Dance of Thieves

by Mary E. Pearson

  Samuel smiled and lifted the mug to his lips, but Jalaine’s eyes pinched with horror as she watched him. She pushed back her chair and fled the room.

  “What’s wrong with Jalaine?” Lydia asked.

  Nash looked at Wren. “Can I drink my soup from a mug too?”

  “Should one of us go after her?” Aram asked.

  “Jalaine will be fine,” Jase said firmly. “She’s just tired. I’m giving her some time off from the arena.”

  Gunner leaned back and moaned. “Why would—”

  “Gunner,” Jase said, stopping his brother mid-sentence with a sharp glance. I saw how quickly Jase could be two different people, the brother and the Patrei. That was the strain I had seen in his face earlier, the weight of it pressing on him.

  His focus turned and I watched him eyeing Lydia and Nash, choosing his next words carefully. He stood and walked to the sideboard. He grabbed two mugs and set them in front of Nash and Lydia, then emptied their bowls of soup into them as he explained. “One of the crew we encountered today was a friend of Jalaine’s.”

  Priya’s mouth fell open. Titus sat forward in his seat. Vairlyn’s lips pressed tight. Everyone but Nash and Lydia knew that the “crew” we encountered were dead at the bottom of a gully now.

  “Who was it?” Aram asked.

  Jase sighed. “Fertig.”

  A hush fell at the same time Lydia shouted, “I know Fertig! He’s Jalaine’s beau.”

  She and Nash began happily slurping their soup from the mugs.

  Jase walked around the table, returning to his seat. “There’s more. Jalaine had mentioned Gunner’s message to Fertig—the one calling us home. That’s how he knew where to find us.”

  Vairlyn leaned forward, her fingers pressing on her forehead.

  “Fertig?” Priya said, as if she still couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Why didn’t you say something when we were out there?” Samuel asked.

  “I wanted to get information from Jalaine first.”

  “Which one was he?” I asked.

  Jase eyed my neck, my question answered.

  Fertig was the one who had choked me—the one I had killed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  JASE

  Today was every hell my father had ever described. I stumbled from one fire to the next. A raid. A betrayal. Kazi pinned beneath the body of a raider, soaked in a pool of blood. The memory punched me again and again. And I still had more business to address.

  There will be times you won’t sleep, Jase.

  Times you won’t eat.

  Times you’ll have a hundred decisions to make and not enough time to make just one. Times a choice will make you feel like your flesh is being peeled from your bones. Times you’ll be hated for the decisions you’ve made. Times you will hate yourself.

  You’ll be torn a hundred ways. You’ll doubt your decisions and whom you trust, but above it all, you must always remember that you have a family, a history, and a town to protect. It is both your legacy and your duty. If the job of Patrei were easy, I would have given it to someone else.

  Now I understood my father’s anguish as he lay on his deathbed passing his duties on to me. It was as much a burden as it was an honor.

  I burst into Cave’s End, and Beaufort jumped up from the divan to welcome me, a full goblet in one hand and a bottle in the other.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?” I said.

  “Well, this wasn’t the greeting I expected. Especially not when—”

  “We had an agreement that you’d stay out of sight. One of the Rahtan soldiers staying with us spotted you going into Darkcottage. I had to make up a story about you being a groundsman.”

  Beaufort sneered. “Why are they still here? I feel like a caged animal! I thought I told you to get rid of them!”

  I looked at him. Looked through an arched doorway at the rest of them sprawled around the “cage” as he called it, stocked with fine wines, tobaccos, ridiculous amounts of imported Gitos olives and Gastineux fish eggs, and he was giving the Patrei orders now? I already saw myself throwing the whole lot of them out the gates of Tor’s Watch in the middle of the night, weapons be damned.

  He realized his mistake. “Patrei, Patrei, I’m forgetting myself. Forgive me. Come in. Can I pour you a drink?”

  He explained that with so many of us away and Tor’s Watch so quiet, he had thought it was safe to go to Raehouse and speak to Priya about more supplies, but then our caravan rolled into Greyson Tunnel, creating a flurry of activity. He waited until dusk when things quieted to return to Cave’s End.

  More supplies? “We just filled a large order for you.”

  “There’s a lot of waste with experimentation I’m afraid, but now with the formula and craft perfected, we’re ready to go into production.”

  I couldn’t deny I was happy to finally hear this news. Whoever was behind Fertig and his gang would crawl back to their hole and never bother Hell’s Mouth again.

  “And the fever cure?”

  He shrugged. “Getting closer.”

  The same answer. Three children in Hell’s Mouth had died last winter with fever. Three children too many. Beaufort had shown me the scholars’ stacks of notes and the strange flasks and dishes that they experimented with, but the calculations meant nothing to me.

  “Find it,” I said. “Before winter comes.”

  “Of course,” Beaufort answered. “I’m sure we’ll have it by then.”

  He set his goblet down and yelled toward the other room. “Sarva! Kardos! Bahr! All of you! Get out here and help me show the Patrei what his money has bought!” He put his arm over my shoulder, the rest of his sordid crew following after us, including the scholars, Torback and Phineas. “This way,” he said. “Let’s look at the final product.”

  We stood in the shelter of the sky cap, the part of the cave that extended over the house and a good portion of the grounds, but the winds were fierce and we were still pelted with rain. At least the storm and thunder would disguise the sound.

  “Like this?” I said, holding the launcher to my shoulder the way Kardos had shown me. He, Bahr, and Sarva were former soldiers. Sarva had once been a metalsmith, and he fashioned the launcher based on the scholars’ designs.

  “Keep it snug,” Bahr warned. “The mount will absorb a lot, but be prepared for kickback. Eye your target as if you were shooting an arrow. Now keep it steady while you pull the lever back.”

  A loud crack sounded and a flash lit up the end of the launcher, punching it into my shoulder and sending me back a step, but the noise was nothing compared to the explosion when it hit the target two hundred yards away. The surrounding mountains reverberated with the concussion.

  There were cheers all around.

  “That going to take care of your problems?” Bahr asked.

  “Yes,” I answered. “And then some.” I couldn’t wait to see the Candoran ambassador’s reaction to it. He wouldn’t be yammering about development anymore, and no one would be touching arena caravans again.

  “You can get four shots out of each load,” Sarva said. “Though I doubt you’ll have anything to shoot at after the first.”

  “You have all the specs written down?” I asked. “Carefully documented?”

  “Of course we do,” Beaufort answered.

  “What about storage?” I asked. “Any dangers there? We’re close to the family homes.”

  “None,” Kardos said. “Though I wouldn’t throw the loads into the kitchen oven.” They laughed like they were schooling a boy on the basics of safety.

  “You don’t need to worry about those details now,” Sarva said. “We’ll go over it all when we deliver your first shipment.”

  I smiled, like shipment was the only word he needed to utter to send me on my way. “In two weeks?”

  Beaufort nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Good,” I said. I turned the weapon over in my hands, examining it again. “I’ll take this one in the mean
time.” I slung the launcher strap over my shoulder.

  “Hold on,” Sarva ordered. “You can’t take that.” He reached out for me to hand it over.

  I stared at him. I had almost been expecting his response but was still surprised. “Why not, Sarva? It’s mine, remember? I paid for it. For almost a year, I’ve been paying for it. And you have all the specs written down to make more.”

  He and Kardos exchanged glances, uncertain what to do.

  Beaufort stepped forward, smiling, a forced chuckle in his throat, trying to tamp down the tension. “Yes, of course we do, but—”

  “Then there’s no problem here. I want to start training some of my men up in the lumber camps to work as caravan escorts. They always need the winter work.” I reached over and swept the stacks of loads from the table into a canvas bag. “And I’ll take these too.”

  Sarva’s mouth hung open as I turned away. There was still plenty more he wanted to say. As I left, Zane strolled out of the main drawing room into the foyer, eating a chicken leg. He was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “It’s late for a delivery.”

  He hissed out a frustrated breath and shook his head. “I know. I came up the back way to drop off goods.” He rolled his eyes. “More wine and olives. The storm hit and now I’m stuck.”

  “We can put you up at Riverbend if you’d rather?”

  “That’s all right. I’ve already got my stuff stowed. Hopefully, the storm will pass by morning.”

  He eyed the launcher on my shoulder. “You taking that with you?”

  “That’s right.”

  He shrugged. “Want me to deliver it somewhere for you? As long as I’m here? I can—” He reached out to take it from me.

  “No,” I said, walking away, “I’ve got this one.”

  * * *

  My hand rested on the door, just as it had several nights ago, debating whether to knock. I was soaked through, and my hair dripped onto the floor. Kazi. I still wasn’t sure how this happened. When we were alone, when the world wasn’t looking over our shoulders, everything was easy. All I wanted was to be with her, hold her, listen to her voice, listen to her laugh, You don’t even know half of my tricks yet. I wanted to know them all. She might not commit to tomorrows, but I knew she wanted them as much as I did. It was late, probably too late—

  The door swung open as if she had sensed I was out there.

  “Look at you! You’re drenched,” she said and grabbed my hand, pulling me inside. “You need a dry shirt and—”

  “I only need you, Kazi, that’s all I need.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  KAZI

  Our path glistened with water and small rivulets streamed across the trail as last night’s storm drained down the mountain. Blinding blue sky winked back at me from puddles and swollen ruts, and bands of jays squawked as we passed.

  The back side of Tor’s Watch was green, the trees thick, and enormous colorful lichen taller than a man fanned out on the ancient ruins that lined our path like gaily clad spectators. Everything in this part of the world seemed to grow large.

  We were taking the back way that Jase had mentioned to get to the arena. Priya, Titus, Gunner, and straza rode with us.

  Jase seemed more like himself now, his eyes focused, already simmering with the work ahead of him. But last night when he came to my room he was a different Jase. He held me, soaking me in his grasp. I only need you, Kazi. After dinner he said he’d had to take care of some business matters. “Business out in the rain?” I had asked doubtfully. The storm had been raging, the windows rattling with thunder so loud I thought they might break. He said the business was out in Greyson Tunnel, and he was caught in the downpour. I wanted to ask about Jalaine. I knew she had to be one of those matters—but I saw his weariness so I said nothing.

  We had changed into dry clothes and lay on a thick rug in front of the fire. Tell me a story, Jase, I said, because this time I sensed that it was he who needed to be rescued from his own thoughts, just as he had rescued me so many times. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze softened, melting into a part of me that only wanted more. More of Jase, more of us. He told me about Moro Forest, and the legend of a creature that lived there. His head rested in my lap, the fire crackling, my fingers raking through his hair, until his lids grew heavy and they closed, his story unfinished, his face peaceful. My chiadrah, I whispered somewhere deep inside me where no one could hear, and then I nestled down beside him and we had both slept.

  A loud squawk sounded and we both ducked. We had turned on a switchback and loud jays darted close over our heads. “Easy, Mije,” I said, and I rubbed his neck to soothe him.

  Jase looked at Mije’s mane and frowned. It was braided again. I suspected Jalaine had escaped to the stables last night and shared secrets with Mije that she could share with no one else.

  When Jase rode ahead, to speak with Gunner about something, Priya fell back with me.

  “How’s your neck?” she asked.

  I had worn a high-collared shirt and left my hair loose around my shoulders to help hide the bruises.

  “Fine,” I answered.

  She huffed out an amused breath. “Not much flusters you, does it?”

  I wondered if she knew I was the one who had killed Fertig. I wondered if Jalaine knew.

  “Did you see your sister this morning? How is she doing?”

  Priya shook her head. “Still holed up in her room. She won’t come out.”

  I kept thinking about her red and swollen eyes. Her silence. “Did she love him?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Priya answered. “The minute he plotted against the family, Fertig became dead to us.”

  “But—”

  “Jalaine will get over it. She understands the cost of betrayal. She would have run him through herself if she had known. Fertig’s aim was to kill her brothers. And maybe the rest of us too. It wouldn’t be the first time the Patrei and his family were all slaughtered.”

  “What?”

  She grinned. “I guess that’s one story Jase didn’t tell you. But I can assure you Jalaine knows it quite well. Centuries ago, a Patrei and his whole family were slaughtered at—”

  “But I thought the Ballenger line had never ended.”

  “All killed, except for the baby daughter.” Priya told me that an uncle had succumbed to the flirtations of a lover. He let her in through a bolted entrance in the middle of the night. A flood of attackers followed behind her. As the family fled, they were cut down by rival powers, but a servant scooped up the baby, and they escaped down another path, making it to the vault. The servant eventually made it out through one of the caves and raised the daughter among cousins in the mountains. When the girl turned twenty, she returned with those cousins in tow and there was another slaughter in the very same house—but this time it was the daughter avenging her family’s death, and a new reign of Ballengers began with her. “Some swear they can still hear the dead walking through the rooms. That’s why many guests aren’t fond of staying there.”

  “There?”

  “Darkcottage. It was the first Ballenger house.” She shrugged. “I’ve never heard anything in there.”

  But I have.

  “Are you afraid of spirits?” she asked.

  Was I? I wondered. They whispered to you in unexpected moments, and sometimes crossed the boundaries of life and death and touched you with cool fingers, and sometimes they warned you, but that was all.

  “No,” I answered. “The dead can’t harm you. It’s the living I fear.”

  Priya cast me a long sideways glance. “I doubted you when you first came. I thought you were going to be a big load of trouble, but I admit, I was wrong—even if you lied to me.”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “It never was a show. You always cared for my brother. I just don’t know why you tried to hide it. Is it against your Vendan laws for a soldier to fall in—”

  “
No,” I said quietly, cutting her off before she could utter the word I had avoided. Saying love aloud seemed dangerous. It made it tangible, easier to grasp and break. Or maybe I was just afraid the gods would take notice and steal it away.

  “The Ballengers will never forget what you did for my brother.”

  Yes you will, I thought. If you ever find out why I really came here, that I have searched every room of your house and rifled through your private belongings, that I combed through your desk and touched your neatly ordered pebbles, that I was an invader instead of an ally, you will only remember me for that.

  The whole family would remember.

  We rode silently and my thoughts returned to Priya’s story. A whole family slaughtered was a horror beyond imagination. No wonder the Ballengers were so protective, so diligent about teaching their history. But something Priya said niggled at me, A servant scooped up the baby, and they escaped down another path.

  What path?

  There were no direct paths to the vault from Darkcottage. She would have had to run out in the open, through the work yard, making her an easy target—though the attack did come at night. As long as the baby didn’t cry, she might have hid in the shadows and made her way there. If the baby didn’t cry. I remembered everything I’d had to do to keep a tiger quiet when I smuggled it out of Sanctum City, and that escape was extremely well planned, not a panicked flight from intruders.

  “Just a mile to go,” Jase called. He circled back to ride with me again, his business with Gunner finished, and Priya rode ahead.

  “I’ll give you a quick lay of the land when we get there, but while I go over leases and other business, you can explore the rest on your own.”

  “Other business? Like Fertig?”

  “That too. Whomever Fertig plotted with took a substantial hit with twelve men dead in a gully. There will be rumblings.”

  “They were twelve well-trained men, Jase. There won’t be rumblings. I saw how they operated, signaled each other, ticked off their moves as smooth as a timepiece. Wren, Synové, and I have never been injured before. Those were no common bandits. They were as cool as ice—even Fertig. He was soulless when he choked me, and then when I stabbed him … he smiled.”