The Theft of Sunlight

by Intisar Khanani

  Red Hawk’s right-hand man. I exhale softly. It does make sense, the danger of reprisal. The Scholar letting him go—all the power Bren clearly has—doesn’t have to mean that he is secretly Red Hawk. It wouldn’t make sense for a thief lord to spend so much time on me anyhow, taking me about the city and meeting me on rooftops. Bren is just what he’s said, even if he hasn’t given me his name. There’s a relief in that.

  He straightens from the wall and lifts something up over his head. “It’s time to go. Take this, will you?”

  I reach out my hand even as I ask, “What?”

  His fingers close around mine, pressing a warm metal disk into my palm. “Wear it until you leave the city.”

  “What is it?”

  “Protection, or an attempt at it.”

  I glance down at my palm to find I hold a thin gold pendant, a circle encompassing a cutout of a hawk in flight. It hangs from a worn leather cord. “This is yours?” I ask, that uncertainty creeping in again.

  “It’s his sign, Rae. Keep it on you always.”

  I nod.

  With a faint smile that seems as regretful as it is amused, Bren dips his head to me and slips away, disappearing down the paths in a matter of moments.

  Chapter

  39

  The wedding procession goes smoothly that afternoon, almost unbelievably so. By midmorning—after I’ve managed a short but direly needed nap—half the noblewomen of the palace depart along with the princess’s party in a mass exodus to a great tent village that has sprung up past the city gates. Traditionally, the groom’s party comes to fetch the bride from her home. In this case, a symbolic procession from the lands to the west of the city has been planned.

  We spend the day with the princess, resting, eating, and singing celebratory songs. In the afternoon, we move outside to watch a horse race and I very nearly embarrass myself by cheering aloud when the little mare I’m rooting for noses ahead at the last moment. Then we retire to the tents again to relax. The men arrive in the early evening, bringing with them the great bridal amaria. The wooden palanquin is swathed in silks, the supports of the arched roof carved and overlaid with gold, and the inside appointed with velvet. It is carried by no fewer than twenty men, ten to a side, with an equal number who walk to either side to relieve the bearers as needed.

  Alyrra ascends to sit wide-eyed and bright-cheeked, looking younger than I’ve ever seen her. Or perhaps just happier. Kestrin calls out to her from his mount on a richly caparisoned white horse, and she blushes and dips her head to him. I feel a faint twinge of envy, watching how their eyes meet, the pleasure in Kestrin’s face, and the shy sort of joy radiating from Alyrra.

  No, I tell myself fiercely. I am happy for them, and that’s all there is to it. What may come to me—or not—is irrelevant.

  With a high fluting note and a resonating boom of the drums, the procession starts forward: first a set of guards, then the musicians, then Kestrin and the three other men from either family on their horses, and then the amaria carrying Alyrra. Behind her come all the rest of us, women first and then the men. Most of us walk, though a few of the men ride, and a few of the women are borne along on litters. I spot Havila, riding in a smaller though indisputably elegant litter carried by two pairs of men, her cane laid across her knees.

  Melly slips through the throngs and joins me as we reach the city gates. She looks tired, her skin beneath her makeup slightly peaked. She slips her arm through mine, shakes her head at my questions, and keeps pace with me as I slowly but inevitably fall toward the back of the procession. At least I manage to keep up with the last of the women, and don’t suffer the embarrassment of being overtaken by the men.

  The drumbeats resonate through the streets and the very walls of the surrounding buildings. The edges of West Road are packed with spectators, as are all the cross streets, every window and rooftop, and every person in the gathered throng sways to the sound of the drums, singing together. This song has few words; it is mostly a call, one that brings each person to the tips of their toes, brings them closer to those beside them. It is as deep as our bones and as wide as the land upon which we stand.

  At last we arrive at the palace, my turned foot aching with the promise of new blisters. My slippers may be well enough made this time, but such a long walk in new shoes is never a good idea. The royal party pauses before the doors, turning so that all gathered in the plaza can see them. Then the king raises his hand, and a breathtaking display of fireworks breaks into the evening sky, bursts of white and red and orange and green. I’ve never seen even a single firework before, and find myself awestruck by both the beauty of these streaks of fire painted across the sky and the resounding explosions as each new firework bursts forth.

  I would have stood and gawked the whole time, but Melly points out this is the perfect time to catch up to the princess, and so we gently nudge our way through the crowd toward the amaria.

  After the last of the fireworks, the procession floods into the great courtyard and Alyrra descends from her amaria to her new home. I manage to rejoin my fellow attendants as they converge to walk behind her, as Kestrin escorts her into the great receiving hall. And the wedding is over—all but the feasting.

  Once Alyrra has been settled on her sofa on the dais alongside Kestrin, we make way for the nobles lining up to approach and congratulate the couple. I slip away from my fellow attendants to rejoin Melly, who is now about a third of the way down the line.

  “Thanks for staying with me,” I tell her.

  She shakes her head. “I was glad for the company. Even if it was too loud to speak.”

  I smile, but I feel a rush of guilt. The whole point of my invitation to come here was to keep Melly company, and I’ve done everything but that. And she’s still looking out for me. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to spend more time with you.”

  “Don’t be absurd. It’s good to see you doing something new and different, Rae. Something you wouldn’t have imagined back home.”

  Being taken hostage by a thief lord certainly qualifies. “You’re looking a little pale,” I say just as Filadon joins us.

  He grimaces and speaks right over Melly’s assurance that she’s fine. “That is because she insisted on acting as if everything were normal.”

  “I’ll rest when I’m ready,” Melly says archly.

  I glance from one to the other, and realize what they aren’t saying. “Morning sickness?”

  Melly shoots Filadon a displeased look. “Just a little nausea and tiredness, Rae. Nothing to worry about.”

  I really have done a terrible job looking out for Melly. “Why didn’t you tell me? You shouldn’t have walked! You could have met the princess just as well right here, with the other half of the court.”

  “I wanted to walk with you,” Melly says gently. “And I’ll go up and rest once I’ve given them my greetings.”

  She didn’t want me to fall behind alone, as she knew I probably would. I feel my cheeks burning and look away. “Have you tried ginger tea for the nausea? Or even just extra ginger in your food?”

  “No.”

  “Mama always recommends it. And walking, but I think you’ve done enough of that.”

  Melly laughs as she turns to Filadon. “See, my love? It’s perfectly normal to feel like this. You worry too much.”

  “Yes, but if you had felt weak out there—”

  “Which I haven’t yet, not once,” Melly says bluntly. “And if I had, then Rae would have gotten me help.”

  I’m not sure how, but I certainly would have.

  “Ah, there’s the foreign prince,” Melly says in a complete change of topic.

  I turn my gaze to watch as he descends from the dais, having given his own words of congratulations. Today, he wears several thick golden chains over a close-fitting velvet jacket, cream sleeves puffing out from the shoulders, and his legs encased in the usual shockingly tight fabric that passes as pants among his people. Does he think he must prove his royalty by flaun
ting his gold? It seems in poor taste, especially in comparison to the much more muted display of wealth by our king and prince.

  “Do you think we’re free of trouble from him now?” Melly asks as he moves across the room, coming to a stop beside a red-haired man. Daerilin, the impostor’s father.

  Filadon sighs. “I’d like to think so, but I don’t trust him. And that Daerilin has been keeping far too low a profile.”

  “What could they do?” I ask, looking from the two men to Filadon. His brow is lined with concern. Isn’t it a good thing if Daerilin has stepped back?

  “I don’t know. That’s the trouble.”

  From what I’ve seen of the prince, anything he planned would be personal and violent. I look up to where a noblewoman bends over to embrace Alyrra.

  “There are still soldiers posted throughout the royal wing, right?” I ask.

  Filadon pats my arm. “There are. They won’t reach her alone, Rae. It will be all right.”

  If he believed that, he wouldn’t have looked so worried. And the prince didn’t reach her alone last time either; not really.

  “You see,” Melly says lightly, “there’s more than enough to concern us without bringing in how much ginger I’ve eaten today.”

  “We are eating ginger for every meal,” Filadon says solemnly. “Starting with breakfast.”

  “I’m the one in charge of the menu, so you had better ask nicely,” Melly says with a grin, and tugs me another step forward in the line. “Although I suppose a little ginger might be called for.”

  “A little,” Filadon echoes, shaking his head. “I shall have it grated into your oatmeal if you don’t watch out.”

  Melly just laughs.

  Chapter

  40

  I wake up late the next morning, having stayed at the banquet until the princess was ready to retire. Along with a few chosen elder noblewomen, including the foreign queen, we escorted Alyrra to her new rooms at the end of the evening. The suite, located right across the hall from her old one, is not all that different but for the bedchamber—a shared room between Kestrin’s suite and Alyrra’s new one. It was enough to bring another blush to Alyrra’s face.

  I smile at the memory as I slowly work through a few morning stretches, grateful that I didn’t wake with foot cramps. I do have a new crop of blisters, though. It’s almost enough to make a girl give up attending once and for all. I shake my head at myself and change quietly, slipping out the door a few minutes later in search of breakfast.

  Like Mina, it seems the other attendants are all still abed. I make a small pot of mint tea and sit down with a plate of cheese and bread, a few black olives on the side. There, on the table, are three letters that must have been delivered this morning. The top two are for Jasmine and Zaria respectively; the third is for me.

  I open it up with some curiosity, as I don’t recognize the hand that addressed it, and scan the note.

  Dear Rae,

  I have been thinking about our conversation, and have done some more reading, and have thoughts and possibilities to discuss. If you are free at all today, come meet me where we last saw each other. I have today off as well and we can chat easily.

  Your friend,

  Kirrana

  I brighten up at once. It doesn’t take me long to get ready to go—a quick, careful bandaging of my foot to protect the blisters, an outfit from home that won’t stand out on that side of the palace complex, my hair braided down my back, and I’m on my way.

  I knock at the closed door of the administrative archive. Sure enough, Kirrana’s voice calls through to me, and a moment later I’m ushered in.

  Kirrana is as cheerful as ever, though her eye is faintly shadowed, as is the skin beneath her left eye patch.

  “Tell me you haven’t been here all night,” I demand.

  She laughs. “Not at all. I was at the tax office last night, and came back here again this morning. There’s no need to stare! I love challenges and riddles, and this is both. And . . . well, you know why I care. I’m surprised you made it here at all this morning, though.”

  “The princess will spend the day with her husband and his family,” I explain. “She won’t need us till dinner.”

  “That’s good. I have to say, I was relieved to know your family is staying in the palace, after the news this morning.”

  “What news?” I follow Kirrana over to her worktable. It’s covered with stacks of ledgers and log books.

  “It hasn’t spread yet to the royal wing, then? The king must have heard, at least.”

  “Heard what?”

  Kirrana laughs. “Yesterday evening during the wedding procession at least a half dozen noble households on the north side were all robbed. Probably more.”

  I stop short, recalling Bren joking about his plans for the wedding the first time we met—his words had been perfectly honest. My hand creeps to the pendant hidden beneath my tunic. I accepted it as a protection, but in anyone else’s eyes it will mean I’ve aligned myself with Red Hawk, that I support his actions, accept them. Maybe I do, partly—but not completely.

  “Don’t worry,” Kirrana says, misreading my stillness. “No one was hurt. They took a great deal of jewelry, and quite a bit of food too.”

  “Food,” I repeat, bewildered. Bren hadn’t struck me as hungry, and the house I’d sheltered in had been well-appointed.

  “From the sound of it, bags of grains and lentils and beans. Anything dry that could be stored.”

  I frown, eyes narrowed. “Surely the nobles didn’t report all that? Would they even have noticed?”

  Kirrana snorts. “I doubt it. But we get the news from the servants and pages passing through, and when I stepped out to get breakfast from the dining hall, that was all the talk.”

  “But why food?”

  “Because people get hungry,” Kirrana says, as if it were the most obvious thing. And perhaps it is. Red Hawk keeps a network of street children, and the ones I’ve seen are all on the scrawny side. Paying them in coin might be a great deal more trouble than paying them in grain; it saves them having to answer where their wealth came from.

  “What is it?” Kirrana asks.

  I shake my head. “I know people get hungry. It’s just, back home, everyone takes care of each other. If one family has a bad harvest, or loses too much livestock, we all help out. I knew the city is different, I just . . .” I can’t comprehend a community that allows their own to go hungry. And I don’t want to see Red Hawk’s thievery as partly a good thing.

  “There’s a lot of need here,” Kirrana says. “And neighbors care, but if the whole neighborhood is hungry, you can only do so much.”

  She takes a seat at the table and gestures for me to do the same. “Anyway, I’m more concerned with this other kind of thief.”

  I sit down, relieved to rest both the topic and my foot. “I understand you have ‘thoughts and possibilities’ to discuss.”

  Kirrana grins, the corner of her eye crinkling. “That I do.”

  As it turns out, Berenworth Trading Company established an office in Menaiya some thirty-five years ago, filing a very modest tax report in their first year. They’ve been growing their presence steadily since then. “That aligns nicely with the growth of the snatchers,” she observes. “Though again, it could be coincidental.”

  I nod.

  “They provide a general description of their company for tax purposes, with a brief listing of other ventures they’re engaged in through their holdings in other countries. In the first three years, they mentioned their overseas mines, and they still maintain a brisk business in imported gems.”

  “They don’t report their mines anymore?”

  “It’s an optional description,” Kirrana says. “They’ve opted to describe other things since those early years, but there’s no questioning the fact that they engage in a very legitimate gem and jewelry import business. A good percentage of the gems the noblewomen wear are funneled through them.”

  “The mines
would explain the larger gemstones,” I say. “Menaiya has mines as well, though, right? In the mountains?”

  “Yes, but the gems are not quite as high quality, and certainly not as large as the descriptions of the ones that poor warden discovered.” Kirrana taps her wax tablets once, absentmindedly. “I can’t help thinking that mines are the sort of place that would happily use small children whom no one would ask questions about—children who could fit into tighter spots than an adult.”

  I shudder. It never even occurred to me to ask where the jewels I’d ordered came from. “But we don’t have proof, do we?”

  “None at all. Just coincidences, like the port warden’s death and the captain’s replacement, following the discovery of those two gems. And the fact that the snatchers showed up around when Berenworth did, and their presence has grown in tandem.”

  “And we have potential motives,” I agree. There are the children as both salable goods and useful workers, and the gems as a valuable trade to the Circle. What we’re striving for is a preponderance of coincidences, enough to warrant an actual investigation into Berenworth, with soldiers to search ships for children and apprehend what slavers they can find.

  “You’re brilliant,” I say, eyeing her with admiration. We started with almost nothing, and in the space of days, she’s brought us so far. “You know that, right?”

  “No,” she says, dropping her gaze humbly. “I’m just a damn good tax clerk.”

  I laugh.

  Not to be distracted, Kirrana says, “If you have time, you can look at loading records while I check more incident reports.”

  “Loading records?”

  “Just look for anything strange—maybe loadings that happened at unusual times, or some other detail that doesn’t sit quite right. We’re looking for people who were in the know making an unconscious mistake in their reporting, accidentally recording a truth instead of a lie.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, and set to work on the ledger Kirrana pushes over to me. This time, I’m working forward from the last available records five years ago to the first, each in their own ledger. The records, though, come from the river dock here in Tarinon, instead of the port wardens in Lirelei.