, slurping up its goodness, then shrugged. “I called them first, but I might be convinced to share with you.”

  I looked down at him from my elevated position. “For a price, I suppose?”

  He grinned. “Everything comes with a price.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course it does.” I slid off Mije and ambled toward him. “But even for an ambassador?”

  “First it’s an apple. Next thing you know, you’ll be wanting your own office.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “A little office for an ambassador? Oh no. I had my eye on one of those big fancy apartments at the arena. Top level.”

  “Those are quite costly, I’m afraid.” He circled his arm around my waist and gave me a bite of his apple, then kissed me, the sweet juice wet on our lips.

  “Well, Patrei, just what might it cost me?”

  His brows rose. “I think it’s better if I show you.”

  We kissed again, banter still playing between our lips as he pulled me to the ground. I knew the lightness, the play, the laughter were his gifts to me, a promise that no matter how close we were to Tor’s Watch and whatever challenges it held or objections his family voiced, we would not lose the perfect beauty of these last weeks. It would not change anything between us. He didn’t need to say the words again. I felt them in every kiss. This was just the beginning.

  * * *

  It was as if Mije sensed we were near. Without a nudge, he picked up his pace, eager for his rest and fresh sweet hay, which the Ballenger stables always had in abundance. Jase had been right about the timing. The sky was striped with purple, dusk closing in fast as we headed for the back entrance at Greyson Tunnel. A shimmering black cloud, alive with bats heading out for their evening meal, streamed above us.

  Jase looked at me, the dusky sky flecking his brown eyes with soft light. “Stay close beside me,” he said. “I don’t want Priya taking a crack at you. She has a temper, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Priya? A temper? Noo,” I mocked. “I never would have guessed.” I could handle Priya, but I really didn’t want to. I wanted to make our transition back into Tor’s Watch as uneventful as possible, and not antagonize the family any further.

  “By the time we make it through the tunnel, the news will probably already have reached the house. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole family is waiting on the front steps for us.”

  He said it as a complaint, but I knew that was exactly what he was hoping for. The whole family—including Samuel. That if the note was written by Jalaine, it had been a hasty overreaction, another case of panic that held no truth. That’s what I was hoping for too, though the prospect of confronting his whole family on the front steps in just minutes snatched the breath from my chest. I knew I had to get it over with. Deal with their anger and move on. We had a plan. They would be part of it.

  We finally rounded the last copse of trees and emerged on the open slope that led to Greyson Tunnel. The towering black silhouette of Tor’s Watch loomed before us against the evening sky.

  But something about it was wrong. Very wrong.

  Jase pulled back on Tigone’s reins, staring. I stopped too, trying to make sense of it.

  The skyline had changed. The silhouette made no sense.

  Between the spires of Riverbend and Raehouse there was a gaping hole, as if a hungry monster had taken a bite out of it. The center black spindle of the main house was gone, and as my eyes adjusted to the shock, I noticed there was more that was gone.

  The wall.

  The front fortress wall near the entrance to Tor’s Watch—the solid rock wall that was four feet thick—had a cavernous gap, and jagged piles of rubble spilled down the mountain. The guard towers were gone too.

  “This can’t—” Words froze on Jase’s lips. A shocked second passed and then he bolted toward the destruction.

  “Jase! Stop!” I shouted. “It might not—”

  A powerful whir split the air. And then another. Arrows. I circled in place, trying to see where they were coming from.

  Jase heard them too and pulled back. He was about to turn Tigone around when an arrow struck his thigh. He grimaced, still trying to turn, and another pierced his shoulder, sending him recoiling backward. Tigone reared.

  I still couldn’t see where the shots were coming from. It seemed to be from everywhere. I raced toward Jase. “Baricha!” I yelled at Tigone. “Baricha!” The command for “run,” but the arrows kept whirring, and Tigone reared again, uncertain which direction to turn.

  Jase was yelling the same to me: “Run, Kazi! Go back!” Then another arrow hit him in the chest. In a split second, two more lanced his side. He slumped forward.

  “Jase!” I screamed as I reached him.

  No arrows had struck me. They were only aiming for the Patrei. His eyes met mine, hazy. “Go, get out of here.” His last words before he fell forward on Tigone.

  Dark cloaked figures descended upon us from all sides, surrounding us like yelping hyenas, shouting strategies to one another. Get him. I pulled a knife with one hand and my sword with the other and rolled from Mije, landing on my feet swinging, taking down the first cloaked figure that was already reaching to pull Jase from his horse. I doubled back, swinging at one coming at me from behind, slicing his head off, and yelled, “Baricha!” this time to Mije. He followed my command and galloped back toward the forest. Jase lay lifeless over Tigone’s withers. I rolled to avoid the swinging blade of a third attacker, jerking my knife upward to slash his hamstring, then stabbing him between the ribs as he stumbled forward. I shoved his body aside and prodded Tigone’s hindquarter, slapping her with the broad side of my sword, as I shouted, “Baricha!” again, praying she would follow Mije before more of the attackers closing in could grab Jase.

  It worked. Tigone barreled through the cloaked figures, knocking three of them down. But almost in the same moment, I was caught from behind, a hood flying over my head, the world fully black now. My weapons were wrested from my hands, but I continued to fight and heard a snap like a melon cracking open when my boot connected with the firmness of someone’s skull. I pulled my small boot knife free and stabbed backward over my shoulder into the face of whoever held me around the throat. A scream split the air and the arm fell away, but as I reached up to yank off the hood, a fist punched into my belly, and a sharp pain doubled me over. I was thrown to the ground, and a knee pounded into my back, pinning me to the rocky ground.

  The voices erupted in a new frenzy. How many were there? They had been lying in wait for us. An ambush. They knew we were coming. Who else knew Jase was coming home besides Gunner?

  “Stay down, bitch!”

  “After him!”

  “She killed Iersaug!”

  “That way! Go!”

  “Bloody hell!”

  “He won’t get far!”

  “Stay with her! I’ll get him!”

  “Search the grounds for others!”

  I heard the fading gallop of someone chasing after Jase. I struggled against the weight that had me pinned. Run, Mije. Deep into the forest where it is dark. Please, by all the mercies of the gods, run. Don’t stop. I can’t lose him.

  My head swam, nausea striking as my arms were jerked behind my back. They tied my wrists and legs with rope. The ground beneath me was warm and wet, and I smelled something—the salty tang of blood. Mine?

  It was only then I realized that the fist that punched me had held a knife. And just before the chaos faded and the darkness deepened, I realized something else.

  I recognized one of the voices.

  It belonged to Paxton.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JASE

  My eyes wouldn’t focus. My head whirled, or maybe that was Tigone still circling in terror. I caught
glimpses of Kazi fighting, Mije galloping, the distant fortress wall, a forest of trees as the world spun around me. And then I couldn’t see anything at all.

  This?

  This was how it would end?

  Maybe it already had. But my hand. My fingers. They held something. Kazi? Where are you?

  My fingers ached. My arms. They burned with fire. Hold on, Jase. I had something in my grip. Tigone’s mane? The reins? I squeezed tighter.

  “Kazi—” I couldn’t draw a breath. My chest. Then everything went cold. Frozen.

  My fingers slipped. Horse, saddle, air, sliding past my hand. I fell, slamming to the ground. The arrow lodged in my chest jammed farther into my body. A burning jolt knifed through me, every part of me on fire again. Gurgling breath rattled through my lungs. A scream rolled from my throat, like a dying animal. I heard galloping, a horse getting closer. Footsteps. Rustling. They were close. I tried to roll to my side, crawl, get away, my fingers digging into a moldy bed of leaves, but no more breaths would come. I coughed blood, saltiness filling my mouth. This. This was how it would end.

  Run, Kazi. Go—

  Kazi—

  The greenhouse. Please—

  I love—

  The Dragon will conspire,

  Wearing his many faces,

  Deceiving the oppressed, gathering the wicked,

  Wielding might like a god, unstoppable.

  —Song of Venda

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KAZI

  “Like this, Kazi. Put your hands here.”

  I feel his hand in mine, warmth against the cold, Jase teaching me the jig, the way the Ballengers dance it. His face glows as we twirl around an empty, crumbling ballroom that once held ancient kings and queens and the most powerful people on the continent. And for this night, it still does. It seems our feet don’t touch the ground. They all watch us, ghostly, willing it to never end, leaning forward the way ghosts do, wishing, remembering.

  “Do you hear that, Jase? They’re applauding us.”

  He looks up at the empty balconies and smiles as if he sees and hears them too. “They’re applauding you.”

  Would my memorized steps impress his family? Was I nimble enough? Graceful enough? Enough of anything? Because I did want to impress them. I desperately wanted that. To show them I knew how to do other things besides steal their Patrei. Show them I could learn to be part of a family.

  He spins me, lifting me into the air, the muscles of his shoulders flexing beneath my hands, then he lets me slide downward between his arms until our lips meet. The music we imagine together beats against our skin, the air, the swooning murmurs of those watching, Jase’s boots tapping our promises into place, unassailable, enduring—

  A crash jarred me awake, a door slamming into a wall. The ballroom we danced in vanished. I was back in my small dark cell, my dream dissolving in a quick gust, my arms cold again. Heavy footsteps clipped the cobbles in the hallway outside my cell door. I tried to use them as a measure for the passing days. They came as regularly as the taunting beam of light, but I was still uncertain how much time had passed. Some days were worse than others, delirium getting a strong foothold, it seemed, all the way into my soul. I fought against it. Sometimes it was Jase who brought me back from the edge. His voice reached through the darkness. Go with the current. Just a little farther. Keep going. You can do it.

  Had it been five days? Ten? Maybe far more. One dark day rolled into the next with no beginning or ending. The footsteps grew louder. Soon I would hear a faint plop, followed by the skitter of rats as a hard roll was dropped through the tiny opening at the top of the door. I had to hurry to get the meager lump of food before the rats did. It was all they fed me. One roll a day. Strangely, they wanted me to stay alive. But they wanted to keep me weak too.

  They were afraid of me.

  I had killed three of them, that much I knew—and maybe at least one more after I was captured. All the lessons from Natiya, Eben, Kaden, and Griz had become second nature in that chaotic moment when we were attacked. My desperation to save Jase had exploded through me like a hot flame. Every nerve blazed with one goal. Saving him was all that mattered. Had I? Had he gotten away? I couldn’t fail again. Not this time.

  Where are you, Jase?

  I told myself he had made it into the cover of the forest. I told myself a lot of things, every day bolstering myself with a new possibility when both fear and logic shook me with their cold hands. Five arrows. One in his chest. The chances of surviving that—

  I told myself that a hundred arrows couldn’t stop him, not even one in his heart, that he had made his way to someone for help. I held on to that thought, fast and tight, like a rope keeping me from plunging off a cliff. But who would help him? Where would he go? Had our attackers breached the walls of Tor’s Watch?

  The thump, thump, thump of the arrows still vibrated in my throat, steel piercing his bone and flesh again and again. Blood ran everywhere. A familiar voice crept in, my own, whispering cruel thoughts that had haunted me my whole life. Sometimes people vanish from our lives and we never see them again.

  No! I argued with myself and struggled to my feet. I pushed the lid off the water barrel and cupped some water into my hands. It had an earthy, ripe taste, like cider had once been stored in it. The barrel hadn’t been refilled since I was thrown in here. Maybe once the water was gone I would be too. I leaned against the wall and slid back to the floor, out of breath from the small effort. My festering wound throbbed, my brow was on fire, and yet I trembled with cold. I didn’t know much about injuries, which only now surprised me, considering the life I had lived. Even my two months in a Reux Lau prison cell hadn’t resulted in any injury. Had my mother made a wish upon a wish stalk? Many wishes to protect me? Maybe now they were all used up. My chiadrah. Is she coming? Is that her I hear walking closer? I swiped my hand over my sweaty brow. No, Kazi, that was before. You’re in a cell now, and Jase is—

  There was shuffling outside the door as my captor paused and slid open the lock on the peephole. But this time there were two sounds, first the soft plop of the roll and then a second sound. A firm slap. Something heavy hitting the ground. I pulled in a breath, bracing myself, then crawled on all fours toward the door, the chains on my ankles rattling behind me. I pressed on the wound, sticky ooze wetting my fingers.

  “Cowards!” I screamed, pounding on the door before the footsteps retreated. My daily response was proof that I wasn’t too weak or dead yet. That I would kill them all. I would. And Paxton would be first.

  But the burst of anger against the door took more energy than I had to spare, and I collapsed against it, dizzy with pain, then fell in a heap to the floor. One more day, Kazi. Make it one more day. How could I steal keys from my jailors if they never opened the door? How could I do anything when I grew weaker by the minute? Jase, where are you? I have to know. Maybe needing to know was all that kept me going. I still needed to be there for him. Which meant eating.

  I reached out, feeling for the roll, and my fingers closed around it. I could live on a single measly roll far longer than they could imagine. As long as it takes. My stomach was no stranger to emptiness. I had years of experience at this. I tucked the roll in my shirt and felt for the second item I’d heard fall. Had I imagined it? Dreams and delusions were my constant companions in this devilish place.

  My hand touched something soft. I snatched it up and examined it with my fingers. Knotted cloth? A handkerchief? I squeezed. It contained something pliable. I sniffed. Sweet. Food? Some sugary delicacy? A trick? I unknotted the cloth and dabbed my finger into the thick sticky paste, then tapped it to my tongue. Honey—laced with leafy herbs? This was not food. It was medicine. A poultice to leach away infection.

  Medicine, from one of them?

  Maybe at least one person on the other side of that door wanted me to live. Someone who was afraid too.

  * * *

  More medicine came the next day, and the next, and next. Some of it I ate. I guesse
d that it couldn’t hurt and might actually help. The oozing stopped. My brow cooled. My mind cleared. The wound seemed to be shrinking, the skin weaving itself back together. An extra roll was also dropped each day—with a chunk of cheese hidden inside. I eagerly devoured it, but I was still weak from days of being chained and starved. And darkness. Complete soul-sucking darkness. It seeped into my bones like a numbing liqueur.

  My benefactor didn’t reveal himself, but each day I felt the fear through the door, dread that I might call out and reveal him—or her. I sensed they were taking a great risk for me. Who was smuggling medicine and extra food? Who wanted me to stay alive?

  I heard the daily signal that food was on its way, footsteps, and I knelt near the door, ready to retrieve my roll and medicine, when I noticed a rumble. A different sound. Many footsteps. The rumble grew louder, and the door flew open. My hand shot up to protect my eyes from the piercing brightness. I squinted and blinked several times, trying to adjust to light I hadn’t seen in days, maybe weeks, and finally I saw what appeared to be a squad of guards crowding outside the doorway. All heavily armed.

  “Get to feet,” one of them ordered. “We go for walk.”

  “And if too weak to walk, we drag you.”

  “By hair.”

  “Your choice.”

  I looked at my half dozen captors, uniformed soldiers, all with shaved heads, tall, hard, and muscled, looking like they’d been carved from the trunks of giant trees instead of being fashioned from flesh. Three of them were a head taller than the others. There was something unnatural about them. Their skin pulled tight and their eyes were dull, like worn pewter plates. Soldiers? They spoke Landese with a strong accent that I didn’t recognize.