Clockwork Thief Box Set

by Katherine Bogle

  Narra sighed and continued down the first aisle. Metal scraped against metal as Erik tore open drawers. He pawed through papers loudly, the lamplight swaying as he did, casting eerie shadows on the carved stone walls.

  "Anything?" she asked. Rows of boxes, files, scrolls and more lined the first two shelves. Though the bookcases in the library reached the ceiling twenty feet above, these only met her shoulders. The placards brushed her cloak as she passed. They wouldn't need any sliding ladders down here.

  "There are hundreds of little cards dictating where everything is," Erik said. She glanced back over her shoulder. He sighed, pausing his shuffling.

  "Look for military escorts." Narra trailed her fingers over the folders sticking from between the shelving. She turned back to the ocean of records. "The train started in West Port; maybe it'll be filed that way."

  Rows A, B, C and D passed. In the neighboring aisles placards marked row one, two, three, and four. The rest melted into darkness. Another corridor intercepted her path. She paused. Down each side was nothing but more shelves.

  "West Port escort personnel!" Erik said. He pumped a fist in the air, the light dancing with him. Narra faced her friend. His face lit in a grin and he waved the small shred of paper.

  "Are they organized by date?"

  He froze and glanced at both sides of the sheet. "Yes," he said after a long hesitation. He dug through the drawer.

  "Look for a week ago. That's when they should have left West Port." A train was the fastest mode of transportation across the empire. It’d take about a week to travel from West Port, which was half way down the western coast, to Rova City at the top eastern edge of the country.

  Erik nodded.

  Small bits of paper fell gently to the floor. Erik picked through the files, trembling from the cold as he did. The oil lamp shook.

  "Here. The fourth Solstice... C-48." He looked up.

  Finally. Narra waved at him to follow as she weaved back through the Ds. The C section was large, at least fifty rows wide from what she could make out in the dark. She narrowed her eyes through the dimness.

  "Forty-eight is the shelf number?" Erik groaned. He trudged behind her, muttering obscenities about the gods while scuffing his boots against the dirt.

  They delved deeper into the library as they passed dozens of shelves, taking them further from the stairs and the metal cabinet. The cold grew heavy, dampening her clothes. Erik's teeth chattered and Narra rubbed her arms. They couldn't stay down there much longer without warmer clothing. She cursed herself for not having thought of it. She should have been more prepared.

  "Here." She stopped. A wide shelf of at least ten boxes, hundreds of files and dozens of old scrolls sat crammed into the space. Narra narrowed her eyes at it. She had a feeling library personnel were getting slack with their organization.

  "This can't be right." Erik blanched. His eyes widened. "We'll be here all night."

  Narra stooped beside the mass of documents. "Might as well get started."

  "You're going along with this? Truly?"

  She straightened and levelled him a look. “Yes. There’s no other way to find this man. He hasn’t been seen since the train. We need a name and an address.”

  Erik sighed in defeat and slouched to the ground. “Fine. Hand me a file.”

  Narra crouched on her heels. Five shelves in the one bookcase. She started at the top. “Hopefully, this is the most recent.” She handed a manila folder to Erik before plucking the second free. She splayed it over her left hand, scanning the top document for a date.

  Three months ago.

  Her eyebrow quirked up. Erik was right. This was going to take all night.

  “What is the date on that one?” she asked.

  “Two years ago.”

  Narra slammed the folder back into its slot. She yanked the next one free and opened it to the first page. Two weeks past. She returned it to its place and drew another. One year ago.

  “There is no organization to these documents.” She leaned against the row at her back. It dug into her shoulder blades, a reminder of how uncomfortable she already was.

  “Hand me another.” Erik sighed.

  Narra pulled a handful from the shelf and sat them in Erik’s outstretched hands.

  “Thanks ,” he said, sarcasm thick. He shook his scruffy black hair and thumbed through the folders while Narra took a stack of her own. She took a seat on the rough stone floor, cold seeping through her leather pants.

  A shiver worked its way up her spine. She gritted her teeth.

  Narra leafed through page after page, dumping files and boxes at her feet as the minutes turned to hours. How could the empire be so lax in their filing? What if they needed to find important information? There was no way they’d find anything quickly in this mess.

  “Emperor’s ancestors, this never ends,” Erik grumbled.

  She sighed, shooting her best friend a sympathetic glance. She understood. She hated being immobile for so long. The cold numbing her backside certainly wasn’t improving her mood either.

  Warm lamplight brushed Erik’s smooth skin, and the stubble along his jaw. It wasn’t often she remembered her best friend was handsome, but in the orange light of the tiny flame, his eyes were bright and the angles of his face more severe. She bit her lip. They’d always been best friends, and she’d never considered Erik as a potential romantic partner, though he had kissed her once. They’d been sixteen and just completed their own Initiation Day. They never spoke of it after, and she’d always assumed Erik had been caught up in the moment.

  But now, she had to wonder, was the reason she never considered Erik a potential suitor only because she might not be interested in men?

  Erik glanced up and caught her staring. Her cheeks flushed and she quickly looked down, flipping open another folder to scan the first page.

  West Port ledgers about the personnel stationed on the West Bank, the many train stations, and the barracks. On and on the lists continued. She thumbed to the next page.

  One week ago.

  Her heart leapt. Was this it? She scanned the page. Names, places, and businesses she didn’t recognize were scrawled on the sheet. Long lines of men and women, Patrolmen, security guards, and military personnel littered the document.

  Mikael Ruvand.

  Narra jumped to her feet, files and pages spilling across the stone floor.

  “I found him,” she said. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, relief relaxing her tense shoulders. Erik bounced up to join her.

  “Finally! Who is he?”

  “Corporal Mikael Ruvand charged with guarding unspecified goods from West Port to Rova City on the northeast line,” Narra read. “Now all we need is an address.”

  Erik groaned and leaned his forehead against the cold top of a row C shelf. “Not more shelves.”

  Narra couldn’t resist smiling. “We’re nearly done.”

  “I suppose.” Erik stood, fists propped on his hips. “We should probably clean this mess up before we move on.”

  Narra agreed.

  It only took a few minutes to clean the floor of scattered papers. While Narra shoved the last box in place, Erik picked up the lamp and took off for the metal filing cabinet at the base of the stairs. She followed suit, watching the light bounce across the dark room.

  “Military personnel and quarters?” Erik called.

  “That’s it.”

  The bouncing light returned before she reached the end of the row. Erik was much more eager to get out of the cold than she realized. She couldn’t blame him. If it weren’t for her gloves and boots, her extremities would be numb.

  “Row G-21 has the R’s,” he said. “Let’s hope someone decided to alphabetize this group.”

  Her heart dropped. She dreaded the coming hours if they hadn’t. Erik led the way through the dark, his boots kicking up bits of stone. The pebbles flicked against the wooden shelves, bouncing off into another row. She silently chastised him for the noise. Even if there we
ren’t security guards or librarians lurking about this part of the building so late, he should practice being more discreet.

  Erik stopped suddenly and made a sharp left. “Row G,” he announced.

  A few shelves later they found what they were looking for.

  Narra pulled the first file out and breathed a sigh of relief before pressing the file back into place. “It’s in order.”

  She scanned the bookcase for Ruvand, and on the fourth shelf down, she found two files marked Ruvand. One was a discharged veteran, the other Mikael.

  Finally their luck had turned.

  Narra flicked the folder open. Mikael was twenty-three, Rovan-born and single. He joined the military at nineteen and moved from the southern shores to Rova City for training. Eventually he landed in West Port, where he routinely manned a popular train station. His address was marked as the Rova City Docks, Harbor Four, Unit Six.

  That was strange.

  She tilted her head as she read it again. Most military men had their address as whatever barracks they resided in. If their family living in the country, or nearby, she imagined they might leave that address, but never had she heard of a corporal leaving his home as the City Docks—in another part of the country nonetheless.

  “This can’t be right,” she said. Narra handed the page to Erik. He lifted the oil lamp. The small flame flickered in its glass container, casting orange light over the cream page.

  “The Docks?” Erik met her uncertain gaze.

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t,” he agreed. “But it’s a clue. Maybe the corporal isn’t who he says he is.” Erik raised both eyebrows to emphasize his point.

  “You might be right,” she said. Narra returned the folder to its location and motioned for the stairs. With Erik’s chattering teeth growing louder, and her hands slowly numbing, she was ready to leave.

  “We should stop by your uncle’s to let him know where we’re going, just in case,” Erik said.

  Narra agreed.

  From the depths of the library they climbed, leaving the damp cold and entering the main corridor. Though chill, it was a marked improvement. The hall hadn’t changed in the hours they’d been underground. She couldn’t hear the librarian awake upstairs, but it would be best to leave the way they’d come. If they took to the streets, any Patrolmen nearby might find them.

  They’d have to take their chances on the second floor where they could fly quickly to the rooftops of Rova City.

  Erik led the way from the main hall, through the library, and up the spiral staircase to the back hall on the second floor. They stayed quiet. Even Erik stepped more lightly as the staircase ended. The lantern cast menacing shadows in the dark, working nerves up her spine. She shivered, but this time not from the cold.

  The dead silence of the library was disturbing. Though dull candlelight still filtered from the neighboring study, no shuffling emanated from within. Had the librarian left for the night and forgot to douse his candle? That seemed unlikely. He’d need the small light to find his way out.

  Erik went to the door they’d gone through previously. As he reached for the brass handle, Narra went deeper into the hall. Dread swelled in her stomach, souring her insides.

  Something was wrong.

  She pulled two daggers from their sheathes. Erik paused, watching her. Narra continued down the hall until she could peer through the small crack of the study door. Warm light brushed her skin. Over the dusty smell of books, there was something else. A sharp odor clung to her nostrils, something familiar.

  She tasted the air. Copper.

  “Narra?” Erik whispered. “What are you doing?”

  The door swung open at her nudge. Inside the large study a man lay slumped in his chair. A candle burned by his side. Parchment spread out beneath his head. She stepped inside.

  Blood. She could smell blood.

  Narra closed the few paces between her and the man. She grabbed his shoulder and turned his body to face her. Wide sightless eyes stared into her own. Blood ran from his slit throat and dripped onto the floor beneath him.

  She recoiled, his body thumping to the floor.

  “Erik,” she called.

  The door slammed shut. She spun, heart racing.

  A tall figure in a black hooded cloak stood at the door, hand splayed against the door. His gloved hand reached for the handle and he turned a thick bronze key. It locked with a click.

  “What is this?” she hissed. She brought up her daggers and smoothed the surprise from her face. Whoever this was, it couldn’t be good. This man might have very well followed them inside if he’d waited so long to attack. There was no good reason to kill the librarian unless it was to ensure there were no witnesses. But what about Erik? Her blood boiled, her cheeks hot. She wouldn’t let this man harm him.

  Narra swallowed, tightening her grip on her daggers.

  Was he going to try and kill her? Or did he just want information?

  The figure stepped away from the door. A short sword peaked out from beneath the folds of his black cloak. It flashed silver in the warm light.

  “Narra!” Erik pounded the door with his fists.

  While the figure glanced back at the door, Narra put the table between her and the cloaked man. She looked at the windows for a way out. All were shut. She wouldn’t have enough time to open them and jump out before he was on her.

  She should tell Erik to leave, to run now. She’d find her own way. She bit her lip. What if she needed his help?

  “Who are you?” she asked. She kept her voice even, though her heart thudded painfully in her ears. Sweat coated her palms beneath her gloves. She loosened her hold on her daggers. She had to stay calm, logical. She had to think of a way out.

  The man didn’t say a word, only continued towards the long oak desk between them. Narra stepped back.

  He swung into motion, the folds of his cloak flying free. The man leapt over the desk. Narra backtracked, her hip smashing into the second table at the far end of the room.

  His sword cut through the air. She ducked, throwing one of her daggers before rolling over her head and out of his path.

  Metal clanged together and her dagger fell uselessly to the floor. She jumped to her feet and threw the second. The sword flashed up impossibly fast. Again her dagger sailed away. Narra growled, fire lighting her veins. She didn’t know this man, and wasn’t about to let him outfox her.

  She ripped her sword from its sheath in time for his to collide with hers. His warm breath huffed out, dusting her cheeks. She gritted her teeth and thrust back.

  The man leapt away. She did as well, putting space between them. With her back to the door, she reached for the key sealing her inside.

  “Narra!” Erik called again. A loud thump hit the door. Was he ramming his shoulder against it?

  The man dodged artfully around the desk, the body, and the discarded chair. She retracted her hand and danced away.

  He was far too skilled to be a simple bounty hunter. If he was after her head for the money, this would all make sense. But how had he found her in the first place, and what did he want? No, this man wasn’t just a hunter—he was a killer.

  His blade sliced at her neck, gut, and thighs. She leapt away. Narra kicked out and caught his sword hand. The sword flew across the room, slicing through a stack of books and sticking taut.

  Narra pulled back, swinging out her sword. The man ducked and rolled. She was on him too fast, slashing with every bit of strength she had.

  Blood sprayed the air as her sword cut through his cloak and found his arm. Finally. She spun and sliced at his chest. He flipped back. Pain exploded through her fist as his heel collided with her hand. She gasped, yanking her hand back. Her sword flew, clattering across the desk at the back of the room.

  Blonde hair and pale skin peeked beneath his hood. Kiznai? She narrowed her eyes as his hood fell back. Or was he Talcotta-born? Her heart rammed against her ribcage. She looked at his blade. The long w
ooden hilt was etched with intricate designs, and the metal of the blade was slightly curved.

  A Talcotta assassin.

  Her eyes widened. Emperor’s ancestors.

  The assassin leapt, his arms wrapped around her ribs as they crashed to the floor. Air exploded from her lungs. She sucked in a breath, jabbing her knee into his abdomen before pushing him off.

  She lunged, not for her sword, but for his. Her fingers wrapped around the thick wood and she yanked it from the books. She turned in time for him to leap at her.

  The blade sliced through his clothes and across his skin. Copper filled the air.

  His cold blue eyes widened, inches from her face. Narra took a moment to draw in a breath. His angular cheeks and jaw held no stubble or signs of imperfection. His skin was nearly white, blood drained from his face. He had to be Talcotta-born, but why would one of the ancient assassins come after her ?

  Blood trickled down the blade and over her hand that gripped the wooden hilt. His weight pressed forward, pinning her to the shelf.

  “Who are you?” she whispered. Her heart pounded harder and the warmth fled her limbs with each breath. Cold chilled her fingers.

  The study door crashed in. The man jerked back, eyes wide. He ripped his flesh away from the sword and tore across the room. A trickle of blood followed.

  Erik surged inside, sword at the ready. One wide-eyed look at the blood soaking her hands and he ran for her. The sword clattered to the floor.

  “I’m fine,” she said quickly.

  Erik grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the door.

  The assassin flew across the room, ramming a window open. It tilted outward and he stepped onto the stone ledge. He glanced back, his eyes wild and caught her gaze before he leapt into the darkness of night.

  N arra landed on the cobblestone street with a huff. She retracted her grappling hook, jamming it into her belt before she tightened her cloak. Erik landed at her side, his boots hitting hard before he stormed after her.