by Brian Farrey
I froze in place. “What?”
“They’re the ones who insinuated Vengekeep was under a curse,” she explained. “They implied that every effort had to be made to keep the curse from spreading to the rest of the Provinces. It was Nalia’s idea to send nearly all the Provincial Guard to quarantine Vengekeep. If they’d stayed at their stations, the vaults would never have been compromised.”
I’d been stupid. Completely and totally and remarkably stupid. But suddenly, I understood what was really going on.
The High Laird stood, and his advisers parted. The Dowager smiled at us. “If you’ll excuse me. It looks like the Sarosan discussion is about to move to another room”—she turned and winked at Reena and Holm—“and I have more than a few things to say on the matter.”
A member of the Provincial Guard approached me and bowed. “Jaxter Grimjinx?” she asked. When I nodded, she said, “The High Laird has granted the prisoner Kolohendriseenax a final request before sentencing.”
My jaw dropped. “Final request?”
The Dowager placed her hand on my arm. “He’s not being put to death. They’re imprisoning him in a shimmerhex like the Shadowhands.”
The guard continued. “The prisoner has requested a meeting with you. I’m to take you to his cell.”
Across the room, I watched Nalia bow respectfully to the High Laird. He smiled gently, hanging on her every word.
“Good,” I said. “I need to see him too.”
29
A Last Request
“If you quit while you’re ahead, the mediocre thief wins.”
—Gnillian Grimjinx, coauthor of the Grimjinx/Aviard Peace Accords
I guess I’d imagined that the prisons at the High Laird’s castle would be a step above some of the filthy places my family and I had been. But as we descended to the dungeon, the familiar scent of mold and dirt assaulted my nose. The air was moist, the lighting scant. There must have been some royal law I didn’t know about, declaring that no gaol cell could be even remotely livable.
The guard took me to an iron door, opened it, and allowed me through. I found myself in a small room that smelled, if possible, a bit worse than the rest of the dungeon. Just across the way, a wall of bars separated me from Kolo.
The old man took great effort to rise. He winced, holding his lesion-covered arms. He drew a deep breath and leaned against the bars. “Thank you for coming, Jaxter.”
I walked right up to him. “You could end all this. Just tell the truth.”
“Jaxter, I—”
“The Palatinate hired the Shadowhands. Not you.”
I wasn’t holding anything back. Kolo said nothing. “Or rather,” I continued, “the Palatinate hired you, thinking you were a Shadowhand, and you in turn hired Dylis and the others. It was the one thing I couldn’t figure out. How did the Shadowhands know exactly when the vault security would be weak? How did they get accurate blueprints of the vaults? How did they know the ways to turn off the magical defenses? They could only have gotten that information from someone close to the High Laird.”
Kolo remained stoic for a moment, then sighed wistfully. “When those terrible prophecies besieged Vengekeep, the Palatinate saw an opportunity to seize the relics. They advised the High Laird to send all his soldiers to quarantine the town-state. That left the vaults vulnerable.”
“But they couldn’t steal the relics themselves, in case something went wrong and they were caught. So they went looking for the Shadowhands . . . and found you.”
Kolo shrugged. “It was all an accident, you know. Pure luck. I was sitting in a tavern in Smolderwick when I overheard some bumbling oaf making very awkward inquiries about hiring the Shadowhands. The gold rings on his fingers told me he was a mage. I guessed he was rogue, and I thought, What does a rogue mage need with the Shadowhands? So, on a whim, I asked him. Imagine my surprise when he spoke about five relics he needed stolen from the royal vaults. I knew only a member of the Lordcourt could provide so much detail about the magical defenses of the vaults. I thought they were stealing the relics to embarrass the High Laird.”
I folded my arms. “Nalia says the four relics are full of powerful magic.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know that then. I believed that stealing those four relics was a diversion, meant to hide their true objective: the Vanguard. I couldn’t let them do that. And now they have relics that probably contain unimaginable power. . . .”
“But they don’t have the Vanguard.”
Kolo chuckled softly. “Like I said, I was very lucky. The Palatinate hired me to steal five relics. I, in turn, hired the Shadowhands to steal four while I went after the Vanguard. When the Lordcourt dug up the chest and found only four of the relics, they assumed they’d been double-crossed by the Shadowhands. Then I sent an anonymous tip to the Palatinate, revealing the Shadowhands’ true identities.”
Very clever. Kolo had gotten his two worst enemies—the Shadowhands and the Palatinate—to turn on each other while he got away. Except he didn’t.
“And once they quietly got rid of the Shadowhands,” I said, “the Palatinate told the High Laird they believed the Sarosans were behind the thefts.”
Kolo nodded. “Because we represented the next biggest threat to them. People who hated magic and preached against it. People who knew how to fight magic without magic.”
His thin fingers wrapped around the cell bars. “This has been happening a long time, Jaxter. Think of the spiderbats. Anything that can resist magic has been disappearing. This is no accident.”
Kolo’s words hit me hard. He was right. Silencing the Sarosans was just the latest example. Even magic-resistant plants were dying out. That’s why the Dowager was working to preserve them in her greenhouse.
“Why? Why are they doing this? And what is the Vanguard? A weapon? Where is it?”
Beyond the iron door, we could hear the jangling of keys and a muffled conversation.
“We don’t have much time, Jaxter,” Kolo said.
“I can get you an audience with the High Laird,” I said, one eye on the iron door. “He needs to know what’s going on. You need to tell him the truth.”
“Jaxter, I can’t—”
“Then I’ll tell him,” I said firmly.
Kolo could barely manage a rueful smile. “Jaxter, think of the lengths the Palatinate has gone to hide its involvement. They’ll kill anyone they believe knows about what they’ve done. Even you. You can’t tell anyone. Not yet. They must believe they got away with it. At least until you learn their true motives.”
My chest tightened. Me? What did he think I could do? “What do you mean, ‘true motives’?”
He moved to the cot where he’d been resting. He picked up Tree Bag and held it out to me through the bars. “As part of my last request, they’re allowing me to pass on the work for my next book. I’d like you to have it, Jaxter. You’ll find notes on how to continue what I started.”
I grabbed the shoulder strap. “They let you keep this in your cell?” Anytime my family or I had gone to gaol, we’d been stripped of all personal belongings.
“Oh, it’s fine,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “The Palatinate used magic to search for anything harmful, and they didn’t find a thing.” Kolo winked at me.
The door opened. I quickly slid Tree Bag over my shoulder as Nalia entered, eyes ablaze with malicious glee. A copper tingroat floated over her right shoulder, following wherever she moved.
Nalia ignored me and walked right up to the cell. With a flick of her finger, the cursed coin moved through the air between the bars and stopped close to Kolo’s face.
“I’m here to impose the High Laird’s sentence,” she said coyly. “However, if you tell me where I can find the Vanguard, I might be able to intervene on your behalf. You could spend the rest of your life in Umbramore Tower. It doesn’t have to end like this.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “‘End like this’?”
Kolo’s eyes never left th
e tingroat. “I’m old, Jaxter. Very old. When the Shadowhands are released from their shimmerhex prisons, they’ll go on with their lives. If I’m ever freed, it’s doubtful I’ll survive the resurrection.”
I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if Kolo had succeeded in blowing up the Palatinate. But that didn’t mean I could watch him die either. “Tell her where it is, Kolo.”
Kolo looked right at me and smiled. He must have known that if he didn’t say something right there and then, I would blab everything I knew. He did the only thing he could to stop me. He muttered, “Volo ser voli,” and his hand shot up to grip the tingroat. A sound like ice cracking filled the room. A transparent shimmer turned his hand to glass, then raced up his arm and across his body. A moment later, it was all done.
Nalia spun around, as though noticing me for the first time. The smile disappeared from her face as once again our eyes locked. “It was wise of you to ask him to reveal the Vanguard’s location. It would also be wise of you to tell me where it is . . . if you know.”
The Palatinate had secretly acted to weaken the security of the royal vaults, hire someone to steal magical relics, eliminate the thieves responsible, and incarcerate the Sarosans who spoke out against them. I had no idea what that all meant, but even if I’d known where the Vanguard was, there was no way I was going to tell her.
“Sorry,” I said. “He didn’t tell me.”
She wasn’t convinced. “Then why did he ask to see you as his last request? What were you discussing?”
I thought of Kolo’s last words: Volo ser voli. A par-Goblin proverb I’d never really understood. It meant “Yesterday is today.” Back when I first met him, Kolo asked me what I knew about the Great Uprisings. He seemed to think it was important I learn more about that hidden period of history. I had a feeling the answers to my questions would be clear if I did as Kolo suggested. True, information about the Uprisings was forbidden knowledge. But I was a Grimjinx. Forbidden? No such thing. I had some work to do.
“History,” I told her. And I walked out of the cell.
30
Exile
“Exile is but the next great adventure.”
—Parika Grimjinx, first explorer-thief
“We should get back to the castle.”
I sat on a bench near the docks, staring out over the vast Kroallis Ocean. The ports of Vesta bustled with activity: ships unloading imports from faraway lands, other ships taking on cargo for a long voyage ahead. A light breeze dotted my glasses with bits of sea mist that froze in the winter air.
Maloch stood with his hands in his pockets, pacing back and forth. “Just a minute. They’re here somewhere.”
He looked up and down the pier, where a long row of mang-drawn wagons had lined up. Each wagon was packed with Sarosans, newly freed from Umbramore Tower. The High Laird and his council had decided that while the evidence suggested the Sarosans had had no hand in the actual thefts from the royal vaults, they were still guilty of resisting arrest and the High Laird’s will. It didn’t seem to matter that the arrests were unwarranted.
The Dowager had argued ferociously for the Sarosans. In the end, the High Laird had decreed that the Sarosans were banished from the Five Provinces. As the wagons arrived, the Sarosans were escorted onto a waiting ship that would take them all across the ocean.
“We’ve been looking for them for an hour,” I said gently. “I wanted to say good-bye to Reena and Holm too. But they could have found their parents. They might be on the ship already and—”
“There they are!” Maloch said, charging into the crowd. I jumped up and followed him. We wove between the masses until we caught up with Reena and Holm. They were looking around frantically. When they spotted us, they stopped.
“We can’t find them,” Reena said nervously.
“Wagons are still arriving,” I said. “They’ll be here.”
Maloch, who’d been so eager to track the siblings down, suddenly found himself speechless. “I think . . . I think it’s stupid that you’re being banished. You didn’t do anything. It’s not fair.”
Reena put her hand on his arm. “This isn’t the first time we’ve been turned away. It’s why we’ve always wandered the Five Provinces. No one wants to hear what we have to say. Even when we’re proven right. It’s part of being a Sarosan. No one understands us.”
Maloch swallowed nervously. “I like to think . . . I understand you.”
Holm and I shared a look and rolled our eyes.
Maloch’s hand dove into his pocket. “Before you go, I want you to have something.” He pulled out a silver triangle pendant.
“Hey,” I said, “you stole that from the Dowager.”
In his other hand, he held the red gem that went with the pendant.
“Hey,” I said, “you stole that from me.”
Maloch held out the pendant. “You don’t really know where you’re going. It could be dangerous. And even though you’re getting your family back, you might . . . I dunno. Get lonely. I thought this way we could, maybe, talk. Keep in touch. If you need someone to talk to.”
Reena eyed the pendant queasily. “Thank you, Maloch, but . . . it’s magic. It goes against everything the Sarosans believe. If I got caught with that . . .”
Maloch looked at his feet. “What if I need someone to talk to?”
His hard face softened, and Reena couldn’t take it anymore. She looked around to make sure no one was watching, then slipped the pendant into a pouch at her waist.
Maloch turned to Holm and smiled. Lashing out, he threw a hard punch directly at the boy’s head. But Holm deftly sidestepped the incoming blow, grabbed Maloch’s arm, and flipped the bigger boy onto his back. Then he crashed onto Maloch’s chest with his knee, sending the air shooting from Maloch’s lungs.
“Not bad,” Maloch said as Holm helped him up. “I expect you to be teaching me moves the next time we see each other.”
All four of us fell quiet. We were all thinking the same thing. If we see each other again.
“You’re moving in with Jaxter’s family?” Reena asked Maloch.
He nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Grimjinx are going to continue my training as a thief. When my father gets released from the shimmerhex, I want him to be proud.”
Reena leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “He will be.”
We all hugged. Then, from across the dock, we heard, “Reena! Holm!”
The siblings turned to find a man and woman, both tall and dark-skinned, waving frantically from the back of a wagon. Without another word, Reena and Holm ran to their parents. I leaned on Maloch’s shoulder.
“You didn’t tell her about what Ma did.”
When Ma proposed that Maloch live at our house, she had more than kindness on her mind. During the fray when the Provincial Guard had stormed Kolo’s camp and rescued my parents, Ma had used the confusion to slip the Shadowhand Covenant into her blouse. She showed it to us only last night, saying that even though she wasn’t technically a Shadowhand anymore, she was the only one left to revive the organization.
“It’s going to take a while to get things up and running again,” she’d said to Maloch. “You’re a mite young. Not sure the other Shadowhands would approve, but then they’re not exactly in a position to protest, right? I could use some help recruiting and need someone besides myself who can enter the Dagger without setting off the defenses. You up to it?”
Maloch hadn’t hesitated. He’d taken the quill Ma offered him, signed the Covenant, and joined the ranks of the Shadowhands like his da. Like he’d always wanted.
So it was decided that Da would return to his job as Protectorate and Maloch would continue to be Aronas’s apprentice, and they would both use their positions in the Vengekeep government to divert suspicion away from Ma as she went about re-forming the Shadowhands.
Maloch rubbed the red pendant gem between his fingers. “Yeah, well, I figure that since the Shadowhands got her people banished, Reena probably wouldn’t want to know I
just joined. I’ll tell her once there’s an ocean between us.”
We waved to Reena and her family as they walked up the plank to board the ship. Then Maloch and I turned and started the trek back to the royal palace.
In the promenade outside the palace, two mang-drawn carriages were preparing for the long trip home. One would take Ma, Da, and Maloch back to Vengekeep. The other would bring the Dowager and me back to Redvalor Castle. Footmen scurried about, loading up supplies for the journey. I hugged Ma and Da.
“You doing all right?” Ma asked, brushing my cheek with her hand.
“You mean because the man I idolized turned out to be crazier than a sanguibeast during solstice?” I asked. “I’m fine. His research will go on. The Dowager and I will see to that.”
I had no guarantees that returning to Redvalor Castle meant the Dowager and I would argue any less. We might disagree, but the Dowager and I saw eye to eye more than Kolo and I ever did.
“Do us proud, son!” Da said as he helped Ma into the carriage.
Maloch shuffled up to the carriage door. “Thanks. For loaning me your room.”
I frowned. “Don’t touch my stuff.”
“I don’t want your ratty old stuff.”
I held out my hand. “Good luck, Maloch.”
He hesitated, then gave my hand a firm shake. “You’re a lousy thief, Jaxter. But the rest of you’s not too bad.”
He climbed aboard the carriage, the driver cracked his whip, and they pulled away, Vengekeep bound.
The palace gates swung open, and the Dowager emerged. She was back in the blouse and slacks she wore when we worked in the laboratory. She rubbed her neck. “I think that will be enough official functions for a while. Can’t stand to wear those formal uniforms. I think they squeeze my neck. Can you tell? Is my neck smaller? I think my neck is smaller.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, “a couple of days sleeping in the back of the carriage will take care of that.”
The Dowager giggled, then looked at me sadly. “The Sarosan camp was thoroughly searched. No sign of the Vanguard, I’m afraid.”