“Kelari Sage,” the elder of the two men says, rising to greet us. He must be about as old as Sage, his face weathered and his dark hair pulled back tightly. A scar traces its way down from the corner of his lip to his chin, giving him a perpetually grim look. His eyes are dark and sharp as two midnight jewels. I doubt he misses much.
“Kel Artemian.” Sage steps forward, out from under my hand, and dips her head in greeting. “Allow me to introduce Kelari Amraeya.”
I force a smile and nod, and make myself step as lightly as I can into the room. There’s no need for them to know that I can’t run even if I wanted to.
We seat ourselves in a pair of chairs across from the two thieves. Apparently, city folk emulate the palace folk; even here, in a humble inn on the west side, there are chairs instead of cushions on the floor. Just as well; I can hide my foot beneath the fall of my skirts and conceal my weakness that much longer.
Artemian sits up straight in his chair, but his companion lounges, one leg stretched out, long hair tied back, his seat set back just slightly from the circle. His face is young; he sports a smooth-shaved chin beneath a slender nose, his eyes deep set. His gaze flicks over us. He can’t be much older than I am, but he lazes in his seat with the benign ambivalence of a lion observing cubs at play. Wonderful. Some kind of shady character for sure.
Or am I merely pushing back at him because he is handsome in his own way? No, it’s there in the expression on his face, the way he sits: he considers himself powerful, and he’s amused by the secrets he’s keeping—including his identity, for Artemian makes no attempt to introduce this companion of his.
Instead, Artemian asks, “How is it we can help you?”
“The princess wishes to learn what she can of the snatchers,” I say, turning my focus to him. “She hopes you might be able to help her.”
Artemian nods. “How are you involved?”
“I am one of Zayyida Alyrra’s attendants. I serve as a go-between for her.”
He studies me. “You’re new, though, yes?”
“I’m from the town of Sheltershorn,” I say, meeting his gaze, “and will only be here through the summer.”
A smile hovers at the corners of his mouth, making it quirk slightly as the scar continues to pull down. “You don’t have the look of the city about you.”
“I shall consider that a compliment.”
He lets out his breath in a half laugh. “Of course. Now, why should we trust you?”
I blink, taken aback, and then realize he’s perfectly right. “You shouldn’t. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But I’ve given the princess my word, and I will hold by it. I want the snatchers stopped. I’ve seen in my own town the sorrow of the families whose children have gone missing, and I’ll do what I can to end such a tragedy. You can trust me in that, and trust that I won’t bring you harm if you’re helping us.”
His lips are still smiling, but his eyes are shrewd as ever. It’s hard to tell what he really thinks of me. “I see. What is it you need in particular?”
“To begin with, we need to understand how the snatchers operate.”
Artemian shakes his head. “There is not much to share. They are careful of their secrets, and brutal in protecting themselves. Right now, we leave them alone, and they do the same for us. We’ve no interest in changing that balance.”
Surely this isn’t all they can tell us. I didn’t agree to continue working for Alyrra just to be told, yet again, that the snatchers are dangerous. “Can you at least tell us who they are? How they’re organized?” I demand. Anything, really.
“Or even how to catch one for questioning?” Sage adds.
Artemian hesitates. The second man, his hand resting on his knee, taps three fingers just once.
Artemian sighs. “It may be possible to catch one of the actual snatchers—but it will be like catching a pickpocket in place of a master thief: what he could tell us would be limited by the great amount he doesn’t know. And we would have to dispose of him afterward.”
“Dispose of him?” Sage echoes.
I cross my arms, holding myself in. No. That can’t be right. The snatchers might be murderers, but that doesn’t mean we should do the same. There has to be another way. I can’t—this can’t be the only choice there is. I look away from Artemian to find the younger man watching me steadily, but there is something faintly pleased about the way he regards me. Is he amused by my reaction?
“So you’d have to kill him,” I say, just so no one can pretend we’re talking about anything else right now.
“If he’s a snatcher, he probably deserves it,” Sage says, her voice hard.
“Are you asking us to kill for your princess?” Artemian eases back, studying Sage.
I feel a rush of relief that they aren’t actually offering such an option quite so easily as it seemed. “I don’t think we can decide that for her,” I say quickly, afraid of what Sage might come out with next. “Why would you be willing to do it anyway?” I ask. “If you’re worried about keeping this balance?”
Again, Artemian’s eyes flick to his companion, just a subtle check as he tilts his head before saying, “We lose some of our street children to snatchers every year.”
“With all the children you have,” Sage says slowly, “all those extra eyes, you can’t say how they operate? It seems a little strange.”
“As I said, they are brutal. Witnesses either join them, are snatched themselves, or die.”
That’s consistent, at least, with what I’ve heard. “It doesn’t seem as though catching a single snatcher will do us much good—not if, as you say, they know only a little of what they do.” Nor do I want blood on my hands. There has to be another way. Surely, as thieves, they have some ideas that wouldn’t occur to a country girl? “What approach would you counsel instead?”
“The princess needs support. And a change in the laws—one that sets harsher punishments for stealing children as well as for aiding and abetting the slave trade. She’ll also need a number of quads who can officially arrest suspected snatchers for questioning. Or to whom we can pass a snatcher. Until she has that, there’s nothing we can do.”
Sage glances at me. “Her quads—?”
I shake my head. “She doesn’t have her own men yet.” Even Captain Matsin is, as I’ve learned, Kestrin’s captain and not really the princess’s. “And I don’t know that she can change any laws quite yet either.”
Artemian dips his head. “Perhaps within a few months of her wedding, she can look to the laws,” he suggests. Which really means that I need to have Alyrra start looking into the laws and building support with the king now, in order to start effecting change then. “The snatchers will keep until she’s ready to take them on.”
“They’ll also keep snatching,” I point out. How many more girls like Seri will be lost in the meantime? Surely there is something that can be done—now.
“Then it will be that much more important for the princess to focus on strengthening her position quickly and effectively.”
Sage sits back. “That’s all.”
“Yes.”
Light and shadow, no. I have to consciously unclench my jaw, because there’s nothing I can do here, no way to argue myself to a better option. These men won’t help, not as things stand, and all my future holds is reading through the laws and preparing Alyrra to change policies once I’m gone. And attending meals where I am smiled at and treated with polite contempt. No, I decide. I’ll just have to find another way.
Sage sighs and brushes out her skirts as she rises, almost businesslike in her resignation. “We thank you.”
“You know where to find me, if you need to speak again,” Artemian says.
I rise and follow Sage to the door. The other man watches us steadily, his expression inscrutable. He must be Artemian’s superior, young though he may be. But just who he is, what his relation is to the infamous Red Hawk, I have no idea.
We head back toward West Road, Sage adjusting her st
ride to my slower-than-usual gait. My turned foot burns where the remaining blisters have burst, not even my trusty old riding boots able to cushion them enough through all this walking. But thinking on it only makes it worse. Instead, I turn the inn room conversation over in my mind again. “They’re hiding something,” I finally say.
“What do you mean?”
“They have to know more than they’ve said. The other man with Artemian was controlling how much he told us. Did you notice?”
“I don’t know about that,” Sage says, unconvinced. “Why wouldn’t they tell us more if they knew?”
“Maybe they don’t want us to upset their balance.”
She shakes her head. “It isn’t a balance if they’re losing children to the snatchers.” She purses her lips. “You’re suspicious of them, aren’t you?”
“That the only solutions are to kill someone or call in guards? Yes, I am suspicious.” I chew my lip, running through the conversation again. But I can’t quite put my finger on what’s missing, what we can do that they don’t want to discuss. As Mama always says, “You don’t know what you don’t know.”
We reach West Road in silence. We’re almost halfway to the palace—I could walk down to the stables and then ride back up again, or I could just go straight home and take care of my feet. “You want to walk up from here?” Sage asks, reading my look easily enough.
“It would be faster,” I admit. If there were any carriages for hire, it would be even quicker and much less painful, but, despite the fact that I’ve actually brought along my purse today, I don’t see any carriages.
“No one should bother you on a main road. Just promise me not to leave the road.”
“You’re worried about snatchers?” I ask, taken aback. Almost, I tell her, I’m a cripple. I’ve always been safe. Snatchers only ever take able-bodied children. I can still remember the town mothers mentioning as much to my mother when I was small, a consolation for having such a child. I also remember Mama descending upon her would-be supporters with a blistering rage that left them careful of her—and me—for years.
“There’s other trouble too,” Sage says now, her voice hard and brittle.
“True enough,” I agree carefully, watching her. “I’ll keep to West Road.”
“You’ll discuss the laws, and the need for guards, with the princess?”
“Of course,” I say. And somehow, I’ll find another way forward as well.
Chapter
17
I make slow headway along West Road, my foot aching. The streets are quiet—not empty by any means, but there appears to be a slight lull now, in the midafternoon. It would be a pleasant walk if I were in less pain.
“I am curious about your foot,” a voice says at my shoulder.
I nearly jump out of my skin. Artemian’s companion reaches out a hand to steady me, laughing softly. Artemian himself, though, is nowhere to be seen. It takes a moment for my breath to return, and for the stab of pain through my foot to ease. But the man just raises his brows, awaiting my response.
“Good afternoon to you too,” I say with a note of sarcasm. I wiggle my elbow in his grip.
“It is,” he agrees, letting go. “Though there will be an even better one next week.”
“What?” I ask, bewildered.
“The final wedding procession,” he clarifies. “The nobles will leave their handsome villas with only a skeleton guard. They’ll need an escort to get through the streets, you see, and everyone among the staff who can escape for it will do so as well. That will be a lovely afternoon.”
“You’re going to rob them?” I ask despite myself, well aware that he’s playing me, checking to see how much I know about him and his associates, and how much I’m willing to let pass.
“We must all be true to our callings,” he says. “A thief must, on occasion, thieve, and a royal attendant must, on occasion, walk through the city streets in pain.”
I stiffen.
“I know what pain looks like,” he says quietly. “What I’m curious about is what happened, and why you haven’t had your ankle looked at. Or is it your foot?”
He has no right to ask such a thing. “Whatever it is, it’s not your concern.”
“Perhaps. I can’t agree if I don’t know, can I?”
“You don’t need to agree,” I snap, and start forward.
He matches my pace, an easy enough feat when every other step feels like I am setting foot in scalding water. It’s just a question of him walking slowly enough.
“When I told Artemian I was following after you, he didn’t think you’d be easily impressed. Even if I used my best manners.”
Oh, indeed. If these are his best manners, he must have grown up in a ditch. “Since Artemian didn’t mention who you are, I don’t see any reason to mention anything to you.”
The man laughs and, catching my hand, tugs me to a stop and sketches a bow. “Bren, at your service.”
I wriggle my hand free, immediately disliking this carefree, affable persona he’s projecting. It seems far less genuine than the smug, observant young man from earlier today. “Bren, is it? And you’re, what, one step above Artemian?”
“Not precisely.”
“So why were you telling him how much to tell us?”
Bren grins appreciatively. “You’re a sharp one.”
“Why, thank you. I needed someone to tell me that.” I start walking again. Once again, he falls into step with me. He’s here for a reason, and it would behoove me to humor him. But I can’t think why, if he had something to say, he wouldn’t have done it at the inn.
“Come now, people will think I’m bothering you,” Bren says. “Especially when you glower like that. We can trade questions and answers if you like.”
Fine, then. “Why are you walking with me?”
“To learn why an attendant would choose to walk around in pain, and . . .” He pauses, waiting.
“And?” I finally prompt. I am doing this for the snatched, I remind myself. And Alyrra. If he does have something to share, I need to play along to get it out of him. Even if he’s asking questions I don’t want to answer.
He smirks. “Tell me what I want, and I’ll tell you.”
I stop and look at him. He is half a head taller than I, slim and handsome, with a thick tail of hair pulled back. More than anything, he is young. Quite possibly as young as I am, which makes it interesting indeed that Artemian would obey him. “Who are you really?”
He tsks sadly, shaking his head. “We’ll never get to any answers if you keep asking questions.”
My lips twitch upward involuntarily. His eyes glow in response. No. I’m not amused by him. I won’t be taken in by this act of his, even if I have to play along. I take a breath. “Very well. I wore a pair of new shoes yesterday that didn’t fit properly. I’m not going to let a few blisters stop me from my work.”
“Blisters only?” he asks, confused. But then he can’t see the shape of my foot beneath my skirt, the particular way my riding boot is made, and there is no reason I can think of that I need to explain myself to him.
I raise my chin. “I’ve answered your question; it’s time you answered mine. Who are you really?”
“Just what you said,” he replies, mischief lighting his eyes again. “And just as clever as you.”
“Oh? Just that?” I echo dryly, utterly underwhelmed by the helpfulness of his answer. What I said? What? That he was Artemian’s superior?
He grins. “Certainly. For instance, I can tell you have no interest in taking our advice to leave the snatchers to other people.”
“None whatsoever.” Though what exactly I can do to learn more I have no idea. Perhaps the princess will have another lead for me.
“In which case,” Bren goes on, “you might want to consider a couple of things.”
I latch onto this as if it were a rope. “Such as?”
“When a snatched child is recovered, necessity dictates that they’re taken to a temple.”
“To find out anything real, then, you’d need to find a child before they are blessed.”
“I’ve considered that,” I say. I sent a letter home last night, to see if my parents would know how to track down the boy from our town who escaped the snatchers and whose family moved with him far into the plains. Given time, I might be able to find them. But perhaps Bren has a better option. “Is that something you can help us with?”
He pauses where an alley intersects with the road, turning to study me for a long moment. “Where do you think the snatchers take their slaves?”
My brow creases. “Away? I don’t really know. I always assumed it was someplace where slavery is allowed.”
Bren makes a noncommittal sound.
“Where are they sent?” I ask uncertainly.
“Come back in a few days and I’ll show you one such ‘away.’”
“Here?” I demand, my voice soft with shock. “You mean—”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
He meets my gaze, and there is nothing of the cocky, arrogant young man in him now. He is still and serious, his eyes just dark enough to frighten me. They are eyes that have seen a great deal more than I can imagine.
“How will I know to meet you?” I ask. “I assume you’ve decided against involving Sage, or you wouldn’t have waited until she and I parted ways.”
“True,” he agrees, that smile touching his lips again. “She’s a little too quick to accept the need for murder. That’s a road she’ll regret walking, and it’s not a path I tread lightly myself. So it had to be you. Is there anywhere you’ll be going in the city on a regular basis?”
“The princess’s house of healing. I’m to check in on it every afternoon, though not tomorrow.”
“Because of the wedding ceremony,” he says knowingly. “Tomorrow’s too soon, anyhow. I’ll find you there when I’m ready.” He tilts his head. “The other thing you might want to consider?”
The Theft of Sunlight Page 12