The Shadow Thieves

by Alexandra Ott

  “Listen up,” Keene says. “A few quick orders of business. First, for those who don’t know, Jarvin broke an ankle on assignment a few days ago and will be off the street awhile. We’ll need someone to cover his shifts, so until we get somebody new trained, I want McCulver and Vellan on it. Second, with the influx of new members, we need to add an extra supply run every week. Eckers, you’re in charge of working that out. All clear?”

  People murmur yes or nod. Keene glances at the woman in the chair. “Anything else?”

  The room falls silent again as the woman speaks. “Just a reminder,” she says. “This building? This is not the guildhall. You can’t come and go here whenever and however you please. It’s not enchanted or hidden from sight. This is my home, with actual neighbors living next door. I need all of you to be more careful while staying here. No loud noises. Keep the curtains closed at all times. Use the back entrance whenever possible. Never enter the house under the sight of any neighbors.”

  This seems like a fairly impossible checklist to me. I mean, this house is so close to its neighbors that they’re practically on top of it. Which makes it even more of a concern, I suppose. But I have to wonder why they even picked this house in the first place, if it’s so inconvenient. Who is this woman, and why is her house important?

  Keene keeps droning on, addressing various people in the room and tossing out names I don’t recognize. I try to remember all of them, but there are so many. And half the time I’m not sure if they’re talking about someone already in the Shadows or someone they want to recruit or someone they want to get rid of. It doesn’t help that half of this conversation seems to be in code. Keene keeps using words I don’t recognize and phrases that make no sense, and he moves so fast that I don’t have time to puzzle it out. I hope Beck’s getting more from this than I am.

  The one recurring theme in all of this is Kerick. Multiple times, Keene or one of the other thieves mentions some grievance they have with the king. Kerick didn’t give them a fair assignment, Kerick didn’t give them their fair share of the profits, Kerick gave an assignment that should have been theirs to someone else. And so on and so on, all in pretty much the same vein. I have no way of knowing if their complaints are legitimate or not.

  Finally things seem to be winding down. The woman stands up, and both she and Keene make their way around the room, addressing people individually and giving them instructions. Several of the thieves start filtering out of the room, and others start up their own conversations.

  Mead doesn’t move from the wall behind me, and when I glance back at him, he winks. I wish I could talk to him, but there are too many people around.

  After another minute the woman walks up to me. “That was an impressive speech you gave,” she says, but she doesn’t sound impressed. She sounds suspicious. “Will you need to stay here overnight?”

  I don’t know what she means, so I shake my head. “No, thanks.”

  “Good.” She walks away, but Keene is right behind her.

  “Reigler,” Keene says, and Beck straightens. “You’ll be completing your training with me directly.”

  Beck nods. His face is nearly expressionless, but I know him well enough to catch the slight frown at the corners of his mouth.

  Keene turns his attention to me. “Ready for your first assignment, Martell?” he says.

  “Yes.”

  “New recruits get trial runs only. We’ll need to pair you up with someone.”

  Please pair me up with Beck, please pair me up with Beck . . .

  He glances back at Mead. “Since you and Mead seem to know each other already, why don’t you assist him with trade for now.”

  I’m not exactly thrilled by this suggestion, since Mead is hardly trustworthy. Then again, I know him better than any of the other Shadows, so maybe it’s the best possible outcome.

  Mead seems to disagree. “That won’t be necessary,” he says to Keene. “I’m sure someone else needs help more.” The way he’s looking at Keene, eyes narrowed and sharp, they clearly don’t get along.

  “Oh, I think it is,” Keene says, his tone threatening. “Unless there’s any particular reason you don’t want to work with Martell?”

  My breath catches. Keene’s laid some kind of trap here, though I’m not sure what. Mead knows it too. He gives Keene a very thin, very dangerous smile. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Keene smirks and looks back at me. “Do what Mead tells you to do. Do your job right, and you might just get a real assignment. Don’t, and you and I will have a problem. Clear?”

  “Very.”

  Keene shoots Mead another smirk and walks away. Beck looks regretfully at me and Mead before trailing after Keene.

  Mead sighs. “Come on, Martell.”

  I follow Mead through the room, out a side door, and into a dark kitchen. We exit through the back and walk outside into a tight alley behind the house. Mead doesn’t speak as he leads me through the alley, down the street, and around the corner. Only once we’ve walked a good three blocks away from 218 South Astian does he stop. We pull up short next to a small bench outside a bakery. The street is dark, with only a distant lantern on the corner providing any illumination.

  Mead sits casually on the bench, draping one arm over the back. “So,” he says. “You want to tell me just what it is you think you’re doing?”

  “Not really, no.”

  Mead sighs. “I figured Reigler would try something stupid, but I didn’t know it would be this stupid.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Mead stares right into my eyes. “Go. Home.”

  “No.”

  “Rosco, you’re forcing me to be serious, and you know how much I hate it when I have to be serious. Get out now, while you still can.”

  “Haven’t you been paying attention? That’s my brother’s name on that list!”

  “I know. I’m the one who told Beck to warn you. But I thought you’d heed the warning and run, not go looking for the Shadows.”

  “What does that list mean? Why is my brother’s name on it?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? It’s a hit list. This is one of the ways they recruit people—by promising to go after anyone they’ve got a grudge against. Once you’re officially a Shadow, you get to add a name to the list.”

  “Who added my brother?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been second on the list for as long as I’ve been with the Shadows.” He frowns and meets my eyes. “Whoever it was, Rosco, they’ve got to be pretty high up in leadership for his name to be second only to the king.”

  I shiver. “Well, that’s why I’ve got to help Beck spy on them. We have to stop the Shadows before they go after my brother.”

  Mead rolls his eyes. “Two thirteen-year-olds aren’t going to take down the Shadows by themselves. Both of you are in way over your heads here. Don’t be stupid. Take my advice and run.”

  “No,” I say. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act all superior and boss me around and act like you know what’s best for me. Considering the fact that you’re in league with the Shadow Guild”—I lower my voice and hiss the words at him—“you don’t have the right to lecture me.”

  “ ‘In league,’ ” he quotes mockingly. “I’m not ‘in league’ with anyone. As usual, I’m just looking out for myself. And as usual, that’s a concept you seem to be incapable of understanding.”

  “You know, I really don’t get you. I know you care about Beck—and don’t even try to deny that—and yet you not only refuse to help him, but you sit around helping the people who are probably going to kill him.”

  Mead glances up the street, making sure no one’s around. “There are things you don’t know. You weren’t in the Guild long enough to understand how it is.”

  “Enlighten me, then.”

  Mead drums his fingers along the edge of the bench. “Kerick is in trouble. He has been for a long time. You don’t get to be king
of the Thieves Guild without making a few enemies, especially when you’re as young as he is.”

  “I heard what they were saying in there. All their complaints.”

  He nods. “It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Even if Kerick manages to stop the Shadows, there will just be someone else to take their place. The Guild is not a democracy; its leadership doesn’t change hands peacefully. Whoever holds power here at any given time isn’t likely to last for long. The best thing that any of us can do—the only thing we can do—is be willing to swear loyalty to whoever that person is today, but also be prepared to change allegiances tomorrow. Whether it’s Kerick or the Shadows or anyone else who takes control, I plan to make myself useful to them. If Beck wants to remain in the Guild, he needs to learn how to do the same. And if you were smart, you’d stop helping him dig his own grave and get as far away from all of this as you can.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I say. “I thought the Guild was all about loyalty.”

  “Sure we are,” he says, a hint of a grin creeping onto his face. “Loyalty to the Guild itself. Which means loyalty to whoever happens to hold power in the Guild at the moment.”

  “Which is Kerick,” I point out. “Is it just me, or is plotting to overthrow him not considered loyal?”

  “I’m not actually plotting to overthrow him,” Mead says, waving one hand impatiently. “I’m just doing the occasional odd job for the people who are plotting to overthrow him, just in case they’re successful. And in the meantime, I’m maintaining my normal life and going on assignments for Kerick, just in case he is successful awhile longer. Either way, I win.”

  “Unless someone finds out what you’re doing.”

  “How can they find out?” He grins wider. “The Shadows are all going about their normal lives in the Guild to avoid suspicion. And if Kerick were to find out I’ve been with the Shadows, I can claim that I was infiltrating them to get information. Just like you’re trying to do, I believe.”

  “So why are you so against it, then?” I snap. “Why don’t you want me here? If you’re just pretending to go along with what the Shadows want, why can’t I do the same thing?”

  “Because,” he says dryly, “no offense, but you’re not a thief. You’re not a Guild member. You don’t have any idea what you’re doing. You’re a kid who’s gotten caught up in something she doesn’t understand.”

  I throw my arms up in exasperation. “If that’s how you feel, why did you vouch for me back there? Why not just tell them I failed my trial?”

  “Two reasons,” he says. He raises a single slender index finger. “One. If I told them you’re not a Guild member, they’d want to know why Beck invited you and vouched for you. Well, as you so gracefully pointed out, I might—might—have a soft spot for our mutual friend, and I don’t really want to draw any more Shadow attention to him, even if I think he’s being monumentally stupid.”

  Before I can reply, he raises a second finger. “Two. I don’t particularly like you, and I don’t particularly care what happens to you. But I also don’t have much of a desire to see you murdered by a bunch of bloodthirsty, overly ambitious thieves with very poor decorating taste. Which—and let me be very clear about this, Rosco—is exactly what will happen if they find out what you’re doing.”

  “Aww,” I say. “That’s so sweet. You do have a heart.”

  He points at me irritably. “Don’t make me regret my decision to help you.”

  I uncross my arms and give him my best fake innocent smile. “Who, me? I would never.”

  He grins. “Well, this has been fun and all, but it’s late, and I have things to do. So how about we just skip to the part where you recognize my wisdom and decide to go home?”

  “Sorry, I don’t believe that’s on the agenda.”

  He tilts his head up to the heavens. “Saints help me, what do I have to say to get rid of her?”

  I smile sweetly. “Come on, Mead. You and I both know that I can be very stubborn. I could just stand here and chat all night.”

  “Oh, God, what did I ever do to deserve this suffering?”

  “Get over yourself. I’m not going anywhere, so just tell me what it is we’re supposed to be doing.”

  “You aren’t supposed to be doing anything,” he says. “I am supposed to be selling some of the Shadow Guild’s stolen goods.”

  “But Keene said I’m supposed to help you.”

  “Keene was just trying to annoy me. Successfully, I might add.”

  “Well, now you’re stuck with me. So when do we start selling things?”

  Mead examines me for a moment. “Two nights from now, I have an . . . appointment. If I decide to let you stick around, you can come too, I suppose.”

  “Okay, so where is this appointment?”

  He pauses. “The Night Market.”

  “The Night Market?” I’ve heard of this before, but I thought it was a fairy tale. Just like I used to think about the Guild. “Isn’t that where they sell, like, spells and magic and stuff?”

  Mead rolls his eyes. “And stuff. Yes.”

  “That’s so cool!”

  He sighs. “Yep, already regretting this decision.”

  “Does that mean I can come?”

  He stands up, brushing imaginary dirt from his cloak. “If you absolutely insist on doing this ridiculous, stupid thing, then yes, you can come. Meet me here two nights from now, eight o’clock. And bring Reigler with you. Maybe he’ll manage to keep you out of trouble for once.”

  “Okay.”

  “And you tell Reigler that I strongly oppose this entire plan.”

  “I’m sure your opinion will be noted.”

  He takes a few steps forward. Shadows dance across his face as he walks closer to the lantern at the end of the street. “And, Rosco? Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I make my way back to the chapel using the roundabout route Rosalia showed me. It’s hard not to imagine Shadows following me as I walk through the quiet streets. Once I reach the woods, every snapping twig or rustling leaf makes me jump.

  The chapel is dark and empty. Rosalia must’ve gone back to wherever she and her family are hiding, and Beck hasn’t returned from the meeting yet. I stumble through the darkness, nearly banging my foot on a pew, until I find the candle and matches that Rosalia left on the altar step. I light the candle, then get a fire going in the fireplace using the wood Beck’s been salvaging from the broken pews. After a few minutes of work, the fire is blazing merrily, and the chapel is starting to look almost homey.

  I stretch out on the nearest pew—which is now dust-free, thanks to Rosalia’s fervent cleaning efforts—and prepare to take a nap. Surely Beck won’t be too much longer.

  But it’s hard to sleep while thoughts of the Shadows are still swirling around in my head. Maybe Mead’s right and we are going to get caught. Nobody seemed suspicious once Mead vouched for me, but what if there will be more tests we have to pass? What if the Shadows figure it out?

  Worse, what if someone finds out my real last name? I doubt that would go over well. And what happens when they decide to go after more of the targets on their list? How soon will they come for Ronan? I’m no closer to figuring out who added his name, but I do know that the list is for real, and so is the danger.

  I’m getting a sinking feeling that deciding to infiltrate the Shadows wasn’t exactly the best decision, but I’m not sure what else to do. Beck’s plan to find the coin and get information to the king is the only strategy we have to stop them, and I have to make sure they don’t come after Ronan.

  Plus, there’s Beck. The Shadows will probably find out he’s loyal to the king sooner or later. If they win, he’ll end up on their hit list too. He’d probably have to flee the Guild.

  Although, that possibility doesn’t fill me with as much dread as it probably should. Beck would be devastated if he had to leave the Guild, but . . .

  The thought hits me so sudde
nly that my eyes fly open, and I stare at the arched ceiling above. That’s the thought that’s been nagging at me, that I haven’t been able to voice even to myself. I don’t want to be in the Guild anymore—I already made that decision. But I don’t want Beck to be in it either. Once all of this is over, I don’t want him to disappear into the guildhall again. I don’t want him to be swallowed up by the Guild and its darkness.

  But he’d never agree to leave. Not after he worked so hard to join. Not after we got Lady Atherton killed. Not after he left Ariannorah Atherton to die. He’d never even consider anything else.

  A loud creak echoes through the chapel, and I bolt upright. Beck slips through the door, accompanied by a blast of wintry air. Beside me, the candle on the altar step flickers.

  “You’re letting a draft in,” I complain.

  Beck closes the door and bounds down the aisle. “How’d it go with Mead? What did he say?”

  “Hello to you too.”

  He ignores me. “Did you find anything? See where they might be hiding the coin?”

  “Are you kidding me? Did you see that house? It could’ve been anywhere in there. We didn’t even get a chance to look upstairs.”

  “True.” He sits down on the pew across from me, his face lit by flickering candlelight. “But I think it’s got to be somewhere in there, don’t you? I mean, at least we’ve partially narrowed down the location.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t help us. There were thieves crawling all over that place. No way we’d ever be able to search it. And it would take forever.”

  “We’ll just have to spend more time there,” Beck says, blatantly ignoring my objections. “Go early to the next meeting so we have time to look around.”

  I sigh. “Is this coin really so important? It’s going to be impossible to find something so small.”

  “I told you before. The king can’t keep his claim to the throne without it.”

  “Did the king at least give you any useful information about this coin? Did he tell you if it’s really magic or not, like the legend says?”