“Let us say, for the sake of argument, that I’m entertaining this arrangement. How many are in your skeevy band?”
“There were seven with me. Think what you’d learn from six others. Men and women both.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure to closely examine females to the same degree as males. Women are notoriously reluctant to commit the stupid crimes men do.” He waved a hand in Desin’s direction. “Case in point. I fear I’ll be confined to conducting vivisections on males alone.”
“Not if you free me. I can get you three women.”
Chaereas placed his scalpel down on a notched surface. “I have a proposition for you. Tell me everything you know regarding this ill-advised heist. Omit nothing. Once I have heard all there is to hear, only then will we discuss the terms for your contribution.”
“You promise not to hurt me?”
“For now. On the condition that your information proves valuable. I refuse to offer guarantees if it does not.”
*
Chaereas cranked the centuries-old wrought iron door open and stepped into an adjacent corridor dusted in mildew. One solitary torch gifted the hallway with light from a bracket fitted to ancient stone. Almar leaned against the wall beneath, one hand holding a treatise on philosophy. Chaereas tugged his robes tighter to ward off a chilly draft leaking through these subterranean passages and approached.
The guard captain glanced upward, sketching his brow in furrows. “That was absurdly quick. You aren’t feeling hesitant again, I hope. Not after all the trouble I went through to arrange this.”
“Nothing of the sort. But something else disturbs me.”
“I wouldn’t think a street urchin could unnerve you.”
“Not him in truth, but what others may be doing. The boy alleges several felons are poised to infiltrate Starwatch and steal an artifact worth untold amounts of gold. He kindly offered to betray his former comrades and share what he knows with us.”
“And in exchange for his cooperation you’ll agree to release him?”
“Those were his wishes.”
Almar blew a derisive snort from flared nostrils. “A man facing death will invent whatever nonsense is needed to earn freedom. Never believe a dying man’s testimony. He’ll make an effort to sway the executioner with whatever seems most appealing. His words are nothing but smoke.”
“Ordinarily I’d agree with you. But this one did raise notions worth pondering. Even though he also failed to answer simple questions I’d anticipate a thief knowing.”
“Such as?”
“What the brazen heist hopes to steal for one.”
“That’s more than a simple lack of knowledge,” Almar stated. “How can a criminal not have a clue what item he’s supposed to steal?”
“A pertinent inquiry. He claimed it was a scroll.”
“I’ll bet he did. We only have a hundred thousand of those.”
“Far more as it happens, though I suspect you were being poetic.” Chaereas scratched his chin and felt the faintest brush of coarse hair. “Yet it must be said that the information our fettered delinquent provided is suspiciously deficient.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know. His story has the stench of desperation. One might suspect there are too many missing pieces for it to be truthful. I have a hard time imagining someone being involved in an intricate burglary scheme and yet knowing so little. Do his compatriots not trust him, or is he merely an idiot?”
“Or a liar,” noted Almar.
“Indeed. The potential explanations are worrisome.”
“Even if there are others loose in the city, waiting to infiltrate our tower, they might all be amateurs. It would explain his inability to share vital details.”
“It would, yes. And if that’s true we have nothing to worry about. Yet another poor attempt to steal from us and nothing more. Scribble it in your ledger or wherever you keep such details.”
“What master criminal gets snatched in plain sight by soldiers while trying to steal a purse? He and his fellows might be woefully inept, though merely unaware of their own worthlessness. We’ve dealt with their kind before and increased the occupants in Ironcleft to Ducaen’s delight.”
Chaereas wiped a dribble seeping from his nose, noticing Almar seemed unbothered by the icy air. Given the man’s northern heritage in frozen Alcedon, this was not a surprising revelation. “He claimed the leader is a red haired woman. Devious and possessing a singular intellect. If accurate, she has talents far beyond those who’ve raided our walls in the past.”
“How do you want me to respond?”
“I believe the better question is whether we feel he has enough credibility to warrant a response at all. Though the proposed day for this theft would offer inspiring villains several advantages. He says they’ll strike during the Eclipsing Radiance.”
“We’ll be stretched thin enough policing the crowds without needing to worry about master criminals that might not exist. I shouldn’t need to say this, but we’ll face determined backlash if our patrician guests suffer thefts because we devoted guards to a false warning. There were too many pickpockets lurking last year. Twenty-three accusations of theft if I remember correctly.”
“You needn’t remind me. I dealt with the fallout from vexed aristocrats, wasting valuable time placating their bruised egos.”
“Yeah, and we calmed those nobles with assurances the same thing wouldn’t happen this year,” Almar affirmed. “How do you reckon they’ll respond if it does because we’re off chasing ghosts?”
“They’ll believe we offered nothing more than empty promises and did not take their complaints seriously.”
“In return Starwatch takes a hit to its reputation. Not to mention its coffers, since I’m betting fewer among the elites will be eager to continue donating to us if we can’t keep their purses safe.”
“You paint a bleak portrait should I choose to listen to my captive bandit.”
“Damn straight I do. Just giving my honest opinion, as befits a captain.”
“As always, your counsel is appreciated. Instruct your guards not to deviate from their assigned patrols, but tell them to be alert for suspicious behavior beyond the usual petty crimes. I think a warning related to the potential thievery should suffice.”
Almar sucked his teeth, a habitual urge while thinking. A gentle nod confirmed his acquiescence. “Having their eyes and ears open for strange happenings won’t interfere with other tasks.”
“I’d also be remiss not to mention one claim Desin made. He believes someone you hired is a skilled thief impersonating an experienced guard.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“Maylene.”
Almar snorted in distaste. “I hired no one with such a name. If the story he wove is even true, she’s evidently using a false one. I suppose he knows nothing about her alias. Like every other relevant inquiry you leveled at him.”
“Yet another questionable gap in his knowledge. She’s Asdori though, or so he claims.”
“Five of seven women I hired are Asdori. I’ll be alert for strange conduct, but I won’t carry out a witch hunt against my own people on the say so of a felon. Not days before the festival after all their recommendations proved legitimate. I have more pressing uses for my time.”
“I don’t wish to blindly dismiss his ramblings as without merit though,” Chaereas admitted. “A token precaution costs us nothing and may even prove beneficial.”
“You have something in mind?”
“Station sentries at the third floor library entrance. Can we spare two without inviting risk elsewhere?”
“I think that concession can be made with a couple adjustments.” Almar rubbed one ear scarred by a pink smear. “And the other galens?”
“Tell them nothing. Should word of an impending robbery reach their ears, they’ll demand to know where our information originated. I’d prefer not to disclose such a thing.”
“I can always claim
a guard heard alehouse rumors if we need a plausible story. But for now I’ll stay mum when galens are in earshot.”
“If only my peers knew better than to ask incessant questions, as do your guards.”
“Don’t need to know details in order to follow orders. It’s the soldiers’ credo.” He pointed a gloved finger at the barred entryway. “What happens to your chained puppet?”
“We’ll remove him from my surgical table and chain the lad in a cell. Keep him fed and watered until the festival passes and we can confirm or deny his tale. I won’t have him dying now that my research is close to its glorious zenith.”
“Ah, the benefits of a living subject. It’s a pleasant change of pace knowing that he won’t spoil if we leave him for a couple days.”
Chaereas gathered baggy sleeves in his arms and proceeded to stroll through the corridor. “We can even reduce his rations and conduct studies on gradual malnutrition prior to the vivisection. I plan to experiment on this boy for all he’s worth.”
Chapter 16
I’ve suffered more than my fair share of knifings and blunt trauma. War wounds are hell, and whenever I earn a new one I question my sanity at continuing along this path. I don’t think there’s a soul living today who’d respond different, unless they have some morbid death wish.
Captain Quyonne of Tempest Birth
Circa 327 Black Ruin
18 Nashrenir
Blinding sunlight penetrated open shutters and stung her blurry eyes. Cyriana tried to blink away the offending glare and lifted one weak hand to shield her face. Hoarse groans vented from a parched throat.
“Our plucky leader has awakened. Go sound horns from the rafters and notify town criers on this blessed day.”
Cyriana’s head lolled onto a pillow crusted in rust hued patches and she spied Maylene leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed atop her chest.
“You’re once more among the living.”
She licked lips riven in cracks with a swollen tongue. “I died.”
“Strictly speaking, you did not,” responded Maylene, shoving off the door and traipsing closer. “Gave it your best effort though, you selfish cur. Imagine abandoning us at a time like this. And you came damned close. Raise your hands and praise the gods they had a petite minion watching over you that day.”
“Watching me?”
“Zalla. She saved your life, Cy. Stopped you from bleeding out by stuffing your hole with segments ripped from her own shirt. Then stole a damn wagon, got you to a half-rate physician, broke in through one window and threatened him with your knife until he got to work. We’ve groomed her into such an adorable little criminal. You might consider buying her a new shirt as a thank you gift.”
“Or maybe she’ll be happy we’re even.”
“Always the miser, eh? Don’t rightly know why that continues to surprise me.”
“You look for the best in people.” Cyriana grimaced and clutched her ribcage with a weak hand. “Son of a bitch.”
“Serves you right for being sarcastic.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Four days. It’s 18 Nashrenir.”
“Shit. The Eclipsing Radiance Fete…”
Maylene offered a halfhearted nod. “Is in three days, yes.”
“Is progress where it should be?”
“Marginally. We haven’t labored with much conviction these last days, for obvious reasons. For most of that time we didn’t know if you were going to pull through.”
“Unacceptable. I have one near-death experience and go comatose for a few days, and the whole operation falls to shambles.” Cyriana waggled a forefinger at Maylene. “Are you the one I should blame?”
“I’d go with Thorkell, were I you.”
“This indolent phase does have his musky stench all over it.”
Maylene dragged a chair across floorboards and perched alongside the bed. “Destiran dispatching his murderous underlings to track you across Asdor takes a special kind of obsession. Gods only know why I’ve respected your privacy thus far, but I’d like to learn the truth. If only because the next assassin might strike when misfortune decrees I’m the one standing beside you. What the hell happened two years ago between you and him?”
“Remember how I mentioned my desire to steal from that bitch procurator?”
“And I told you then robbing a tax official was stupid. Seems to be a common chorus for me, trying to convince you how dimwitted your schemes are. I figured you never went through with the plan though, since you weren’t hanged in the public square and hinted at the Destiran job soon after.”
“No, I tried pulling it off. But she was hosting some senator from Minrathir for dinner that evening, and his goon legionaries caught me in the act.”
Maylene hefted one leg atop the other, slouching on the rickety chair. “Forgive me if I don’t gush with sympathy.”
“Thanks for your concern. After a night spent languishing in a cell, some army officer freed me in exchange for burgling Destiran’s estate. He wanted a ledger that listed all the man’s illicit dealings and partnerships. The officer was angling to be noticed and reckoned the information would lead to all manner of arrests. My caper went south, Destiran’s house guards spotted me and I had to improvise.”
“Torching his house qualifies as improvising to you?”
“I got out, didn’t I? With the ledger in hand, I might add. Except I decided it was too valuable to give away for free and betrayed the Draugans. Had no choice but to hightail from the city, hoping someone Destiran spurned might want revenge enough to make me a rich woman.”
“It’s patently unfair that someone as audacious as you hasn’t died yet.”
Cyriana touched a ginger hand to her ribcage and shrugged. “There’s still time. You know what the funny part is? I never did find a buyer. Destiran’s ledger is gathering dust in my stash to this day. I’m also afraid with each passing month it becomes more outdated and loses its value.”
“And he’s trying to reclaim it from you?”
“Gods no. I sincerely doubt Destiran knows I have it. My guess is he believes it burned to a crisp in the fire. He’s just pissed I wrecked his home. The man will go a long way to settle a score. If he knew I have his business dealings, he would’ve sent more than those two violent imbeciles after me. I’d never have a moment’s rest.”
“And the Draugans? I haven’t heard a peep regarding a government reward on your head.”
“I’m probably on their hit list, too. But they’re more likely to do things in house rather than hiring a bounty hunter to come after me.”
“Holy shit. All this time I’ve shared a room with you, the Krypteia might’ve been prowling outside our window? Godsdamn it. I do not need the Empire’s covet operatives knowing I’m friends with you.”
“Relax. I was coerced into the heist because it wasn’t a sanctioned operation. That officer I dealt with might not have shared details with another living soul to keep his reputation clean. Even a legatus doesn’t have the authority to command Krypteian operatives. There’s a chance I’m in the clear.”
Maylene relaxed a stiff posture almost to the point of looking calm. “But you don’t know for certain.”
“Definitively? I suppose not. I had a run in with some hired toughs as I fled Asdor City who were made to look like Krypteians. But they didn’t have identification or any other proof. While I was floating down the Honeywater I had some time for reflection, and I’m convinced the Krypteia was never involved. Whether they were goons or regular soldiers without armor is anyone’s guess. Maybe they thought throwing the name around would intimidate me enough to surrender.”
“Clearly they don’t know you.”
“Few do. My point is I wouldn’t lose sleep worrying about dangerous shadows prowling in the night.”
“Still only your hunch?”
“That’s not enough for you?”
“I’ve learned to second guess your lamentable intuition.” Maylene nudged a thum
b over one shoulder. “Want me to holler for the others to enter now that you’re conscious?”
“Are they milling about in the hallway like drunkards? Shouldn’t they be out scaling walls, bribing governors and purchasing catapults?”
“Our scheme underwent some grandiose modifications in your incoherent mind, I see.” Maylene shuffled toward the entry and barked a few phrases. Groaning floorboards soon heralded the arrival of her companions.
Zalla shoved through to the fore, eliciting a smirk from Cyriana when the young woman elbowed Thorkell in his gut. She reached the bedside first and glanced at the dressed wound. “You feeling okay?”
“Nope. Though I’m lucky to be feeling anything at all. And I’ve heard you had something to do with that. Thank you, Zalla.”
“I may have broken some laws along the way.”
“Even better. I’ll mold you in my own image yet.” Cyriana noticed mottled scarring across Zalla’s forehead, stretching over her temple and down one cheek. “Did you earn that trying to protect me?”
Zalla smiled and lifted a finger, though she refrained from touching the skin. “My own war wound. I scratched your face, and you caused this to happen. A fair trade.”
A groan echoed from where Maylene rested against one wall.
“Are we boring you, darling?” inquired Cyriana.
“Not at all. But you’re delaying us from discussing important matters.”
“More crucial than commiserating over our matching lacerations? Or me learning how much this crew has slacked off during my unresponsive phase?”
“We’re facing an even more pressing issue, I assure you.”
“Do tell.”
“Desin is missing.”
“Fair enough,” Cyriana conceded. “I probably should’ve noticed he isn’t standing in this room. When did we lose him?”
“Disappeared the same night you tried blocking a knife with your gut. We haven’t been able to sniff out his whereabouts at all. Considering we bought his loyalty with threats to see him dangling from the gallows—”
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