Thief (Brotherhood of the Throne Book 1)

by Jane Glatt

  “I know.” Kane returned his uncle’s smile with a sad one of his own. He feared that what he felt for Brenna went beyond infatuation - but she was not for him, no matter how much he might hope. Brenna would need to make a political match when she wed. And it was quite likely that he would need to help her make that decision. Perhaps it was part of the prophecy - for he was truly bound to her, as cruel and bittersweet as it was. He’d never expected to lose his heart to the Caller.

  Kane sat in front of Feiren’s desk while his uncle leaned back in his chair behind it. When Brenna entered the room the weapons on the wall flared to life. She looked up at them and they went dark. Kane fingered the pommel of his sword - it didn’t seem to constantly react to Brenna’s presence the way the weapons on the wall did.

  “Does that happen every time you come across old steel?” he asked.

  Brenna frowned and sat down in the chair beside him. “I don’t think so. I’ve been working with these, so maybe I’m attuned to them?”

  “But you’ve been working with mine and Dasid’s swords and they don’t seem to react the same way.” He concentrated on his sword. He could hear and feel an underlying hum when she was close, but there had been no flash of light.

  “Oh, yes, but they’re just part of your song so I know them,” Brenna said.

  Kane looked over at his uncle. They both continued to struggle with Brenna’s description of old steel. She’d explained that each weapon had a specific tone or resonance that was distinct and connected with the Brotherhood family who’d had them forged. When the weapon was wielded by someone from that original family, together they created what Brenna called a song. But when Kane and Dasid had tried wielding the other old steel weapons, the ones that were not from their own families the song, Brenna had explained, was off key.

  “Do you unconsciously recognize and accept them?” Kane asked. “Or is there something you do on purpose so they don’t react?” He leaned closer. “This could be important, Brenna.”

  “Well, I’m not sure. I’ve never tried to figure it out. How is it important?”

  “If all old steel reacts to you,” Kane said quietly. “And comes to life when you’re close, you could put Brothers at risk when you wander around town.”

  Her eyes widened in understanding. Just last night she’d walked past a Brother whose knife had flared up at her presence. Thankfully the weapon had been well concealed, but if it happened with a long sword in a crowded street at night, there could be serious trouble. The Brother would certainly draw attention to himself and he could even be accused of being a witch.

  “So,” Kane continued. “I ask that you find a way to scan for old steel and make sure it doesn’t react to you. And I’m going to insist that you don’t leave this house until you can do that.” Kane ignored his uncle’s frown and concentrated on Brenna. Finally she nodded and he smiled.

  “Good,” Kane said. “I’ll help you practice this in whatever way I can. I’ll also step up your knife lessons. It’s time you worked with a real blade. Once I’m satisfied with your progress, when you leave this house, I want you armed.” He smiled. “I’m curious to see how you fare with an old steel knife. I don’t think family ownership will matter at all.”

  “So, lass, pick one.” Feiren gestured to the three knives on the wall behind him. “Even the Rowse knife - take whichever one feels best to you.”

  Brenna smiled slowly. She closed her eyes and soon one of the knives glowed softly. Brenna stood and slowly walked to the wall. Almost reverently, she took the weapon down and pulled it from its scabbard.

  It was Kane thought, the oldest knife of the three. It was older even than the Rowse knife, if he was any judge. Steel coiled around the grip and the pommel ended with a round ball. The scabbard was a well-worn leather case that fit the five-inch blade perfectly. All in all Kane thought it a nice size for Brenna. When she hefted it in her hand, he saw from her smile that she liked the balance and weight as well. The light from the knife slowly grew brighter then went out quickly. Brenna returned the blade to the scabbard.

  “So you’ve found one you like?” Kane asked. He smiled at her obvious pleasure in the weapon.

  “And one that likes me as well,” she replied without taking her eyes off the knife.

  Brenna leaned back in her chair and sighed. Dinner was, as usual, excellent. She’d never in her life eaten so well. It was a good thing she spent so much time at weapons practice, otherwise she’d quickly get too big to climb through windows. And she needed to be able to that when she went exploring. As it was, the shoulders of her tunics were snug, which meant her balance was likely different than usual. Weapons practice helped her cope with that change but she was determined to keep her thief’s skills honed or she’d risk losing the touch.

  Not that she’d actually been stealing on the nights when she left the house. At first, bored and restless, she’d simply explored the tunnels of the house. She’d found a large cavern-like room that must be where the Brotherhood met. From the dank smells of the earth she assumed it was near the river. Eventually one of the passageways she’d followed had led outside.

  She hadn’t gone far. It had been enough to be outside of the house, alone, for the first time since the night Sabine Werrett had been killed. She’d been watched – by the Brotherhood, based on the weapons they carried. The next time she exited the house she’d headed for the Quarter and she’d lost those trailing her before she was even four streets away.

  On her first three forays into the city she’d kept to the Quarter. She knew those streets best and felt safest there. It eventually dawned on her that she was known best there too. That’s when she’d decided to investigate other parts of town. She’d started with the area around the Collegium. The night there had a much different feel to it than in the Quarter. The few taverns emptied of trade and shut down just when run-down taverns like the Crooked Dog would be getting busy.

  Kayleen placed a cup of tea on the table in front of her and Brenna murmured her thanks. It was nice to be well fed, but she worried that she wouldn’t be able to leave this behind. She breathed in the slightly spiced scent of the tea and watched Kane out of the corner of her eye. Ever since his comment that she must learn better control over old steel she’d been expecting him to take her to task for going out at night. It was clear that Feiren didn’t know about her excursions and she felt guilty about that. She’d never known her father but she could imagine him being like Feiren, kind and generous to his family, friends and staff. Her father must have been good, after all her mother had loved him.

  Brenna also felt guilty that she’d put Brothers at risk. She didn’t want them to follow her, but that didn’t mean she wished them harm. She thought she could already do what Kane wanted - check for old steel and make it not react to her.

  “So Uncle,” Kane said. “I think we’re set to have the youngest Brothers come train with Brenna.”

  Brenna straightened. She knew they were coming, but already?

  “Good,” Feiren said. “We can start in two days. How does that sound to you Brenna?”

  “I think that should be fine,” Brenna said. She thought her reply was calm, even though she didn’t feel that at all. “How many of the youngsters are there?” she asked Kane.

  “Six,” he said. “Four boys and two girls. All have fourteen or fifteen years. It ended up being a good cross-section of families as well. We were even able to include the daughter of the Guild Master. He’s been very vocal about his doubts about the Call and you as the Caller.”

  “So if I convince his daughter she’ll convince him?” She didn’t like that part of the plan - what if his daughter was more doubtful than her father? “That’s a tricky age,” Brenna said. She was nervous - other than Eryl’s gang she’d never spent much time with youngsters at all. And she’d never spent time with girls, not even when she was that age herself. Her worry must have shown because Feiren and Kane exchanged smiles.

  “I’m sure it will be fine,”
Kane said. “Uncle Feiren can keep the boys under control.”

  “Aye. A lad that age just needs a knock to the head and a threat to his stomach,” Feiren said. “That’s always worked with new recruits for the Kingsguard.”

  Brenna calmed a little at that. It was not so different from Eryl’s lads.

  “And the girls will take care of themselves, I have no doubt.” Kane’s said.

  “And likely take care of me as well.” Feiren laughed. “I think they can be a bit bossy at that age.”

  Brenna detected a hint of nervousness behind Feiren’s laugh. Maybe he didn’t have any more experience with girls than she did?

  Kayleen called Feiren away and Brenna and Kane were left alone. They moved to the sitting room and Kane poured them each a brandy. Kane fingered the base of his glass before he looked up into her eyes.

  “So, the knife suits you?” he asked. She followed his gaze to the scabbard that sat at her waist. She nodded. Though she’d never worn a knife before in her life, it felt natural, as if it belonged there.

  “You’ve a knack for knife work that’s for sure,” Kane said. “You’re not yet a match against years of hard training and experience, but take the knife with you if you insist on going out.”

  Brenna swallowed at his serious tone and glanced away. For some reason the intensity in his blue eyes disturbed her tonight. Nor could she look away from him for long. She felt unsettled. Even the old steel seemed on edge.

  “Are you going to tell your uncle?”

  “No. Not right now. But feel free if you want to.” Kane smiled briefly. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for Brenna,” he said, a serious expression on his face. “But the Brotherhood might be able to help. I don’t want you taking unnecessary risks.”

  “And I don’t,” she said, her chest tight. “Are you going to tell me not to go out?” She didn’t like deceiving Feiren - he didn’t deserve it from her, not after he’d opened his home to her. But being able to leave the house meant she didn’t always feel so trapped. It meant she was able to cope with the rest of the days and nights she spent inside these walls. She wasn’t sure either Kane or Feiren would understand.

  “I don’t think it would change your mind,” Kane said, his gaze locked on hers. She shook her head and he sighed. “Can I at least know what’s so important that you need to go out at night?”

  “It’s my business,” Brenna said and she saw his back stiffen and knew she’d spoken too harshly. “Sorry, it’s just that I have no privacy here, not really. I appreciate what you and your uncle have done, but sometimes I just need to get out and feel in control of my life. I’ll be careful,” she promised softly.

  “And the old steel? Will you be able to dampen it?”

  “I think so. I’ll try with the youngsters.” She grimaced and he laughed. Brenna smiled at the sound. Lately Kane’s visits were rare and usually so hurried that she hardly ever heard him laugh. She realized that she’d missed it.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. My uncle spent over thirty years with the Kingsguard, many of those years dealing with fresh recruits not much older than these youngsters. I doubt he’ll have any trouble.” He laughed again. “At least not with the boys.”

  “Exactly. He’ll expect me to know how to handle the girls. I don’t know anything about girls that age.” Brenna dropped her head into one hand and slumped down in her seat.

  “Of course you do.” Kane seemed surprised by her answer. “You used to be one. You must know what girls that age are interested in.”

  “When I was that age I worried about my next meal and making sure I didn’t end up indentured. I doubt these girls have those concerns.”

  Any reply he might have made was interrupted by Feiren’s return.

  In bed but unable to sleep, Brenna thought about how different her life had been compared to the boys and girls she would meet in a few days. What would it have been like to grow up in a house that had been in your family for generations? Even before she was on her own Brenna had never had a secure home. To be indentured in Duke Thorold’s household meant you lived in fear of him, as all his servants did. But even so, the worst of his temper was saved for those closest to him - his sons, his wife, his advisors, and her.

  Believing her to be his illegitimate daughter, the duke had been particularly hard on her. But instead of breaking her, his rough treatment made her more determined to defy him. That’s why she’d started to spy on him but she soon discovered that when she knew his plans, she could keep out of his way. Then she’d seen Thorold belittle and terrorize six-year-old Beldyn.

  She’d started protecting Beldyn in part because it gave her a sense of control over Duke Thorold’s world, but once she understood the dread the boy lived in, she’d done it for his sake. Beldyn’s mother was herself so cowed that she often seemed relieved when the duke’s anger was turned on her older child, rather than her and her baby boy. And so it was that the duke’s heir spent almost four years secretly trailing her. When she looked back on those years, Brenna knew that’s what set her on the path to becoming a thief.

  The first thing she ever stole was a pastry. It was midwinter feast and Beldyn had described one of the tarts he’d eaten for lunch; a flaky, buttery pastry filled with plump raisins and rich nuts drizzled with a thick sweet cream. Brenna had never been allowed such treats but her younger self reasoned that if she took one for Beldyn, it would be all right if she took one for herself as well. From then on Brenna ate almost every treat made in the kitchen, although she was careful to take only what wouldn’t be missed. She had no wish to bring Thorold’s wrath down on any of the servants.

  As she got older chores and learning the healing craft from her mother took more of her time, so she and Beldyn had spent less and less time together. But she’d always thought of him as her little brother. Now he was a tool for his father. She wondered what Beldyn would say if he knew the Brotherhood had plans to put her on the throne instead of him. Did he want the throne? The boy she’d known would not have wanted it, but the past six years might have hardened him and made him cruel like his father.

  Brenna swallowed nervously as she peered out the window. She knew she had to go out eventually but truth to tell, she was afraid. Besides, it looked like Feiren had everything well in hand. The former Kingsguard captain had decided on a show of obvious authority and wore one of his old uniforms. He did look impressive. He’d retired more than two years ago but still looked trim in the dark blue jacket and breeches.

  Six young members of the Brotherhood fidgeted in the practice yard. Each of them had an old steel weapon and it looked like a few of them had never touched a weapon before in their lives. Even though Kane had said they were all fourteen or fifteen Brenna was surprised at the differences in them.

  One lad looked to have his full man’s height but his weight had some catching up to do - he was as tall as Feiren but Brenna thought his lanky frame would fit through spaces even she couldn’t squeeze through. Another boy had yet to see any type of growth spurt at all. Small with light brown hair and a slightly pinched look about him, his head didn’t quite reach Feiren’s shoulder. This boy reminded her of the lads in Eryl’s gang. A third boy already had the beginnings of a beard and the girth of one who spent too much time at table. The fourth boy was about her height with a crop of unruly blond curls that fell into his eyes. He looked the most comfortable with his weapon, a sword that he’d clearly been taught how to use. These boys weren’t very intimidating.

  It was the girls who scared her. Actually, it was just one girl. The small girl in breeches with the plain knife seemed unlikely to be a problem – but the one dressed in the fine clothes with the haughty attitude? She worried her.

  When she was young, women in the higher classes had teased Brenna because of her poor dress and station as a servant. With her rich clothing and elaborate hairstyle this girl looked much like the ones she’d served on Duke Thorold’s estate. She was dressed as though she was visiting nobility rather
than being trained by a former Guard. She too had a knife, but she touched it as if it were a thing to be loathed, rather than a cherished family heirloom. With a sigh, Brenna stepped back from the window and headed to the door. She’d be better to just get it over with. She opened the door and stepped out into the yard.

  “Hello Feiren,” Brenna said. She reached out to the old steel and stopped it from reacting to her. The seven people in the yard all turned to face her.

  “Ah Brenna,” Feiren said. “You made it. I trust all is well and there will be no other delays? ”

  Brenna heard the dry tone in his voice and deliberately refused to meet Feiren’s gaze.

  “Yes, well. Here I am,” she said. The six youngsters stared at her wide-eyed. Well, five of them stared at her. The sixth, the well-dressed girl, looked everywhere except at her. No doubt to make sure Brenna knew that she wasn’t impressed.

  Brenna grinned. This could be fun after all. She’d dealt with many folk who thought they were above her, and in most cases she’d been able to get the better of them. They may not have known it was her, but they certainly missed the purse or scarf when they got home.

  “Lads, lasses,” Feiren said. “This is Brenna Lightfingers, the Caller.” Feiren bowed to her and she nodded back. “Brenna, this here is your training squad. Colm.” The blond boy bowed. “Owen.” This was the boy growing the beard. “Gram.” The tall lanky one. “Jemma.” The girl in breeches gave her a shy smile. “Martyn.” He was the smallest boy. “And this is Carolie.” The well-dressed girl, Carolie, sniffed.

  “You don’t look like you carry the bloodline of Wolde,” Carolie said. “What makes you special?”

  Brenna eyed the girl thoughtfully for a few seconds and then she reached out to the old steel in the yard. With a quick mental nudge she let the weapons flare briefly, just enough to get their attention then snuffed them out.

  “I can do that,” Brenna said. Some of Carolie’s haughtiness was replaced with unease. “I think that’s special, don’t you?” Brenna looked at the others. She hadn’t wanted to frighten them, just let them know there was a reason she was here. Thankfully they seemed more excited than afraid. She paused, her gaze on the smallest boy. Martyn, his name was. There was something familiar about him and his knife. She reached with her mind and touched his knife.