Star Thief

by Robin Kristoff

  Nolan packed away the pot and rinsed out his mouth once more. “Now I know. That we won’t do again.”

  The next day, Kris gathered wood, Nolan cooked, Tylan dug the night’s latrine, and they all shared the dishes. After that, little by little, they fell into a routine of rising, walking, resting, eating, and sleeping.

  At the end of the week they finally came to the small city Nolan’s map told them was Maliet. The city was gray from the pavement to the sky. Grisly soot from so many coal-fires hung over everything. Nothing, not the faces of the people, or their clothes, or the windows in the shops, looked clean.

  But the city of Maliet bustled. Even above the regular noise of a city street throng Nolan could hear the clamor of factory machinery. They passed three factories on their way to the city center. The early morning streets were packed with people hustling from home to work. Children ran in between the adults now and then.

  “What kind of place is this?” Kris asked, her voice somewhere between awe and disgust as she stared at a half-naked little boy jumping in rain puddles. “It’s filthy. How do you people live like this?”

  “This isn’t my home, remember?” Nolan whispered back. “It’s one of the new cities of Marayne. Where their industry is coming from.”

  A crowd of people gathered around factory gates on their left, blocking most of the street. As Nolan and the Rusamites crept around the waiting workers, Nolan caught a glimpse of a Night God priest in the gateway, patiently accepting the hand of each worker that passed.

  “Keep your eyes down if you can,” he murmured to the Kris. “Tylan, take my hat.”

  Tylan mutely accepted the cap Nolan passed him. It was too large, and nearly fell over his eyes, but that served its purpose perfectly. At any rate, no one spared them a glance. The workers were too intent on the priest before them, or the jobs that awaited them. After another ten minutes of navigating the streets’ traffic, they found a promising cobbler’s shop. Nolan shrugged off the uneasiness of the crowd’s mood and focused on outfitting the Rusamites. He haggled for a stronger pair of shoes for each of them, a change of clothes, packs, more dishes, and two more bedrolls.

  Buying clothing for a girl was awkward for Nolan. He had no idea what a girl needed, and this girl wore trousers. He had no idea what would fit her. Luckily the merchant let her try on the clothes, or they would have ended up with trousers that pooled around her ankles and a shirt whose sleeves barely went past her elbows. The bracelet on her left wrist was glinting in plain sight.

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Kris asked, holding the pants up and waddling towards him.

  “My mother makes my clothes,” Nolan answered shortly. “And don’t complain when you’re the one getting new things.”

  “I thought you said this shop was for used things.”

  Nolan glared at her, heat rising in his cheeks. “We need the food money more than brand new clothing, Kris.”

  Kris raised a hand in a half-surrender. “I didn’t mean…I’m…glad to have the new clothes, or different clothes, anyway. I’m just…dressed like a circus act. If you’re buying anything, don’t buy this.” She pushed her hair back and grabbed the next stack of clothes out of the hands of the waiting, smirking shopkeeper.

  “All right. Try something else then.”

  The next shirt fit exactly right, but Kris still fussed with it, tugging at the sleeves agitatedly, until finally shaking her head.

  “They’re not long enough.”

  Nolan didn’t bother arguing. He fumbled through two different translations to the shopkeeper, who had turned reluctant to change this perfectly fitting shirt for another. The exchange ended in the shopkeeper calling Nolan an idiot and slapping a shirt from the next pile off the shelf and into Kris’s hands.

  It fell to cover half of Kris’s hands. Kris said it was perfect. They found Tylan a shirt that fit just the same, to the merchant’s obvious disgust. He snatched money from Nolan’s hand and muttered to himself as they left.

  “Why did the sleeves have to be so long?” Nolan asked. “Was it really worth all that?”

  “Yes,” Kris answered shortly.

  “But you can’t even see your bracelet now.”

  “No, you can’t. Or Tylan’s either.”

  Nolan hadn’t noticed Tylan’s but he let that go. “Well why even wear them then?” he asked. “Why not just take them off if you’re going to cover them up anyway?”

  Kris stopped short in the street, staring at Nolan quizzically. “You really don’t know what these are, do you? Don’t you have any mages here?”

  Nolan shrugged, looking uneasily around for a Night God priest. “We have witches. My mother was a small witch, some are stronger. I told you about Edeva—a sorceress. What’s that have to do with a bracelet?”

  “They must wear something else,” Tylan said. “All mages have to wear identification bracelets, so people know who we are. That way nobody can pretend to be a mage and take advantage of people.”

  “And that way we can’t get very far from Rosalun City without someone noticing,” Kris added grimly. “Everybody knows we belong in the capital. They’ll tell the magni quick as anything if we’re beyond the city limits. And even if they don’t, the magni can track the bracelets.”

  “In case we get lost.”

  “So we never get far.”

  “We can leave,” Tylan protested. “On free weeks—”

  “But even adults on their free week have to check in every other day in person with their magni.”

  “Grandmother said that’s just to make sure nothing happens to us.”

  “Grandmother doesn’t know everything,” Kris said shortly. “And besides, it’s the same isn’t it? Nobody can go very far before we have to turn back to check in.”

  “So you don’t even want to wear it?” Nolan asked, struggling to catch on. “Why not just take it off?”

  Kris glowered up at him. “We can’t. The bracelets are on with a spell only the magni know. If we touch them with our magic, or try to cut them, the bracelets burns us.”

  Something felt very strange, but Nolan could tell that now was not the time to press Kris out of simple curiosity. Color had already risen high in her cheeks.

  “Fine, so you’re right to keep it covered,” he agreed lamely. “I didn’t know.”

  “Now you know. The shirts need long sleeves. If we could get out, so can the magni.”

  Nolan had tried very hard not to think of how many other Rusamites might be wandering lost around his world. He made this moment no exception.

  “We should get moving, shouldn’t we? It’s already mid-afternoon.”

  They visited a bakery, a dairy-stand, a butcher and a dry-goods store before finally leaving the city. Nolan watched as coppers and silvers slipped through his fingers onto the palms of the Maliet merchants. He was barely a quarter of the way to the mountain, and already staying a night under a roof was unthinkable.

  He fingered the remaining coins carefully on the road north. He would watch for every chance to do a good deed from now on, he told himself firmly. If there was any chance to wish their way out of this without crossing all the way to the Twilight Mountains, they couldn’t afford to miss it.

  They had not stopped ten minutes that evening when a lone traveler stepped into their camp. The middle-aged man waited patiently while Nolan and the Rusamites looked him over. After a few moments’ study, Nolan relaxed his guard slightly. The man wore yellow robes and styled his hair in a waist-length braid, which identified him as a priest of the Sun Lord. Dirt coated his robes, and he walked on a broken sandal. His face was slack with fatigue, and he carried no supplies whatsoever, not even a water bottle.

  The man nodded at something he found in Nolan’s face. “Might I share your fire?”

  Nolan nodded, thinking of the wish he needed to earn. “Have a seat. We’ll have dinner to spare, as well.”

  The priest didn’t smile, but he nodded again and sank to the ground beside Nolan. “M
y thanks, my son. I am Brother Joseph.”

  “I’m Nolan.”

  Kris stared from the priest to Nolan, her brows high on her forehead. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked. “Make him go away.”

  “He’s hungry, and we can at least feed him once. This is a chance to do a good deed,” Nolan said meaningfully.

  “But—”

  “Do you speak any Surian, sir?” Nolan asked Joseph, adding bits of dried pork to the pot.

  “I do.” The priest switched languages. “Maraynians learn your language in the schoolroom, and the Brothers practice it among ourselves so we may speak to our southern brethren.”

  “What are you…”

  “My cousins, you see, aren’t fluent in it. They’re visiting me from…the east.”

  Joseph nodded with a glance at the Rusamites. His eyes lingered on their faces. Kris looked at Tylan and fell silent.

  “How long have you been on the road?” Nolan asked hurriedly.

  The priest turned his attention back to Nolan, serene once more. “They turned us from the temple yesterday.”

  “They?”

  “The people of Maliet. The Night God priests put them up to it.” Joseph rolled his shoulders and sighed. “It’s not their fault. Since the stars disappeared, the people have been frightened. The people will believe anything to save themselves.”

  Nolan poured out portions of soup and shared them around the fire. The priest bowed his head slightly.

  “My lord, we ask your favor in the coming days ahead. We ask that you grace all travelers with your good fortune, and watch over them as they pass through the dangers of this world.”

  “Amen,” Nolan murmured. “Where are the others from your temple?” he asked after a few mouthfuls of soup.

  “One family agreed to help us travel south yesterday, hidden in their coach. But there was only room for four.”

  Nolan swallowed too large a mouthful of soup, choked, and sputtered while the others watched him stonily.

  “They left you?” he managed when he could talk again.

  “I volunteered. Brother Alain and the acolytes will be safer for it.”

  Neither the priest’s tone nor his expression changed in the least. He sipped his soup, looking tiredly indifferent.

  “Oh.”

  The remainder of the meal was nearly silent except for the sounds of everyone sipping their soup or chewing their bread. Joseph seemed too exhausted to be interested in them, which was a relief. He volunteered no other information about himself and made no comments except to ask their permission to stay the night at their campsite, which Nolan promptly gave.

  “I wish we could offer you anything of our sleeping gear…” he began.

  Joseph waved him off. “I appreciate your kindness tonight, my son. Food and safety for one night are generous gifts in themselves.” With that he lay down a little apart from them, rolled over with his head on his arm, and to all appearances went to sleep.

  “I guess we can wash the dishes in the morning,” Nolan said.

  Tylan shrugged and crawled to his bedroll. Nolan began to unlace his boots, but Kris stopped him with a gesture, glowering. A few sparks flickered over her right hand.

  “You go ahead and sleep, Ty. We’ll watch the fire awhile longer.”

  Nolan raised his brows at her, but obeyed the silent demand. He sat back with his elbows around his knees and waited while Ty’s breathing began to even and the priest’s soft snores began to fill the air. The firelight on Kris’s skin made her look ghostly. Though Nolan knew her eyes were a pale shade of purple, the gleam of the light against them made Kris’s irises seem as black as her hair. Angry sparks that had nothing to do with the campfire were flickering over her skin and clothing, and she looked, on the whole, more alien and frightening than she ever had since the night they met.

  Nolan made his body stay in its relaxed pose, meeting her eyes as levelly as he could. He let her speak first.

  “What are you thinking of, bringing that man here?” she hissed.

  “We need to start doing good, don’t we?”

  “And this priest looked like a sorcerer to you?”

  “It’s not like he’s a threat. There’s no risk in giving him one night’s help.”

  A fresh shower of sparks flew from Kris’s hair, glimmering brightly against her face for a moment. “It’s not for you to decide what’s too much risk for us!”

  “Is it normal for your hair to do that?”

  Another spark came off of her, this time flickering off her hand. “Never mind my hair.”

  “Stop sparking then.”

  She grimaced and rolled her shoulders, flexing her fingers. “Half this country is afraid of us just for our magic, Nolan. The rest would hunt us down if they ever guessed what we were—you’ve said so yourself. It’s not. For you. To decide what’s too much risk for us.”

  Nolan looked away, his cheeks flaming. “I’m the one…” he stopped as his eyes caught on the horizon. “Look,” he murmured, pointing.

  “At what?”

  “Stars. Over there. Just a few of them but…they’re there.” Nolan counted ten of them that he could see, shining brightly against the night sky.

  Kris swallowed audibly. “But you said they were in the jar…”

  Nolan shook his head. “Only half of them. All the ones that were in the sky at midsummer. These must be winter stars.”

  Kris took a shaky breath. “So we’re running out of time.”

  “Not yet. They’re still only just coming into sight. When we just see winter stars, then…but we won’t,” Nolan cut himself off belatedly. “We’ll get the wish, or we’ll make it to the Dawn Caves, long before midwinter.” He made himself look away from the distant stars, to the looming expanse of inky blackness overhead.

  “How could you do it?” Kris asked softly. “What a stupid wish to make. Do you have any idea—”

  “Yes,” Nolan answered curtly. “I do have some idea of what I’ve done, believe it or not. Half the sky disappearing and aliens landing on my planet have given me a small touch of reality lately.”

  “Now you have one. But how thick were you then, to wish for the stars out of the sky? What possible good did you think they would do you?”

  “I didn’t. It’s just a saying. It means that what you want is impossible to get.”

  “Obviously not.”

  “Do you think I ever really wanted a bunch of stars?” Nolan snapped. “Because you’re right, they’re worthless to me.”

  Kris flinched.

  “I just wanted something different.” Nolan frowned to himself, studying that thought. His life was certainly different now than it had been as a stable boy, or as a cook’s helper. Just not the ‘different’ he’d pictured.

  “Different from what?”

  “Just…” Nolan struggled for the words. “I felt like I could see every day for the rest of my life. I knew what I’d be doing on all of them, or close to it. Or I thought I did. And every day seemed like everyone else’s. And…I wanted a different way to go, but I couldn’t see one.”

  Kris remained still, her eyes still on the stars.

  “That seems silly to you.”

  “No,” she answered quietly. “Familiar.”

  “I’m sorry about the priest.”

  “We should leave before he wakes up tomorrow.”

  Nolan nodded reluctantly. “All right. We can do that. We do need to talk to some people sometimes, though.”

  Kris stood up and brushed off her trousers. “Next time, ask.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nolan, Kris, and Tylan traveled through one moderately sized town, two villages, and farms whose land rolled one into the next for days on end. The rain stopped, the sun shone, and the Rusamites spent considerably less time brooding. They even sang a few songs, at Tylan’s prompting—music with strong rhythms and odd note-jumps. Kris’s singing voice, a warm alto that she sang softly in harmony under Tylan’s faltering soprano, w
as much nicer than her speaking voice suggested it would be. Nolan had to struggle not to stare at the pair of them.

  Tylan was quick to comment cheerfully on the sunshine and the growth of the farm crops, and to offer to gather wood or wash dishes. Kris, her face a study in dubious patience, shocked Nolan on the third day by dishing out the morning porridge before he or Tylan woke up. Nolan caught himself starting to feel cheerful about the journey north. His happier thoughts didn’t last long before they were interrupted by thoughts of the star-jar, but still, Nolan thought the company of the Rusamites was starting to be worth the trouble, if only to break each day’s monotony.

  On the road or in town, the star-jar was impossible to forget. Like Kris and Tylan, Nolan checked it nightly to be sure it was still well and whole, then left the witches to their silent contemplation of the light inside of it. Nolan couldn’t help but then turn his eyes to the sky, and watch the winter stars’ approach. Each of the settlements they passed carried a certain weight in its air that proved the stars were never far from the Maraynians’ thoughts either. The trading, working, traveling, and talking of daily life continued, but to Nolan’s eyes there was a strain in the adults’ faces that didn’t belong there. Even children playing in and around the towns’ shops seemed quieter than they ought to have been.

  If the townspeople in the other villages seemed strained, however, it was nothing to the feeling Nolan got from Tevesque. The air in Tevesque didn’t feel heavy, or worried. From the moment Nolan passed the first outer shop, he could feel the village’s mood crackling with angry anticipation.

  In the market square, farmers and tradesmen manned their stalls with grim eyes. They counted Nolan’s change back into his palm under their breath, without greeting him or thanking him. Their eyes returned time and again to a blunt-featured, brown-haired woman with a stall of flowers, herbs, and tiny clay jars of balms. Customers and stall keepers alike muttered among themselves in Maraynian, frowning darkly in the woman’s direction. Not one person approached her table. She stood with her chin set, busily rearranging the flowers. If she felt the eyes of her neighbors on her, she gave no sign of it.