Vow of Thieves (Dance of Thieves)

by Mary E. Pearson

  “Have you seen her? She’s missing.”

  The old man shook his head, but they searched his house anyway.

  What had she done to make them shut down the entire town? Whatever it was, I hoped it cost them plenty, and I applauded her bravery. We checked back in a few hours later. The roads were still closed. Even I could see, there was no getting through. Whoever this woman was, she was trapped and would be found—unless she had escaped already. I prayed for the latter.

  I wasn’t the only one furious with our plight. There was grumbling among the townsfolk who had business at the arena, but they knew better than to grumble too much. Instead they went about decorating the town, like docile pets, but I knew what it really meant. They had heard the promise from Aleski. By the end of the day, every storefront had garlands woven of herbs, hay, or greenery. It was time to celebrate the birth of the gods—and, soon, the bloody departure of the king.

  We took our horses back to the livery and used the time to study the town. Just as Imara had told us, there were twelve rooftop guards armed with launchers at the center plaza. Another two on skywalks. And one on a recently erected platform that was used for announcements—and hangings. There were no hanging bodies now, but empty nooses still dangled from the tembris. Altogether in the plaza alone, there were fifteen guards with launchers who could see every move we made. Along each avenue there were another two to three on skywalks, and at every entrance into town, another three or four.

  “By my count, we’ve got sixty-four of those badass bruisers up there,” Wren said. I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the soldiers or the launchers, but either way, my count was the same. On the streets there were about the same amount of troops, though they were harder to count because they were always moving. The ground troops were armed with only the usual types of weapons, perhaps in case any crazed townsperson got ideas about commandeering one of those launchers—which was probably on the mind of every single person in the city.

  Aleski had estimated about a hundred and thirty soldiers were on duty at all times. There were more posted at the arena and Tor’s Watch, plus a special detail assigned just to the king and his officers. Lothar estimated the entire forces were somewhere between four and five hundred. The Ballengers had about half that many with employees alone, and a town of thousands that would fight on our side. The king’s army could easily be taken down—if not for the weapons. They trumped any power I could muster. The king held the winning cards.

  And Lydia and Nash.

  Aleski said Oleez was looking after them, and now of course, Kazi was too. My mother was probably wild with worry, but Lydia and Nash knew what to do. They had been schooled. Wait it out. Play along the way Miandre did. Help will come. But they were so young—younger than she had been. And more innocent. My fingers curled into a fist.

  Know your enemies as well as you know your allies. Know them better. Make their business yours.

  But I hadn’t known the king was an enemy. Neither had my father. And now it seemed that was exactly how he planned it. Neither of us ever suspected he was working with Beaufort. Our eyes and suspicions were always on hungry league leaders and new players who wanted to make a name for themselves—like the ones who had murdered Mason’s parents. Them, we paid attention to. We made their business ours.

  The king was only a farmer to us, and not even a good one. We had no reason to suspect him. We might as well have been told that horses could fly, and that was what he was counting on. For how long? Beaufort had been with us for a year, so he had to be scheming long before that.

  I could count on one hand the number of times Montegue and I had met face-to-face. He rarely came to Hell’s Mouth and then only stayed for a handful of days, and now I wondered if that was by design too. Could he only keep up the charade for so long?

  The first time we ever met was when we were children and my father gave his father a brief tour of the arena. I couldn’t remember much about that encounter except that Montegue was a few years older than me and gawky, all elbows and angles and constantly tripping over his own feet. His hair was a mess too. Always in his eyes. Everything about him was disheveled. I’m not sure we even spoke.

  Maybe that encounter had cemented my image of him. But for the most part, I had forgotten he even existed until years later, when his father died and he was crowned the new king. It wasn’t until a year after that he finally showed up in Hell’s Mouth.

  By then we were the same height.

  “So you finally found your way up here,” my father had said. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever come, but then your father rarely did either.”

  Montegue had mumbled a few words about harvests, then mentioned the collected taxes being short.

  “I’m afraid that’s all you’re getting, boy,” my father answered. “It takes a lot to run a city. If you need more, you’re going to have to work for it like everyone else.”

  Boy. Montegue didn’t flinch but I remember his eyes shifted to me. I thought he wasn’t quite sure who I was. “Jase Ballenger,” I said.

  “I know who you are. We met nine years ago.”

  His response had surprised me. I wondered about it at the time. I had changed dramatically since I was a seven-year-old—by over a hundred pounds, two feet, and a lot more muscle. Had he asked someone who I was? But that would mean he was watching me from afar.

  I should have paid attention to that detail, but he smiled and shrugged, forgetting about the taxes, and said he needed to be on his way. The fields wouldn’t plant themselves.

  The next time I saw him was in Parsuss. I’d gone with Mason and Titus to talk to the new Valsprey handler in the kingdom message office—to work out a side deal with him. Commerce was growing at the arena, and we needed faster communications with merchants in other kingdoms. Montegue had just been leaving an inn, a spot of spilled gravy staining his tunic, when our paths crossed. He had asked how things fared in Hell’s Mouth, motioning his hand in entirely the wrong direction.

  “North,” I said. “Hell’s Mouth is north.”

  “Which is that way,” Mason added, pointing.

  Montegue chuckled. “Easy mistake.” And then he asked about taxes again.

  “They’re not due until the end of the year,” I answered. “You do know when that is, don’t you?”

  “Send them along early, will you? Funds are short.”

  We left without saying good-bye. And we didn’t send the taxes early.

  I only saw him periodically after that, mostly just in the last year or so. He seemed to come to the arena every few months, chasing after some new losing venture. He never mentioned taxes again. His mind was on his new endeavors. And now I knew those endeavors didn’t include farming.

  Wren grabbed my arm. The ground vibrated, and we both froze.

  “Out of the way!” a soldier yelled as he turned the curve and galloped toward us. “Out of the way!”

  A carriage came rumbling just behind him, and Wren and I jumped to the side. Soldiers on horses pounded along beside it. I fought for a glimpse inside, but it went by too fast. It stopped in front of the Ballenger Inn. There were urgent shouts, commotion, orders to open the door, but I could only see a huddle of cloaks and hoods rush into the inn.

  Once all the soldiers were gone and the carriage was standing empty, I went and peeked inside. The seat was covered with blood.

  For two more days, the town remained shut down without explanation, and I was torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay. I didn’t know who the blood belonged to, but during those two days, I never saw a single glimpse of Kazi, or Nash, or Lydia. Or the king.

  When the roads finally opened again, I knew I had to go. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do—to leave them behind when I knew they were here. But this was not something I could do alone. I needed help. I needed the family.

  Before I left, I pulled the red ribbon from my saddlebag and tied it to a garland wrapped around a post outside the Ballenger Inn.

  �
�Hey, what are you doing there?” a soldier called, waving me away.

  “For yours festival, no? Showing support of town? Shall I takes down?”

  “No,” he answered. “That’s fine. You can leave it.”

  I finished tying it off and left. If Kazi saw it, she would know I was alive, and I was here, and help was coming.

  Do not pass a rose without stopping to smell it.

  It is a gift that may not always be there.

  I think that is what my mother had said about roses.

  All these years later, it comes to me, as I sharpen our spears.

  I have not seen a rose since the day she said it. I cannot even remember what they look like anymore.

  I’m not sure why she thought a rose was important.

  —Miandre, 16

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  KAZI

  Scat! Vermin!

  Maybe that was what I was now. All I had ever been. An animal.

  For hours, I leapt. I ran. I backtracked. I circled. I scuttled beneath bushes, and thorny branches scraped at my skin. My bones throbbed and my breaths were ragged, but like a hunted animal, the urgency of the moment was paramount, and my racing heart masked the pain. At least for now.

  You are nothing!

  Or maybe I was less than vermin. A shadow.

  That was what I needed to be. Something they couldn’t catch.

  They were in fast pursuit, which both terrified and comforted me. Yes, follow me. Come away from the graveyard.

  At one point I was surrounded, trapped, and hiding in a shadow. They didn’t know I was there. For long minutes I didn’t move. My throat ached with dryness, but I didn’t swallow. And as the sun moved, I willed the shadow into place.

  They crawled over the mountain, circling, searching. I heard their calls and taunts. And then one voice rose above the others. Zane’s. He had joined the hunt. Come out, girl! I pressed myself tighter against the mountain, becoming part of the stony wall. I felt his hot breath on my skin again, his hands on my throat. I felt his hunger invade every part of me, and I trembled beneath my cloak. What would get me first? The plummeting temperatures, the wrath of the king, or maybe a Candok bear who wanted his shallow cave back?

  But not Zane. Anything but Zane.

  I held my hands up to my face, trying to breathe warmth into them. One more night, Kazi. Make it one more night.

  Their voices faded. They were moving on. Zane was moving on with them. He can’t hurt you anymore. My head knew that. My pounding chest didn’t. And now he had a greater incentive to kill me. I was no longer working for the king, and I knew his dangerous secret.

  * * *

  I reached up, sliding my fingers into another sharp crack.

  You need a backup plan!

  But they didn’t play by the rules!

  And neither will your enemy!

  I remembered watching smugly as Kaden chewed out an opposing team that Wren, Synové, and I had beaten in a training exercise. Cheating had been our backup plan. We went outside the stated boundaries. Whatever it took to win. Kaden understood that.

  I didn’t feel so smug now.

  I’d had two backup plans for today, but neither had included a traitor, and both had included a horse. Not to mention I had made the dire mistake of tucking my gloves in my saddlebag. I thought I would be going back for them.

  My fingertips bled as I scrambled up the steep face of the mountain, roots and rocks scraping my freezing skin raw. Dusk was closing in, the sun already gone behind the mountains, and temperatures were rapidly dropping. The wind cut through me like icy knives.

  I told myself the pain, the pain everywhere, from my shoulder to my head to my leg, was good, like hunger in a belly. It would make me more determined, sharp. I told myself a lot of lies to keep me going. Because every step I took made Lydia and Nash safer.

  It had always been part of our plan to lead soldiers in the opposite direction, far away from the graveyard so Binter and Cheu could arrive after dark to quietly retrieve the children from the tomb and take them to the settlement. Paxton would circle back late that night to make sure they were gone. That part of the plan was still intact. I’d had soldiers hunting me all day long, spotting me and then losing me again. They were like wolves salivating with my scent, the graveyard long forgotten.

  Bleeding fingers meant nothing. Cracked ribs and a swollen shoulder meant nothing. Leading the soldiers away meant everything.

  At least now I was in the mountains behind Tor’s Watch, far from the graveyard. When I got to the top of the ridge, I began searching for someplace to hide for the night—a deep cave where I could light a fire—but there was none. I wouldn’t make it through the night without some sort of protection. I hollowed out a place between the roots of a tree, wrapped myself tightly in my cloak, then pulled the rotting mulch of the forest floor on top of me for insulation. My bones creaked. They ached like a crumbling house settling into the earth. I felt things squirm beneath my clothes and crawl over my scalp. I prayed none of them were poisonous.

  My eyes were already heavy, closing.

  Sleep, my chiadrah. Sleep.

  I felt my mother’s hand, cold on my cheek. Heard the rustle of a leafy blanket covering me.

  “Am I dying?” I asked.

  No, my beloved. Not yet. Not today.

  * * *

  In the morning when I woke, I couldn’t move. It was as if every bone in me had been sewn to the earth. They refused to be punished any more. I lay there wondering if this was how I would die, that a soldier would find me and all I could do was watch as he plunged a spear into my chest.

  But it was morning. The first rays of dawn shimmered through the trees. Morning. The thought sent a different kind of heat streaming through me—Lydia and Nash were safe.

  By now they were with Jase. It didn’t matter if they were all stuffed down in a dark root cellar. They were together, and out of the king’s clutches. That was all that mattered.

  Paxton had assured me that Binter and Cheu, who were his straza, had done far harder things than whisking away children in the middle of the night. And they were both partial to Lydia and Nash, and more stubborn than winter frost. They would do this as long as we did our part.

  We had done our part. I felt a weight lifting, a silver stitch pulling tight.

  Today my goal would change. Keep moving. Stay alive. Truly evade the soldiers. And find the other entrance to the Ballenger vault. His family needed to know Jase was alive—and that they had a weapon hidden right beneath their noses.

  I rubbed my muscles with my good arm, forcing warmth back into them, and finally struggled to my feet.

  There! Something over there is moving!

  I ran. As much as I could run.

  The king would not give up until he had me—and his magic—back in his grip.

  * * *

  I had made it to the far side of Tor’s Watch when I heard a noise. I hid behind a tree. Horses. A jingle. Creaking. I silently slid to the ground, then peeked past the forest at the road that Jase and I had once ridden down together. It was the back road that connected Tor’s Watch to the arena.

  The noise grew louder and then, between the trees, a wagon came into view. It was piled high with hay—and Zane was driving it. I sank closer to the ground. Jase had told me he was the one who had made all the supply deliveries to Cave’s End for Beaufort and his crew. But he was an esteemed lieutenant of the king’s army now, and still making deliveries to Tor’s Watch? Deliveries of hay for horses? Zane and the wagon disappeared through the trees, but then four heavily armed soldiers came into view riding right behind him. He had an escort? Or did they just happen to be riding in the same direction?

  A jay screeched over my head, and the soldiers’ heads turned. I pressed my chin into the dirt. Blood pounded in my ears. The jay continued to squawk like it was trying to point me out. Shut up, you stupid bird! Shut up! It seemed like the soldiers were looking straight at me, but then their eyes scanned the treetops
and they moved on—and I ran.

  * * *

  I shivered on the floor of the rocky alcove, pulling my cloak tighter. I had heated stones at dusk, but they had long since cooled, and it was too dangerous to light another fire. I had covered so little distance today, and here I was, my third night on the run. I tried not to be disheartened, but I wasn’t sure I could make it through one more night. I rewrapped my fingers with my chemise I had torn into strips.

  The hidden vault entrance couldn’t be far from Tor’s Watch, but with soldiers thick around me, I had to go many directions I didn’t want to go.

  I managed to make it to the place where Paxton and I had planned to meet up, but there was no sign that he had been there. It didn’t surprise me. He was dealing with an unexpected scenario too. As soon as he had heard the loud booms of the launcher, he would have known something had gone wrong, that the plan had changed, but I worried he had suffered a worse fate than me. He was the one who had suggested taking me to Tor’s Watch. He mentioned my injured ankle and my premonition. And the next morning, once Binter and Cheu were discovered missing, the king would know he was part of the setup. If Paxton hadn’t slipped away by then, he would have no chance. Had he been able to get away? Or was he dead? Already hanging from the tembris?

  I rubbed my eyes, trying to block out the image.

  The wind howled outside, scooping its freezing fingers into the cave.

  Imagine the possibilities, controlling the wind, the seasons.

  The cold.

  What if the stardust had been near his heart for so long, it knew his desires even from afar? What if—My mind was spinning in directions it shouldn’t.

  I curled into a ball and prayed morning would come soon. Tomorrow I would find the hidden door. I would find the family. I would put an end to this hellish nightmare.