Dance of Thieves

by Mary E. Pearson

  The hunter was close behind us, but I knew what was up ahead, and I only prayed she could keep step with me. If we stumbled, we were finished. She managed to keep pace, the chain rattling between us, the keys still firm in her grip. The flat plain gave way to a long, steep incline that led to the river below. In one jump, we leapt and rolled, head over heels, tumbling, the shackles cutting into our legs as we pulled apart and came together in what felt like an endless cascade down the loose dirt, unable to break our fall until we hit a flat crest above the river.

  “The keys!” the girl shouted. Her hand was empty. She had lost them in the long tumble.

  We untangled ourselves and got to our feet, both of our ankles bleeding where the irons had cut into them. We looked back up the incline, hoping to see the glint of a rusty key.

  “Devil’s hell!” I hissed. The hunter was traversing the steep embankment on his horse, still coming after us.

  “Fikat vide,” the girl growled and glanced behind us for escape. There was nowhere to go but the river, and it was a long way down.

  “Can you swim?” I asked. “I don’t want your dead weight dragging me under.”

  “Let’s go, pretty boy,” she said, glaring at me, then jumped, pulling me with her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KAZI

  Swim?

  Not well. There were few opportunities in Sanctum City for swimming. The Great River was too cold and too violent. I’d had some training as Rahtan but didn’t get past the basics of floating. There was simply nowhere to practice.

  But his accusing question galled me. Dead weight dragging him under? He was the one who passed the keys to others before freeing us. He was the one who pushed us down an embankment, making me lose the keys. The hunter was quickly approaching, another just behind him with their weapons poised to bash in our heads, or at least disable us enough to drag us back to the wagon. There was no other choice. The river was a long way down, but this time I would be the one doing the pushing. I grabbed his arm and jumped.

  It seemed forever before we hit, the surface surprisingly hard as we broke through. It viciously slammed into my ribs, and then we were tumbling in the current. I didn’t know which way was up, and my lungs were bursting searching for a breath. I kicked, struggled to find the surface, find air, find the way up, but there were only thousands of bubbles, flashes of light, swirls of darkness, and a vise clamping down on my chest, the last breath I had gulped seeping away as I kicked desperately, and then I felt something gripping my arm, fingers digging in, jerking me upward, and I broke the surface, gasping for air.

  “Lean back!” he yelled. “Cross your legs! Feet forward!” Jase pulled me so I was between his arms, leaning back against his chest, rapids splashing over us, spinning us, but each time he righted our course and we shot down the river like aimless leaves swept away on its surface. The riverbanks on either side weren’t far away, but they were lined with boulders and we were moving too swiftly to risk grabbing on to one. I choked as rapids splashed into my mouth and up my nose. His arms held me tight, pulling me backward when I tried to lean up. “Relax against me,” he ordered. “Go with the current. When it widens and calms, we’ll make our way to the side.” His survival depended on mine and mine on his. We truly were anchors to each other. The only good thing about the fearsome ride was it was taking us far from the labor hunters. The current finally slowed, and stretches of sandy banks began to appear. “A little farther,” he said, his face tucked next to mine, “to make sure they can’t follow.”

  We had already gone a mile down the river, or more. My legs throbbed, and I was relieved when he started maneuvering us toward a sandy bank. I finally felt my feet touch bottom, and we both stumbled out. We collapsed on the bank, gasping. My hair was a mass of tangles in front of my face, my heart still pounding. I glanced to the side. He lay next to me on his back, his eyes closed, his chest heaving, and his hair dripping in wet strings.

  I may have put one threat behind me, but now I was chained to another—in the middle of nowhere. There was no pretending that we were friends, and now I had no weapon. Neither did he, but he was undeniably bigger and stronger than me, and I had seen what his fist could do. It was clear I needed to strike at least a temporary truce.

  Once I caught my breath, I asked, “What now?”

  His head rolled to the side and he looked at me, a long searing stare. His eyes were clear, bright, the haze of drink long vanished from them, and his irises were the same deep brown as the earth he was lying on.

  “Did you have something in mind?” he asked.

  I wasn’t sure if it was sarcasm or humor. Maybe both, but his eyes remained locked on mine. An uneven breath squeezed my lungs.

  “I’m just saying, I know you don’t like me, and I don’t like you, but until we can be free of each other, I guess we’ll have to make the best of it.”

  He blinked. Long and slow.

  Definitely sarcasm. And distaste.

  He turned away and looked up into the sky as if he was thinking it over. “You have a name?” he finally asked, without looking at me.

  I paused. I wasn’t sure why it felt risky to tell him. It was strangely personal, but I was the one who suggested we make the best of it. “Kazi,” I said, waiting for him to deride it.

  “And your family name?”

  “Vendans don’t use surnames. We’re known by where we’re from. I’m known as Kazi of Brightmist. It’s a quarter in Sanctum City.”

  He quietly repeated my name but said nothing more, staring upward. I was sure he was conjuring all the possible ways he could be rid of me. If only he had that ax to hack away my foot that bound me to him. He finally stood and held his hand out, waiting for me to take it. I cautiously grabbed hold of his wrist and he helped me to my feet, but he didn’t release my arm, tugging me closer instead. He looked down at me. “And I do have a name too, even though you’re fond of calling me pretty boy. Jase Ballenger,” he said. “But you probably already knew that, didn’t you? Considering you intended to arrest me.” Uneasy seconds passed, his grip still strong. Dark clouds flashed in his eyes. Our truce was off to a shaky start.

  “The arrest wasn’t imminent,” I replied. “There were still more questions to ask, accusations to review, and then I would have called you in for further discussion.”

  “You call me in? Hell’s Mouth is my city. Just who do you think you are?”

  Your worst nightmare, Jase Ballenger, I fumed, but I molded my words into a calm reply. “Do you want to make the best of this or not?”

  He sucked in a slow, heated breath and swallowed his next words. He released my arm and turned, taking in our surroundings as though he was appraising our situation. “All right, then, Kazi of Brightmist, let’s see if we can make the best of it and get out of here.” His gaze jumped to the ridge on the opposite bank, then back to the forest behind us. He pointed to his left. “I think…” He shook his head and his finger shifted slightly to the right. “I think there’s a settlement in that direction. Closest civilization we’re going to find that doesn’t put us right back in the hunters’ path. Maybe a hundred miles.”

  A hundred miles? Chained, barefoot, with no weapons or food?

  And with someone who was about as trustworthy as a merchant’s wink. But I was sure survival was on his mind too. “What kind of settlement?” I asked.

  “The only kind that’s out here. One of yours.”

  There was no attempt to hide his disapproval. I looked in the direction he had pointed, still uncertain. “Where’s Hell’s Mouth from here?” I asked.

  “Other side of the river, where the hunters are. And more than a day’s ride east.”

  A day? Had I been knocked unconscious for that long? My stomach rumbled in confirmation, and his conclusion rang with some truth. There was another Vendan settlement far west of Eislandia. Casswell was one of the first and largest settlements—several hundred strong. They would have the supplies and resources to help me, in one way or another.r />
  The chain rattled between us, and he shifted on his feet. “Well?” he asked. “You have a better idea?”

  Not at the moment. “We’ll head toward the settlement,” I answered.

  “But…” he said, taking a step closer, his eyes narrowing, “here’s the real question: If I get you back to civilization, you still think you’re going to call me in for further discussion?”

  Was that a veiled threat? If I get you back? The chain firmly connecting us now seemed like a blessed assurance I wouldn’t be bludgeoned the minute I turned my back. Everything about his stance was smug confidence. This was a game for him. A challenge. I’d bite.

  “I’d be a fool to answer that, now, wouldn’t I, considering my predicament?”

  An amused huff jumped from his chest. “I’d say you’d be a fool not to.”

  I stared at him, trying to judge how much was bluster and how much genuine threat. “Then shall we simply agree to go our separate ways, once we reach the settlement? No foul, no gain.”

  “Separate ways,” he said. “Agreed.”

  We got our last drinks at the river since we didn’t know when we would come across fresh water again, and then I stopped to toe some small rocks I spotted on the bank. I picked one up, turning it over in my hand.

  “That for me?” he asked.

  I glanced up. This time, humor. A grin lit his eyes. He was impossible to predict, which only added to my misgivings. Quarterlords and their greedy egos were as easy to forecast as a snowy day in winter. Every exchange of words between Jase and me seemed like a dance, a step forward, a step back, circling, both of us leading, anticipating, wondering what the next move would be. He didn’t trust me any more than I trusted him.

  “Flint,” I answered. “And my buckle is firesteel. The hunters may have relieved me of my valuables, but at least my belt was worthless to them. A fire will be welcome tonight.”

  He looked at my buckle, a brown oval of metal shaped like a serpent, and nodded his approval of this development. A step forward.

  “Then I better keep my eyes open for some dinner.” He stepped toward the forest to leave.

  “Hold up,” I said. “Before we go, I need you to turn around.”

  “What?”

  “I need to pee. Turn around.”

  “We just got out of a river. Why didn’t you pee there?”

  “Maybe because I was doing this little thing called fighting for my life.”

  “You mean I was fighting for your life. You just went along for the ride.”

  “Turn around,” I ordered.

  “Turn my back on you?”

  I smiled. “Don’t worry,” I answered, spitting his own words back into his face, “I wouldn’t want to be chained to a dead weight. You’re safe, pretty boy.”

  “I don’t even get a riddle first?”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  He slowly turned. “Hurry.”

  I had done more humiliating things I supposed, but at the moment I couldn’t remember what they were. I took care of my business quickly. Making the best of it was not going to be easy.

  When he turned around again, he reached toward me and I flinched. My hand shot up ready to strike.

  “Whoa! Hold on,” he said, pulling back. “I was just going to take a look at your face. You’ve got quite a shiner blooming there.”

  I reached up and touched my jaw, feeling the heat of a fresh bruise.

  He shrugged. “I’m not saying it wasn’t worth it—you got your hands on the keys—but it makes me wonder, is there anything you won’t do to get what you want?”

  I eyed him cautiously. “Some things,” I answered.

  But not many.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JASE

  I grabbed a long branch of driftwood tossed up on the bank and broke it in two, handing one to her. It would serve as both walking stick and protection if we needed it. I doubted the hunters would cross the river after us. We were only a commodity to them and it would cost them less time and trouble to ensnare new victims, but there were four-legged threats out here too. “We’ll sharpen them later,” I said.

  We set out through the forest, maneuvering through the dense maze of yellow-ringed spirit trees. The trunks were thin, none much wider than my arm, but they grew closely, making our path an ever-constant zigzag. The floor of the forest was a thick mat of decaying leaves, a soft cushion on our bare feet. Other parts of the journey wouldn’t be this easy. We faced a river of scorching sand ahead, but if I paced it right, we would travel over it in the cool of night.

  It was a gamble when I told her about the direction of the settlement. I wasn’t sure how well she knew the terrain. Even if she did, it was easy to confuse one forest or plateau with another out here, and she’d been unconscious the whole time in the hay wagon. My gamble paid off. She didn’t know where we really were—east or west of Hell’s Mouth.

  I thought she’d go along easier if she thought she was headed for a Vendan settlement. The alternative was to carry her trussed up over my shoulder the whole way, which would take even longer. It was already going to take too long as it was. The river had taken us way off course, and we wouldn’t be able to move fast with this chain between us—especially without shoes.

  She wouldn’t like where we were going, which brought me some satisfaction as there was little else to be satisfied with at the moment. I needed to get home fast. More than ever, this was a time the family needed to be pulling together, showing a unified front. We needed to be fortifying our positions. Scouts had already been sent to outlying posts, watching for threats. Other leagues were always vying for a piece of Hell’s Mouth’s lucrative trade, hoping to displace the Ballengers. Paxton was a wolf sniffing the air for blood every time he came to town. If I wasn’t there, he’d sense weakness and whistle for more of his pack to follow. The same with the other league leaders. They would know something was wrong. The town would become restless too, wondering where I was. Every day, every minute I was gone only made my problems multiply. The others would be covering for me, searching, hoping for the best and putting on a show that all was well. Funeral plans would have to proceed. My fingers curled into my palm, wishing I could hit something.

  Today would be the preparation and wrapping of my father’s body. My family would be doing it without me. Tomorrow the tomb would be opened and cleaned, a lantern lit and a daily prayer offered up by family in anticipation of his entombment, and in two weeks his body would be laid on the internment stone for the final good-bye, viewing, and sealing ceremony. And then, once the tomb was shut and sealed, the priestess would say a blessing over the new Patrei. But I wouldn’t be there. Visitors gathered to pay their respects would wonder at my absence, and the fears and whispers would run rampant. So would the wolves. My family was at risk. So was the town—all because of her.

  I wondered if she was truly Rahtan. Yes, she was skilled, but she didn’t exactly possess brawn—even if she had managed to overtake me and slam me up against the wall. But juggling? Riddles? Her age. Her poise and demeanor was that of a cynical tested soldier, but her appearance—she was young, younger than me, I was certain. Her black hair fell in thick, long waves, and her hands were delicate, her fingers more suited for a piano than a sword.

  Or for slipping keys from a belt.

  My doubts doubled and I glanced sideways at her. Her cheeks were flushed with warmth, but she kept step with my brisk pace.

  I thought about the queen who had sent her and my father’s last words.

  Make her come. The leagues will notice. It will validate our position on this continent.

  The Lesser Kingdoms and territories hadn’t been part of the battle, but everyone knew of the war between the Greater Kingdoms and the queen who had led a vastly outnumbered army to an astonishing victory. She could have plucked from any number of skilled soldiers or chosen assassins from three kingdoms to investigate treaty violations. Why this girl?

  “Do you actually know the queen?” I asked. />
  Her glance at me was sharp, but her one word answer was languid. “Yes.”

  Even in one simple word, I heard a hundred nuances—most of them haughty, condescending, and superior.

  “How did you meet?”

  She paused, considering her reply. “I met her when I pledged as a soldier.”

  A lie.

  “You know her well?”

  “Quite well.”

  More questions only produced more terse answers, and I wasn’t sure any were true.

  I stopped abruptly and stepped in her path to block her, the question I promised myself I wouldn’t ask bubbling up anyway. “Why don’t you like me?”

  She stared at me, confused. “What?”

  “Back at the river, you said that you don’t like me. I want to know why.”

  She rolled her eyes like it was obvious and tried to sidestep around me. Again, I moved to block her path. She looked at me then, her eyes as smooth and calm as a summer sea, and said without blinking, “Because you’re an opportunist. You’re a cheat. You’re a thief. Shall I go on?”

  My back stiffened, but I forced myself to deliver an unruffled reply. “Wouldn’t those all be the same thing?”

  “There are differences. Can we walk and talk at the same time?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I replied, and we fell back into step. “I guess it would take a real thief to know the subtleties. I saw you steal those oranges.”

  She laughed. “Did you, now? I paid for those oranges. You and your bunch of thugs were too drunk and full of yourselves to see anything beyond your own inebriated noses. I can see your kind coming a mile away.”

  “My kind?” I squared my shoulders, struggling to remain calm. She had no respect or fear for the Ballengers, and I wasn’t used to it. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know enough. I’ve read the long list of your violations. Skimming merchants. Caravan raids. Stealing livestock. Intimidation.”