Dance of Thieves

  We headed toward the rear tunnel exit that led to the sprawling warehouses and stable grounds behind the arena—and to a livery. It was where Fertig used to work, and Jase wanted to ask a few questions. As we walked, Jase’s mood lightened. Merchants greeted him with smiles and lighthearted humor, much of it directed at the lovely jewel gracing his very plain arm. Jase was pleased to see that Gunner had everything running smoothly in his absence—which eased my mind as well. I didn’t want him to regret his time rebuilding the settlement. As we walked, I saw the relief and maybe even the pride in his face. There were hundreds of years of Ballenger history here, a legacy to keep secure, and it had all fallen on his shoulders so very recently. He was eager to point out every detail, drawing me deeper into another part of his world, and I happily fell into it.

  We were halfway through the tunnel exit when a chill brushed my arms. It wasn’t a breeze. I felt it circle. Cool fingers grazed my shoulders. My neck tingled. Then a quiet voice, Go back. A faint cold warning and then more followed in a rush. Stop. Go back. Glints of light spread in a line across the end of the tunnel, linked hands blocking our passage. Do not pass this way.

  “What’s wrong?” Jase asked. I hadn’t realized I had stopped. People walked around us, continuing on through the tunnel.

  A breeze lifted my hair. Not this way.

  “Kazi?”

  I felt for my dagger at my side, though the voices had now fallen silent. There were centuries of history here. I was bound to hear some of it. Death had passed this way many times. “Nothing, “I said, and we continued forward.

  We emerged into a large square, the sun warming my skin again, the scent of pine easing my mood, everything in order and as calm as a bustling arena can be. Tall trees cut striped shadows across a plaza that was bordered by large warehouses and barns. I saw the livery ahead, but as we walked toward it I spotted something else tucked back in a dark shady corner. Wagons inside another warehouse were being loaded and covered with tarps. Something about them—

  I stopped. “What is that, Jase?”

  He hardly gave it a glance. “Just another warehouse,” he answered, grabbing my elbow to urge me forward.

  I pulled free. “What kind of warehouse?” I didn’t wait for his answer. I was already walking toward it. I stopped just inside the gaping entrance. It was dark. Cool. My stomach hovered near my heart, everything inside of me light and airless, something taking hold of me, my steps moving all out of order. I was numb, part of me soaring above it all, watching. Three wagons were being loaded. Rope was woven over the tarps—tarps with black stripes. It was the stripes that stopped me. They were sharp nails dragging across my throat.

  “Previzi,” Jase said, coming up alongside me. “They operate out of this warehouse.”

  An enormous warehouse. I could see rows of other empty wagons stored along the side, waiting to be loaded. By now, several of the workers had noticed us standing at the entrance. I scanned their faces, none the one I searched for.

  My skin. My eyes. Floating. Not part of me. My voice, barely mine, sounding like someone I didn’t know. Young, fragile, breakable. A girl too afraid to run.

  “But Previzi are illegal,” I said. “They’ve been illegal for years. They’re not allowed in the kingdoms.” My voice still soft. Lost.

  Jase hovered in a different world, strong, confident. “Maybe officially, but trust me, merchants in every kingdom eagerly buy from them. They provide—”

  I spun, my voice stronger. “Provide what? Stolen merchandise?”

  “Sometimes there’s merchandise that—it doesn’t quite—”

  “What did you mean by ‘operate’?” I asked.

  He looked at me, confused, finally understanding that something was very wrong. “This is their base,” he answered.

  Base? “For how long? How long have they been based here?”

  “Kazi, what difference—”

  “How long?” My voice was loud now, a scream. The air shattered in fragments, every sound sharp in my ears.

  “I’m not really sure.”

  “Eleven years, Jase? Have they been here for eleven years?”

  He nodded. “At least.”

  Everything that had been weightless inside me was now molten, rushing in my head, burning my skin. “They’re thieves! You’re harboring thieves! They sell nothing but—”

  “Kazi, lower your voice,” Jase ordered between gritted teeth. Workers had stopped loading wagons and were listening. A crowd gathered just outside the door, watching. Jase leaned close. “The Previzi drivers are—”

  “Predators!” I yelled. “Scum! And I will not lower my voice! How can you just look the other way—”

  “Stop!” Jase ordered. He grabbed my arm and began pulling me away. I twisted free and my other arm swung, hitting him in the jaw. He stumbled back, incredulous, his eyes locked on mine, and then I ran. I was a girl running through the jehendra, through stalls, through shadows and mud and nightmares, a girl running with nowhere to go.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  JASE

  I took a few steps, watching her run away, then tasted the blood in my mouth. I touched my hand to my jaw.

  “Should we go after her?” Titus asked. He and Gunner had been nearby when the shouting broke out.

  I shook my head. “No, let her go.” I already knew they’d never find her if she didn’t want to be found. I was still trying to understand what had happened. I looked at the people who had stopped to watch. All the people who saw the Patrei get smacked in the chops by a Vendan soldier half his size.

  And then a voice from behind me.

  The wrong voice.

  Clucking. Sighing. “Oh dear. A lover’s quarrel? Affection is so fleeting, isn’t it?”

  When I turned, Paxton took a step back, his straza a step forward, maybe seeing something in my face.

  It didn’t do them any good. My fist shot out, sending Paxton flying to the ground.

  * * *

  “If they weren’t broken before, they are now,” Mason said. I winced as he pulled on my fingers and rewrapped my knuckles.

  Gunner had brought some ice for my jaw. The inside of my mouth was raw where my teeth had sliced into it.

  “She’s got a helluva swing,” Titus mused with admiration, ignoring that it was my mouth that was her target.

  “What’s going on?” Priya asked, walking through the foyer of the apartment.

  “Apparently, Jase’s favorite Vendan soldier doesn’t approve of Previzi,” Mason answered. “She gave him a stinging lecture about them in front of everyone.”

  “And she hit you?”

  “She wasn’t herself,” I answered. But who was she? I didn’t think she heard half of the things I said to her. She was transformed the minute she saw the Previzi warehouse. Their goods were sometimes questionable—but dammit, every kingdom dealt with them. Yes, we looked the other way. So did everyone else. They had merchandise people wanted. And they bought plenty of goods to trade here at the arena at a fair price too.

  Priya’s brows rose. “So Vendans are sticklers for the letter of the law?”

  No. Kazi skirted too many edges to be a stickler. Something else bothered her. She had acted strange from the minute she stepped into the tunnel. Her eyes had been glazed.

  “We’ll go do damage control out in the arena,” Priya said. “Say you two are cozy again and having a good laugh about it. Just a lover’s spat. Enough saw you two all kissy and hand in hand today that they’ll buy it.” She paused, her hands on her hips. “And it’s true, Jase, isn’t it? Just a spat?”

  I nodded. Maybe. I was still retracing all our steps and words.

  “Well?” Gunner grumbled as he, Priya, and Titus walked out the door. “Go find her and actually get cozy again. We’ve got a queen on her way.”

  Mason stayed behind. He tied off the bandage and eyed the door waiting for it to shut. “I didn’t want to bring this up in front of the others, but I thought I should mention it. Something a littl
e peculiar.”

  I slid my tongue along the swollen flesh in my mouth. “Say it.”

  He told me the apothecary in town had approached him today and asked when we would be getting another shipment of birchwings in. He was out of stock and had a request from a patron.

  “You know how often we get it, Mason. Once a year, twice if we’re lucky.” It was made from a fungus that grew like wings on birch limbs in the north. The Kbaaki brought it along with other potions they concocted. I didn’t care about fungus right now. “He’ll get it when he—”

  “It’s not about the birchwings. It’s about who asked for it. Wren. And she asked for enough to knock out half the town.”

  “Maybe she just doesn’t understand dosage.”

  He shook his head. “I gave her a small vial from the storeroom on the night of the party. She said she had a headache. I told her it was four doses’ worth.”

  I remembered seeing the half-empty vial when I rummaged through Kazi’s wardrobe for a shirt.

  “Why do you suppose she’d want so much?” Mason asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe to take back to Venda with them. They may not have medicine like that there.” I stood. I had to go find Kazi. She was probably back at Tor’s Watch by now. “Just keep an eye on our stockroom. Make sure it stays locked.”

  I was just stepping out the door when I ran into Garvin. I waved him off, saying we’d have to talk later. “I think you’ll want to hear this now. It’s about that girl from Brightmist.”

  My pulse raced a little faster. “Go ahead.”

  “I finally figured it out. I was in the tower, keeping an eye on her in the arena when it came to me. I saw her stumble into the king—deliberately. I think she nicked him.”

  “She stole from the king?”

  “I can’t be sure,” he answered. “Not from way up in the tower. She was smooth. But she meant to run into him, I know that much. I watched her run between the stalls, circling around right into his path—and then her hands were all over him.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair, blowing out a frustrated breath. She didn’t mention taking anything from the king. I looked back at Garvin. “You said you figured something out?”

  “Her name. Ten. She was a petty thief in Venda. Probably the best.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  KAZI

  My breath came in gulps. Eben’s arms clamped around me.

  “Breathe, Kazi. Take it slow,” he whispered in my ear.

  Water steamed in a kettle. Hot bread lay on a rack. Half-chopped turnips were abandoned on the cutting board. Their voices were details, like the bread and steam and the stab in my throat, all of them splintering through me, as if I had stepped into a world that was exploding apart. Eben had seen me storm through the hallway and pulled me into the kitchen. Natiya’s eyes loomed in and out of my vision. Wren bit her nail. Synové pulled on her braid. I closed my eyes.

  As I hurried up the mountain, all I could think was, Eleven years. For eleven years, the driver had been coming and going with the Ballengers’ blessing. He was here all along. This was where his journey began, where he slept and ate and bathed, where his life went on, when mine had stopped.

  “Are you all right?”

  All right? I made a vow. I had no choice but to be all right.

  But my insides bled.

  Drained through my pores.

  Every part of me hollow again.

  I remembered the brokenness.

  The hunger.

  The years vanished, and I was hiding under a bed again.

  Where is the brat? Where is she?

  In the warehouse, I had reached for my knife. I was ready to kill them all, just as I had been when I’d gone after the ambassador. It was only the flash of the prison I had landed my whole crew in that made me stop.

  The man who took my mother was here. Somewhere. And if he wasn’t here today, he’d roll in on a wagon tomorrow, or the next day, and when he did I would do something that would jeopardize everyone in this room because he mattered to me more than a thousand valleys piled with dead. I craved justice for one.

  I need you, Kazimyrah. I believe in you.

  I floated between worlds, between oaths and fear, promises and justice—between love and loathing.

  “Drink this,” Natiya ordered.

  Eben loosened his hold, and I took the water Natiya held out to me. I finished the glass and asked for more, turning away, leaning against the counter, molding composure the way I did when my next meal depended on it. A hundred tricks, one piled on another, fooling myself that I could do it, digging my nails into my palms until one pain masked another that I couldn’t bear.

  I downed the second glass of water and finally turned back to face them. I told them about the Previzi warehouse.

  Anger pinched Wren’s face. “Previzi? Based here?”

  “And the welcome mat is rolled out for them,” I confirmed. “Something else happened too. I punched the Patrei in the face.”

  A deep silence fell in the room.

  “Did you knock any teeth out?” Synové finally asked, a certain desperation in her wink and smile.

  “If I did, it wasn’t enough.”

  Natiya sighed. “You’ll have to smooth it over with him until we leave. An apology—”

  I would not apologize. Ever. “We leave tomorrow,” I said.

  “But—”

  “With our quarry,” I added. “I know where the captain is—at least I think I do.”

  I told them my hunch. It was Jase who had given me the answer. And Priya. And my own forgotten wishes that my mother and I had had a second way out.

  As I had escaped from the arena, as Mije gave me all he was worth racing up the back trail to Tor’s Watch, I heard Priya speaking again, They escaped down another path, and then Jase, Every good stronghold has more than one way out. Otherwise you could be trapped.

  Another way out.

  * * *

  Wren and Synové came with me.

  “You might hear voices,” I warned Synové. “They’re harmless. You’ll be fine. Just stay close.”

  We casually sauntered through the gardens, smiling in case anyone watched, turning, pointing at butterflies that didn’t exist, and when each of us had scanned the grounds and the windows that looked down on us and had given the all clear, we walked down the path that led to the rear entrance of Darkcottage. We quietly slipped inside and I eased open a shutter in the kitchen, just a crack to give us some light. We only used hand signals. I pointed to the stairs that led to the cellar. I went first, made sure the room was empty, then signaled for them to follow. Except for a circle of dim light at the base of the stairs, the room was completely black.

  I had already told them to feel the walls for hinges, handholds, loose stones, anything that could be moved, to look for cracks of light, and feel for drafts. We moved silently and slowly, careful not to make any sound that might reveal us. The cellar was large, and it was slow work moving in the dark. I reached the end of one solid wall and started on another, meeting Synové in the middle. Nothing. I was still certain—

  And then Wren ticked a soft sound, one that could be mistaken for a creak in an old house. She found it—on the wall that supported the stairs—a draft between panels. We listened, and when we were sure there was nothing immediately behind the panel, I pressed on it. It sprang open a crack, and we stepped into the end of a very long tunnel. At the other end was a door with a thin line of light streaming from the bottom of it. Once we started down, we’d have no cover. We’d be open targets if someone should enter from the other end. The only weapons we had were the daggers at our sides. Carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows through the gardens would have been too conspicuous.

  “Ready?” I whispered.

  They nodded. We crept down the tunnel, the only sound my pulse drumming in my ears as we neared the door. I put my hand out to have them wait while I carefully eased forward to make sure there were no alcoves for dogs to
hide in. It was clear and I put my ear to the door, then gently squeezed the latch. Our breaths caught at the faint click. I eased it open a hair’s width at a time and cool fresh air rushed in, green with the scent of soil and grass. The other side of the door was stone that matched its surrounding walls, impossible to see unless you knew it was there. I peeked out on a large empty terrace, almost like a foyer, that had several arched passageways intersecting it. The one straight ahead emptied out onto rolling empty grounds covered with grass, still lit by the fading light of dusk. But something in the distance at the far end of the grounds caught my eye—a wide curved double door set into a stone wall—a door that was strangely familiar.

  Stand watch, I signaled to Wren and Synové as I stepped out onto the terrace, carefully hugging the walls and shadows. At the end of the terrace, I looked across the grassy grounds at the distant door, and I realized I was looking at a door I had already seen—but I had seen it from the other side. Jase had claimed it was only another exit. There’s nothing on the other side.

  Except all of this.

  A cold fist gripped my spine.

  All of this.

  I looked up at the roof of a cave that seemed as high as the sky. It swept out over half the grounds like a wave poised to crash. Tendrils of vines hung from its ceiling. Tucked below it against its wall was a long house, shallow in depth, with multiple staggered terraces. Only steps away was another outbuilding. Where the wall of cave ended, more of the fortress wall began, obstructing it all from view. It was a hidden enclave right within Tor’s Watch.

  I skulked along the outside wall of the house, just another shadow creeping across its porches, hiding behind pillars, peeking in windows. I passed room after room of bedchambers and sitting rooms.

  And then I heard a low rumble of voices. I stopped and sweat flashed over my skin. I was both eager and afraid of what I would find. I listened, but the words were indiscernible. I moved closer to the sound, then ducked behind a pillar when I saw someone cross a room with doors that opened onto the broad terrace.