Queen of Thieves Box Set

by Andy Peloquin

  The darkness pressed in around her, suffocating her and filling her with panic. She needed light, needed air!

  But that meant opening the door and admitting defeat.

  No. I won't. Pushing away the nightmare, she forced herself to think. The racing of her mind made coherent thought difficult. She had to find a way to push back the darkness and the accompanying dreams. The quickfire globes! They wouldn't offer much light, but perhaps enough to drive back the welling panic. She fumbled at the pouch. Her fingers trembled so much she nearly dropped the globes. She held them aloft and her breath slowed as the globes cast their light—faint, but better than nothing.

  Her eyes traveled over what little of the room she could see. The same table, chairs, shelf, and bed. The same straw tick mattress and sparse frame. The same as every other damned day.

  She lay back, her eyes unseeing as she tried to figure out the last hiding place. Where would a purse hide?

  She saw it. Directly above her head, a near-invisible seam outlined a section of the ceiling no wider than her palm.

  How could I have been so stupid? She hadn't seen it because she'd never thought to look up.

  Replacing the globes in her pouch, she climbed on the bed and felt around the ceiling. The darkness no longer bothered her. She'd found it. Her fingers located the seam, and she followed it until she felt a slight depression. She pressed it and flinched when something struck her head and landed on her feet. It was the purse.

  "I found it!" The room muffled her voice, so she shouted again. "I found it!"

  The latch clicked and the door swung open. Bright daylight flooded the room, forcing Ilanna to cover her eyes. With her free hand, she held out the purse.

  "Look! I did it."

  "She did it!" Werrin and Willem's voices echoed in the room.

  "Well, I'll be damned." Prynn sounded shocked.

  Her eyes slowly adjusted to the daylight and she squinted at the silhouettes filling the doorway. Prynn, Werrin, Willem, Bert, and Denber.

  "Well done, Ilanna." Denber's voice filled with pride.

  "I told you I'd find it!"

  "We never doubted you. Though I thought it would take you longer than just a week. Bert here didn't find the one under the floor for two weeks."

  Bert reddened. "Well, Werrin and Willem didn't do much better. Took them ten days."

  "Even Denber took longer than you did, Ilanna." Prynn slapped the older boy on the back. "He found the purse in the table leg on the eighth day."

  Denber glared at the younger boy. "Yes, well…Conn's the only one to beat your record so far, Ilanna. Five days."

  Ilanna glowed. "Then I'll have to beat him at something else."

  "From what I heard when I first joined," Denber said, with a sideways glance at Werrin, "he was terrible at his chores. Left the privy messier than before he cleaned it."

  Ilanna's face fell. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

  Denber chuckled. "You must be hungry. We've got some food for you outside. Tomorrow, you begin training on the Perch."

  Ilanna followed them from the Treasure Room. A mess of blankets and pillows lay strewn around the open door.

  She turned to them. "You all slept here last night?" Warmth radiated through her core. They did this, for me?

  "Against my express wishes, they did." Conn strode toward them, his face creased in a scowl.

  "We weren't going to let her suffocate in there." Denber placed himself between her and Conn.

  "So be it. But I told you,"—he glared at the younger boys—"to sleep in your own beds and you disobeyed. For that, you'll all run the Hawk's Dozen before breakfast."

  Prynn's eyes widened. "But Denber—"

  Conn snarled. "Denber will run it twice. He knows better than to lead you younger apprentices astray. Your young minds don't yet know the difference between right and wrong. Denber, however, is smarter than that."

  Denber crossed his arms, thrust out his chin, and glared at Conn, defiance in his eyes.

  "Do it, Denber. You know Master Hawk entrusted me with training the apprentices." Conn's expression turned gleeful and he leaned closer. "All the apprentices."

  "You're an apprentice yourself, Conn."

  "Sure, but not for long. Nameday's just a few months away, which means I'll begin my Undertaking. You'll take charge, but until then…"

  The two boys squared off. Conn stood a hand taller and was broader in the shoulders than Denber.

  The older Hawk gritted his teeth and spoke in a low voice. "Run."

  With a growl, Denber spat to one side and began a slow jog along the outer edge of the Aerie.

  "I said 'run', Denber!" Conn turned to the other boys. "As for the rest of you, finish your dozen laps and head off to grub."

  Werrin and Willem sprinted away, Prynn and Bert following at a slower pace.

  Conn rounded on Ilanna. "I hope you're happy with that stunt, apprentice. Let's see how they treat you after this run." He gave her a nasty smile. "The good news is that you have time to complete your chores before breakfast. Why don't you start by picking up these blankets and pillows? Seems the least you could do, after you got the others in trouble."

  Ilanna clenched her fists, but said nothing. She scooped up the blankets and headed toward the door.

  Conn's fury burned into her back. "Better yet," he called after her, "why don't you start the morning with a run as well? I expect you're hungry after missing the meal last night, so you can get off with a half-dozen laps."

  Hurling the blankets to the ground, Ilanna rounded on Conn. The older boy flinched, then reddened at his reaction and stalked toward her. Before he could yell, she sprinted after the other apprentices. She would run, until her legs gave out and her heart burst if she had to.

  As she ran, her anger drained away, replaced by excitement. She ran more than she ever had. She completed her laps, but didn't stop. She forced herself to keep going, her legs pumping, blood pounding in her ears.

  Her heart was light. I did it! She'd found the final purse, had passed the test. Tomorrow, she would fly.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ilanna leapt from her bed before Conn opened the door. She dressed in a hurry and rushed out before the other apprentices climbed out of bed.

  Denber sat in the common room. "You're here early." He poked at his steaming bowl of porridge.

  "Too excited to sleep." Ilanna slid in beside Jarl. "Morning, Jarl."

  The older Hawk grunted without missing a spoonful of porridge.

  She turned back to Denber. "So, when can we start?"

  Denber shook his head. "I know what I said yesterday, Ilanna, but I have to clear it with Conn first. I think you're ready but—"

  "But Conn may not." Conn strode into the room, served himself, and sat at the head of the table. "You did good with the Treasure Room, apprentice, but we'll have to see if you're ready for the Perch. It takes a level head to handle the heights."

  "I can handle it." Ilanna wasn't certain she could, but she wouldn’t tell them that. Stand tall. Show no fear.

  Conn shrugged. "As I said, we'll see. Once you finish your chores, we'll have a chance to get you acquainted with the heights. One small step at a time, apprentice."

  Ilanna's face fell. She'd wanted to train with Denber. A few hours with Conn sounded more unpleasant than an afternoon spent scrubbing the privy.

  A nasty gleam entered Conn's eye. "Or would you rather focus on your chores today, apprentice?"

  "No." She struggled to hide her anger and frustration. "Whatever you say, Conn."

  Conn eyed her, as if unsure of her sincerity. He shrugged and returned to his meal.

  Ilanna finished her porridge in silence, excused herself, and slipped from the room. She barely heard Willem and Werrin's greeting as she passed them in the Aerie. After a glance at her red face, clenched jaw, and tight lips, Prynn dragged a sleepy Bert out the door, leaving her alone in the bunkroom.

  Denber was right. Conn is insufferable. As the oldes
t, he supervised the apprentices' training. He used every opportunity to remind the other apprentices that he was in charge. Ilanna hated it. It reminded her of Twelve, the boy who had made her life in the Menagerie miserable.

  But what choice do I have? Short of hurting her, Conn could do whatever he wanted as long as she progressed in her training. She would spend the afternoon training with him. If it meant she could fly, she would put up with his haughty face, his disparaging remarks, and his disdain.

  She felt the call of the Perch, the allure of flying free. But first, her chores.

  In her weeks of cleaning the bunk room, she'd created a semblance of order from the chaos left by the other apprentices. Willem and Werrin tended to hide their dirty clothes beneath their mattress. Bert left bits of food in his sheets. Prynn was the only one who remembered to place his soiled garments in the corner of the room she'd designated for laundry.

  She quickly finished the bunk room and moved to the privy. Less pleasant tasks first, someone had taught her. She had a memory of a smiling face with pale cheeks and dark circles around the eyes.

  Her frustration at Conn had all but fled by the time she reached the older apprentices' room. Conn's and Denber's voices echoed in the Aerie, but she found Jarl sitting in his section of the room.

  "Don't mind me, Jarl. Just here to clean."

  The older boy grunted, stood, and turned his chair so that his back faced her.

  "What are you doing there, Jarl?" Ilanna's curiosity burned.

  The older boy ignored her. His arms moved, but the hunch of his shoulders hid his hands.

  "Let me see what you are…Oh!" Ilanna studied the pants in his hands. "You're…sewing?"

  Jarl grunted and his face reddened.

  Ilanna held out her hand. "Can I see?"

  Jarl shook his head.

  "I promise I won't tell any of the others, Jarl."

  Jarl studied her, skepticism mixing with the embarrassment in his eyes. Slowly, he handed her the pants.

  "This is really good, Jarl." She ran her fingers along the tight, neat seam. She remembered sewing until her fingers bled, though the memory was fuzzy. "Can I have the needle?"

  Jarl handed her the iron needle and brown thread.

  "Look." Her fingers moved instinctively, the needle darting in and out of the fabric with a speed that surprised her. Words flashed through her mind and she rattled them off. "The back stitch is the strongest of all stitches. Keep the holes close together and bring the needle back through the cloth in front of the back one."

  The information came back in a flood. Where did I learn that? She remembered a faded rocking chair, a pile of clothing, and an angry man with a bottle. Her father? The fiery eyes, the sloshing of alcohol, and the feeling of humiliation slammed into her and twisted her gut. With the memory came a torrent of emotions: anger, sorrow, rejection, terror.

  Swallowing hard, she handed the fabric to Jarl. The older boy followed her patient instructions, and she seized the chance for a distraction.

  "That's so good!" She grinned at the boy.

  A slow smile spread on his face. "Thank you."

  Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "I-I…." He talked! Jarl talked to me! "Y-You're welcome, Jarl. Do you have any more needles and thread?"

  The older boy nodded and plucked a small box from the floor.

  She counted three iron needles, a handful of pins, brown and black thread, thimbles. More than enough. She returned the wooden box. "You know, if you want, I can help you with the sewing. I'm very fast." Her face burned, but she held his eyes.

  Jarl grunted and nodded, his smile returning.

  "Maybe Denber and Conn have some clothes, too? I can fix them all."

  "Thank you."

  Jarl had spoken twice in a matter of minutes! Those four words were more than he'd spoken in the last month—to her or to any of the others.

  She couldn't keep the grin from her face as she hurried to finish her chores.

  * * *

  "Conn?" Ilanna searched the Aerie, but saw no sign of the older apprentice. "Are you here?"

  "Be right down."

  Ilanna gaped. She'd thought Denber skilled, but Conn clearly outmatched him. The long, lean muscles of his arms, shoulders, and torso propelled him along. He never hesitated, never wavered, but strode the Perch as if born to it. He seemed to glide through the maze of bars, ropes, beams, and ladders with the grace of a swooping predator.

  Conn slid down a pole, kicked his legs out to vault through the air, and landed before her with a smile of elation. "Well, are you ready to fly, apprentice?"

  Excitement coursed through her and she nodded.

  "Then let's get started!"

  She followed him toward the ladder she had climbed on her first day in House Hawk.

  "Up you go."

  The rungs of the rope ladder sagged beneath her feet, making it difficult to climb. Halfway up, she had to rest and catch her breath.

  "You're doing it wrong." Conn shook his head. "You're stepping in the middle of the ladder. You want to place your feet as close to the side ropes as possible, where the knots are holding it secure."

  She tried it and found the going much easier. The rope ladder swayed with her weight and she nearly lost her footing.

  "Easy, apprentice. Right foot, right hand. Left foot, left hand. Work the two together."

  His instructions helped. Her forearms burned and her shoulders ached, but she could climb.

  "Just to that first platform, mind you."

  A dozen rungs above her head stood a wooden platform. Conn waited until she reached it before climbing. He seemed to run up the ladder and, in the space of a few heartbeats, stood beside her. He's so fast!

  "Welcome to the Perch, apprentice."

  Ilanna peered over the edge. The ground lay at least a dozen paces below her. Her head spun and she swallowed hard.

  Conn pointed at the platform. "This is as high as you go today. In fact, you will stay at this level until you prove yourself ready. Understand?"

  Ilanna nodded. "So now what?"

  "Walk around. Get a feel for it. Go to the very edge and look down. See what it's like to stare at the ground far below, with nothing between you and a fall."

  The platform felt solid beneath her, but instinct screamed at her to stay away from the edge.

  "Here." He passed her the end of a rope suspended from an overhead platform. "Hold on to this until you are accustomed to the heights."

  Clutching the rope, she edged toward the end of the platform until the toes of her front foot hung out over empty space.

  "Ready?"

  "For what?"

  Before she could react, Conn shoved her hard. She fell with a scream, her heart lurching in terror. The ground rushed toward her, and she closed her eyes, expecting the agony of slamming into hard earth.

  But no pain came. Something slapped against her face and body, sagged, and sent her rebounding upward. Opening her eyes, Ilanna found herself lying on a rope net.

  Conn's harsh laughter came from the platform a few paces over her head. "I wish I could have seen the look on your face, apprentice!"

  "You…You…" She spluttered with rage, her hands shaking. "What was that for?"

  "Everyone is afraid of heights, apprentice. It's the mind's way of protecting us from certain death. But as a Hawk, that fear will get you killed."

  She glared up at him. "So why push me?"

  "To conquer that fear. Now you know what it feels like to plunge to your death. You know that fear of falling, of dying. Now you'll do anything you can to stop that from happening. This is the Hawks' way of curing you of your fear."

  Ilanna wanted to scream at him, but he was right. She had tasted fear, felt the terror of certain death. Now she knew what to expect. She would do whatever it took to prevent herself from feeling that way again.

  "Take this." Conn unwrapped the rope from around his waist and tossed one end to her. "Climb up, if you can."

  Ilanna s
eized the rope and started to climb. Conn grunted under her weight, but held the rope firm. The fire of her anger burned out quickly and she grew tired. Her healing finger ached, her forearms and shoulders burned, and the rope cut into her hands. With a cry, she slid down the rope to land in the net.

  Conn shook his head. "You're making the same mistake all apprentices make. You're trying to use the muscles in your arms, but they're not strong enough to hold you up. The power comes from your legs."

  "I-I don't understand."

  "Reach as high as you can. Grab the rope. Now you have two options. For apprentices like you, it's easy to grip the rope between your feet and use it to climb. Try it."

  Ilanna did as instructed. Her arms burned from the effort, but the added power of her legs helped. The climb was not far—less than four paces—but every muscle in her body ached by the time she reached the platform.

  "Good." Conn patted her shoulder and shoved her off the platform again.

  An instinctive scream burst from Ilanna's throat, but she swallowed it as she hit the net.

  "You're getting the hang of it, apprentice. Now, do you want to learn how to climb like a true Hawk?"

  Ilanna nodded, biting back an angry retort.

  "Glad to see a bit of fear doesn't hold you back. Grab the rope again, as high as you can. Now, let the rope hang along the outside of your right leg. Hook your left foot under the rope so that it runs across the top of your foot and step on it with your right foot. Slide your feet up to your chest, grasp the rope with your feet, and step up."

  This method proved more difficult at first. The rope slipped between her feet and she slid down to the net too many times before she managed to get it.

  "Good." Conn extended a hand and pulled her up to the platform. "Practice it over and over until you get it right. Once you do, you can climb a rope no matter how weak your arms."

  Ilanna's forearms, shoulders, and hands burned. Her injured finger ached, but she wouldn't let him see the pain.

  "Now, I want you to walk to the center of the platform. Tell me what you feel, in your feet."

  She obeyed. "Parts of the platform sag a little and other parts are sturdy."