The Smoke Thieves Series, Book 1

by Sally Green

  Tzsayn sighed. “And what’s to stop her running away once she’s out of the cells?”

  Catherine spread her arms. “Run where? You just said yourself, we’re cut off.”

  Tzsayn nodded ruefully. “Fine, she can have her freedom. And you can have her. Learn what you can. Perhaps it will help.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness. There is her partner too, a man called Gravell.”

  “No.”

  “But he may know more.”

  “A child I can just about pardon, a grown man I cannot.”

  Catherine lowered her head. “Thank you for the child then.”

  “I hope she appreciates her luck in finding such a considerate princess.”

  “And such a considerate prince.”

  Back in Brigant, no one would be released from jail at Catherine’s request. She would learn what she could from Tash tomorrow and, if need be, she’d question Gravell too. She could always go to his cell for that. However, for now she wanted to help take Tzsayn’s mind off his troubles with talk of something lighter.

  “The girl is from Illast originally, I think. Her hair is the most amazing I’ve ever seen. It’s long and tangled like thick rope. I’ve never seen the like of it before. Her skin is dark and her eyes are a stunning blue. Even deeper than the blue of your silk jackets.”

  “It sounds like she’s swept you off your feet.” The prince smiled again.

  Catherine laughed. “Actually, that is exactly what happened.” Before she could say more, a servant entered and bowed to Tzsayn.

  “Karl asks permission to see you, Your Highness.”

  The prince rubbed his eyes. Catherine saw again how tired he was. “Where is he?”

  “Outside, Your Highness.”

  “Excuse me,” the prince said, turning back to Catherine. “It seems there is more work to be done.”

  Catherine nodded. “I’ll leave you then. Thank you for agreeing to my request.”

  She left the room, and a man in the corridor bowed as she passed. He had a scar down each of his cheeks and was holding a thick gold chain.

  EDYON

  ROSSARB, PITORIA

  MARCH WAS dying. Of that, Edyon was sure. And this time there was no way to stop it.

  After Edyon had told the scar-faced man he was the son of Prince Thelonius, both he and March had been taken back to Edyon’s cell. They were given bread to eat and water to drink, but March couldn’t eat. Edyon tried chewing the bread to make a paste to feed him, but it was hopeless. He dribbled water into March’s mouth and talked to him, and that was all he could do.

  I cannot see if he lives or dies . . .

  Perhaps Madame Eruth couldn’t, but Edyon could. It felt like death was in the room with him.

  So Edyon talked and talked and held March’s hand. He had asked for some cloths and water to clean the wounds, and eventually the door opened.

  The man in the doorway didn’t have either bandages or water, but he was holding Edyon’s gold chain. He was so beautifully dressed in blue silk and shining silver armor that Edyon wanted to laugh at the awful joke of it as he and March lay on the ground in a cell where even the air was filthy.

  “I believe you claim this gold chain is yours.”

  “Yes, it’s mine.”

  “Can you tell me how you got it?”

  Edyon was almost too tired to speak. But he gave a short version of his story, from birth to his arrival on the cell floor.

  The man stared at him. “There are many questions I have for you, but they can wait until you have more strength.”

  “I’m telling the truth.”

  The man nodded. “I believe you are, Edyon.”

  And with a flick of his fingers four soldiers came into the cell. “They’ll take you to a better room. I’ll send a surgeon for your friend. We’ll talk again later.”

  The soldiers tried to lift March, but he tightened his grip on Edyon’s hand and Edyon knew he shouldn’t let go. The soldiers told him to give them room, but the man in blue silk spoke quietly to them and then they worked around him. Somehow they got March onto a stretcher and carried him out of the dungeon into the cool air.

  They crossed a stone courtyard into a large keep and to a room with light and furniture and a large fire. There, a man wearing a white tunic cleaned March’s wounds and bandaged them while Edyon still kept hold of March’s hand.

  “Who was that man? The one in the silk?” Edyon asked, though he had a feeling he knew, from the terrible scars that had covered the left side of his face like melted wax.

  “That was Prince Tzsayn, sir, and I’m his personal physician. He’s asked me to do whatever I can to help you.”

  Edyon didn’t know what to say. Was this all happening because they believed that he was the son of Prince Thelonius? Clearly they no longer thought he was a spy. Edyon felt the faintest spark of hope. Then his eyes fell on March, his face pale, breathing shallow, and the spark died.

  “And March? Can you help him?”

  “I’ll do what I can. But he’s very weak and his wound is deep.”

  Edyon wished he still had the demon smoke. That would cure March. The only thing he’d ever stolen that had been useful, and he’d lost it again.

  But Gravell and Tash were here in the castle. The prince must have got the chain from them, so he must have the purple demon smoke too. It was a pathetically hopeless chance, but he had to say it.

  “The demon smoke! That will heal him.”

  The physician shook his head. “Demon smoke doesn’t heal.”

  “It does; I’ve seen it.”

  The physician raised his eyebrows. “Was this after you’d taken some, sir?”

  “It will work, I promise you.”

  “Impossible. And anyway, illegal.”

  “Listen,” said Edyon. “Two demon hunters were caught as they came into Rossarb; they had my gold chain, which holds the seal of my father, Prince Thelonius.” Edyon thought it wouldn’t do any harm to name-drop. “They also had some purple demon smoke. It cures wounds. I’ve seen it. I’ve used it. And now I need you to get it. My friend’s life depends on it.”

  “I know you want your friend to live, sir, but this smoke won’t help him. It may ease his passing, if he can smoke a little, but—”

  “Find it,” said Edyon firmly. “The prince told you to do everything you could. If March dies I will blame you. Either bring me the smoke or bring me the prince. Now!”

  CATHERINE

  ROSSARB, PITORIA

  History often forgets that King Stephen, one of Brigant’s most well-loved kings, was born out of wedlock.

  Brigant: A Detailed History, T. Nabb

  THE MORNING after discussing Tash with the prince, Catherine had obtained the girl’s freedom and, at Tash’s insistence, had allowed her to go to see Gravell in his cell, provided that two soldiers stayed with her at all times.

  “She can run fast. Watch her,” Tanya had warned with a smile as they left.

  Shortly afterward Ambrose arrived at Catherine’s rooms carrying a small canvas sack. There was a purple and red glow coming from it, and she couldn’t help but feel excited.

  “The smoke? You’ve got it?”

  Ambrose pulled out not one but two bottles and held them up. One was full of red and orange smoke. In the other, the smoke was purple and glowed more brightly. He held the purple bottle out to her, saying, “Be careful. It’s hot.”

  Catherine took it and was surprised by the weight of it, although the heat was gentle rather than fiery.

  Could this strange smoke really be the reason her father had invaded Pitoria? It certainly wasn’t anything ordinary. But how could it be useful to him?

  “Are you handling illegal goods, Sir Ambrose?” Prince Tzsayn said as he entered the room. “The penalty for possessing demon smoke is a year�
�s hard labor.”

  “Would I have to go to prison as well?” Catherine held up the bottle of purple smoke.

  Prince Tzsayn grinned. “Fortunately I’m in a position to pardon you, fully and completely.” He came to her and took the bottle.

  “I got these from your guards, Your Highness. They’d taken them from two prisoners.”

  “The demon hunters, I assume,” Tzsayn said, looking to Catherine.

  Catherine nodded. “As I explained, I think the smoke might be the reason my father is invading. But I’m not much wiser as yet.”

  The prince held up his bottle. “I’ve not seen smoke this color before. It’s normally red, like the one Sir Ambrose is holding.”

  “Perhaps Tash can explain the difference,” Catherine offered.

  “Let’s hope she has some use,” the prince replied. “However, I’m not here this morning to discuss smoke. There’s something else you should know. Two men were arrested while trying to enter the town just before the siege. The guard thought they might be spies. Under interrogation, one of them claimed that his father is Prince Thelonius of Calidor.”

  Catherine shook her head. “Thelonius has no children—his sons both died recently.”

  “I should have said, this man was born out of wedlock. Illegitimate but still a son. He says he never knew his father’s identity until a few weeks ago. He told me Prince Thelonius sent him a token to show his good faith and prove his story was true—a ring designed to sit within a pendant. He was traveling to Calidor to meet his father. This son may be a bastard, but it’s possible that Thelonius wants him to be recognized and legitimized.”

  Tzsayn held out a gold chain.

  Catherine took the chain. It was heavy and thick, and from it hung a complex pendant in the design of thorns. Set inside the thorns was a ring.

  “It’s Prince Thelonius’s royal seal,” Tzsayn said simply.

  Catherine sank into a chair. “But that would mean . . . he’s my cousin.”

  “And, if legitimized, the future prince of Calidor.”

  Catherine was in a daze. She looked up at Tzsayn. “What’s his name?”

  “Edyon Foss.”

  “A Pitorian name.”

  “Yes. His mother was—is—Pitorian.”

  Could it be true? Her cousin? Her father had always claimed that her uncle was a dishonorable coward. It would be no surprise if such a man were to have been unfaithful to his wife. Then again, her father had proved himself to be dishonorable in his dealings over Catherine’s marriage. If Edyon’s story was true, then it sounded like he had been left in the dark about his parentage all his life and was only now being summoned to his father because the prince needed an heir after the death of his legitimate children. Edyon, like Catherine, was being used by his father. She wondered if he would turn out to be as manipulative as Thelonius seemed to be. She’d have to see for herself.

  Catherine gripped the arms of her chair and pushed herself to her feet.

  “I want to see him.”

  Tzsayn put up a hand to stay her. “Soon. His companion is gravely ill, I’m sorry to say, because of the treatment received from my interrogators. You must see him of course, but now is not the right time.”

  There was a heavy knock on the door and Tanya moved to let in a man wearing a white tunic. He was breathing heavily and between gasps for air he spoke.

  “Halfway round the castle . . . never knew it was so big . . . then up a thousand steps . . . for a fool’s errand.”

  Prince Tzsayn went to the man. “Gregor, is it bad news about March?”

  Gregor looked up, seemed surprised to find himself in the prince’s presence, then bent over again, and Catherine wasn’t sure if it was a bow or a wheeze.

  “Your Highness. My apologies.” Gregor took some more deep breaths and stood. “You said to do . . . whatever I could for the patient.”

  “So why are you here and not tending him?”

  “The little prince wants demon smoke. He is most insistent. I’ve been twice round the castle trying to find it. The guards said they’d given it to Sir Ambrose. But finding Sir Ambrose is not so easy.”

  “Well, he’s here and he has the smoke. But why does Edyon want it?”

  “He says it can heal his friend’s wounds.”

  “The smoke can heal?”

  “No, Your Highness. It’s absolute nonsense of course, but Edyon insists it’s true.”

  Catherine’s mind whirled. “But what if it isn’t nonsense? What if the smoke really can heal wounds? Is this what my father is after?”

  TASH

  ROSSARB, PITORIA

  “OI, BIG man! You’ve got a visitor.”

  Gravell was sitting on the floor of a cell every bit as cold, miserable, and smelly as the one Tash had been in. But when he saw Tash in the doorway, his hairy face cracked into such a huge smile he might have been in the finest palace in Pitoria. Tash ran to him and hugged him.

  Gravell lifted her up and said, “Good to see you, missy.” And he hugged her back so hard she couldn’t breathe.

  When he gently put her down Tash could feel tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t let him see that, so she wiped her face across his stomach and took a breath before forcing a smile and looking up.

  “How are you keeping?”

  “How do you expect, in this shithole? Did you escape or something?”

  “Or something with bells on! I’ve got a royal pardon and I’m helping Princess Catherine. She wants to learn about demons.”

  Gravell laughed, then checked Tash’s face. “You’re serious? Princess who?”

  “Catherine. She’s betrothed to Prince Tzsayn. That’s how come I got a royal pardon.”

  “Very nice too.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not giving away any of our secrets, are you?”

  Tash shook her head. “No. And I’m not exactly free. The whole town’s surrounded by Brigantines, so I can’t leave, even if I want to. But at least I’m not in these stinking cells. I’ve tried to get them to let you out too, but they won’t do it. They say I’m a child and that’s different.”

  “It is different. You shouldn’t be in here.”

  “Neither should you.” She remembered the food. “I’ve brought some apples and nuts and cheese. I can bring you some food every day. They’ve said I can do that.”

  “That’s good.”

  “And I’ve been thinking,” continued Tash, lowering her voice so the two guards who had accompanied her to the cell couldn’t hear. “There is a chance you’ll be able to escape. The Brigantines are building up to a big attack. When they do you’ll probably be moved out of the cells to make room for soldier prisoners, just like I was. If you get out—I mean, when you get out—and I’m not with you, I’ll meet you at the bottom of the path that leads up to the plateau. The one we came down.”

  Gravell sniffed. “Sounds like a good plan.”

  “I think it’ll work. You just need to be ready.” And she hugged Gravell again and didn’t let go of him until the jailer said her time was up.

  As she left the cells and went back through the castle courtyard, Tash saw the prince and princess, with Ambrose walking behind them carrying a canvas bag that glowed red and purple.

  The princess summoned her over. “Tash, come with us. We’re going to use the smoke.”

  Typical, Tash thought as she fell into step behind them. It’s illegal for me and Gravell to have it, but princes and princesses can smoke as much of it as they like . . .

  EDYON

  ROSSARB, PITORIA

  THE PHYSICIAN had left, and Edyon paced the room, then returned to March and took up his hand again. It was cool, too cool, like the life was leaving him. He needed the smoke! Where was the damn physician? Would he even find the smoke? The soldiers could have smoked it all for their own pleasure or let it escape and drift away
, or . . .

  Edyon went to the window, but there was no sign of the physician.

  “Hurry up! Hurry up!”

  He went back to March and took his hand again, feeling tears prick his eyes. “It’ll be all right. We’ll get the smoke and I’ll heal you and we’ll be on our way to a land of riches before you know it.”

  But Edyon knew that was a lie. Death was all around. And it was all his fault. If only he’d not stolen the smoke in the first place. If only he’d not killed the sheriff’s man. He lifted March’s hand to his lips and kissed it, saying, “I’m sorry, March. I’m sorry.”

  The door opened and Edyon sprang to his feet. However, it wasn’t the physician who stood on the threshold but the prince, and he was holding the bottle of purple smoke.

  “I believe you wanted this.”

  Edyon had to stop himself from snatching the bottle from the prince’s hands. “Yes, Your Highness! I know it’s illegal, but it has healing powers. It will save March. I’ve used it before.”

  Tzsayn held out the bottle. “Show us.”

  And by this time Edyon could see there was an “us.” More people had crowded in through the doorway. The physician, a young woman dressed beautifully in a pale gray silk dress, an incredibly handsome soldier with long blond hair, and, pushing to the front of them all, Tash. Edyon wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry.

  Edyon took the bottle and went back to March. He held the bottle upside down, eased the cork out, and breathed a small wisp of smoke into his mouth. He leaned over March and held his lips above the worst wound made by the hook.

  The smoke was hot and dry in his mouth and swirled around the wound, but also it seemed to seep into his brain. Edyon held his position, his body shaking, until he could hold his breath no longer. Then he released. The smoke curled up and away, and everyone watched it rise. The young woman reached out to touch it, but the prince held her hand back as the smoke climbed to the ceiling and then crawled across it to the corner of the window, where it found a crack and seemed to be sucked through.