by R. K. Thorne
The men were already tripping over themselves in their effort to obey.
Chapter 11
Thief
Every nook and cranny of the Bone mansion was searched. Bedrooms, kitchens, store rooms, meeting rooms, stable stalls. Even the chicken coop. The surrounding gardens came next, guards lifting benches and overturning stones.
Nyalin had never seen so many guards so focused on one purpose. At first, he considered offering to help, but with him so new to the clan, getting involved at all could be fraught with danger. So he simply backed out of the way. Plus he’d never even seen the thing. He wouldn’t know what to look for.
Cerivil roused from his initial stupor and kept the orders coming, heading off after the guards in the direction of the cellars last Nyalin had seen him.
This left Nyalin and Lara standing in the hallway, openmouthed and very confused.
“This is crazy,” he muttered. When she didn’t respond, he squinted at her. She was practically bouncing with energy. Anger? The scent of the hunt? “Can you believe this?”
She glanced at him as if remembering he was there and shook her head. “No, frankly.”
“How could something guarded like this just disappear?”
She bit her lip, looked about to say something, then shut her mouth again. After a moment, she started again. “We just can’t catch a break, can we?”
He chuckled. “Nope. Even impossibly powerful and well-protected magical objects flee from solving my mystery.”
“And those pain tests are the only option left? I don’t think anyone’s tried them for as long as I can remember. What if they’re not even real?”
“Maybe people don’t like to talk about being truly desperate.”
“Maybe this is all not fair.”
“Well, no, it’s not.” He shrugged. “But what else can we do?”
“There’s plenty more.” Her arms folded across her chest. Anger vibrated from her now. No, bitterness.
“I’m honestly trying not to think too hard about it. More research might turn up something.” Of course, by then, it’d hardly matter. It’d be too late to fight for her. Not that he had a chance anyway.
She slanted a gaze at him, eyes narrowing. “Do you really want to figure this out or not?”
He scowled. “Of course I do, damn it. But beggars can’t be choosers. Cerivil is my best chance, so if I have to wait… I’ll wait. Or lash myself if I have to. But yes, if it matters to you, I think both options are abysmal. Don’t repeat that to your father.”
She studied him closely. “He’s not your best chance,” she said slowly.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s not your best chance. I am.”
He blinked. “What?”
She squared her shoulders with his and looked him dead in the eye. “You could run off. Like we talked about. Make a different life for yourself. I’ve got two gold I can give you. Maybe three. It can get you at least to Tiro.”
Tiro, where the emperor had been born. Funny that she should pick the same place. He kept his eyes locked with hers, as hard and certain as he could make them. “I’m not running off to Tiro. Not yet anyway.”
“Good. Then meet me in my room at the evening gong instead.”
He opened his mouth—what did she even intend to do?—but her eyes were so steely he abandoned the idea. A little voice said that meeting the clan leader’s daughter at night alone in her room might not be the wisest decision. But that glint in her eyes—he couldn’t fight it.
“All right. But until then, I’ll be reading this.” He waved the horrible little volume.
“Lucky you. Don’t go running any dangerous tests without me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Her smile now was tentative, and she bounced up on her toes and back to her heels before turning to go. “See you?”
“See you.”
When Nyalin was completely out of sight and the echoes of his footsteps had faded up the stairwell, Lara changed directions, turning around and heading back to the practice room.
No one would question her presence here among the equipment at this time of day. It was the perfect opportunity, so she wouldn’t pass it by. Even if she was shaking.
She’d have to work fast. The guards could decide to search her room at any time, although she wasn’t sure her being there would help or hurt matters. She could think of nowhere better to hide the blade than amid her silks, so it wasn’t like she could move it, and she definitely wasn’t going to carry it around right now. Much as Yeska might prefer that.
The practice room they’d left was predictably empty, the salt focus still on the floor.
She grabbed an empty crate from the shelf and went shopping, filling it with a little used, slightly rusted practice sword, two more boxes of salt since that had seemed to work well, a blank amulet designed to accept wards, and a few colorful scarves, mostly to hide the other items.
Then she eased the box onto the table and listened for anyone else in the rooms, anyone approaching.
Silence met her. So she strode to the shelves and found the charm chest. Its rough-hewn wood was bound by gold, and she lifted the lid to reveal the pale-satin-lined interior, the colorful stones bright against the backdrop.
Normally a swordmage would choose their sphere of specialization carefully. They’d figure in a number of things, including natural talent, interest, and temperament, as well as utility to the clan.
She, however, would be choosing based on what she could pilfer from this box.
She chewed on her lip as she surveyed what was in stock. No higher-level light charms, or fire or water. Those were popular classics and had been mostly cleaned out. Da should really be commissioning some more. What was the holdup? She could only find one charm in the energy sphere, and it was too high for her. Sound was plentiful but also so very useless.
A few more were present in abundance: acid, shadow, caution, and control. Harder, darker. Less showy, but still useful. People sometimes stayed away from them, as they had more overlap with the spells necromancers preferred, but that attitude had always seemed a little silly to her. Thinking of Pyaris’s comments about locks, she pocketed all the levels of charms for control, which would allow her to master magical locks of every kind with enough practice. Then she stared at the other spells. So dark. While she wasn’t afraid at all of being mistaken for a necromancer, they were very far from her warm, sunny personality.
Shrugging, she filled her pocket with shadow charms of each level. And what the hell, why not caution and sound too. Who knew? Depending on what was going on in her room, she might not get another chance.
They are not here yet, Yeska offered. But they’re getting close.
Still, there had been one more set she’d hoped to find. Even a small broken one might do. She felt around the edges of the top and then lifted out the tray. If she could have managed it, she’d have crossed her fingers for good luck as she looked beneath.
Yes! Thank the goddesses.
A full set of healing charms shimmered, carved from pearly white moonstone. Perfection. She jammed them in her pocket with the others. She’d thread them all onto a thong later. After the attack and all this talk of pain tests, mastering the healing spells was her highest priority. Plus, if she ended up exiled in the wilderness, they might come in handy.
Time to quit while she was ahead. She’d taken enough that their absence might be noticed, so it’d be worth getting out of the practice room without being seen.
And now to go find out if her other theft had been, er, noticed in the box in her room.
Not just yet, Yeska added. But they are busy little bees.
She shut and replaced the chest, propped the crate on her hip, and stepped out into the hallway.
Her heart was in her throat as she trudged up the stairs. Turning onto her floor, she hesitated as a guard entered her room, calling out something unintelligible to another inside.
By Dala’s greates
t light. They were just opening the door, heading into her room. She had assumed they would, but what were the chances that they’d be doing it just as she was approaching?
What if they’d found it already?
She hesitated a moment longer, but standing around looking nervous would be sure to draw unwanted attention.
Plastering a fake but pleasant smile on her face, she strolled as casually as she could manage up to the room—her room—and offered the nearest guard a bright hello.
“Oh—by the great dragon! Forgive us, Lara, but we have to check everywhere.” Mep, the guard, gave her a toothy grin.
She waved him off. “Of course. Don’t mind me.” She flashed a practiced, unworried smile, donned her best confident swagger, and lifted the crate to place it on her desk—
And at that point, she stopped short.
The other guard had out the box of silks and was rubbing the corner of one of her dressing gowns between two fingers.
She couldn’t help herself. Acting innocent be damned, she stopped and stared.
His fingers had to be a hair’s breadth from the blade. He must have grazed it already, surely.
“Hejim!” Mep snapped. “What are you doing, you perverted louse? Get out of there! I’m sure there’s no damned clanblade in her undergarments.”
Hejim scuttled back, then returned to push the box back under the bed. He cleared his throat, trying his best to act as if nothing untoward had happened. “Nothing here, Mep, I think that’s just about it.” Pretending that his cheeks weren’t beet red, Hejim bowed and fled.
She stared at the empty doorway.
When she’d finally accepted that they were really gone, she locked her door, flopped back on her bed, and stared at the ceiling.
Goddesses above, what a close call.
Yes. Yeska’s voice was more jovial than she would have expected. I… may have inspired him with some creative imagery.
She winced. Not of me, I hope.
He has a wife, in fact, but she’s never afforded undergarments like those.
When they exile or execute me, can you have Andius let the woman inherit my things?
When did you become so negative?
She knew the moment, but Lara shook her head and didn’t answer. She just stretched out a little further, slid her hand into her pocket to finger her newly acquired charms, and sighed.
When had she become such a thief?
Her heart hurt for it. She had never kept things from her father. She’d been closer to her mother, when the woman was alive. But Lara had been young then, and her mother had been dead for a long time now. Long enough for Lara to forget much. But now that it was just the two of them, after mourning Myandrin together too… Well, she’d never felt closer to Da. Secrets should have been unthinkable.
But everything had changed. She had secrets now, big ones, and they were multiplying.
Nyalin spent the intervening hours in the library. Not only was it a comfort to be away from the rushing anxious guards, cocooned in the serenity of the books, but he also had something he wished to find. And it had nothing to do with the pain tests, the book of which lay abandoned and ignored on a nearby pine table.
No, he traced leather spine after leather spine looking for something else: the fairy tales Sutamae had mentioned, or something like them.
The afternoon drifted away, not serving up anything, until he was almost faint with hunger. And then the library relented a little and revealed one slim volume. Ronigot and Dewinter, and the Magic of Fate.
He carried the book to the kitchens and skimmed the tale as he downed a yak kebab and tried to pretend his other clan members weren’t staring at him. If he was going to be an ordinary member of the Bone Clan, a member of the larger rank and file that lived their whole lives without even any magic, they were going to have to get used to him being around.
Or he was going to have to get used to them staring.
The book was disappointing in that it didn’t explain much more than Su already had. Ronigot and Dewinter had been powerful mages in the early years of the wars with the Mushin. They’d met in the market, and they’d felt drawn together inexplicably, even only as friends. Check. Their touches had sent zings through them, sparks flying so to speak. Double check. And together they’d been able to achieve things they couldn’t alone. Although some details were vague, they’d mastered a much larger than average number of spells and, on their own, successfully defended a Glass Clan village from three thousand Mushin troops.
Interesting.
Unfortunately for these two, they’d also been members of families who hated each other. The lovers had defied their families and attempted to sail south only to be lost in a storm at sea. Supposedly only the narrator had lived to tell the tale.
He dropped the book on the table with disgust. By the Twins, he hated stories with unhappy endings.
Yak bits consumed, he eyed the sky and decided the gong would ring soon. It was time to seek Lara out. But first, he stashed his very depressing pile of books in his room.
It was probably a bad sign that he felt compelled to make sure no one saw him knocking on Lara’s door. But given his experiences with Andius, and with half the clan on edge looking for the clanblade and the other half wondering what the hell was going on, extra caution wasn’t a bad idea.
She opened the door, her usual halo of gold hair falling around her shoulders, braids like enchanted snakes bound into peaceful slumber. Same glint of steel in her eye. He might be a bit of a failure, or maybe more than a bit, but he felt a kick of pride that she was bothering to help him.
She stood aside and let him in, closing the door behind him. The same black book from the days when he’d been healing lay open on her bed.
“What’s this about, Lara?”
She propped her hands on her hips, apparently winding herself up to say something. “Listen, I don’t know why you’ve been fated to deal with all this nonsense. Why you’ve had such bad luck. Why Elix and the Obsidians would lie or why my father can’t see what I can. But… well…” She faltered.
“You said it yourself,” he muttered. “It’s just fate.” He considered volunteering that fate might be more concrete and less nebulous than it sounded, but what would she say to that? To fairy tales, theories, and conjecture? Probably the last thing she needed was for him to get all moon-eyed over her. Did the black book have anything to do with this? Maybe she’d been reading something too.
“I’ll just come out and say it. Nyalin, I…” She took a deep breath and straightened. “I have a proposition for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“I think you should sign up for the Contests… and I should feed you power like we’ve been doing. But all the time, for every spell.”
He frowned. “Do you think they would go for that?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“I guess we could ask.”
She winced. “I was… sort of thinking we wouldn’t.”
Both eyebrows got in on the action now. “You mean… you want to cheat?”
“Yes.” Her nod was vigorous. “Specifically, I want you to cheat with my help. What do you think?”
He just stared. “Wow. That never occurred to me.”
She shrugged. “That’s because you’re a better person than me.”
“No. Just less desperate.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be my preference either. But I have to do something.”
He paused, rubbing his chin. “What would happen if we got caught? You might be safe, but they might kill me.”
She shook her head. “They’d kill us both, I’d guess. Exile. Imprisonment, perhaps. Nothing good.”
“That’s… big.”
“Don’t think I don’t know that. But I’m not going to lie to you about the weight of this decision.” They sat in silence for a long moment.
A knock split the air, making him jump.
“Lara!” Andius’s voice rang out as his fist pounded
on the door. “Lara. Open up.”
Her eyes darted from the door to him and back, fear tensing her body.
“I know it was you, Lara! Open up.”
He didn’t need to think. He pointed at the closet. She nodded, and he slipped inside, shutting the curtain.
She opened the door.
Nyalin watched through the sliver between one sheet of heavy brown velvet and the other. Andius crowded her, pushing her back into the room. He slapped the door behind him, harder than he needed to, and it slammed shut.
“You have it, don’t you?” Andius whispered.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She took a step back.
“The sacred clanblade. My sword. The Dagger of Bone. You took it.”
She shook her head.
“You’re the one. It had to have been someone inside the house, to get by the guards. It had to be someone who knew how to use it and who had a reason to deny me the blade. Everyone loves me. Why would they do such a thing? Everyone but you.”
“You’re insane, I don’t have anything.”
He leaned closer still, but she didn’t give up her ground now. “When you’re my wife, they’ll be penalties for lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m having them make another blade.”
“What? You can’t make another blade.”
“Does that upset you?” He smirked. “They can, and they will.”
“You don’t have a dragon scale.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Who is the liar now? The dragon won’t give you one. She won’t give anyone one.”
Even more angry that she wasn’t buying his claim, he threw up his hands, then leaned in again. “I don’t need a dragon scale, woman. It will be a fake one. Because the dragon isn’t real and doesn’t matter.”
Nyalin caught his breath. Thankfully the sound was masked by Lara’s sharp inhale as well. “What are you talking about?”
Andius only sneered in response.