by M. J. Kuhn
A faint smile pulled at his lips as a scratching sound whispered across the cargo port. A common man might mistake it for a mouse skittering over the planks, but a scribe would recognize it immediately: the delicate scrape of a quill on parchment.
Blistering flames sparked in his blue eyes as he examined the object on the half-rotted desk. He watched hungrily as it whirred to life, springing upward and hovering over the parchment, spinning and twirling like a tiny Gildesh dancer. The Quill dipped down, leaving a tiny, precise dot on the magical map beneath it.
The delicate whorls of stone and hardened wood shuddered to a stop and the Quill tipped sideways, falling dormant. He did nothing to stop his anxious hands from shaking as they fell on the diagrams laid beside it on the table. The ones the Butcher had been absentminded enough to leave him with when those fools had fled for the auction.
One look at the drawings and he had known he would never sell the thing to that beast Shadowwood or anyone else. It was better the original job had failed. He smirked as he recalled the copy Ivan had created. His forger had filled the thing with ink rather than blood—a mistake anyone could make, and one he had not bothered to correct. After all, there were only a handful of souls in this world who knew of the Quill’s existence, and of those, even fewer knew it was powered by Adept blood. By the time any of them discovered that what they held was no more useful than a paperweight, he would be long gone from this place.
With his plans laid, all that had been left was to sneak it into the Catacombs, wait for his old friend to arrive, then make the switch when the Butcher threw the Trän vun Yavol, distracting all the other simple fools seated around that corner table. A painted-on tattoo and a smidgen of patience were all it had taken. Easy. Too easy.
He had known he would need Ivan’s help, and had trusted he would have Nash’s as well once Ivan was on board. His lips curved upward as he thought of his faithful smuggler. No doubt she thought herself subtle. Thought the secret glances she stole at Ivan went unnoticed.
But there was nothing that escaped his notice. Poor, lovesick Nash would follow Ivan to the ends of this earth and back. He just had to be sure Ivan stayed by his side, and there would be no trouble. And Ivan would—he was the only hope the fool had left. All he had to do was say one name, and Ivan would fall to his knees. The name he had thought hidden, tucked beneath the floorboards of the row house.
Kasimir.
The Quill sprang to life again, whirring and shaking, racing across the parchment to place a new dot on the outskirts of Safrona. Another Adept. A Kinetic or a Senser? He didn’t know. But it didn’t matter; now he and only he could find them all.
Of course, that was only the barest sprout of his new power. The roots of it were far vaster, lurking out of sight, beneath the surface.
His hand drifted to the side of the Quill. To the tiny slit carved there, no wider than his immaculate fingernail. He popped the side compartment open, revealing the blood-coated panel. There it was, the secret the Guildmasters of Thamorr had kept for centuries. It had been exposed for everyone in the Catacombs to see just a few hours ago, not that anyone had been paying attention.
The Quill had rejected Dennison Shadowwood’s thumbprint almost the moment he placed it there. Even now, Clem counted only seven faded prints on the panel. Yes, poor Dennison was too weak to master this device, and the Quill clearly knew it. But Callum Clem was not weak. He breathed in the ocean as the ship cut south through the Yawning Sea. He was strong enough to wield the Quill as it had not been done since the time of Declan Day himself. He could feel it in his bones.
Yes, yes. There was a new ruler of Thamorr. A new master of kings and men. The kingdoms just didn’t know it yet.
He leaned over the Quill, stroking it lovingly with one slender finger. No, they didn’t know it yet. But they would. And soon.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Among Thieves’s journey from fledgling idea to fully realized, published novel has been a long one, filled with doubts and struggles at every turn. In short, it’s a journey I never would have been able to make alone.
First of all, I would like to thank the RF Literary team, specifically Abby Schulman, also known as the World’s Best Agent. Thank you, Abby, for your insightful notes, your publishing world savvy, and for always listening to my anxious ramblings. Without your help, this book would truly never have made it into the world, and I cannot thank you enough for being at my side for every step of my publishing journey.
To Ed Schlesinger and Madison Penico, for your edits and guidance through the publication process, and for understanding the vision I had for Thieves from the beginning, and helping me make that vision shine through all the clearer.
To Lauren Jackson, for kicking off the publicity and marketing plan for this book, and giving Among Thieves a great platform from which to pick up steam. Also, to the rest of the Saga Press team, including Joe Monti and Jennifer Long. Thank you so much for your guidance, notes, and unwavering support on my debut journey!
Next, I’d like to thank Rachel Brenner for stepping in as interim publicist. Thank you so much for your hard work and for always keeping me in the loop and answering my millions of questions. I would also like to thank Kayleigh Webb for jumping in and seeing our publicity for Among Thieves through to its release! Thank you, Kayleigh, for your open lines of communication and for all of your efforts to create buzz and excitement for this book!
I also want to thank Brian Luster, Alexandre Su, and the rest of the production team for going through this manuscript with the finest-toothed of combs, and for preventing me from sounding like a total fool when I try to talk about sailing.
To my supremely talented cover artist, Christian McGrath, for creating cover art that captures the energy of Thieves better than I could ever have hoped or imagined.
A special thanks as well to Navah Wolfe, for seeing the potential in Among Thieves and kicking off the process to acquire the project at Saga to begin with. May our paths cross again someday soon.
To my parents, I want to thank you for supporting me in all my creative endeavors from childhood on. From driving me to (and paying for) creative writing camps and developing fun writing exercises to do during summers off from school, to taking me seriously when I first vocalized my desire to pursue writing as a career. Your support from literally day one has been invaluable.
To Haley and Mike, my eternal early-stage beta readers and hype squad. You were the only people I ever asked to read my first serious attempt at writing, and you slogged through the terrible early projects all the way to the present. Without your kind but honest notes I would never have learned how to receive feedback gracefully, which is a vital skill for any writer.
To my husband, Ryan, for being my sounding board and alpha reader. Thank you for always believing in me. You have always been a shoulder to cry on when the rejections pile up, and a drinking buddy to celebrate with when I get a win. There are no words strong enough to articulate how much I appreciate you taking my dreams seriously from the beginning, when there was no concrete reason to believe I would ever succeed.
To my niece Kaylin, future reader and current cutest toddler on the planet.
To all the members of my wonderfully massive extended family who have taken an interest in my writing over the years, and to my childhood best friend Lee, who was the last person to read this story before the folks at Saga Press did.
To my writing buddies, Hannah, Genevieve, Mica, and the entire 2021 debut group. Thanks for helping this long and lonely process feel a lot less lonely.
To Brian Jacques and Diana Wynne Jones, for sparking my enduring love of fantasy.
And, last but not least, I would like to thank my cat, Thorin Oakenshield, for napping at my side as I worked, night or day, and for always protecting me from the evil printer.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
© AMANDA PREGLER
M. J. KUHN is a fantasy writer by night and a mild-mannered university employee by day. She lives in the met
ro Detroit area with her husband, Ryan, a dog named Wrex, and the very spoiled cat Thorin Oakenshield. You can find more information about M.J. online at mjkuhn.com.
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR:
SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/M-J-Kuhn
SimonandSchuster.com
SAGAPRESS.COM
@SagaPressBooks
@SagaSFF
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by M. J. Kuhn
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First Saga Press hardcover edition September 2021
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Interior design by Michelle Marchese
Jacket design by Claire Sullivan
Jacket art by Chris McGrath
Jacket photograph by 123RF
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-1-9821-4214-8
ISBN 978-1-9821-4216-2 (ebook)
