by Kevin Sands
I snapped my pocket watch shut and hid among the bushes, deep in the woods in the park. There. There, to the north, was the wall that surrounded the High Weaver’s home, his house a hundred yards beyond. Our prize was inside. We had what we needed to take it, and—though we’d be cutting it close—we had just enough time to finish the job. What’s more, we’d done it all ourselves.
So why was I thinking about the Old Man?
We’d pulled off the perfect gaff: Me, Meriel, Gareth, Foxtail, and Lachlan. Our band of outcasts, thrown away by the world, good for nothing, every one of us. We’d done the impossible.
And we’d done it together.
I know. I wasn’t supposed to care about that. Do the job, take the coin, walk away. That’s how you run a jolly gaff. Rely on nothing, no one, but yourself.
Guess I never did learn. Because the fact we did it—not me, but we—it mattered. Playing a gaff’s always sweet. Sharing the win made the victory so much sweeter.
Yet still.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the Old Man. I wished he was here. I wished he’d seen what I’d put together, what the five of us had done. I wanted him to know it.
I wanted him to be proud of me.
And I hated that I did.
Why won’t you go away? I asked him.
You know the answer to that, he said softly.
Enough. I cast him from my mind.
* * *
Everything was ready. Not only did we have the keystone, cooling Padraig out had given us something else we’d needed almost as much: a full breakdown of the High Weaver’s security. This was critical, because with less than two hours to finish the job, we couldn’t afford to move too cautiously. We needed to know what awaited us inside.
The apprentice had no choice but to help. His only hope to make it out of this with his skin intact was if Darragh never found out how the thieves got past the wall of winter. It was now in Padraig’s own interest that any job get pulled off clean, with the keystone returned to him before the High Weaver even knew a theft had taken place.
Like the Old Man said: turn what you want into something they want.
So, back at the hotel, Padraig had readily confirmed what Seamus, the old thief at the asylum, had told us. Almost all the High Weaver’s wards were down.
“The barrier’s the only thing left,” he’d said. “The master is completely drained. He doesn’t have the souls to bind anything more.”
“The keystone’s all you need to get in and out, then?” I said.
“Just in. You don’t need it to get out. The barrier is one way.” That seemed odd, but Padraig explained. “The master’s placed guards in the tower at night, with muskets. He wants them to be able to shoot through the wall at any thieves. Plus there are patrols of guards, and the older apprentices, on the grounds and in the house.”
And now we knew to watch for the guards in the tower. As for inside, Padraig had given us the rundown on that, too.
“The way down to the laboratory is by a levitating platform in the east wing,” which he called a lift. “Just touch the red crystal and it’ll take you there. Be careful of the floor tiles before it. There are two in the corridor, set between statues of Artha and a deer. If you step on them, you’ll bring down a gate and trap yourself inside.”
There was only one thing left to learn. “What about the final ward? The one that requires a child to pass?”
Padraig had been puzzled by that. “Child?”
“Well . . . how do you get to the Eye?”
He looked shocked. “Nobody goes into the Eye’s chamber. The master would never allow it.”
I paused. “He doesn’t send a young apprentice to get it for him?”
“Absolutely not. There’s only one apprentice younger than me. That’s Sarah. She’s only thirteen; she’s not allowed in the lab. She won’t get underground privileges for a year, at least.” He frowned, thinking.
“What is it?” I said.
“Nothing.”
“The deal was you’re supposed to tell us everything.”
“It’s nothing, really. Only, when you asked about younger apprentices, I realized I haven’t seen Sarah in a while.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
Padraig mulled it over. “Two weeks ago? Maybe three?”
“And that’s strange?”
He’d nodded. “The first year of apprenticeship is menial duties. The whole time, you have to live in the house. But I haven’t seen her around at all.”
A rustle in the bushes pulled me from my thoughts. Gareth appeared through the leaves, Lachlan at his side. Foxtail and Meriel had run ahead of me, doing a quick once-over to spot any last-minute surprises.
“Are the girls still scouting?” I asked.
“Who knows,” Lachlan grumbled.
He was disappointed. Padraig had told us that the keystone would take only three people through the wall of winter: whoever wore the stone, plus two more, holding the bearer’s hands. We’d had to decide which of us would go.
Foxtail, our second-story girl, was the obvious choice to hold the stone; she could worm her way into just about anything. I was the next, as I’d heard firsthand from Padraig all about the High Weaver’s security. That left the third spot to fill.
Lachlan had begged to go, but Meriel was clearly the better choice. She was more agile than anyone except Foxtail, and given Meriel’s skill with knives, she was our best chance for fighting off any guards we ran into.
In the distance, a clock chimed 10:15. Time to go.
We moved through the woods, shielded by the canopy of trees as we approached the grounds. As the High Weaver’s tower grew taller, my stomach fluttered. Maybe I should have let Lachlan go in my place after all.
“Can anyone see the guards?” I whispered.
Gareth shook his head. “Can’t see anything,” Lachlan said, still pouting.
Padraig had told us there’d be four with muskets in the tower, plus an apprentice with some kind of rod that could freeze a man solid, but the belfry was shadowed by pillars. Even worse, tonight was bright. Both moons were near full, lighting up the darkness with an almost glaring shine.
I didn’t relish the idea of jumping the High Weaver’s wall like this. We’d be totally exposed. I looked up at the moons and cursed. “Is it too much to ask for just one cloud?”
Lachlan bit his lip. “It is cracking bright, eh?”
“The syzygy,” Gareth said quietly.
“The . . . sizzi-what?”
“The—the moons. In three days, they’ll be lined up in a perfect row. With Ayreth and the sun, I mean. It’s called a ‘syzygy.’ ”
Lachlan squinted up at them. “You know, I can’t remember the last time they were both this bright.”
“Because you weren’t alive. A syzygy happens only once every ninety-three years.”
“That’s awfully bad timing.”
Gareth frowned. “Yes,” he said. “It is.”
He looked like he was about to say something more. Then he gasped. And stared.
“What is it? A guard?” I whispered.
Lachlan spotted it before me. He grabbed my arm, wide-eyed. “Cal! Look!”
He pointed. A figure sat near the edge of the tree line, clear in the moonlight.
It was a fox.
The animal sat on her haunches—I don’t know why, but I was sure it was a her—gazing up at the High Weaver’s mansion. At the sound of Lachlan’s voice, she turned her head to regard us calmly.
“Shuna’s breath,” Lachlan said. “She’s beautiful.”
The fox watched us for a moment, then inclined her head slightly, almost like a nod. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she was wishing us luck.
“Amazin’,” Lachlan said.
The fox st
ood, shook out her coat, and trotted calmly back into the woods.
Lachlan threw his arms around us, bad mood evaporated. “That was a blessing, mates. A blessing!” he whispered with glee. “You see? Shuna’s watching over us.” He made the sign of the Fox—first and fourth fingers up like ears, second and third pinched against the thumb to make a snout—then grabbed me in a hug. “Bring it home, guv.”
Lachlan pulled Galawan from his pocket and bounded away joyfully. “C’mon, Gar! Let’s see if we can find that fox again.”
He was supposed to be providing our distraction. And he had barely ten minutes to get in place. “You’ll rein him in, right?” I said to Gareth.
Gareth looked back to where the boy had run off. “Can anyone?”
I laughed, feeling slightly giddy myself. “Probably not. Right, then. Time to meet the girls. See you on the other side.”
To my utter surprise, as I turned to go, Gareth grabbed my arm.
“Be . . . be careful,” he said.
Gareth was serious—he always serious—and yet I didn’t think I’d ever seen him quite like this. I recalled how shocked he’d been when he’d spotted the fox.
“You think it was a blessing, too?” I said.
It took him a while to answer. “I . . . don’t know what it was. But you . . . you need to be careful. There’s something s-strange in the air tonight. I can feel it.”
He let me go, disappearing into the trees.
CHAPTER 27
The girls waited in a grove at the edge of the park.
Meriel hummed with energy, restless, like she couldn’t wait to get going. Foxtail was utterly calm. I supposed she was used to this sort of thing, creeping about where she didn’t belong.
I wasn’t. “Is everything ready?” I said, trying to hide my nerves. “Did you spot the guards?”
Foxtail nodded. She pointed at the tower and held up four fingers on one hand, one finger on the other. Four guards with muskets, each scanning in a separate direction, and an apprentice, like Padraig had said. The ones in the belfry must have been hiding in the shadows of the spire’s pillars, because even with all this moonlight, I still couldn’t tell they were there.
“I can’t see them either,” Meriel said.
Foxtail tapped her chest. I can. Again I wondered about that mask. Did it let her see more than us? What did her world look like?
Whatever it was, she’d be holding the keystone; she’d have to alert us as to when it was safe to move. I took her hand. It was small and delicate, like a little child’s.
We crouched in the grove and waited.
* * *
The bells rang the 10:30 chime. We tensed, listening for our distraction.
Right this moment, Lachlan should be sauntering down the road on the far side of the mansion. He was to bump into the wall of winter, apparently by accident. Then he’d probe it, pretending to be fascinated. Hopefully, that would draw the guards’ attention.
But we heard nothing.
I clicked open my pocket watch, growing more nervous as the minute hand ticked forward. 10:31. 10:32.
10:33.
“What’s he doing?” Meriel hissed, impatient.
10:34. Still nothing. I was beginning to sweat.
Then, suddenly, Foxtail tugged on our hands. Be ready.
I looked over, and she nodded up at the belfry. She’d spotted some movement.
I still saw nothing. But there was no mistaking the sound of command coming from the spire.
“Boy.”
A voice called through the chill in the night air. It sounded young. An apprentice.
“Boy.”
A pause.
“Get away from the gate.”
I looked at Foxtail. She stared up at the tower.
The voice spoke again, sharper than before, slightly nervous. “Boy. Did you hear me? Step back from the wall.”
Now I saw them. A figure—no, two—no, three—up in the belfry. They moved out from behind the tower’s pillars and into view.
Then the air came alive. Fifty feet from the spire, it sparkled, crystals glittering in the moonlight. Ice crystals, I thought. The apprentice is using his rod. A warning shot.
I heard something, or thought I did, far off in the distance. A voice, higher pitched. Lachlan? It was hard to tell over the thumping of my heart.
Foxtail stared.
“Last warning, boy,” the voice called from above.
The figures shifted again.
Foxtail jerked our hands forward.
We ran.
CHAPTER 28
It was so bright. So bright.
The moons blazed overhead, lighting the grounds like daylight. My breath rushed in my ears as we charged toward the wall.
The grove was behind us. Now nothing shielded us from sight. We sprinted over the grass, closing on the High Weaver’s defenses. I braced for impact.
But we hit nothing.
No—not nothing. As we passed through the wall of winter, I felt . . . I don’t know how to put it. The gentlest breeze, a whisper given life, the faintest memory of a chill. And a soft tone, like a distant bell. It rang not in my ears, but my mind. The keystone? The song of its magic?
Whatever it was, it was there, then it was gone. And we were through. We reached the brick wall around the High Weaver’s grounds, seven feet high, spikes on top.
Meriel released Foxtail’s hand and leapt into the air. Her foot met the wall, sprang her upward. She grabbed the base of one of the spikes and then, twisting her body sideways, sailed clear over, untouched.
Foxtail scrambled up behind her, using the cracks and crevices in the brick. Unlike Meriel, she didn’t vault over. She crouched at the top, holding her hands out for me.
I leapt upward and grabbed them. Foxtail, balanced impossibly over the iron spikes, hauled me upward with alarming strength. Suddenly, I stood atop the wall, surprised.
Then, slowly, I tipped over.
My arms whirled about, windmilling, but gravity had its hold. Foxtail grabbed the back of my shirt, slowing me slightly, but still I toppled onto the grass.
I landed heavily, wrenching my knee. Pain shot through my leg, left me rolling on the ground.
I gasped. The sound carried across the lawn. Meriel, already halfway to the house, stared back in horror. Frantically, she waved for us to move.
Foxtail didn’t run. She stood in the open, clear as day in the moonlight, looking up at the tower. Then, calmly, she turned and hauled me to my feet.
“Go!” I whispered.
She ignored me. One arm around my waist, she helped me hobble forward.
The first step was the worst. I had to bite my own hand to stop my howl. The next dozen steps, my knee shrieked, nearly as bad as the first. But Foxtail kept me going. I gritted my teeth and somehow, we made it to the shadows at the side of the house.
Foxtail held me until she was sure my knee wouldn’t give out. Meriel hovered behind her, face tight. “I thought you were going to get frozen,” she said.
“So did I.” I looked down at Foxtail. “You saved my life.”
She patted my cheek. Then, as if nothing had happened, she clambered up the wall, using the stonework and windowsills as handholds. Padraig had told us a window on the third floor of the east wing would be open; an ingredient room, foul-smelling, the glass always up to air it out. Foxtail made her way over to it, leaping like a squirrel, then slipped silently inside.
“I’d pay a thousand crowns to know what’s going on in that girl’s head,” I said.
“Honestly,” Meriel said, “you’re all a mystery to me.”
* * *
Now Meriel and I had to wait. She might be able to follow Foxtail, but I never could, even without an aching knee. I kept it moving, bending it back and forth so it wouldn’t stiffen, and thou
gh it hurt, the pain dimmed to a dull throb. At least I hadn’t torn anything.
The good part was we didn’t need to worry about the guards in the tower anymore. Pressed against the wall of the mansion, we were out of the belfry's line of sight. Now it was the guards patrolling outside we’d have to watch for. Fortunately, the security down here carried lanterns, so we spotted their flames before they even knew we were on the grounds. We hid among the bushes under the windows, silent, as two men with muskets passed us, a female apprentice behind them holding a rod, on their march around the house.
I took out my watch, trying to see its face in the shadow. Again we waited as the minutes ticked by, and every one felt like forever. 10:37. 10:38. 10:39. I didn’t yet start to panic—if Foxtail had been caught, there would have been an alarm—but every passing minute wrecked my nerves.
A window finally squeaked open on the first floor. Foxtail poked her mask out, spotted us—how she saw us in the bushes, I don’t know—and waved us in.
We found ourselves in the kitchen. The room was dark, almost pitch-black after the glare of the moonlight. As my eyes adjusted, I could see the space was huge, with counters long enough to prepare meals for dozens at a time. Five coal stoves rested alongside the wall, iron flues leading upward to join in a giant duct that pierced the ceiling. The prep tables in the center of the kitchen were empty, chefs’ tools hanging neatly above each station.
Four doors led from the room, three deeper inside the east wing, one to the west. Foxtail put a finger to her mask. She pointed toward the interior, held up two fingers on both hands, then made them walk. Two pairs of guards, patrolling the halls.
We crept forward. The girls moved silently as cats. I trailed them, knee still aching, feeling clumsy in comparison.
Slowly, so slowly, Foxtail pushed the door open, so the hinges didn’t even squeak. She poked her head out. Then she waved for us to follow.
We entered the main hall of the wing. After the darkness of the kitchen, the light in the corridor stung my eyes. I was surprised, and somewhat alarmed—why were so many lamps alight at night?—until I realized what made it so bright.