Corbit’s Canyon held to but to a single resident born to the patron of Healing, a young woman who boasted the extremely rare combination of Healing and Thieves medallions. Directly upon arriving back in the canyon, Flynn had summoned her to the clubhouse to attend Knoxx, and she’d spent the entire three days since doing all she could just to keep him alive. The mage had lost far too much blood, according to her claims, and his chances of pulling through continued to be in some doubt.
Flynn was presently in his clubhouse office. He was attempting to read over some reports sent to him from various sects of Thieves all about the country, their lists of recent spoils, but wasn’t managing to actually digest much of what he was looking at. For one, his entire body remained incredibly sore; with all of the Healer’s energies being directed into saving Knoxx, Flynn was left to deal with his own injuries unaided.
The worst of them was his knee. Although he’d managed to avoid taking the blow straight-on, thus saving him from a shattered kneecap, the joint was still sprained, swollen, stiff, and very difficult to move around on. His face wasn’t exactly a pleasant sight at the moment, either. His nose remained broken, both of his eyes were blackened by deep bruises, and his lower lip was split and scabbed.
He still had no idea as to the identity of the man he’d fought in the vineyard that night, knowing only that he’d been wearing a War Birth medallion and that it wasn’t an acquaintance Flynn would be anxious to make again. It had taken everything he had just to hold his own, and he suspected that if Knoxx hadn’t interfered when he did, it was very possible he’d now be dead.
Knoxx had regained consciousness only twice since arriving back in Corbit’s Canyon, and neither time had he been in any condition to explain himself. Flynn generally had the patience of a stone—an important trait for any thief—but both his anger and curiosity were beginning to get the better of him. He’d known Knoxx had been up to something when he’d left for Tyrell so enthusiastically, but so far, Flynn hadn’t been able to make any sense out of the mage’s actions.
Yesterday, he’d summoned Tishan to the clubhouse and put her through a rather ruthless interrogation. Because she and Knoxx were so close, it had been his suspicion that she’d been privy to whatever aims the mage had harbored by going to the vineyard. After an hour, however, he’d been satisfied that she’d known nothing, and was now as mystified as he over Knoxx’s actions. He’d finally sent her away, frustrated at his continued lack of answers. He would now have no choice but to wait and simply hope for Knoxx to pull through.
He was also hoping Knoxx would be able to tell him what, if anything, he’d uncovered in Tyrell. The mage had shown a lot of nerve by deviating from his orders, but Flynn didn’t think he’d had nerve enough to ignore those orders all together. Therefore, he might still have turned up an interesting tidbit or two while in the city of the Arts, information that might help explain just what had gone wrong the final night of the Ardin’s Pride festival. This was information Tishan was also anxious for, although he’d denied her request to sit in with Knoxx, even during his many hours of unconsciousness. Besides the Healer and her assistant, Flynn had no intention of giving the mage the opportunity to speak to anyone but himself before relating the tale of his actions.
Then, he would have to decide upon an appropriate punishment. So long as Knoxx lived, there was no chance he was getting out of this mess unscathed. If for no other reason, Flynn had his own authority to protect; although he did hope Knoxx would be able to provide a more or less reasonable explanation.
On another note, Flynn now had at least two reasons to keep him from suspecting that his Patrons hadn’t decided to completely mess with his affairs this summer season.
First and foremost, official word from Tyrell continued to remain unchanged. This meant that after almost three full weeks, no one had yet made any mention of his appearance at the Tulan ranch, with the crimes still being hanged upon persons, or rather Thieves, unknown. Tishan was also still in the clear, as it appeared no one had so much as learned her true name, much less connected her in any way to the stolen merchandise. It was possible a Justice officer or two had been dispatched to investigate her assumed identity after Lord Beran’s shouted accusations, but if so they wouldn’t get very far into their search. Not only was the name she’d given a complete fabrication, but so was the mountain-side town she’d claimed as her home. No mention had yet been made of Knoxx either, although this was far less surprising.
Ultimately, being in the clear meant that Flynn was now free to leave the canyon without fear of being pursued, arrested, and jailed. The further benefit was he would be able to journey to Aralexia in a little more than two weeks’ time, and personally oversee the web of gambling set to commence about the games of the King’s Challenge. Having to miss this would have annoyed him, as well as put him in a bind as to who could have possibly stepped in to cover the task in his place. It was not an easy job, requiring excellent as well as swift arithmetic skills, and he was relieved he wouldn’t be forced to seek out a competent replacement. Also, the games of the King’s Challenge were in and of themselves a great entertainment, and he would have been extremely sour to have missed them this year—as well as losing out on the opportunity to do a little gambling himself.
Flynn finally gave up on his reports, shoving them into a desk drawer and vowing to himself that he would get to them tomorrow. Restless, he got to his feet, grabbed the cane he’d been using to aid his knee, and headed from the room, intending to make his way out to the stables for his daily ride upon Caelis.
Actually, Caelis himself presented another point of interest in regard to what had transpired within the vineyard. At no time had the pegasus attempted to interfere with the fight, not even during the few moments Flynn had been held at sword-point. The beast’s lack of action therefore implied only one thing; the War-born man he’d been fighting hadn’t intended to kill him. Because Caelis, and all pegasi, were heart-readers, this interpretation of the facts could not be a mistake. Caelis had not sensed a life-threatening danger, and therefore chosen not to interfere. Flynn would remember this if he was ever to confront that still-unnamed man again.
He was just passing through the entrance hall, on his way outside, when noise on the stairwell to his right paused him. He glanced upward, seeing Yalla, the Healer, slowly shuffling downward. Her hand was tightly gripped upon the railing, and she was bent almost double as she descended, taking one measured step at a time.
Not exactly at his most spry himself, Flynn moved as quickly as he could to the bottom of the stairs and stood looking up at her. “Yalla, do you need assistance?” he called up to her.
She glanced down, seeing him, but kept to her slow and steady descent. “All I need is rest, Commander Fajen,” she returned, sounding weary. “The mage has awoken and is showing signs of improvement. It took all of my skill, as well as most of my energy, but I am now confident that he will live,” she said.
Flynn felt relief, but also a sudden resurgence of impatience. “I must see him,” he told her, as she came to rest upon the lowest stair, putting them at eye level.
Yalla pursed her lips, staring back at him knowingly as she said, “You cannot cause him any stress. He remains very weak and will need all his strength to aid in my own continued ministrations.”
“I understand,” he said.
She continued to frown at him. “I mean it, Flynn. No stress.”
He grinned back her, noting the change to a more common form of address—something she only did when they were alone. “I promise to go easy on him,” he vowed to her, “at least, for the time being. How long until he’s fully recovered?”
She coughed slightly and shook her head. “A week at least, more likely two. And only so long as I don’t have to attend to anyone else in that time. He remains in need of much care.” She stopped and leaned forward slightly, scrutinizing his shattered nose. “Your face must be paining you a great deal.”
 
; “More so my knee, but it can wait,” he replied. “Once Knoxx is well, you can see to me.”
“Very well.”
“Get some rest now, Yalla. Feel free to make use of any room in the clubhouse.”
She managed a slight grin over her weariness. “Does that include your own?”
“Most certainly, although you may prefer a bed here upon the ground floor.”
She nodded, exhaustion again taking over her features. “I will return to the mage once I’ve gotten a few hours of sleep. Make certain he is not left alone.”
He nodded and watched her move off before starting the rather arduous task of maneuvering himself up the staircase. Even with the help of his cane, the climb took him several minutes and left his knee throbbing. He was cursing both Knoxx and the unidentified War-born man by the time he reached the top and began limping into the west corridor.
The vacant suite he’d dumped Knoxx into upon their return consisted of a bed chamber with adjoining sitting room. Flynn entered into the latter, finding it empty, before moving farther in and pausing in the doorway.
A middle-aged man sat in a chair next to the mage’s bed, changing the dressings covering Knoxx’s wound. The man had been born to Thieves but had chosen Healing, an act that gave him much skill although none near to Yalla’s own Healing-born ability. Commonly, he worked as her assistant, seeing to the lesser ailments so that she could expend her own energies into those more severe. Taking him in now, Flynn noted that he appeared nearly as exhausted as Yalla herself, and further determined it had taken extreme efforts from the both of them just to pull Knoxx through this.
“Carril,” he said quietly, still paused in the doorway.
The man glanced up with lined and weary eyes. “Commander Fajen,” he said. “I trust Yalla has spoken to you?”
Flynn nodded and limped a few steps closer. “Yes. Go take some rest in the sitting room. I will stay with him for a time.”
Carril looked relieved as he pushed himself to his feet, tossing a bloody bandage into the rubbish bucket as he stood. “My thanks, Commander Fajen. Wake me for any concerns.”
“I will,” Flynn said. “Close the doors on your way out, if you please.”
Carril did this wordlessly, vanishing behind the glossy wooden doors as he swung them shut. Flynn waited until they clicked closed, and then turned slowly to face the bed. Knoxx’s eyes were open and regarding him warily.
“I’ve been expecting you,” the mage said, his voice hoarse and weak.
The Thieves’ commander swung himself down to settle upon the bedside chair Carril had been occupying, his eyes never leaving Knoxx’s face. “If you ever expect to rise from that bed again, I suggest you start talking,” he said.
Knoxx didn’t appear surprised or alarmed by the threat, his face calm and pale as he looked back from the feathered pillow his head rested on. He even managed a faint smile as he said, “Would you believe me if I said it was for your own safety that I did not speak anything of this to you?”
“My own safety?” Flynn repeated calmly. “Clearly you have not taken a good look at my face. No, I would not believe you.”
Knoxx sighed, moving his blue gaze to blink up at the ceiling for a few silent moments. Flynn watched him, saying nothing.
Finally the mage spoke again, his eyes still staring above him.
“This is my brother’s business, Flynn. I snuck into that vineyard to see out a task he asked of me, a task even I don’t know the details of. And one he warned would jeopardize the lives of any who learned of it. I can say no more.”
Flynn took this in silently. Knoxx’s answer was one he hadn’t considered, but one that granted instant understanding. Flynn had made Devlin Alvik’s acquaintance on a couple of occasions, through Knoxx, and was well aware of the man’s station in Aralexia. Devlin’s warning would not have been made in exaggeration; and to put his own brother’s life at risk by drawing him into this matter, whatever its truth, made it clear he was swimming in some seriously deep waters—waters Flynn wanted absolutely no part of.
“I fear even telling you this much may put you at further risk, but you need to heed this warning,” Knoxx went on, now turning his head to take in his commander. “We were both seen at the vineyard, and while I won’t know for certain until I’ve had the chance to speak with Devlin, this act alone may very well risk our lives. I’m sorry I got you caught up in this, Flynn. I never meant to involve you, or anyone else.”
Flynn said nothing for several long minutes. Then, “You weren’t there to kill anyone, were you?”
Knoxx looked at him in surprise. “No. Just to observe.”
Flynn believed him. Knoxx would kill if backed into a corner, but his was not a dark heart. What he was capable of at his brother’s request, however, was a question he could not have answered, and why he’d needed to ask.
“When and where are you next supposed to meet with Devlin?” he asked.
“Aralexia. At the King’s Challenge.”
Flynn nodded. It made sense, for this was generally the only time of the year the two brothers saw each other—the perfect opportunity for Knoxx to relay whatever knowledge he’d sought and found at the vineyard.
“I will allow this, Knoxx, but only because of your brother’s position. The Patrons only know the truth of this matter, but whatever it is, I don’t want to be told another word about it.”
The mage was looking back at him, nodding.
“But you cannot embroil any other Thieves in this affair. This is yours and your brother’s mess, and the two of you will deal with it; including whatever damage we might have caused at that vineyard.”
Knoxx was still nodding. “I don’t even know what this concerns, Flynn,” he said.
“If you’re smart, you won’t seek the details of it either,” Flynn told him. “The games your brother plays are deadly, Knoxx. Do not forget that. Tell him what he needs to know and have done with it. Otherwise, I cannot allow you back inside this canyon.”
For the first time, the mage began showing signs of alarm. “You would exile me?” he asked, disbelieving.
Flynn regarded him with utter seriousness. “You can be my thief, or your brother’s spy. It’s your choice. We live dangerous enough lives without you bringing trouble from Aralexia down upon us.”
“There is no choice. My life is within the canyon,” Knoxx insisted.
Flynn nodded. “Then tell Devlin what he needs to know once we arrive for the Challenge; I won’t stand in the way of that. But then you’re done with it, Knoxx.”
“All right,” the mage agreed. “It will be as you say. I will go no further with this, even should he ask.”
“One last thing,” Flynn said, using his cane to begin pushing himself to his feet.
Knoxx looked to him questioningly.
“I know I shouldn’t even ask,” Flynn went on, “but the man I fought—who was he?”
The mage grunted softly. “So far as I can see, he’s nothing more than one born to War, about to be freed from his decade-long term of slavery.”
Flynn took this to mean this man was not the one Knoxx had been sent there to spy on. He also wasn’t overjoyed to learn this man was apparently soon to be free; Flynn knew himself to be easily recognizable as well as highly notorious, and it was a surety his identity had been ascertained. But would this man be so brash as to come after him?
Probably not, he decided silently. If he’d had no intention of murder, chances were he wouldn’t waste any of his time trying to locate him for a rematch either. At most, a report would be made to the Justice officers of Tyrell, but since Flynn didn’t intend on going anywhere near that city for a good long while, it would be a futile effort.
“Is he the one who stabbed you?” Flynn asked now.
Knoxx shook his head. “No, that was the work of the other. Be glad I inflicted my own wound in return, or you would have been facing both of them.”
&n
bsp; Both of them? Flynn thought, but then quickly decided he wasn’t particularly inclined to ask any further questions. He already knew too much, more than was safe, according to Knoxx. He didn’t understand it, but he believed it, and would pry no more.
Knoxx was now staring at him, his eyes squinted in scrutiny.
“Sorry for . . . your face,” he said.
Flynn bit off a scathing reply, instead forcing a shrug. “I’ve had worse. Yalla will heal me once she is finished with you.” He turned and started for the doors, deciding their discussion regarding anything the mage may or may not have discovered in Tyrell could wait another day or so. “Get some rest, Knoxx. The King’s Challenge begins in just a little more than two weeks, and you’ll want to be fully healed to travel.”
“Flynn?”
He stopped at the doors, looking back over his shoulder.
The mage had raised his head from his pillow, looking at him from across the room. “Thank you,” he said. “For coming for me.”
Flynn was quiet a brief moment, and then he shrugged again. “You are one of mine. But Knoxx,” he went on, turning back to face him fully, “don’t ever put me in a situation like that again. For next time, my response will likely be quite different.”
Knoxx looked down, nodding. “Understood.”
Flynn turned and left the room.
Chapter 23