Thief

by Jane Glatt

feel along the walls for a hidden entrance - she didn’t want to be caught by someone using a secret passageway. She made a second pass over the walls in the opposite direction. Either there was no secret entrance or it was a mechanism that she was unfamiliar with – not something she wanted to dwell on.

  Brenna stepped back to the doorway. She oriented herself to her escape route before she entered a second office. She smiled when she saw what was on the desk. The old Brotherhood list sat on top of the desk, crumpled and a little worse for wear. She’d laughed when Kane had shown it to her before he’d passed it on to Eryl. Master Fridrick’s office, then. She quickly checked this room for secret entrances.

  At the farthest end of the hallway was the door to the kitchen. The door was closed and Brenna wanted it to stay that way. The kitchen was the last room asleep and the first room awake in any large house.

  She leaned back against the hallway wall. She’d already spent three hours in the house and it was time to go. She hadn’t gotten close to Thorold’s study, nor had she found another entrance, so she’d need to use this same one. She didn’t like it - it was too far from Thorold’s study. But Kane wanted to leave in one week and she was running out of time. She just needed to confirm where his study was.

  The old steel he’d been collecting was probably in his study so Brenna searched for it - and sank to the floor with a small moan.

  She had no idea how long she’d been slumped on the floor before she was finally able to lurch to her feet and stumble the few steps back to the secret panel, open it, and stagger inside. Her head throbbed and she closed her eyes and leaned against the inside wall.

  She’d found her mother’s knife. Thorold had kept it all this time. The feel of Thorold’s guard bearing old steel had been painful - it had jarred her nerves and made her teeth ache. But her mother’s knife radiated real pain, real anguish.

  Old steel was linked with the blood of its bearer. How else to account for the knife’s anguish at having spilt the blood it was tied to? With a rough hand Brenna wiped her tears. No doubt Thorold found that amusing, that he’d killed someone with their own knife. He’d probably find it even more amusing if he knew how the knife itself suffered. Oh, the knife wasn’t really aware, not in the way people were, but after generations of use by a single bloodline it had achieved a kind of consciousness and connection to those who carried it. And it recognized Wynne Trewen’s spilt blood as part of itself.

  Beneath the waves of torment that came from the knife Brenna felt it call her. As her mother’s daughter she too had a blood tie to the knife. She inched the secret passage open and peered out into the hallway. She knew what direction she needed to go. It would just take her a moment to grab the knife.

  Muffled steps sounded and Brenna froze when she heard a door open and close. The kitchen. Gently she eased the passage door back into place. The house was starting to wake – she’d need to come back. She turned and made her way back down the musty tunnel and outside where she huddled against the embankment, her hat pulled low over her head.

  As her tears dried on her cheeks, her anger against Duke Thorold strengthened. He’d taken her mother away from her when he had no right to. She would not let him keep her knife. As the sky lightened towards dawn Brenna headed back to Feiren’s house. She needed to get some rest because she was coming back to collect her mother’s knife as soon as possible.

  fourteen

  Kane frowned. Brenna wasn’t awake yet. He had a report that she’d been out again last night and hadn’t gotten back to Uncle Feiren’s until early this morning. At least he knew she was safe. He fidgeted at the bottom of the stairs as he waited for the housekeeper to fetch her.

  Brenna had so little time left in Kingsreach and there was still so much to do. Today he hoped to find someone who could forge old steel weapons. Dasid had pinpointed the era when the secret had been lost and had found descendants of smiths who’d worked in Kingsreach then. Kane and Brenna were late to meet them.

  He glanced at the stairs. Where was she? The three men would be down in the caverns already. Only one of them was currently a smith, an elderly man named Innis - the other two were merchants of one sort or another. He heard a footstep and looked up at a pale and disheveled Brenna.

  “By the gods are you all right?” Kane asked, his anger displaced by worry. “You look like you’ve been dragged through the river.” There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair hung limp and damp after an obviously hasty wash. She slowly descended the steps, her shoulders slumped in fatigue.

  “Thanks,” she said. “It’s always nice to be complimented. And I’m fine. Just a long night.”

  “Anything I should know about?”

  “No, everything is fine,” Brenna said. “I’m starving. Can we stop by the kitchen first?”

  “Dasid has arranged a meal in the cavern,” Kane said. “You can eat there.” He led the way to one of the hidden passage doors.

  Kane was amazed. Brenna had been hungry - she’d eaten as much as any of the five men at the table. But despite her healthy appetite, she was still subdued and pale. Something was wrong. He wished again that she trusted him.

  “Now that we’ve all eaten,” Kane said. “I’ll get to the reason why you’ve all been invited here.”

  “Like I told Dasid Addems,” the man closest to Brenna gestured across the table at Dasid. “I’m a merchant, not a smith.”

  “Yes, I know,” Kane said. “But in the past there was a smith in your family. In all your families. Brenna found a notebook that we believe describes how to forge old steel. None of us, including Brenna, can read it.”

  “It has some kind of spell on it,” Brenna said.

  “And you think one of us will be able to read it?” asked Innis.

  “We hope so,” Kane said. “We think that a descendant of the person who wrote it will be able to decipher it.”

  “Here’s the book,” Dasid said. He pulled the worn notebook from his shirt and placed it on the table.

  “Not much to look at,” Innis said. He leaned over to get a closer look. “But my workbooks get like that after a while, too.”

  “Brenna says it’s covered in old steel,” Dasid said. His hand brushed across the gray splotches on the leather cover. “This book was found here in Kingsreach. Your families were smiths here when this book was written.”

  “If someone who is not a smith can read it,” Kane said. “We’ll pair you with one. The Brotherhood has not forged new weapons for fifteen hundred years. The Caller has come forward, but the prophecy has only begun. Our records say the Brotherhood must be fully armed with old steel weapons.” He searched each face intently. “If we cannot arm the Brotherhood in time, I fear for Soule.”

  “Master Innis,” Brenna said. “This notebook belonged to your family and I think you’ll find that old steel is forged using the blood of those the weapon is being made for.”

  Surprised, Kane looked at Brenna. Forged with blood? When did she discover that? What else was she hiding? She met his eyes and looked away. If he was to be of any use to her as an advisor he had to gain her trust, but that seemed impossible in the few days she had left in Kingsreach. He sighed - he knew what he had to do. Whatever she decided to do, wherever she decided to go, he must go with her. He would have to give up his life in Kingsreach – who knew when they could be back? But if it meant the prophecy would be fulfilled, he had no choice.

  “Here you are, Master Innis.” Dasid placed the notebook in the smith’s hand and Kane watched as the old man stroked the cover reverently.

  “It feels like it’s mine,” Innis said. “That doesn’t make sense, but there you have it.” He carefully opened the book. “This is a record of how to forge weapons for the Brotherhood of the Throne,” he read. His voice was tentative at first and then grew stronger. “I, Gareth Farrer, record this for the benefit of all my descendents for use in the service of the Brotherhood.” Innis looked up at them and a slow smile spread across his fa
ce. “I don’t recall anyone in the family by the name of Farrer but I must be one of his descendants. I’m honoured to be able help the Brotherhood.”

  “Can you start right away?” Kane asked.

  “I won’t be able to rest until I’ve read the book through anyways,” Innis said and he grinned. “Now, I’d best be off.” He stood up. “I’ll need to get my apprentices working hard so’s I can free up my time for this. The Brotherhood can count on me.” He closed the notebook and placed it inside his vest. With a nod he turned and left the cavern.

  “Dasid, keep in touch with our smith,” Kane said. “Help him get whatever he needs to start this work.” He turned to the other two men. “Thank you for your time. It looks as though we won’t need you after all.”

  “I’m a little disappointed,” said one of the merchants. “Even though I’m not a smith. It would be a fine thing to aid the Brotherhood.”

  “I’m sure your help will be needed some day,” Dasid said. “But now, I’ll show you both out.” Dasid led the two merchants down one of the tunnels.

  “When were you going to tell me you knew a little about how old steel is made?” Kane asked Brenna. He walked behind her through the tunnel that led into the house.

  She hesitated, her hand ready to push open the secret panel.

  “I didn’t know until recently,”