Rollo tossed her back the comb. “I wasn’t planning on performing an animal glamour on you, no. You wouldn’t know how to maintain it anyway.”
Tanya rolled her eyes. “So, what was your plan?”
Rollo smiled. “Get behind me,” he told her.
Taken aback by the confidence in his voice, she obeyed. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a long, thin, cylindrical instrument. It was a bleached white color, like coral or bone.
Rollo twitched the wand between his thumb and his forefinger and a low hum filled Tanya’s ears. She looked closer at the wand and blinked.
It was vibrating.
Rollo stepped toward the back of the tent and Tanya followed. He pointed the wand at the gap in the canvas and moved it in a tight, counterclockwise circle. He did it again, faster and tighter, then drew his elbow back, muttering words that Tanya couldn’t quite make out.
The sliver of the night she could see from inside the tent unfurled itself from reality and, twisting into a spiral, retracted into Rollo’s wand, leaving an exact replica in its place—or rather, she realized, Rollo had somehow made a replica of the image of the night and sucked it into his wand.
Tanya held her breath. Rollo twisted the copy of the world he had extracted around his wand like a ribbon and then, with a quick flick of the wrist and a bended knee, he shot it all back out again, throwing it around himself and Tanya as if it were a blanket, or a cape.
Tanya dropped her jaw. Rollo, the whiny harassment of a boy she had dismissed as a consummate amateur and sycophant to fools, had somehow made a copy of the world and thrown it over them. She could see through it, but it was like looking through fishing net.
“Can they . . .” She swallowed and tried again. “Are we . . . invisible?”
She had heard a story about people who could cover themselves in a cloak of the world. A young pirate with puppy-dog eyes and deliciously pouting lips had spent an evening at her bar in the Snake, telling her tales from his travels. He also told her about water dragons that made themselves look like beautiful human women to lure men to their dooms; about a forest of sentient trees and their midnight Council meetings; about a village of giants where there was no money, government was shared, and they mostly liked to read.
Tanya had enjoyed those stories. She had enjoyed the way he looked telling them, getting drunker every minute, his cheeks growing warm and rosy. She had bought him the drinks. But she hadn’t believed any of the stories. She wasn’t a fool.
Rollo looked at her over his shoulder and smiled. He put his finger in front of his lips and motioned for her to stay close. Keeping his wand arm slightly outstretched, Rollo nudged a wider opening in the tent and led them out into the smoky twilight.
Tanya twisted her head around her, daring someone to spot them. But no one even looked in her direction.
It was cooler in the woods behind the camp. And it was damp—Tanya was grateful for Jana’s tall boots. “What are we doing out here?” she asked.
“You need to meet my professors. They’ll explain everything.”
“What?” Tanya stopped short, not having anticipated an ambush. “How many wizard-y people will there be?”
“Actually, we prefer to be referred to as ‘masters,’” came a voice behind her.
She spun around just in time to see a rangy man with a flowing silver mane part the moon-shadowed forest like a curtain. He flung it to the side and the illusion shattered to the dirt, revealing ten dusty and rather fractious men of a certain age.
No women, Tanya noted, nodding to herself. She had gotten that feeling.
Still, if Rollo was to be believed, this company of so-called masters was authorized and bestowed with certain liberties by the Queen and Council. Tanya knew how to behave.
Tanya had been drilled in etiquette by a visiting duchess, an elderly woman with a bouffant of soft white curls and a tongue that stung like a wasp, who had stayed at the Smiling Snake for a week when Tanya was twelve. She had been alarmed at the rough manners of the girl—raised by drunks and Froud—and had taken it upon herself to teach her how to address her “betters.” Tanya had loathed her at the time, but she had developed a retroactive gratitude to the old duchess. Her tutelage had come in handy.
Therefore, Tanya knew that she curtsied very well and was duly offended when she lifted her eyes and found the company of masters surveying her with distaste, except for the inevitable two who were leering.
She turned to Rollo, but he was no help. He was as deferential to the masters as she had been—even more so! His head was still bent.
Tanya turned back and saw that the silver-haired master had stepped forward. She folded her arms and tried to look as if she had every idea of what she was doing there.
“How may I help you gentlemen?” she asked.
The rangy man flinched at her voice, as if it were a mosquito flitting around his face. He took a step closer and held out his hand.
“You have something of ours,” he said. It was not a question.
He was not what Tanya pictured when she thought of wizards. His skin was weather-beaten and, despite his age, his muscles were ropy and visible through his—beautifully fitted and elaborately embroidered—robe. In a different outfit, he could have passed for one of the longshoremen from Griffin’s Port.
The thought gave Tanya the confidence to drop the pretense that this man was among her “betters.” No, he was just another grabby, rude codger, wanting what Tanya could give him, but without acknowledging her existence.
She put one hand on her hip and used the other to flick the air in the direction of his outstretched hand. “Holding out your hand without even saying ‘hello,’ let alone ‘please,’ isn’t going to get you anywhere with me,” she told him, sneering. “I expected better manners of such ‘exalted gentlemen’ as the masters of the Royal College of Aetherical Manipulation.”
Darkness flashed through the man’s eyes and he tightened his hand into a fist at his side.
A different master—tall, with beautiful brown skin—stepped forward.
“Forgive us, young lady,” he said, in a gentle voice that was like having butterscotch poured in your ears. He moved into a patch of moonlight and Tanya stifled a gasp at the finely chiseled bones of his face—he was as old as Froud, but that didn’t stop him from being among the most gorgeous men she had ever laid eyes on.
He smiled at her and held out a palm, offering it to her. “My esteemed colleague Master Jape is simply eager. We hope to be allies in this cause, and friends, too.”
Tanya, dazed by the soothing tones of his voice, put her hand on top of his. He put his other hand on top of hers and she felt nourishing warmth spread through her bones.
“I am Shan Polis, Master of the Royal College,” he introduced himself, still grasping her hand between his. “Whom do I have the greatest of pleasure in addressing?”
“Tanya.” She heard her name come floating out of her mouth as if drawn out by a tide. “Tanya . . . of Griffin’s Port.”
His eyes glittered at her, seeming to suck her into a whirlpool of black pearl. “Tanya of Griffin’s Port,” he said. “Wonderful. And you do have our quill?”
“Yes. It’s in my shirt.” Again, Tanya wasn’t aware of speaking until she heard the words in her own voice. She shook her head a little, trying to clear the cobwebs.
“Would you give it to me?” Master Polis’s voice floated into her consciousness like perfume. Her hand started to move toward her chest, where the quill was tucked neatly underneath Jana’s blouse.
One of the other masters coughed and poked a hole in the fog clouding Tanya’s brain. Gritting her teeth at the pain of leaving such comfort, she ripped her hand away from Polis’s grasp and stepped back.
“No!” she barked. “Unless you can offer me safe passage to the Capital and an audience with the Queen and Council, this quill stays with me!” It’s not like they had been making good use of it, Tanya thought angrily, thinking of all the junkoff they coul
d have fixed and didn’t.
The conclusion came to her then, the one that had been lurking at the corner of her mind since the moment she had licked the quill’s tip:
I’m better at this than they are.
A wave of angry whispers rippled through the masters, and Polis, dropping the gentle expression, frowned. He was still a better-than-average-looking man, especially for his age, but the hypnosis was gone; he seemed tired and peevish.
“Enough of this,” growled Master Jape, pulling a wand out of his sleeve, and muttering under his breath, violently thrust it at her.
A breeze turned into wind turned into a hurricane, blowing leaves and twigs every which way, and headed straight toward Tanya.
It hit her square in the chest.
She cried out in pain and fell to her knees. She felt the quill begin to tremble against her skin. There was a crackle and she smelled singeing cotton as the quill threw off sparks, burning through her shirt.
The wizard pulled back his wrist and the quill flew away from Tanya with a whistling shriek.
“NO.”
The quill stopped midair.
The woods were silent. The masters were frozen in place, staring at the quill. It was gently rotating, sparkling pink then blue then green.
Tanya had commanded “NO.” And the quill had obeyed.
She beckoned it with her forefinger. It flew through the air, landing neatly between her thumb and forefinger.
Still on her knees, Tanya eyed the quill—twinkling merrily between her fingers—with extreme suspicion and not a little bit of pride. How in all the heavens and hells had she done that?
An arrow zipped through the air, piercing the bell-shaped sleeve dangling from Jape’s arm, nailing the torn scrap of gray satin to a tree.
The masters’ silence broke into alarmed arguing. They twisted and turned in the night, peering through the trees for the source of the arrow.
Only Tanya knew to look up.
Sure enough, Jana was perched in a tall oak tree. She was straddling a wide branch, bracing her shooting arm against the trunk.
Jana caught Tanya’s eye and shrugged a little, with a small, confused smile, as if she was as surprised to be there, shooting at a bunch of wizards, as Tanya was to see her there. Then she reached back to pull another arrow from her quiver.
She hooked it to her bow, aimed, and called out, “Up here, masters.”
They looked up at her. She drew her bow and shut one eye. “Not for nothing, gents, but I have a full quiver up here,” she said conversationally. “And even if I had missed in my last shot—which I didn’t—I have the advantage of height, of being a small target, and years and years of killing people. I might not get all of you, but I’d get enough.” Rollo gave a little yelp and Jana nodded at him. “The little cutie over there’s got the right idea. What was your name, sweetie?”
He swallowed hard, but, to his credit, stood up straight. “Rollo,” he told her. “Apprentice to the Royal College of Aetherical Manipulation.”
“That’s a real fancy title, Roly Poly. Now . . .” She let an arrow fly, which promptly landed in Rollo’s boot. He howled in pain, jumping on one foot, trying to cradle the other. Jana raised her voice over the noise. “Tell your masters to get a poultice on your big toe and to get the hell away from my prisoner.”
Two of the other masters, a kindly looking one with more wrinkles than Tanya would have thought possible and a tall one with a long, dark braid, swooped forward and gathered the whimpering Rollo into their arms.
“Now, Jape,” said the kindly one, fixing a stare at the rangy master. “We’ll live to fight another day.”
He swept out his wand arm and, muttering something under his breath, began to coil a copy of the world around it, like noodles twirling on a fork. He spun it around his head and let it fall on his companions, who were clustering behind him.
They disappeared behind the curtain of night—and were gone.
Jana jumped down from the tree, landing behind Tanya with a tidy thump.
“I . . .,” began Tanya, before she was sure what she was going to say. “Thanks,” she tried again, but Jana put her hand up, stopping Tanya’s half-formed thought in her tracks.
“I don’t know what I just saw,” she said, her voice grim and low. “But I do know that it’s not the kind of thing you should tell anyone. Frankly, you should be nervous that I saw it. Oh, I’m not going to tell.” Tanya felt herself exhale. “Not now, anyway. But I can’t promise that the day won’t come when I need some leverage with the Tomcat. And there’s no reason to look at me like that.”
Tanya put the quill back in her cleavage, hiding it from view. “How am I looking at you, Jana?” Tanya suddenly felt—really felt—how tired she was. How long had it been since she had been running this unfamiliar race all alone? Not that she wanted someone with her, but sometimes it might have been helpful to have anyone else do something useful.
As Jana, she realized, just had.
The girl thief seemed to struggle to find the words. “Like I’m a . . . a slug. Or something,” she finished lamely. “A girl’s gotta survive. Every which way, but going belly up, a girl’s gotta keep her weapons.”
“Well, then.” Tanya held out her hand. “Got an extra knife?”
Jana laughed, a short, choked-sounding laugh. “I do not,” she said. “My knives are mine. You just hang on to that feather for as long as you can, though, and I think a knife will be the least of your enemies’ problems.”
The two girls stared at each other for a minute. Then Tanya looked away and straightened her hair. Out of the corner of the eye, she thought she saw Jana doing the same.
“How did you happen to be up in that tree, anyway?” she asked.
Jana laughed. “Hasn’t anyone told you I’m best tracker in camp?” she said. “I recognized the bird that flew into your tent. And then when I checked inside, it was empty, so I tracked the footsteps.”
Tanya stopped fidgeting with herself, unavoidably impressed. “You’re kidding.” She’d heard of skilled trackers, but this was beyond the scope of what Tanya had thought anyone could do.
But Jana was nonchalant, already moving back to camp. “The Tomcat sent me to get you, anyway,” she said. “He wants you in his tent and to bring that feather.”
“Why?” asked Tanya, hustling to catch up.
Jana broke into a run as they neared his tent. “Time for your first heist,” she called behind her shoulder.
The quill burnt merrily against the skin of Tanya’s chest.
The atmosphere in the Tomcat’s tent was one that Tanya recognized. There was a great deal of conversation, but the tones were low and focused, centered around the desk where the Tomcat sat hunched over a wrinkled piece of parchment.
It reminded Tanya of the Snake, just before a voyage that no one was totally sure was a good idea.
Riley was at the Tomcat’s left side. “There,” he said, pointing to a spot on the parchment. “I need a way through that and we’re golden.”
Tanya moved closer and saw a schematic drawing, rather like a map, but of a building rather than terrain.
“Is that a palace?” she asked, seeing the vast array of labeled chambers under Riley’s index finger.
“Yes,” answered the Tomcat mildly. “You’re going to rob it.”
“Excuse me?”
Riley answered, “It’s a targeted burglary, nothing too risky. We’re after one thing: a tiara. And, this”—he pointed again—“is our only obstacle.”
“You want me to remove a floor?” Tanya asked.
“Yes, of course,” said the Tomcat, his voice cross. “We’ve been over this. If you two girls weren’t late, you’d know already. Instead, you took so long, I started to worry.”
That was a question and it was shot to Jana like a dagger. Tanya held her breath, but the other girl couldn’t have looked more careless. She simply shrugged and plopped to the floor to unlace her boots.
“I stopped for a snack
,” she said, stretching out her calves with a little, satisfied groan. “The kitchen kid’s biscuits have gotten a lot better in the last couple days. Oof,” she exclaimed, wriggling her toes. “That’s better.”
The Tomcat had stopped listening at “biscuits.” He turned his attention back to Tanya.
“The foundations of the castle are a mishmash of materials,” he told her. “It’s an old place and what with sieges, fires, bad taste, good taste correcting bad taste, etc., etc., the palace has been rebuilt over the decades in a dozen or more places. However”—he put his finger on the cellar—“I happen to know that the foundations of the cellar are pure alabaster marble. And only alabaster marble.”
“Why?”
The Tomcat put on a dainty pair of spectacles and peered up at her. “Why pure alabaster marble or why do I know that?”
“Both?”
He smiled. “I know, because the duchess is a lush. She bragged to a colleague about her new wine cellar. And pure alabaster marble is currently believed to be the best environment for preserving wine.”
Tanya thought back to her wine cellar at the Snake. It was a pit dug out of the earth and lined with ocean rock. It worked fine.
She shook her head. “Rich people,” she muttered.
“Now, now,” said Uncle Tommy, pulling his glasses down to the bottom of his nose and peering back at the map. “Mustn’t envy our betters, Tanya.”
She and Riley snorted at the same time, briefly catching each other’s eyes. Tanya thought she recognized the expression on his face as he circled points on the parchment, the way his mouth turned up in something that wasn’t quite a smile. She had seen it in the mirror often enough.
Riley stopped scribbling and tapped the map. “The tiara is here,” he said, indicating a small space off the master bedroom.
Tanya leaned in. “What is that? A closet?”
Uncle Tommy answered. “It’s a safe,” he said. “I thought of asking you to extract the tiara itself, but I’m worried we’d get the silver, the diamonds, and the pearls in three separate piles and that wouldn’t suit my purposes at all.”
Riley gathered up the map and rounded Uncle Tommy’s chair, landing at Tanya’s other side. He rolled it out in front of her and bent over it, pointing out the various locations.
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