“Excuse me?”
I gasped and pulled away, and we both turned. Lydia stood on the first step of the pavilion, Nash just behind her.
“What are you doing here?” Montegue bellowed. “Go play!” He glared at Broken Nose, who stood just behind them.
“But I have to go,” Lydia said woefully.
“Go?” he replied, not understanding at first, and then it hit him. “You mean?” He growled with exasperation. “Then find a tree and pee! You’re not a baby!”
“I’m afraid to go by myself,” she whined. “I heard howling.”
“Take her into the woods!” Montegue said to Broken Nose.
Lydia’s lip trembled. She didn’t move.
“I have to go too,” Nash added, his voice filled with as much woe.
I sighed and put my hand on Montegue’s arm. “She’s of an age and more shy about that kind of thing. Maybe she’d be more comfortable with me. Let me go with them both to take care of their business, and then I’ll get them settled over by the wash searching for eyestones. That should keep them occupied for a good long while so we can have some—time—without interruption.”
He sucked in a frustrated breath between clenched teeth. “Hurry,” he ordered. And then to Broken Nose, “Once she has them settled, do not bring them back until you hear me call. Do you understand?”
Broken Nose nodded, betraying no emotion, but I guessed that he seethed with resentment for being saddled with this job. I was grateful it wasn’t No Neck watching them today. He would have been more difficult.
We quickly left to take care of the urgent matter. Broken Nose grumbled once we were out of earshot of the king, insulted that he’d been charged with playing nursemaid. “I’d have drowned them both like feral kittens a long time ago if I had my way.” There was no jest in his tone, and if the king or Banques gave the nod, I knew he would gladly do it. Lydia and Nash didn’t flinch at his remark, and I wondered at the horrors they had endured every day as prisoners of the king, because though he tried to paint it differently, there was no question—they were his prisoners.
Jase would be enraged but proud too at how they had held up under this strain, showing more strength than many adults could muster. Jase would—
My chest tightened. I had already decided not to tell them they would be seeing him soon. I didn’t know what kind of shape he would be in, or if he even—
He could be dead by now.
I wished Paxton had been less honest with me.
We walked briskly to a copse of shrubs about halfway into the graveyard. Broken Nose waited on the other side to give Lydia privacy, but he kept an eye on me. Every minute counted so Lydia and Nash finished their business quickly.
As we continued on toward the dry creek bed, I asked him to slow his steps for the sake of the children. “Do you have a name?” I asked. “So I don’t have to keep calling you Guard?”
He brushed away the question, saying a name wasn’t important, but with a little more prodding, he finally admitted his name was Lucius.
“How did you break your nose, Lucius?”
“The butt of a halberd,” he answered, then smiled. “But the fellow who swung it fared far worse.”
“Good to know.” Lucius. A helpful detail. The wash came into view, but then I stopped short, putting my hand out to stop the children too, as if I was afraid.
“Wait,” I whispered. “What is that?” I pointed into the shadows at the Ballenger tomb. The door was partway open. “Grave robbers?” I said. “Should we go get someone?”
Broken Nose scowled at me with offense. “What do you think I’m here for? I’m not just here to play nursemaid to them.” He pulled his sword free and walked cautiously toward the tomb. I ordered the children to stay put and followed close behind. When we were a few yards away, he called toward the dark entrance. “Come out!”
No one appeared, and he edged closer, craning his neck to see what threat might be inside, forgetting about the one right behind him.
I had never killed anyone this way before. Whenever I had plunged a knife or sword between someone’s ribs, it had been in combat—noisy, messy, desperate, and fast. This was slow. Stalking. Waiting for the perfect moment. I didn’t like it, and yet I welcomed it. I had never killed someone for a better reason.
Every step was calm. Except for the steady whoosh of my heart in my ears.
“Do you see anything?” I whispered.
“Nah,” he answered, as if disappointed, and stepped inside. “Nothing.”
At least the children wouldn’t see it happen.
One step. Two. He turned. And I plunged the scalpel into his throat and slashed.
Swift, silent, exact. As precise as juggling an orange.
And more permanent than the butt of a halberd.
He couldn’t call out, couldn’t lift his sword. I took it from his hand before he fell to his knees with a thunk, facedown on the floor. I wasn’t sure he even knew it was me, but I did know he wouldn’t be drowning anything again—children or feral kittens. I pulled his cloak away before it could be soaked with his blood and set it on the center internment stone along with his long sword, dagger, and push knife, then went to the door and waved the children forward.
“Don’t look,” I said, when they reached the tomb. “He’s dead and can’t hurt you.” And then everything went from slow to rushed. There were fifty crypt spaces in the tomb, each marble front approximately a two-foot square. More than half of them were already occupied, Ballenger names engraved on the outer marble faces.
I knelt down so I was eye level with Lydia and Nash and hurried to tell them everything they needed to know. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be safe with friends, but the next several hours will take tremendous courage, the kind the Patrei has—the kind you have too. Do you understand?”
Lydia nodded, her jaw set hard.
Nash’s chin dimpled, trying to keep tears back.
“I can’t stay here with you. I have to lead them away. But no matter what you hear, no matter who calls to you or threatens you or threatens me, you will not answer. You will even hear me calling for you, but I’m only pretending to not know where you are. You must remain completely silent, even if I scream. It’s all part of the plan.” I squeezed both of their hands. “And it will fail if you call out—remember, we are not just saving ourselves, we’re working to save all of Hell’s Mouth—so you mustn’t cry, whimper, or even whisper to each other. It will be dark, and it will be cold, but once it is night, someone will come for you and take you away to where you’ll be safe. And you’ll ride your own horses. No more riding with the king. You’ll like that, won’t you?”
“Yes,” they both answered quietly.
And then I told them where I was going to hide them. “But Sylvey’s body isn’t there. It never was. It’s just an empty chamber.” But no one else will know that.
“Where’s Sylvey?” Nash asked. He never knew her. She died when he was just an infant, but he knew of her. Ballengers never forgot their history—or their family.
“She’s buried in the Moro mountains.”
Tears puddled in Lydia’s eyes, worried for a sister she had no memory of. “Will the gods be angry that she’s gone?”
“No,” I said, pulling her and Nash into my arms. An ache clutched my throat. “The gods know where she is. It’s a beautiful place where she was meant to rest. The gods are pleased.” I had never been so grateful for a broken law in my life. Thank the gods Jase had stolen her body. Even if they went so far as to search the tomb, no one would ever break into a crypt they believed was occupied with a sanctified body.
I pushed them both away so I could look into their eyes. “And now you must tell me one last thing. It’s very important. Do you know if there’s another entrance to the vault?”
They looked at each other and then back at me. “We aren’t supposed to tell. We didn’t even tell the king. Only family is allowed to know.”
“But I am family. I’m your
sister now. Jase would want you to tell me. Please.”
“You’re our sister?” Nash said.
“You’re never going away again?” Lydia added. “Because family doesn’t go away.”
“Never,” I answered, guilt stabbing me, because I knew sometimes family did go away even if they didn’t want to.
Nash looked at the dead guard in the corner to make sure he wasn’t listening. “It’s by the waterfall,” he whispered.
“There’s a cave. Left, left, right, left. I memorized that,” Lydia said proudly. “Once inside, those are the tunnels you take.”
“And there’s bats. Lots and lots of bats in the first big cave,” Nash added.
“Which waterfall? Where?” I asked. There had to be a hundred waterfalls in the mountains behind Tor’s Watch.
They both looked at each other, unsure. “It’s a long ways up the mountain. I think,” Lydia answered. They began reciting the few hazy details they remembered. A long, skinny meadow. A toppled tree with roots that rose higher than a house. A giant blue rock that looked like a bear standing on its hind legs. That was all they could remember, and I prayed it was enough.
I went to Sylvey’s crypt at the end of the middle row and unscrewed the rosette fasteners, then carefully removed the marble front and set it aside. Next I removed the inner shutter and looked into the long dark space, hoping there was no trace of a body ever being in there. It was clean, and there was plenty of room for two small children. I laid out the guard’s cloak inside and lifted them both up onto it, then wrapped it around them to keep them warm.
“Remember,” I whispered, “once it is night, someone will come for you. Until then, not a peep.”
They both nodded. I started to bend down to replace the shutter and marble front, but Nash reached out and grabbed my arm. “Vatrésta,” he said.
“No, Nash,” I corrected. “Vatrésta is for a final good-bye. We will see each other again. Chemarr is for a short farewell.”
“Chemarr,” they both said back to me, and then I sealed them in the crypt. I pressed my fingers to my lips and then to the face of marble that had Sylvey’s name engraved on it. Chemarr. Watch over them.
Relief and fear flooded my chest at the same time as I pressed my back to the tomb door, wedging my feet against the ground while I shoved it closed one grunt and push at a time, sealing them inside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
KAZI
“There!” I said, smiling as I dashed up the pavilion steps. I let true victory shine in my eyes—the hardest step was behind me—though the king would interpret my triumph differently. “All done. They’re happily searching for eyestones.” I shed my cloak and weapon belt, laying them over the railing beside Montegue’s.
He was already sitting on the first step, soaking his feet. “What took you so long? I was about to send a guard to get you.”
“I wanted to give them some extra incentive and found this.” I pulled a large, colorful eyestone from my pocket that was about the size of my little finger—just the right size—and held it up. “I told them whoever found the most stones would get this one as a prize. They’re searching in earnest now. They’ll be occupied for a good long while.”
He smiled. “Well played, soldier.” He motioned to the step next to him. “Come soak your foot.”
I sat on the lone bench in the pavilion, which was across from him, stalling for time as I slowly took off my first boot. I had to draw this out for at least another half hour.
“The town looked festive this morning, didn’t it?” I said, a topic I knew he would like, proof he was winning them over.
“Yes,” he agreed. “They’re finally coming around. Moving on. I knew they would. I ordered the hanging bodies removed from the tembris. It seemed like the right response. They will see me as a fair ruler willing to meet them more than halfway.”
The right response? Cutting down innocent rotting bodies? Such a kindness. I checked the revulsion rolling up my throat. “A wise move,” I agreed and pulled off my sock, tucked it in my boot, and began unlacing the other. “And it will certainly help elevate the festive mood.”
He talked about other changes that he and Banques had in the works, assigning new magistrates nominated by the townspeople for the districts, rebuilding the livery that had been burned down, and breaking ground on a new temple that would be bigger and better than the last one. “And soon I won’t need to travel with the children at all.”
I pulled off my boot and set it beside the other. “What will become of them?” I asked cautiously, biting back my next words. Would you kill them? But he managed to anticipate my thoughts anyway.
“I would not kill them, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m not a monster.”
“I know that,” I answered quickly, trying to soothe his injury. “I was thinking of Banques. I heard him call them a necessary evil.”
“We have to do what is best for the kingdom. We’ll send them away where they can forget about being Ballengers. They’ll have a nice fresh start.”
A fresh start? Or would they simply be prisoners somewhere else? He spun everything into a golden solution that eliminated his culpability. I twisted the sock I had just pulled off around my fingers. Even though I knew that now he would never get his hands on them again, his words still plagued me—the things he planned that I hadn’t even begun to grasp. “Send away? Where?”
“Zane knows places. He—”
“Zane?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
“I told you—you have to bury your grudges with him. Zane is useful to me, and as a former Previzi driver, he knows of places not that far from here that will take them in for us.”
He was going to give them to Zane.
Zane.
“Places? More than one?” I asked. “You plan to separate them?”
“Yes, we decided it would be easier for them to make a clean break from their past that way.”
And ensure that they forget. I knew what it was like to be isolated. Alone. No one to tell you stories. Memories drifted away. I was Nash’s age when I lost my mother, and Lydia was only a year older. Yes, Montegue, send them away and eliminate two young Ballengers who might grow up and challenge you one day. Break them, destroy them, but at the same time, keep them close just in case you need to bring them back again to serve some scheming purpose of yours. You are a brilliant monster.
I struggled to keep my mind fixed on the endgame. A game that had new rules that I had made—not him. He won’t be able to do any of these things, Kazi. Stay focused on each step. You’re almost there.
“What about the Ballengers?” I asked. “What if they come out? They’ll want their kin back.”
“There’s been no signs of life. They’re probably all dead. And if they aren’t, they soon will be. If you don’t find the papers soon, we’ll begin blasting. I can’t wait much longer. I’ll have to take my chances that the papers won’t be destroyed in the process.”
“Blast through a mountain of solid granite? Do you know how long that will take?”
“Or the blasting might drive them out.”
Of course. He didn’t really believe they were dead.
“Paxton drew us maps,” he said. “He used to be a Ballenger, before his line of the family was thrown out on their ear. His great-grandfather told him about the layout of the vault. We’ve estimated that the shortest route to the grand hall should only take three or four days of blasting.”
Grand hall? There was no grand hall. The vault was not an underground palace! The rooms were roughly all the same size, one room connected to another, connected to another, plain and functional. Paxton was lying to them, and he had even drawn maps! Maybe that was the bug he planted in Banques’s ear—maps that would take them in all the wrong directions. I was beginning to love that man and every devious bone in his body.
I rolled up my trousers and went to join Montegue, but before I could step into the pink waters, he reached out, lightly brushing t
he bruise on my ankle with his thumb. “Tender?” he asked softly. Proving, courting, pretending he cared. I am not a monster. No doubt preparing to show me in greater depth just how kind he could be.
I winced. “A little.” The stain produced by an overnight poultice of fruit skins and flower petals made for a colorful and very painful-looking bruise. “But the soak should help. Thank you for being so thoughtful.”
“I want you healed and strong,” he said, his hand lingering on my ankle then sliding up my calf. “That’s what’s important. I noticed your limp was worse this morning.”
“It’s only stiff after a night of rest. I need to work it out. This will help.” The hot water might also make the stain disappear. A miraculous healing. I was sure even Montegue wouldn’t buy that. But he wasn’t likely to ever look at my ankle again after this moment. Soon, he wouldn’t care about my ankle at all.
I sat on the top step beside him, and he closed his eyes and breathed in the steam surrounding us—the strength of the gods. The veins in his neck were raised, and I wasn’t sure if it was from exhilaration or strain. I let out a pleased moan as if I was already feeling the curative action of the water. Twenty more minutes. And somewhere in that twenty, I had to kiss him one more time. Hold him.
“Did he make you promises?” he suddenly asked.
Promises? Surprise thumped in my chest. I couldn’t stay ahead of his thoughts. I didn’t have to ask who he was.
I shrugged, molding indifference across my lips. “If he did, I can’t remember.”
Montegue grabbed my upper arm, making me look at him. “Remember.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
Truth. Jase promised me a lifetime with him. He promised a mountain full of trees and a family that would grow to love me again. He promised we would write our own story.
And I made promises too.
I stared at Montegue, letting his eyes look into my soul, command it, own it, get lost in it. Drown in the fantasy.
“On our return trip, he promised that I would grow to love him one day,” I said.
“And?” His eyes sank deeper into mine.
Vow of Thieves (Dance of Thieves) Page 22