Vow of Thieves Read online

  Jurga stared at me, her mouth pursed like she had sucked on a lemon, then she looked long and hard at Kerry. “Come on, help me get him up these steps. A little sunshine will do him good.”

  * * *

  The first several days, I never strayed far from the storage shed, always ready to retreat back inside if a warning signal of riders came, but none ever did. It was like they had stopped looking for me, which meant they probably thought I was dead.

  It wasn’t only Kerry who put me through my paces. The other settlers took turns as well, walking me in circles around the shed and helping me to ease back down on a bench when I needed to rest. Eventually they took me a little farther to view their finished homes that I had never gotten to see. They showed me the raised foundations, the wooden floors that they never had before, the supplies that filled their shelves. They invited me in, they fed me, they added bones to my tether that I now wore the same as them. Meunter ijotande, they would say. Never forgotten. Day by day, I learned more of their language. I was ashamed that I had ever protested the rebuilding of the settlement, and was glad for the extra work we had put into it. Glad for my blood vow and alms. There was so much I didn’t know back then, that I knew now. Things I never would have known if not for Kazi.

  “Another set,” Kerry ordered. His eyes gleamed. He loved watching me suffer. But I was getting stronger. He had me lifting buckets of water now—only half full—but the pain in my abdomen had at least become tolerable, or maybe I was just getting used to it. How much longer before I’d be ready to leave? But I knew there would be no second chances. I had to get this right the first time. I had to be strong enough to do what I needed to do. I turned my frustration into work—more sets, more food, more walking.

  When we finished my daily regimen, I usually sat on a bench in the sun and read to Kerry. The teacher we sent had brought books, some filled with legends of other worlds far from Tor’s Watch, but the ones he liked best were the ones I told about the Ballenger history and Greyson, who was little more than a child himself when given the task of keeping everyone safe. Kerry’s eyes glowed with admiration and intense curiosity, maybe the way mine had when my father first told them to me. I didn’t embellish. I didn’t need to. The truth was astonishing enough.

  “How do you know all these stories?” he asked.

  “I’ve written them down—every one. It was part of my schooling. I have a whole library of Ballenger history at my home. Someday I’ll show you.”

  Home. If it was still there.

  If anything was there.

  Who will write our story, Jase?

  We will, Kazi, and it will take a thousand volumes. We have a lifetime ahead of us.

  Last night more of the fog had rolled back. A glimpse. A fist going into Kazi’s stomach—but there was a glint of light too. What was it? I couldn’t stop worrying about what I hadn’t seen and didn’t know.

  “I’m going with you when you go to find her,” Kerry said as if he knew where my mind had wandered. His chin jutted out, cocky and determined. Unafraid. His fingers absently rubbed his scarred arm. I guessed that whatever monsters were out there, they might not be any worse than the ones he had already faced. No wonder he liked hearing stories about Greyson. Like the first Patrei, Kerry didn’t let his young age hold him back from what needed to be done.

  “We’ll see,” I answered.

  I had an army of two, and one was a seven-year-old child.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  KAZI

  Years ago, when I stole the tiger, it was necessary for me to employ a different tactic from my other thefts. I needed help and had to procure the favors of many. Of course, I made sure no one ever knew exactly what purpose their favor served—it was important that they weren’t implicated—but I knew that many guessed. That was how the whispers began. It was Ten. Ten stole the tiger. And then others would scoff at the notion. That scraggly strip of a girl wrestle a tiger? She’d be nothing but a nibble in the beast’s stomach by now. Besides, why would she? And still others would speculate about more malevolent culprits. They say a circle of devil’s dust was found in the storage shed. A demon ate the beast whole.

  Bribing the tiger was the first order of business. It turned out that getting the tiger’s trust was the easiest part. By the fourth afternoon, his nose twitched when he saw me coming with a morsel of meat tucked in a ball of dough. But all the other steps—from decoy wagons, to distracting brawls, to heavy sleep elixirs, to black devil’s dust—those steps multiplied one after another. Trade this for that, and that for this, and then someone would decide it wasn’t enough and they needed more. Sometimes I had to trade with people I despised, smiling and jumping through their endless hoops. I got through it by always remembering the end goal, what it was all for—a chained beast with haunting amber eyes.

  I ended up hiding the tiger right beneath the butcher’s nose in a storage shed behind his shop that he only went in once a week to sharpen his cleavers and knives. And then I went back and spirited the animal out in the middle of the night once the streets were deserted. A planned distraction drew the butcher’s attention away—along with most of the jehendra—for no more than half a minute. He had moved only steps away from his shop front, but that was all I needed. It was the escape route I spent the most time working on, finding the darkest, most assuredly deserted streets, the places that gave me somewhere to duck if I had to, finally walking one route seven nights in a row to be sure it held no surprises, something that might startle a tiger and make him roar.

  Today my eyes had never stopped scanning the streets, the trees, the shadows, but I only felt my spirits sink lower with every step. There weren’t enough bribes or enough favors in the world to evade the soldiers on every street and rooftop. Not to mention I had no favors to offer in the first place and, most important, no one to offer favors to. Except, perhaps, the person who had secretly passed me the medicine in my cell, but even they were too afraid to come forward.

  As soon as we returned to the inn, my head was tended, and then I was escorted to the private dining room at the inn for the “celebratory” dinner the king had promised. Apparently he agreed with Banques that the delivery of the news had gone well. I guessed that a rock thrown at my head was of little consequence to them, nor the ringing pain between my ears, but maybe other addresses to the crowd had drawn a barrage of rocks. In comparison, my injury was trivial—or maybe the whole point was to shift anger to someone else—me. In that case, I guessed the day was a roaring success. The word murderer still ate away at me, and the things I had uttered about Jase remained foul in my mouth, but I’d had no choice. I would do it again, and no doubt, Banques had plans for more of these addresses from me until the last of the resistance was stamped out.

  The same positive sentiments about the day were repeated by guests. Apparently none of them thought that corpses hanging from trees in the middle of the town plaza were anything to be bothered about. I didn’t recognize any of the attendees at this intimate dinner gathering, and I wondered if they had come from Parsuss—the king’s own loyal followers—or if they were Hell’s Mouth citizens who turned with the tide as easily as Garvin did.

  Everyone seated at the long table fawned over the king and Banques, treating them like true saviors. The four women were elegantly dressed, as if we were attending a grand party, their faces painted with powders in a way I had never seen before, and their necks and wrists adorned with glittering jewels. The room was a thief’s paradise—if only rules didn’t have to be obeyed.

  Each guest laughed and smiled and hung on every word that spilled from Montegue’s mouth. Halfway through dinner, one of the women, who had already drunk too much, danced around the table and conveniently fell into his lap. The hair piled atop her head fell loose, and more fawning ensued. Your Majesty this, Your Majesty that, followed by a slurred feigned apology and a protracted kiss on his lips. He soaked it up like a dry sponge, his lips stuck to hers for a good half minute, his hands roaming over her
hips, until Banques finally cleared his throat, reminding them we were all there watching.

  Throughout dinner, Montegue had glanced at me numerous times, expecting what, I wasn’t sure. To join in the praise? I contemplated it. At some point I knew I had to backtrack and gain his confidence, pretend that I’d been won over and was ready to take “a place” in this new kingdom, as Banques put it. Pretend that I was one of Montegue’s admirers. I knew how to do it. This was my specialty. Even the wary were not impervious to flattery—because they deserved it, after all. It was all about making them believe. But the timing had to be right. It was a delicate matter that had to be carried out smoothly, like sliding a razor-sharp knife beneath the thin skin of a fish to separate it from the flesh. And I was not feeling delicate nor smooth right now. Instead I was a miserable jumble of hesitation and second-guessing.

  Why was this so different? I remembered trembling with fear the first time I engaged a quarterlord, certain that my intended larceny blazed in my eyes. I’d had to lock my knees to keep them from shaking. The quarterlord was huge and powerful and intimidating, and I was none of those things, only a disgusting six-year-old bug to be crushed and forgotten. But I hadn’t let that stop me. Hunger had already honed a sharp edge within me. In spite of my fear and knocking knees, I’d found a way to disarm his suspicions and make off with two juicy figs. I glanced up at Banques and Montegue. Think of them as quarterlords, Kazi. Play them. Feed their egos. Earn their trust. Throw them crumbs, then hook them behind the gills like openmouthed fish.

  And then cut their throats.

  But this game had a different risk. Back then, I only had myself to lose. Maybe that was what had made me bold. Now I was playing for far more than one dirty street urchin’s life. I was playing for Lydia’s and Nash’s freedom—and their lives. I was playing for Jase, and the vows I made to him and, by default, his family. His blood vow was mine. And I had yet another vow—to the queen. Find the papers and destroy them. You can juggle all that now, can’t you, Kazi? Just don’t drop an orange. Not a single one, or you’re done.

  Laughter erupted around the table. Something Montegue said was apparently quite entertaining, and I had missed it. I was failing miserably. Another glance from him. Expectation shimmered in his eyes. Was I shaming him with my silence? Grovel, Kazi. Smile. Juggle. Compliment the bastard. Make him believe. You can do it one more time.

  I searched my mind, trying to think of one small thing to add to the conversation, the first seed to plant, but only hatred bubbled up.

  Such a creative use of the tembris, Your Majesty. How did you get all those nooses up on those high branches?

  Nice work of demolishing the temple.

  So convenient that the corpses aren’t stinking yet. I guess the cold weather helps. The gods must be with you.

  “The stew is quite good,” I commented. “My compliments to the chef.” The tinkling of crystal and laughter around the table came to a dead stop. They were the first words I had spoken. I made eye contact with Montegue. “And my compliments to His Majesty for choosing such a fine menu.” It was pathetic, I knew. It was not my smoothest moment. I had to do better.

  The compliment seemed to eat away at his concentration. After a few minutes, he leaned back and set his napkin beside his plate, done with his meal.

  When the foolishness around the dining table grew tedious, the king announced we were finished and leaving for the arena. A carriage was brought around because the evening was cold. “We” included Banques. Oleez and the children were called from their rooms to join us. Everywhere he went, they went.

  * * *

  “What do you think of it?” The sweet earthiness of wine was on his breath. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes, glassy.

  It was just the two of us in the Ballenger apartment. He had dismissed Banques, Oleez, and the children to go check on some other quarters he had acquired. He sauntered around with a wineglass in one hand and running his other down marble pillars, or peering up at the high ceilings and chandeliers. His boots clicked heel to toe, deliberate on the polished floors like he was tapping out ownership. “Far more elegant and fitting for a king than the inn,” he mused. “And more secure too. I’m having the bedchambers refurbished and then we’ll move over.”

  We. I didn’t know whom that meant.

  When I didn’t answer, he paused from his inspection of a drape panel and faced me. “Are you still upset about the children? I promise you, I did ask them, but they continue to refuse to speak to you.”

  “If you’d just let me—”

  “I’ll ask again tomorrow. Maybe they’ll change their minds, but I’m afraid the Ballengers poisoned them against you. It may take a while. You need to give them the time they need. They’re only children.”

  His concern appeared genuine, and yet he used them as leverage against me? I wondered if the threat to harm them was only a hollow one crafted by Banques to make me comply. “Would you really kill them if I stepped out of line?”

  His brows rose with interest. “Do you plan to step out of line?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s a moot point, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe so, but it’s a terrible pressure to live under minute by minute, afraid that I might do something inadvertently that could bring them harm.”

  He grinned as if amused, letting the brocade drape slip leisurely from his grasp, and turned to face me fully. “Rahtan are quite well trained, I understand, and you don’t strike me as the kind of person who does anything inadvertently. I’m sure you needn’t worry.”

  “But I do.”

  “You did threaten to kill me, remember?”

  “With a pickle fork.”

  The grin that had twisted the corner of his mouth now lit his eyes. “One you claimed to be quite skilled with.”

  “I won’t deny that,” I answered cheerily, to fuel his amusement.

  He took a sip from his glass and shrugged. “My point is made.” He walked over to the window and stood beside me, setting his glass down on the deep marble ledge. “I’m sorry about your head today. It was one disturbed heckler. He’ll be found.”

  “And hanged?”

  “That will be up to Banques.”

  “Do you take responsibility for anything? You are the king.”

  He didn’t answer, but maybe that was answer enough. He leaned forward on his elbows, looking out at the arena, lit with flickering torches—more of his new domain.

  “At the end of the week we’ll be going to Tor’s Watch,” he said. “I want you to speak to the Ballengers. Convince them to come out.”

  “Speak through the door of the vault? They can’t hear anything through that.”

  “But—”

  “I’ve seen it. The door of the vault is three feet thick and made of solid steel, and it’s surrounded by solid rock. Not even a ghost can squeeze through it.”

  “There has to be a way. How do they get fresh air?”

  I didn’t know how much he already knew, but I did remember one of the rules, if you ever lie to the king. I avoided lies and chose my truths sparingly.

  “There’s a ventilation system that was created by the Ancients. I wasn’t told how it works. I only had a brief tour.”

  He turned and looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “A tour given by the Patrei?” There was resentment in his tone, as if Jase had usurped a personal right of his.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  For such a simple piece of information, he took a long time to absorb it. “What about another way out?” he finally asked. “Is there another door?”

  “No, I didn’t—” Jase’s words tripped through my head unexpectedly. Every good stronghold has more than one way out. Otherwise you could be trapped. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? Was it possible that Jase’s wisdom applied to a vault built by the Ancients? Maybe that was where he had learned it in the first place.

  “I never saw another door,” I answered. Which was true, but how were they getting fo
od? They’d been trapped in there for over a month. The hole in the roof of the cave Jase called the greenhouse was a hundred feet up. Things like Candok bears and snakes sometimes fell through, but nothing went back out. Were they foraging in there like the first Ballengers did, braving whatever animals had fallen in? And perhaps eating them?

  He stepped away from the window, gulping back the last of his wine. An angry line pinched between his brows. “They can’t stay in there forever. They’ll have to come out eventually.”

  He shifted awkwardly on his feet, setting his glass down, then turned suddenly, pressing his hands against the wall on either side of me, pinning me between his arms. He looked at me, and I wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss or kill me. His eyes blazed with a fire that I couldn’t read. I could almost see a battle going on in his head. Stand your ground. Blink last, Kazi. My heart sped, but I returned his stare, waiting him out to see what he would do.

  He leaned closer. “I’m still a little confused about you and the Patrei,” he said. “The last time I saw you at the arena, you punched him in the face, and you didn’t hold back. He had blood running from his mouth. That was no mere lovers’ quarrel. It looked like you wanted to kill him. And then, it’s my understanding that you arrested him in a very violent encounter. But your reaction on learning of his death seemed to indicate that you cared for him? Just what was your real relationship with the Patrei?”

  Our real relationship? I worked to keep the panic from my face. If he knew the truth about Jase and me, who and what we really were to each other, he would throw me back in a cell and never let me out. My head ached as I tried to block out thoughts of Jase, terrified it would all be plain in my eyes.

  Montegue pressed forward so his thighs brushed mine. Heat radiated from his body. “Or maybe you’re undecided yourself?”

  I tried to recall everything he might have seen, and also what others might have told him—especially Garvin and Paxton. “I bided my time with him out of necessity. It was my only way into Tor’s Watch.”