by Jane Glatt
retreated further back into the alley but was stopped at the end by a wooden fence, warped and splintered by the elements. A board was loose and she tried to pry it up enough to squeeze through, but then her pursuer was at the mouth of the alley and all she could do was sink down into the shadows created by the wall and the fence.
Eyes half closed in case they caught the light and gave her away, she waited, heart pounding, as he seemed to look right through her. He took one step, then two, towards her and Brenna clenched her fists and rose slightly from her crouch. She’d let him take another step or two and then she’d rush him. If she caught him by surprise she might be able to slip past.
There was a noise from the street and her pursuer turned, distracted. Two drunks were walking past the mouth of the alley, singing loudly. Then one stumbled into the alley, his hands reaching towards his breeches. Brenna straightened up, ready to run, ready to take advantage of the drunk’s urge to piss. Then, just as her pursuer turned back towards her, the drunk darted forward, one hand raised towards her pursuer. The man turned and cursed the drunk and tried to bat his arm away, but he was too late. Brenna glimpsed a white cloth in the hand of the drunk and then her pursuer slid to the ground. The second drunk backed into the alley, alertly watching the street. The two of them lifted her pursuer and draped his arms around their shoulders. With him upright between them, feet stumbling, they headed back out into the street. One of the drunks looked back over his shoulder. She saw his head dip in a slight nod, and then he opened his mouth and started to sing, off key, a common drinking song. The other drunk joined in and they turned the corner and were out of view.
Brenna exhaled a long, slow, shaky breath. Their noisy singing had faded away before she relaxed and unclenched her hands. She’d been helped, but by whom? The Brotherhood? Had they been following her the whole time and she hadn’t noticed?
A few minutes later Brenna crept towards the mouth of the alley. At the spot where her pursuer had been grabbed, she stopped and sniffed the air. Her nose wrinkled at the acrid odor that still lingered. Essence of alegria, she was sure of it. The two ‘drunks’ had been prepared. It was a powerful potion that would render a person docile while still allowing them to remain on their feet. She resisted the urge to look around but she couldn’t suppress a shudder as she left the odor behind her. Her skin crawled with the feeling of being watched.
Brenna took her time finding her way home. She kept to back alleys and yards and by the time she reached the seamstress shop she was extremely foul smelling and dirty. But she was safe. For now.
five
Kane rubbed his hand across his eyes. The lack of sleep over the past two nights was taking its toll. He’d been at his uncle’s until the early hours again, this time in response to a message from Dasid. Brenna had been followed and the Brotherhood had had to intervene. They’d had to wait a few hours until the drug wore off the man they’d caught, but he’d seemed no more than a hired footpad. Hired by a priest of the One-God, he claimed. The priest had been disguised, but the rogue had been confident. His instructions were to follow Brenna and report her movements back to the priest in two days time, but he said it was clear he would be paid more if he delivered Brenna herself. And her condition on delivery wasn’t a concern.
The footpad did not know where Brenna lived and had felt lucky when he’d stumbled across her in the street. Lucky until he’d been caught by Mallen and Hollier, that is. The disguised priest’s only lead had been Eryl Fentin, as the one who had paid her bond.
But now that the church was looking for Brenna the Brotherhood had no choice - Kane would have to get her to a safe place.
When Kane entered his office he found Dasid hunched over the desk. The older man also looked worse for wear, but when their eyes met Dasid’s sparkled with excitement.
“You look like you’re enjoying this.” Kane stretched before he sat across from Dasid. “I wish I could say the same thing. I haven’t had to go this long without proper sleep since I was a recruit.”
“I’m tired as well. It’s been at least ten years longer since I was a recruit, and I am feeling every one of those years.” Dasid looked up and grinned. “But I’ll admit this takes me back to when my father first told be about the Brotherhood. I was ten at the time and all I could think of was the adventure of it all. He tried to discourage me - after all, it had been two thousand years - there was no reason to believe that anything would happen in my time. But here we are. And now we find out that it’s a fair lass we’re out to save.”
“Hah!” Kane’s answering grin belied his gruff tone. “Some fair lass.” He leaned over the table. “Don’t you know she’s a thief?” he whispered.
“Yes, but then again, the Brotherhood have never disparaged someone’s ancestors or their chosen line of work. All can be used to further the cause.”
Kane nodded his agreement. The Brotherhood had been keeping records of its member families for as long as it had existed. They had documented proof that nobles didn’t always start or end as nobles. It was as likely that a current lord was descended from peasants as it was to find the original lord’s descendants sweeping out stalls in a stable. Kane’s own family’s fortune had been up and down many times in the past two thousand years. For the past six or so generations they’d managed a legacy of soldiers and Captains in the Kingsguard, but in another six generations, Kane reasoned, they could be fisherman or farmers - or for that matter, thieves.
Kane, in his Master Arlott guise, searched the street in front of the seamstress’ shop. He nodded to Pater at his fruit stand and the old man headed his way, leaving the stand in the hands of a youth. Last night Dasid and Kane had decided it would be much better to approach Brenna Lightfingers with someone she knew, so Pater had been conscripted for the job. Kane knew the man only slightly - his attendance at Brotherhood meetings was infrequent and he usually kept to himself. Kane hoped it was simply the natural reticence of a man who lived and worked in a part of town where everyone kept to their own business.
“Pater, I trust Dasid spoke to you?” Kane touched the rim of his hat. “And I hope you’re comfortable doing the talking?”
“Yep, not sure I’d have agreed otherwise,” Pater said. “I made him tell me about the run-in over to the Collegium and everything. Brenna now, she’s a good sort, despite her being a thief and all. She’ll be all right as long as we tell her the truth.” Kane met Pater’s accusing gaze steadily. “She done all kinds of good things for the poor folk around here with her healing and such. Lot’s of folks can say that they’re still around ‘cause a Brenna the healer. And she don’t never charge more’n you can afford, but she always charges somethin’ so you never feel like she’s givin’ charity.” Pater grinned. “And she drives a mean barter, as well.”
Kane hid his surprise. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but a kind hearted healer wasn’t it. He had to admit, he did prefer to think of Brenna as a healer rather than as a thief. His naive idealism about the Caller hadn’t completely disappeared.
“But I’m not sure about them eyes a hers,” Pater continued. “I’ve known Brenna for years and until yesterday she’d always had two brown eyes, same’s me. And then yesterday I see she’s got one brown one and one green one. Never seen the like afore. Do you think it has somethin’ to do with her bein’ the Caller?” he asked. “When I heard about the old steel I think maybe it’s all related, like. I didn’t say anything to her about it. I figure it’s Brenna same as always, and I know she’s the Caller, but …”
“That is odd,” Kane said. “I wondered if her eyes were the reason she became a thief, but you say no one could see them before.”
“No.” Pater shook his head. “It would be remarked on. Seems like most folk don’t see the change, neither.” He looked at Kane then shrugged.
“It could have something to do with the prophecy,” Kane said. “But she didn’t go from having two brown eyes to having witch eyes. She knew about them.” But why were her witch eyes only showing now,
and not to all people? “I’ll need to see what can be found out about that. But for now, let’s go find this healer.”
The two walked across the street and entered the seamstress’s shop. Pater removed his hat as he approached a middle-aged woman sitting by the light of the window doing needlework.
“Good day to you Mistress Dudding,” Pater nodded to the woman. “This gentleman here is in need of a healer. Now when he asks me, I say to him, ‘there’s no better healer in all of Soule than the one lives over the seamstress Dudding’s shop.’ So here we are. If it please, could you let Brenna know there’s someone here to see her?”
Mistress Dudding smiled and pointed to a set of stairs behind her. “Seein’ it’s you Pater, why don’t you go on up. You’ll make sure this gentleman does right by our Brenna, I’m sure.”
“Thank you, Mistress.” Pater said and Kane followed when the old man headed towards the stairs. The door was closed at the top, but at Pater’s knock, Kane heard some muffled steps.
“Who is it?” came softly from the other side of the door.
“It’s Pater, lass.”
Kane heard the bolt slide open and the door opened just enough for him to see one green eye