Lightborn

by L J Andrews

  Isa sniggered and popped a sour cheese square into her mouth. The flavors collided in bitter then smooth slipping down her throat in a ribbon of delicious opposites. “And, what have you concluded since I’m no longer twelve.”

  Brigita huffed and tugged on Isa’s ebony braid. “You may be a woman now, but you only turned nineteen not even two nights ago. And sometimes the way you and Joshua bicker I’d never know you were grown. I suppose even if the Mount didn’t keep its end of the bargain, I guess I’ll keep watching you. The gods know Hadeon views you like one of his men, although you certainly aren’t.”

  “I can fight just as well as anyone in Tyv.”

  “Never said you couldn’t. My, your temper is going to cause you trouble someday, girl. What I mean is no matter how much you want to be ruthless, you simply can’t. Too many golden rays in your inner voice, dearie. Though I do wish you’d stop thieving from my pantry. Oh, yes I’ve noticed the missing cacao beans.”

  Isa sighed and slipped a kitchen knife into her boot. “But they are so delicious. And enough with the rays. If anyone from Corian should hear you talking about mystic religions, I can only imagine what would befall you.”

  “Do you see anyone from Corian in my kitchen? When would I have the horrific pleasure of meeting one of those damned Blood Knights?”

  “The first lesson we learn in the guild, Brig, is there are eyes and ears everywhere. Never trust your closest friend to keep your secrets, for everyone only has their own interests at heart.”

  “What a dreary way to live,” Brigita said, ripping a stolen carrot from Isa’s hand before she could take a bite. “You know, a younger Isabelle spoke of rays and Lightborn and gods the same as me. Even if your truth added a little Jershonian spin.”

  Isa shrugged and tossed a pink apple between her hands. “Yes, well that girl is gone, Brigita. Such beliefs only brought pain for that girl. Best to forget and look forward. As Master Hadeon says, there is no purpose in the past but to learn from mistakes. We only look to the future, or we pause too long, and we’ll likely be killed.”

  Brigita clicked her tongue and pumped cold water in the wash basin she’d stacked with pots and pans. “So, where are you going that will keep you from us for so many days?”

  Isa crooked her arm around the woman’s broad shoulders. “You know, I think this is the run I’ll tell you every detail.”

  Brigita muttered a few curses that would cause her Mount of Rays to blush and shoved against Isa’s ribs. “Oh, I should wallop your mouth. Now, would you kindly take that gaudy box and your sharp tongue and leave my sight?”

  Isa laughed, even pressed a quick kiss to Brigita’s cheek, before she gathered the food and blue box Hadeon had left for her to open in her chamber before they would depart the waste that night. “Until I return Briggy, I’ll think of your harsh voice with fondness.”

  “Bring me a sprig of seasoning from wherever you go, girl.”

  Isa bit into the apple so juice trickled down her chin as she backed out of the kitchen. “As always, Briggy. Only the finest seasonings for you. Don’t soak your pillow with tears of my absence, now.”

  Brigita flicked water on Isa’s face as she tried to escape the kitchen, but the crowded space made it impossible, so Isa left with dripping cheeks and lashes.

  Isa clung to the heavy box as she trudged through the halls of the stone manor. The safe house was made from black basalt quarried from the volcanic ring. She loved how the walls gleamed like ebony diamonds and smelled like sea water and fire. It wasn’t such a large manor that a newcomer would get lost, but it was enough to house most of the Tyv. Unless thieves had families, then they lived at the base of the manor in small wooden homes and their children were put to work training, cooking, or mending for the guild.

  Isa rounded the corner and her nose crinkled on instinct. Joshua was pressed against one wall, gnawing on the neck of Priscilla Tohar. She was one of seven women from Zahara whose rare golden hair stood out like a white lily blooming in a scorched wasteland. When Pricilla joined the Thieves Waste after fleeing an ill-tempered father, more than one of the thieves had glanced her way. Isa didn’t intend to stare long but the way Prissy’s fingers clung to Joshua’s dark hair, the way his hands traveled over—well, Isa wanted to be disgusted, but resented the curiosity building instead. What would such a touch feel like?

  Joshua lifted his mouth, his shoulders heaving as though he’d run the entire border of the waste. His brown eyes sparkled in the setting sun. Isa glared when his sullied lips curled up.

  “Keep moving Isabelle, this is no sight for a child.”

  Pricilla giggled like a foolish girl. She was two months Isa’s junior, but somehow found appeal as a woman for Joshua’s hands and mouth. The sight boiled Isa’s brain, not out of jealousy, she would rather slap Joshua’s chin than have his lips on hers, but out of desperate need for acceptance. Acceptance by the thieves of Tyv meant honor, trust…family. And family is what I want.

  She was ashamed of the thought. It had taken root long ago, and no matter how she dug, plucked, and stripped such weakness from her mind Isa knew if Joshua would view her as a trusted sister rather than a nuisance, she imagined certain peace would soon follow.

  She tucked her gaze and stalked past. “Even a child can recognize a disaster. I do hope you won’t base your opinion on the male species on Joshua, Prissy. I’m certain there are some who know what they’re doing.” Isa curled her bottom lip over her teeth to keep from laughing when Joshua’s gaze shadowed, and Priscilla’s pale cheeks burned as she covered her mouth. Isa shimmied out of reach when Joshua made a swipe for her tunic and turned down toward the back stairs that led to the tower. Though she wanted acceptance, she wouldn’t complain she’d been given the tower bedroom. She had privacy and could find solace when the men of Tyv spent the night hours indulging in joys of the flesh.

  “We leave when the moon crests,” Joshua called when she took the first step up the tower.

  Isa halted, and as if her body were freezing with each heartbeat, she glanced around the corner. “What do you mean we?”

  Joshua seemed pleased. Priscilla must have grown bored with waiting and pressed loud kisses to his neck as he spoke. “I am to escort you to the edge of the Jershon boundary.”

  “Master said no one was to know.”

  “He must have said such things to give you a glimmer of confidence. Of course, he wouldn’t leave you without someone keeping watch.”

  Isa fingernails dug into the box in her hands. Why would Hadeon tell Joshua of her shadow run? “I will do this without any help, Joshua. I thought you would be in the noble passage.”

  “I will. Good thieves can cover large terrain, Isa.”

  She pinched her lips. Joshua wasn’t mistaken. The man had an uncanny knack for arriving different places faster than anyone she knew. If she didn’t see his carnal maleness every day, Isa might guess Joshua was Lightborn. But that was impossible. First, she didn’t believe such nonsense any longer. Second, Joshua was only a man. She’d seen him bleed, seen him make mistakes, he had weaknesses. And if the mystics from her studies were once real, Isa always imagined them as stunning, perfect beings. Joshua simply ran fast.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “And you won’t get it,” he said as Pricilla slammed his back against the wall. Joshua grinned savagely before he glanced at Isa again. “I’m only escorting to make sure you don’t ruin anything on the way there.”

  “You’re the worst sort of man, Joshua Rayhab.” Isa stomped up the wooden steps as Joshua’s baritone chuckle splintered in her ears. She would need to work on her wit someday, so she made him scowl not laugh in satisfaction.

  The tower bedroom was nothing to boast over, but it was hers. Isa drew in a long breath of the musty chill and dragged a finger along the mirror frame soaked in silver leaf. She checked her braid in the glass and tucked in a few flyaway dark pieces. Staring at her own blue eyes, Isa considered whether to dull the color for the run
. Blue was a rare color for Jershonians, and her eyes were partly why Hadeon had adopted her into Tyv. Yes, she was a halfling, but Brigita had mentioned once that Master Hadeon suspected Isa was Lightborn, and he wanted that power in his guild.

  Of course, none of it was true. No mystics existed, and over the years Isa wondered if any ever had. Her eyes were because of mixed blood, a constant reminder of what happened when the wrong people fell in love. Thankfully, Master Hadeon hadn’t banished her after he’d come to the same realization. At least she assumed he knew she was no mystic.

  Isa flung open the doors to a black cherry wardrobe and gathered her skin powders. The wardrobe wood was unlike anything she’d ever owned before and the engraved symbol in the glossy wood reminded her of the Mount priests she’d read about. The chest came from a raid, but Isa had never had the courage to ask if it had belonged to one of the hidden holy men. Some still taught the ancient religion in the shadows, and the priests blessed people with knowledge and hope to accept their unique voice in their rays.

  Isa dabbed her cheeks with dark shades and stared at her eyes again as if searching for anything more than blue, gold and green. Nothing. Not a ray in sight. Guilt panged in the back of her head, and she knew if her parents were alive to hear her cynicism it would break their hearts.

  Her stubborn curls refused to remain tucked, and eventually Isa pinned back a few strands with the crystal pins Anders had given Brigita on a rare run into Corian. Brigita swiftly offered the beautiful pins to Isa as if having something from the Blood Emperor’s land would curse the cook in some way. Sha’run hadn’t been seen in years but seemed to carry on the tradition of murdering worshippers of the Mount and kidnapping anyone thought to be Lightborn. The Blood Emperor seemed to have an interest in halflings, as well. Isa knew people like her were probably slaves or feed for his vicious Blood Knights. With a shrug, she pinned the final piece of hair and studied the Corian hairpin. Mount believers might fear Sha’run, but there was no crime enjoying the spoils from Corian the believers refused to keep.

  Lifting the top off the box, Isa gasped and dragged her fingers gently across the gown. The yellow fabric was like cream and glimmers of iridescent beads cascaded over a bodice made of gold thread. She beamed and stripped her tunic and hosen that had a hole in one knee. Years had gone by since she’d donned such a fine garment. The fabric wrapped around her hips and bust as though it were an exquisite layer of new skin. Isa spun in a circle. She could be frivolous since no one was watching.

  Until a tattered voice said, “It will do.”

  She made no noise as she turned on her heel, dagger in hand, aimed to face an intruder. Her heart throbbed in her throat but slipped back into place once her shoulders eased at Hadeon’s hulking shadow. “Master, you frightened me.”

  “Thieves are surprised, though even then it can be a fatal mistake, but never frightened, Isabelle. Giving our fears to another provides them power.”

  “Yes, master.” Isa cleared her throat and dug through the box of supplies again. The dress had space to conceal a shiv and small knife inside the bodice without being detected through searches if she was careful. She slipped the weapons into place but unsheathed her dagger from her thigh and took the kitchen knife she’d swiped from her boot.

  “Your papers should be in order for the gate.”

  “You wish me to cross at the entrance? I imagined I would slip over the wall.”

  Hadeon narrowed his eyes and popped his common sprig of cinnamon between his teeth. “It’s been many years since you’ve seen the walls of Jershon, Isabelle. The best thieves can slip by without the help of shadows and live in the daylight without anyone being the wiser. You depend on the night too much, now you will be challenged in plain sight.”

  Isa nodded, but her pulse was a raging river. “Do you,” she cleared her throat, “do you think I’ll be recognized?”

  Hadeon snapped the cinnamon with his teeth. “How can I say? If you are recognized it will be because you slipped. I will not answer this tiresome question again. You are ready.”

  Compliments were few with Hadeon. Isa smiled as she straightened her shoulders and tucked the identification papers into a silver satchel. Saying she was ready was the best form of compliment Hadeon could bestow. He wanted her to succeed. Though he didn’t show it often, Isa would catch glimpses of concern in his gaze. Joshua spun a different light on their master’s reasons, but having Tyv members aware of her location, Isa believed, was a way of Hadeon making sure she was safe.

  “Master, you have yet to tell me what two things I’m to steal.”

  “When the time is right, I shall tell you. All you need to know is you must find a way into General Kawal’s manse and graces.”

  Isa didn’t understand. For nearly a year she’d been waiting to understand. The only difference through the year had been the moment Hadeon admitted this was a two-piece run involving the general. The day had come to retrieve the pieces and still Hadeon had told her nothing, in fact her master seemed to distance himself these last few months.

  “I am to go with Joshua?”

  Hadeon sighed. “He knows the location, but no details, Isabelle. It is to stay that way,” he said as though reading through the lines of her question. “Now, it’s time. Follow me.”

  Some might say dusk in the forest was peaceful. That the gray and blue trees offered meditation not the taut tension mounting along Isa’s shoulders. All she saw were shadows and more crevices for enemies to hide. She peered around a thick tree. The journey through the waste and outer forest had the scent of fresh rain on wood. She wanted that smell back. Jershon once boasted an aroma of cloves, sweet oils, and fresh grass, now smoke, pungent horses, and damp earth soaked her senses. Isa gulped her disgust as she stared at the harsh iron walls surrounding the empire border. Where once an alabaster majesty stood, now spikes lined the top with watch towers every fifty paces and bolts the size of her palms holding heavy beams for better reinforcements. The creamy clouds were harsh with gray smoke and a haze misted over the moat around the wall as if the fog trapped the scent of mold in place. How Jershon had changed since she’d been run out.

  She’d powdered her skin to seem darker but left her blue eyes untouched. A pale silk veil covered her head, but Isa had pinned the sheer fabric over her nose and mouth as well. As she remembered noblewomen would do if they were attempting to seduce a husband. It must have had some merit since Joshua stopped and studied her face in a new way for half a breath once she was dressed and came out from behind her tree. Even if his forehead, eyes, and nose were painted black Isa flushed as he stared. He cleared his throat and tugged his black hood over his head, so his face was lost in darkness.

  “I’ve buried two blades just there.” Joshua pointed to a spot between two braided trees. She squinted and saw the slightest gleam of a golden marker protruding through the dark soil. Joshua tugged on her arm and slipped a gold bangle over her wrist. “There is a magnetic pull between this, and the marker should you become disoriented.”

  “Hadeon has allowed you to be innovative again.”

  Joshua huffed. “You’ll be grateful for my knowledge of magnetics when you need the blades to save your life.” Joshua stepped back into the shadows. “I leave you here, Isabelle. You understand how to make contact?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “I know what I’m doing.” Though the truth was she’d never felt like spewing her stomach more than this moment.

  “Fine then. Until the blood moon.” Joshua pulled his hood tighter around his face and slipped toward shadows.

  She bit the tip of her tongue. “Joshua…” He paused in the trees but didn’t turn around. She wrung her hands and focused on the gold rings on her fingers. “Don’t…get your men killed.”

  She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded as though Joshua might have chuckled. “Worry about your own life, Isabelle. But…if you wind up dead, I might kill you myself.”

  Isa’s mouth twitched with a grin. Perhaps arrogant Joshua mig
ht have a glimmer of care more than she thought. Her chest was tight knowing forty thieves went with Joshua toward the Noble Passage of the North. She cared, though it was difficult to admit. The strips of earth her guild traveled cut through neutral lands and had once been where princes, nobles, ladies, and imperial caravans could pass between empires. Until the guilds of Thieves Waste, brutes, and trappers realized the opportunity passing by. Though the corridors were anything but noble now, the name remained.

  Now that Joshua was gone, silence enrobed the forest. The skin along Isa’s arms prickled. Jershon’s gates would close after sunset and sleeping in the forest in such a regal gown invited danger. As she sauntered toward the west gate Isa relayed the initial plans. Convince the guards of nobility despite having no ladies. Difficult, but Isa understood men since she lived among many of the carnal creatures. With enough batting eyelashes, she could rouse up a tale why her escorts were absent. Get to Sortis. The capital city remained three miles from the gate. She could buy passage with the coppers Hadeon had sent. Isa swallowed a lump as she considered the final step in the initial plan. Reach out to Lilian. She clamped her teeth as she stepped onto the dusty road and stared at the open iron mouth gaping for her to enter half a mile ahead.

  Her sister would be the most challenging part of the plan.

  Chapter 14

  Scribe Square

  Pungent sweat, sweet smoked grass, and a touch of festering wounds steamed from the wooden planks of Bradach’s vessel. Roark tromped up the steps from the lower deck and leaned over the edge of the ship as it maneuvered into the main port in the Gulf of Tjuvar. He swallowed a scratch in his throat when russet iron walls came into sight through the smoggy haze now encapsulating once-sparkling Jershon. It was too soon to return. He could wield a blade, but against Kawal? The man deserved more than a broken bruiser with revenge in every swing. He deserved agony.