Robbing Centaurs and Other Bad Ideas

by Bethany Meyer

  Then Wick realized that he wasn't next to Archer anymore. Somehow, they had gotten separated. He spun around wildly, trying to find where Archer had gone. There. He caught a quick flash of spiked hair and a leather bag headed down a shaded back street. Wick darted after Archer before Eland could spot him.

  “Oh, there you are,” Archer said in disappointment as Wick came up beside him again. “For a moment there I thought I had finally lost you.”

  “Not quite,” Wick said. He took another quick glance behind and saw no one following them. He felt a twinge of guilt for running away.

  “There's a house nearby we can use as a hideout.” Archer didn't seem to notice Wick's strange behavior in the slightest. “Well, it's not really a house. It's more like a study. But it should be empty.”

  As the hideout in question came into view, Wick's confusion grew. The study wasn't built up in the treetops the way seraph structures normally were. It was built of the same wood and stone, but it was set into the base of a tree, on ground level. It seemed wrong and out of place, like a fallen bird's nest. Wick glanced around at the rest of the street. It was quieter than the rest of the city, and a little darker, too, shaded by the branches of many trees and further darkened by the slow descent of the sun.

  When they arrived, the sun was just passing into a low place where it cast long shadows across the landscape, and a deep gold light filtered through the trees. Archer entered the little house first, and for a moment he fumbled around near the door before finding a match and lighting a glass lantern. The light flared across the walls and a few pieces of furniture before settling to an orange glow. Wick followed Archer inside, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was around.

  “How did you know this place would be empty?” Wick asked.

  “I knew some people in Eri a while ago. They never used this place at all when I knew them, I didn't think they would be using the space now.” Archer lowered the unfillable bag from his shoulder to the floor and set the lantern down on the edge of a wooden desk in the middle of the space. “I'm supposed to meet with someone,” he said. “I'll be back later.”

  Wick hitched his own bag back onto his shoulder. “I'll come, then.”

  “You can't,” Archer said simply. “I have to go by myself.”

  Wick didn't want to let Archer out of his sight, but what could he say? The balance of their deal was delicate. If Archer realized Wick couldn't arrest him as easily as he said, he would likely abandon Wick for good.

  Archer walked out the door, hesitated, then came back in and hauled the unfillable bag back onto his shoulder. He walked out for good this time, closing the door behind him.

  Wick was left alone to ponder what he was going to do in the meantime. If he had been at home, there was a multitude of responsibilities he could catch up on, but out here, in an abandoned study on a dark street during a time of day where he couldn't even recharge on the sun, he could do nothing but wait.

  He had never been good at waiting.

  The longer he sat, the more he found himself questioning his decision to come here. Maybe he should have just let Archer go and gone to the centaurs anyway. But if he had done that, would he just have been dooming Aro to destruction by the Scorch?

  He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he wanted to do.

  He remembered Eland talking to the red-haired seraph. When something went wrong, Wick liked to go to Eland for advice. Problem-solving was where Eland truly shone. When presented with an issue, he could easily identify and isolate the real problem, and then from there worked together with his peers to find a solution. Wick valued his counsel.

  Wick glanced out the little window in the door of the study. Archer had left only a few minutes ago. He had time.

  He decided to go find Eland.

  Wick hoisted his messenger's bag back onto his shoulder and quickly checked to make sure he still had the Oak Leaf. It was still there, glinting green from the bottom of the bag, so he decided to set out. He didn't know where he could find Eland, but if he asked around enough, surely he could find him.

  He closed the door behind himself and set out on the city.

  Few people in Eri knew Wick, which was probably a mercy considering the dubious reasons that had brought him here with Archer. But since so few people knew who he was, even fewer were willing to tell him where he could find Eland. The first seraph he asked flew away without a glance back. One or two others said they couldn't tell him something like that. It took him several more tries before someone finally spotted his messenger bag and realized why he was asking.

  “I think he was staying with the Becker family, down the road there,” the woman said, pointing.

  “Thank you,” Wick said, and started down the road toward a great twisting tree wrapped in elegant rooms. As it turned out, he wouldn't have to ask about Eland at the house. As he approached, the centaur apprentice appeared around the side of the house, heading for the walkway that led to the top.

  “Eland,” Wick said in relief.

  Eland spun around, and his face lit up. “Wick! I didn't think I'd see you here.”

  “I didn't think I'd see you, either,” Wick said. “I thought you'd gone home.”

  “I did,” Eland said. “But they sent me back out again right away. Things seem to be moving fast these days.”

  Wick thought of the upcoming robbery he was supposed to take part in. Things were most certainly moving fast. “Agreed.”

  Eland turned toward the ramp again, beckoning for Wick to follow. “Well, come in. My hosts won't mind if I have a guest. Do you have time to sit down and talk?”

  “That's actually why I came,” Wick said. “I wanted some advice.”

  Eland's eyebrows rose. “Then you should definitely come in.”

  The pair of them climbed up the winding walkway. Eland's hosts didn't appear to be home, so they sat in the large open sitting room. The windows were cracked open, and a quiet evening breeze blew through the thin white curtains as Wick took a chair and Eland got all his horse legs situated on a low lounge.

  “There's been some unrest around here since news of that seraph thief reached them,” Eland commented as he got comfortable. “It's good to see a friendly face. Anyway, you said you wanted advice on something?”

  “Yes.” Wick tried to think of the best possible way to word his question without giving away what was going on. “Some of it I'm not allowed to talk about, but it has to do with the Oak Leaf.”

  Eland leaned forward. “You got it to safety, didn't you? It wasn't stolen?”

  “It's out of danger now,” Wick said reassuringly. He tried his hardest not to look at his messenger's bag. “It's just. . .” He decided to start over. “Eland, have any of your people had bad visions lately? Anything on a large scale?”

  Eland thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not that I can think of. Why?”

  Wick fumbled for an explanation and found he was all out. “I don't know. I just. . . have a feeling. Like something bad is going to happen.”

  “No, I don't think anything's come up on the large scale,” Eland said. He suddenly sat up straight as he remembered something. “But I did see something about you. I was going to send it to you in a letter, so I wrote it all down. Let me find it.” He got up off the lounge and fished through a drift of papers on a nearby desk. He shot Wick an embarrassed smile. “I have to write so many letters every day it's hard to find anything on this desk. I write a dozen to the valley every week just to keep accountable by my mentors.”

  “I write a fair number myself,” Wick admitted. “There are a lot of people to keep up with in our jobs.”

  “Ah.” Eland found the envelope he was looking for and brought it back with him to the lounge. As he folded himself back into a comfortable seat, he handed the envelope to Wick. “Read it soon. I have a feeling it might be important for you. Honestly, it had me a little worried.”

  “Thank you.” Wick tucke
d the envelope into his bag, nestling it next to the Oak Leaf. “Eland,” he said slowly, “what should I do if I'm not sure someone's lying?”

  Eland's brow furrowed. “How so?”

  “I don't know. If you were in a position where it was important whether you chose to believe them or not. If something bad would happen if you chose wrong.”

  The furrow deepened. “I suppose in your case or mine, we'd have to pass the problem up to a higher authority. We're too young to be handling that kind of problem.”

  “I know,” Wick said. “But if you had to handle it on your own. Then what?”

  Eland looked at Wick with concern growing in his eyes. “Wick,” Eland said slowly, “have you gotten yourself into something? Because that vision I had–”

  “No.” Wick looked down at his hands. “I'm all right. It was only a thought. ”

  “You don't sound all right. You've seen that seraph thief, haven't you?”

  Wick tried to conjure a lie, but the stricken look on Eland's face stopped him. “Yes,” Wick said, “I've seen him. And now I'm trying to work out what to do. But it's all right. I'm not in trouble.”

  Eland was already past convincing. “If you've seen him and you haven't already turned him in, then I'd say you are in trouble. Answer honestly, Wick: do you need help?”

  “No. I don't know. Not yet.” This was not turning out the way Wick had planned. “I'm not in danger, I promise. Just trust me on this.”

  Eland seemed unsure.

  “At least give me a little more time,” Wick said. He glanced out the window at the darkness outside. How late is it? It had taken him longer to find Eland than he had expected, and he had to get back to the study before Archer returned. “I'm sorry, I really have to go now. Please don't tell anyone about this.”

  Then he fled before Eland could answer. Racing down the stairs, he rushed through the darkening streets back to the little study. He hoped that Archer hadn't beaten him there, because there would be no delicate way to explain why he had sought Eland's advice.

  Wick's heart lurched as he thought again of the robbery that was coming.

  He didn't want to do this. Stealing was wrong, and that was that.

  It's just for tonight, he reminded himself. He only had to wait out the robbery so that he could get the proof he wanted. If there was no proof, then he could turn Archer in and end all this.

  The study appeared around the corner, and Wick's chest flooded with relief. The study was still dark.

  Once inside the study with the door closed behind him, Wick took the lantern around the room and lit whatever he could find. A few candles on each surface yielded enough light to see everything in the study fully.

  It was a nice study, albeit a small one. A dark wooden desk and equally sturdy chair took up space in the center of the room, carved with matching designs of tiny animals down the sides of the desk and the arms of the chair. Bookshelves laden with volumes lined the walls surrounding the desk, and off to the left of the door was a table covered in maps, crowned with a globe in one corner. Whoever had designed the place had even thought to put a carpet across the floor to keep drafts from leaking in under the door.

  Wick surveyed the books on the shelves. Whoever owned this study had a mind for philosophy and an eye for ancient art. He flipped through a few of the books. The owner of the study had an extremely diverse collection; some of the books were a few hundred years old, and they were written by authors from every territory in Aro.

  He waited for hours, but Archer didn't come back. Midnight had well since passed before it occurred to him that maybe Archer hadn't planned on coming back.

  Maybe his grand plan was to leave Wick here while he made his escape. Maybe he had even been planning to lose Wick all along. Wick's mind raced. If Archer was out there about to steal the stone, Wick could go out now and catch him in the act.

  But then he remembered how Archer had almost left his unfillable bag in the study, with the two other pieces of the Heather Stone inside. It had seemed as though he had only taken it with him almost as an afterthought.

  Wick decided to keep waiting.

  In the end, he waited all night.

  JUST AS THE FIRST bit of light started to trickle through the glass of the window, the door opened, and Archer finally stepped back through the doorway. Wick looked up from the book he was reading. “You took a long time. I thought you said you were planning to go after the piece during the night.”

  Kicking the door shut behind himself, Archer slid to the floor next to the doorway and pulled the strap of his bag off his shoulder. “No. Not last night. Tonight.” He wrapped his arms around the bag on his lap and closed his eyes. “Don't touch the bag.”

  With that, he fell asleep.

  Wick felt more mystified than ever, but it seemed that all he could do was wait some more. He dug through his bag for his sun magnifier.

  He approached the door and hoped he wouldn't be spotted from the outside as he leaned into the light. The sunlight felt so good. He drank it in, knowing he would need as much extra energy as he could get for what lay ahead.

  Then, since Archer was still asleep, Wick sat down at the desk again and took out the letter Eland had given him. He blamed himself for not thinking of it sooner. Centaurs only had so much power to use in their lifetime; if Eland had used some of his power for this vision, he must have thought it was important.

  The stationary felt heavy in his hands as he slid the pages out of the envelope and started to read by the light of the window.

  My dear friend Wick,

  I'm writing to you out of concern. This morning I took a vision because I knew something bad was going to happen to you. Something big.

  In the vision, I could tell that you were upset. You had come a long way, and you'd reached a vital turning point. That's all the context I have, and I'm afraid the vision itself is brief, but here it is all the same.

  There weren't many details in the surroundings; I can't offer you any clues when or where this may happen. I'm sorry.

  In the vision, you had your back against the wall, and you had a sword to your throat. You were standing next to some boy I didn't recognize, but he was a seraph, and he had a broken wing. I think he was the thief everyone is looking for. It looked like both of you were being captured. And from what I could see, together you had most of the pieces of the Heather Stone.

  The vision has me worried. My mentors are also concerned, but they assured me that perhaps the real context of the vision, when or if it comes to pass, may be different than what I think. I hope so, I really do.

  Be careful and watch your back.

  -Eland

  Wick glanced over at Archer, who was still asleep next to the door. He hadn't moved yet.

  Did the vision happen in seraph territory? Would he be caught here, just like he feared, and everything would be over?

  But no, it couldn't be. They had very few pieces of the Heather Stone yet. Right now, Archer had two, and Wick only had the leshy piece. Even once Archer took the seraph piece, between them they would only have four. Hardly 'most of the pieces'. And Wick knew that Eland wouldn't exaggerate. Apprentices received extensive courses on describing their visions to others so that everyone could understand the same things with clarity. If he hadn't been able to count the exact number of the stones, 'most' would imply at least five, maybe even more.

  When or if this happened, it was still somewhere in their future. It could still be avoided.

  Just as suddenly as it had appeared, Wick's worry vanished. Any vision could be avoided with the right foreknowledge and planning, and his plan was still to part ways with Archer once they left the city. If Archer could come up with proof, Wick would just let him go, and if he couldn't scrounge up any proof, Wick would turn him over to the nearest authorities. Either way, he and Archer could go separate ways, and the vision would never happen.

  He pushed the letter into his bag and out of his mind
while he waited for Archer to wake up.

  Archer slept most of the day away. Wherever he had been, whoever it was it had gone to meet, it had worn him down. Before now he had seemed fine with very little sleep, but whatever had happened last night appeared to be the feather that broke the camel's back. Archer never even stirred.

  As the sunlight was starting to angle back through the window again with the descent of the sun, just when Wick was starting to wonder if waking him was worth the anger that would doubtless result from it, Archer inhaled deeply and raised his head.

  Archer squeezed the bag a little tighter as if to make sure it was there. “At least I wasn't robbed in my sleep,” he rasped, and then cleared his throat. “What time would you say it is?”

  “About an hour from sunset,” Wick said.

  “Good. Plenty of time to lay out plans.” Archer scrubbed at his eyes with his fingers, then frowned at Wick. “I can't believe you never sleep. You never eat, you never drink water, you never sleep. You're not human.”

  “Neither are you,” Wick pointed out in confusion.

  They stared at each other briefly.

  “Really?” Archer said. “I hadn't noticed.” He twitched to a more comfortable position and slid the bag off to the side. “Here's the plan. I got the location of the stone, it's in a house not far from here. I know the house, so getting in and out should be easy as long as we don't hit any snags. Here's what we're going to do: we leave here a few hours after nightfall, we leave no indicators that we were ever in here. Place has to be immaculate. We stick close to large pieces of cover so that nobody sees us. There shouldn't be too many people out at that time of night, but you can never be too careful. I think I remember how to get into the house, so once we're in it's just a matter of swapping the real stone for the fake and sneaking back out of the city.”

  “The fake?” Wick asked.

  Archer dug in his pocket and held up a piece of pale green rock. “The person I met with also gave me this. With this in place, they won't even know we robbed them until we're long gone.”