Skate the Thief

by Jeff Ayers

  “‘The first dragon to live…therein had come from afar, likely from the coast of Brebully.’ Where is Brebully?” she muttered to herself. She set the book to the side and went to the desk, where she took out her slate. She took the chalk and wrote the name of the location at the top left corner to remind herself to ask about it later. She paused and reflected on what she had just done. I can write. I can read. At least a little. She moved to the bottom of the slate and wrote out the whole alphabet, curving around to the right side of the writing surface when she ran out of room. In the top right corner, she wrote her name. She underlined it, and then wrote it again. “I can write my name,” she said aloud, relishing the sound of the words and even more the truth behind them. “I am Skate, and I can write my name.” She was whispering now, as if uttering something secret, or else something holy and deserving reverence. “I can read stories about dragons, and I can find out where Brebully is, and I don’t care if the stories are lies or not, because I can read and I can write my name.” She was struck by an impulse to write something on the slate, and knew she had to write it, because writing something changed it, and made it permanent, even if she or someone else erased it. In all capital letters, as compactly as she could to still keep the letters legible, she wrote:

  I AM SKATE.

  I HAV MAD MY CHOIS.

  The letters were clear and neat, in the rigid adherence to form and tidiness only found among the barely literate. She thought it the most beautiful set of words she’d ever seen, because they were hers, and she could read them.

  A drop appeared on the slate, distorting the words, the white smudging into a swirl. She wiped her eyes, then wiped the slate clean, except for “Brebully” in the corner. She set it back in the drawer, taking a moment to trace her fingers along the unseen AB within.

  Skate got back in the bed and continued reading, silently now. Hours later, after eating and drinking and talking and reading again, when she finally fell asleep, the book was open a few pages later, and the ghost of a smile remained on her face in unconsciousness. The snow continued to fall in lazy flurries through the night.

  Chapter 25

  In which a domestic dispute occurs, an unwelcome thief appears, and a toad knocks over a bookcase.

  Skate shot straight up in bed, wiping the spider webs out of her mouth. It took her a moment to realize it was her own hair she was struggling with, made wet by her open mouth during the night. With a grunt of disgust, she wiped the offending hairs away more fully and jumped out of the bed.

  It was very early in the day; only the first rays of dawn were peeking through the window. She was unused to waking so early, especially from the comfort of the fine bed she’d been given. The cause of her early rousing from welcome rest was clear: the banging and yelling echoing through the vent in the floor. Still groggy, she bent down to listen. The warm air hit her feet first, then her head as she leaned closer to the vent.

  “…mad at me for using the salt in my own house! I needed it last night for my stinging slime—stop throwing pots at me!”

  Skate winced and tried to cover her ear as the resounding clangor of cookware shot through the vent.

  “Rattle, I mean it, these things cost money to replace, and you might dent them.” Silence greeted this last warning, and when Belamy spoke again, it was in much more controlled tones. “I’ll get you some more salt as soon as I can. I know,” he said over the sound of clicking legs. “I know food needs salt in order to have flavor. You’ll just have to make do until I can get to market to buy another bag. Or maybe Skate will want to go; it’s her food you’re worried about.” Lighter clicks followed. “You’re right, I should have told you about it beforehand. Even better, I should have purchased some for the lab instead of using up the kitchen supply. As I said, though, I can’t fix it right now. I’ve got a bigger problem to deal with. I’m sure Skate won’t mind helping you.”

  A few more clicks, then the faint shuffling of feet. Skate stood up and chuckled. “He’s going to send me shopping,” she said, and shook her head. She got dressed and went downstairs. When she saw Belamy at his desk, she almost fell down the remaining steps.

  He was no longer dressed in his green robes that he had worn every day since she had first met him. Instead, he was bedecked in the bright red robes gifted to him as a payment for his service in the war. He was not sitting with a book open in front of him, as she was used to, but was standing with his shoulders hunched over a pair of leather bandoliers, each slot filled with glass jars of varying size, shape, and contents. As she walked, he selected a vial and placed it into the inner folds of the magnificent robes.

  He looks like he belongs with the Baron’s court, she thought. The robes changed his entire appearance. Instead of a doddering old man wrapped up in old dusty books, he looked like a commander, an aristocrat. There was something military about his appearance, though he bore no weapons or insignias beyond the royal seal at the collar. This warlike character had not been nearly so pronounced when the robes had merely been on display, and seeing them fully in this way was jarring. Something about Belamy’s face had changed, as well; he looked determined. He carried himself with a surety and determination that was at odds with the old, unimposing scholar she knew. She was looking for the first time at the Iron Wind, readying himself for a battle.

  He turned his gaze at Skate, and softened immediately. The frown of cold command melted into a polite and welcoming smile. “Good morning,” he said, taking another vial and putting it into a different pocket without looking at it. “How was your rest?”

  “Good. That vent does a really good job keeping the room warm,” she said while she pointed at the one on the wall. “Unfortunately, it also lets in sounds that might otherwise not have reached upstairs.”

  “Ah,” Belamy said, glancing at the kitchen. “Yes. Well.” At a loss, he returned to his inspection and storage.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, I think so. Or, I think it will be. I, uh, may have used up all of the salt in the kitchen in my work last night. I had run out, you see, and no one would have been willing to sell to me in the volume I needed in the middle of the night, so I had to improvise. He’s sore at me,” he said, jerking his head toward the kitchen, “but it couldn’t be helped. There’s no telling how much of this I might need today, and I refuse to be caught unprepared.” Though he was looking at his assortment of glass bottles, his gaze seemed far away as he spoke. “I do not wish to cause harm to anyone, least of all innocent bystanders or victims of the troupe. I must have these tools available for their sake. No casualties, no injuries if it can be helped.” He shook his head and blinked, clearing his head. “Anyway, I say that to explain that your breakfast will likely be somewhat bland—” His words were accompanied by a banging in the kitchen. He spoke a little louder to be heard over the tumult. “Somewhat bland this morning. Would you mind going to pick up some salt later? Perhaps after breakfast? Rattle will gather the coins you need.”

  “Sure. What’s going on with all this?” she asked, gesturing toward the robes he wore, the surface of which shimmered in the morning light, the glint of rubies noticeable to the point of distraction. “Going to some party or something later?”

  “Not at all,” he said, laughing. “These robes were a gift from the king. I’ve told you about them, I think. I’ve taken them out of storage because they’re not merely ornamental. They’re heavily enchanted, both for attack and for defense. I do not know the extent of the abilities of these minstrels, and I doubt our conversation will go entirely peacefully. I expect a fight ahead, so I’ve put on my armor, so to speak.” He took two more vials and placed them in their appointed places within the fold of his robes. Satisfied, he rolled up the remaining bottles in the leather bandoliers and closed the straps on each. “These,” he said, lifting both of the containers off the desk, one under each arm, “are what I was working on last night. Some tools besides magic to try to make sure no one gets hurt, if it can be helped.”
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  He swept past her with the potions and down the hidden staircase, which stood open and swung lightly on its hinges. She moved to follow him, but remembered the burning in her eyes and throat from the night before and thought better of it. Instead, she went to the kitchen. Rattle was busy cooking, though its movements were jerkier than usual, and its wings flapped with more force.

  “Hey, Rattle.”

  It turned to look at her, not slowing in its movements. Though its speed was unaffected, its motions smoothed out when it saw her. It freed one leg and waved it at her, then returned to its business. She left it alone and turned back to the living room in time to catch Belamy headed for the door. “Hey, when are you coming back?”

  He had his hand on the door. “When I have the information I need.” His voice was hard once more. He did not turn around.

  He’ll be fine. The Ink would be present, but Belamy was a lich prepared for battle. Any mention of the thieves would invite unwanted and uncomfortable questions. “Good luck.”

  He nodded and walked through the door. The day outside was bright but cold. The sunlight shining down and reflected on white snow made the glare painful to look at. The brightness created an aura of red around the wizard as it refracted and reflected on his robes. He stepped lightly from the doorway and floated into the air. Skate hurried to the door and leaned against the jamb, watching him float. Some pedestrians pointed and clapped as he soared like a red fluttering bird late for its migration through the cold. Skate smiled and went back inside.

  The Ink was expecting her to take advantage of his absence, to take his most precious possession from downstairs and flee. Instead, she went back in and closed the hidden bookcase.

  After bounding up the stairs to retrieve her book, Skate returned and sat down heavily in front of the crackling fire. Either Rattle or Belamy had recently placed two new logs. She spoke the words to change the hue to blue, and began reading about the history of dragons, likely from the land of Brebully. I need to ask Petre about that, she thought as she brought her finger to the point on the page where she’d left off.

  Rattle came in with breakfast (scrambled eggs and fried toast), then floated back to the kitchen to clean up. As Skate took bites of the toast and ran her free hand along the words, unease set in. Would the Ink send people after her when it became apparent that she was not going to be stealing from Belamy? Or would they be sufficiently concerned about the might of the wizard and war hero that they’d leave the wizard’s house alone?

  They don’t know he’s led armies. They won’t fear him for that. Even if they do stay away, the streets won’t be safe for me anymore. I’ll have to become a shut-in like Belamy. It made her sad to think of, but did nothing to change her resolve; handing over the wizard to slavery under threat of destruction of his soul was unthinkable now that she had finally made her choice against it. She returned to her reading and had gotten through the current page when white light filled the room.

  Skate turned toward the door, shielding her eyes from the invading light. There were several people outside. One of them was in the doorway itself, someone tall and thin. “Morning, girlie.”

  She leapt to her feet, making the book flop onto the floor, pages-first with a dull thump. Kite came into the house proper, not bothering to shake any of the snow and ice off of his shoes as he did so. His band of ruffians followed him in, most of them older than he.

  The noise of their entry had gotten Rattle’s attention. It poked its body into the room, took half a second to realize none of these people belonged here—Especially not Kite, Skate thought—and blasted out of the kitchen, its body a whirl of spindly legs attempting to connect with anything and anyone to cause harm.

  Kite smiled his feral smile and threw something at Rattle. A net of heavy metal wrapped itself irresistibly around Rattle, sending it tumbling to the ground in a tangled mess. Two of the crew jumped on the mess, holding Rattle down as a third moved in with a thin ball of rope.

  Kite walked past the tussle and straight up to Skate, that same heartless, snakelike grin on his face. He stood for a moment, almost twice her height, and paused. He moved, and Skate doubled over; he had been so quick that she couldn’t follow his motion as he drove his fist right into her stomach. The breath had been knocked out of her, and it took a moment for her to recover long enough to even begin coughing. She fell to her knees. As she tried to catch her breath, Kite bent over and whispered in her ear, “Payback, girlie. Didn’t think I’d let that knock to my jewels go by without a fight, did ya?”

  Skate coughed a few times more before she was able to get her breathing back under control. Once she did, she climbed back to her feet and shot Kite a hateful glare. He went on smiling.

  Kite turned to the rest of the crew, those who were not busy with Rattle. There were two of them, and they were eyeing the walls lined with books. Skate knew the look well. They were appraising value, trying to determine if there was anything worth taking while they were here. “You lot,” Kite said, “get to work. Find something expensive enough to be worth putting your soul into.”

  “What? What are you doing here, Kite?”

  “The Big Boss was worried a little brat like you wouldn’t be smart enough to take full advantage of the old man’s absence. So he enlisted Boss Shade to send a crew. I volunteered because I missed you so much.” A flash of hate crossed his face so intensely that she worried he’d hit her again. However, it passed, and he stood at an angle with his arms crossed, hands within a comfortable distance of his blades. “I figure you don’t even know where the thing you’re supposed to take actually is, so we’re gonna look around for you. Just to help, you know?”

  He’s gonna look for it and turn it in for himself to get all the credit from the Bosses. Skate’s mind raced furiously. She realized with a jolt that she was not necessarily defenseless. This house has magic stuff in it.

  “I know where it is,” she said, crossing her own arms. “I can go get it right now.”

  Kite arched an eyebrow. “No kidding? You know where it is?”

  “I said I did,” she said, flashing out anger of her own. “Lemme get ready to go out and I’ll snag it.”

  Kite searched her face, then waved one of his arms. After you, the gesture said, though Kite’s persistent mocking grin told her he didn’t believe her or trust her. “New plan,” he said to the thieves who were rifling around in one of Belamy’s many bookshelves. “Follow girlie here. Make sure she doesn’t make a break for it. She says she already knows where it is, and that she’s gonna go get it.” The two thieves looked at each other, shrugged, and walked over to Skate.

  “Whenever you’re ready, kid.” There was no emotion in the man’s voice.

  Skate knew this guy would kill her immediately if he began to worry about her loyalty or intentions. She assumed the other brute would be the same, though he stayed silent. “I’m gonna get dressed, grab some extra stuff I wanna take, then come down and show it to you.”

  The talking thief looked at Kite, who went on smiling and said, “Follow her up.”

  Skate stared daggers at Kite but went to the stairs without another word. She spared a glance at Rattle, who’d been double hog-tied with the twine. The eyeball struggled under the weight of the metal.

  Kite saw her glance and said, “Big Boss was interested in this thing, so we’re bringing it to him. Maybe in one bag, maybe several.”

  Skate looked away and entered her room. The men followed her in. She was already wearing her clothes, so there was nothing in the dresser she was going to need. Instead, she walked over to the desk and took out the slate and chalk. She erased the notes she’d written (including the name of still undiscussed Brebully, home of the Lost Brink Islands’ likely first dragon). “Either of you lieutenants?”

  They shook their heads. The talking one asked, “Why? What are you writing?”

  “I was gonna ask you how to spell ‘gotcha,’ but I guess I’ll do my best.” She scratched out a simple, one-word mess
age and signed it with her initial:

  TAKEN

  –S

  “Gotta give him a little something to think about, y’know?” Neither of them spoke, so she placed the slate and chalk on top of the desk and wiped the dust from her hands. Then she edged past her guards and went into the library.

  “What’s in there?” The talkative thief was gesturing to Belamy’s bedroom.

  “Nothing worth anything. It used to be his bedroom, but he doesn’t sleep anymore. I’ve been in there; anything worth money rusted or crumbled years ago.”

  Skate walked across the library to Petre, by the window. She picked his globe up and brought him close, pretending to examine the glass for scratches. Petre showed up looking very concerned. “Help me,” she whispered to him. He understood at once. He spoke into her mind as he had when they’d first met.

  You remember that little statue you picked up the first time you entered the room?

  She nodded almost imperceptibly.

  Its name is Ungor. When you need it to appear in full, say “Ungor Egeiro.” Got it?

  She nodded again and turned back around. The two other thieves were watching her with dispassionate attention.

  “Here,” she said, walking over to the toad statue. She picked it up and tossed it to the one who had been talking to her so far. “The old man said it was worth money. Consider it a peace offering, huh? Maybe keep Kite from hitting me again?”

  The thief examined the figurine and shrugged. He placed it in his pocket. “Kite does what he wants. I won’t let him kill you, though.”

  “Thanks, that’s a big comfort,” Skate said. She left the library, carrying Petre in the palm of her hand. Kite and the other three were busy rummaging through the wizard’s belongings. She felt another flash of anger when she saw Kite pocket the golden enhancer from Belamy’s desk. She went to her coat and slid Petre within before putting it on. She also pulled on her boots.