Thief's Curse

by C. Greenwood

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, angered by her random babbling. She was madder than I had thought, her mind seemingly flitting from one subject to the next.

  She continued, “You must be hard on the child to form greatness in her. Teach her pain and strength, for she will need both. The survival of the province depends on it.”

  Frustrated by her senseless rambling, I realized I would extract no promise of silence from her. The horrible thought arose in my mind that there was only one way to guarantee she would never reveal my identity, would never share my secrets with another. My eye fell on an iron poker leaning against the side of the stove nearby. My hand twitched toward it.

  A sudden noise came from outside, the sound of leaves being shuffled and twigs being snapped beneath approaching feet. A moment later, the door swung open. Ada, her arms full of firewood, was silhouetted by the morning sunlight streaming in behind her.

  Her arrival and the fresh breeze that swirled in with her instantly broke the dark spell that had woven itself over me. I felt a rush of horror at the terrible thought that had briefly filled my mind.

  “Excuse me. I have to go,” I said quickly and bolted past both women and out the door. Outside, I breathed deeply of the forest air, taking in the scent of pine, leaf mold, and earth still damp with morning dew. As the light, air, and bustle of the camp around me cleared my head, reason reasserted itself. Maybe I didn’t fully remember who I was supposed to be anymore. But I was not that person in there, the one who had contemplated such a ruthless act merely to protect my secrets.

  A nearby chopping sound broke through my thoughts and drew my attention to a man working at the edge of camp—one of Ada’s many cousins, I thought. He was swinging an axe over and over into the trunk of an old dead tree, chopping it for kindling. I joined him and took over the work, suddenly desperate to burn off energy.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Time passed and I lost track of how many days I spent living with Ada’s family in the woods. I was treated well by her kin but never lost the sense that I was an outsider among these people. For one thing, most of them shared Ada’s ability to perform magic, which they used casually to help them in their daily lives. I stood out as a stranger, because I lacked that power. Still, I was grateful for their kindness and for finding a place of peace and safety where I had space to recover from the alternating grief and numbness that overwhelmed me since my brother’s death. My initial reactions to my loss gradually faded, but I retained one thing—my bitterness. This combined with a restless need for activity and desperation to keep busy.

  Fortunately, there were plenty of chores to keep me occupied around camp. I hunted with Ada’s younger cousins, the accuracy of my magic bow helping us bring back enough game to fill the cook pots. I repaired tents, replaced wagon wheels, and dug privies. Conscious of the free food and shelter I was receiving, I made myself useful to Ada’s parents by providing fresh fish from a nearby stream and chopping firewood. Her blind old grandmother I carefully avoided, although I often saw her sitting in the back of her wagon, singing to herself and weaving baskets. I wasn’t sure if she was truly mad or if her gift for seeing what others could not only made her seem so. Either way, I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t betray my identity to the whole camp with a few careless words. Whether anyone here would care who I had once been was doubtful, but it was a question I’d rather avoid.

  The longer I stayed in the forest encampment, the more aware I became that we were not alone. This wasn’t only because a small village was nearby and the folk from our camp often did business with the locals. But we weren’t far off from one of the main roads through the forest. Frequent groups of travelers passed us by, including merchant trains, their wagons laden with valuable goods. I assessed their worth with a practiced eye. Many of the individual travelers too were apparently wealthy. As I watched them wind their way, unthreatened, down the shaded forest lanes, the beginnings of an idea formed in my mind. But I wasn’t ready to act on it yet.

  * * *

  One day I went into the neighboring woods village with a few of Ada’s cousins to trade with the locals. While we were there, we heard a startling rumor. Folk were saying the praetor of Ellesus had died. Immediately my mind went to the praetor’s ambitious second son Tarius, who had once persuaded me to attempt an assassination of his father. My effort had failed, but maybe Tarius had found another means of getting what he wanted. But if he’d had any hand in his father’s death, it had been subtle, for gossip said the old man had died in his sleep of natural causes.

  I left my companions as soon as I heard the news and stalked off into the trees to think. In my head, I heard Tarius’s voice again, an echo of our conversation many weeks ago, at the time when he first asked me to kill his father.

  “Surely you know what happens when a praetor dies? The heads of all the provinces gather for the burial as a gesture of respect to the departed ruler and the heir who replaces him. It’s traditionally a time of setting aside feuds to show unity—and an opportunity for all the praetors to feel out one another’s weaknesses. If someone had a grudge against any one of them, this would be a prime opportunity to settle it while the target was off his home ground and only lightly guarded. Think of it. The same stroke that removes my father could also be a means of drawing your own enemy within reach. Surely after what he did to your family, you would like a chance to take out your anger against the praetor of Camdon? You’ll never risk going back to your home province, but what could suit better than to bring your father’s killer to you?”

  That suggestion, the chance at revenge against the praetor of Camdon, was one of the reasons I had agreed to the assassination of Tarius’s father. Ultimately, it had failed and my strike against one praetor had brought me no closer to destroying the other.

  Now my heart beat faster at the thought of getting another chance. Tarius’s father had obligingly died on his own, and so he was coming—the enemy from my past. I didn’t remember much of those dark days in the Eyeless Tower or of the happier times that came before them. Only the record of events I had so carefully written in my leather-bound book reminded me of the details. But I recalled one thing with perfect clarity. The praetor of Camdon, the enemy of my father, was to blame for the downfall of my family. He had ordered my father’s execution and the imprisonment of Ferran and me. In a way, even my brother’s death had been his fault since he had set us on this path.

  Suddenly I found again the sense of purpose that had eluded me since Ferran’s death. I had hidden in Dimmingwood, licking my wounds, long enough. My enemy was abandoning his safe ground and coming to Selbius. He would step into my territory, ignorant of my burning hatred and probably no longer even remembering my existence. And in so doing, he would seal his fate.

  I was careful not to encounter Ada as I returned to the camp. I would say goodbye to no one for fear they would pry into my plans. They would think me ungrateful when they realized I had slipped away. But considering the dangerous scheme that lay before me, it would be best for them to have as little association with me as possible anyway. From here on out, I would be a risk to anyone who befriended me. Luckily, I thought as I gathered my few possessions from inside my tent, I had no loved ones left to endanger. Beyond a few casual friends, everyone I most cared about was dead.

  The hound dog, Ilan, sniffed around my ankles as I hurried about collecting my things. She had taken to following me everywhere now that Ferran was gone. She was always underfoot, a nuisance and a painful reminder of my brother.

  “Go away,” I snapped at the hound when she attempted to follow me out of camp. “You can’t come back to the city with me. You’re better off here.”

  “She wants to protect you.”

  The aged voice interrupting unexpectedly made me grimace and stop in my tracks.

  The speaker continued. “She knows you’re planning something dangerous. Dogs are sensitive to the moods of their masters.”

  Reluctantly I turned and faced Ada�
��s grandmother. I hadn’t seen her there, although I should have. Her bright scarf and colorful garments stood out vividly against the more natural shades of the forest. The blind old woman was sitting at the back of her wagon, her deft fingers busily working at one of her half-weaved baskets.

  I glanced around. Everyone else in the camp was busy with their own activities. No one had yet taken note of me with my traveling pack, bow, and all other goods bundled onto my back.

  “You won’t tell Ada I’m going?” I asked. “Not until I’m far down the road.”

  “I won’t,” she agreed easily. “But you and I know it’s not the leaving you’re ashamed of but the dark reason for it.”

  I frowned. How much of the future could this mad old woman really see? How much of my intentions did she guess? The sightless eyes in the lined face that was turned toward me gave nothing away.

  I said, “I’m not ashamed. I go only to do what should have been done long ago. I just don’t want to endanger Ada or your family in the process.”

  Ilan whined at my feet, giving me an excuse to change the subject. “This dog was important to someone dear to me. Will you keep her here?” I asked the old woman. “The city is no place for her. She will have a happier home with you.”

  “Of course I will look after your little hound for you,” Ada’s grandmother answered with a strange smile. “Perhaps someday you will return the favor.”

  Shaking my head at the old woman’s senseless words, I bid her goodbye and turned my back on the camp.

  Despite her grandmother’s promise not to tell her of my departure, I half expected Ada to come running after me as I traveled down the narrow forest lane. But she didn’t. I followed the shadowed path between the trees for hours without meeting another soul. I had my map of the province and my sense of direction to guide me. I had also passed this way before not long ago, only then Ada and I had been escaping the city, not returning to it.

  I banished the nagging thought that having fled the thieves’ guild and the angry praetor of Ellesus once already I was a fool to go back. At least the praetor was dead now and I didn’t anticipate any trouble from his two young sons. But things still stood badly with the guild. I resolved not to worry about how I would deal with that situation until I reached the city.

  The sun was lowering in the sky when I began to consider stopping to eat a little of the food I carried in my traveler’s pack. I didn’t have much, but before leaving camp, I had stowed away a few crusts of bread and strips of dried meat. I slowed beneath the overhanging branches of a massive tree and was about to slide my pack off my back.

  The only warning I had was an unexpected flare of heat radiating across my shoulder, where I carried my magic bow slung beneath my cloak. The bow only glowed to life when there was danger nearby. I spun around, searching for the threat. But the surrounding scenery looked peaceful. Trees swayed in the wind. Birds flitted among the green boughs. Leaves scattered along the road, chased by the warm breeze.

  A sudden shadow fell over me, descending from the branches above. My hand flew to my belt knife. Before I could reach it, a heavy weight fell directly onto me. I was knocked to the ground and landed hard, my attacker on top of me. I struggled against my unknown enemy for a moment but froze as soon as I found a silver blade pressed to my throat.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I advise you not to move, friend,” ordered the unfamiliar redheaded man who gripped the dagger. “It would be a shame to end such a fine day by cutting the throat of a stranger. But I’m just desperate enough to do it.” He sounded as if he meant it.

  I followed his directions and kept still while he robbed me of my belt knife. My mind raced to find a way out of my helpless predicament. I had the Thief’s Blade strapped across my back, but it was still rolled up in the blanket Ada had bundled it in and couldn’t be drawn quickly. Likewise, my bow and quiver of arrows were tangled up in my cloak and impossible to reach from this position.

  “That’s better,” the stranger said easily when he saw I was cooperating. “Now let’s get you off the ground and see what’s in that traveler’s pack you’re carrying. No need for you to get hurt. This is just a fair and simple trade.”

  He clambered off me and, taking hold of my collar, hauled me to my feet, all the while keeping his sharp knife against my neck.

  “Trade?” I asked doubtfully, when we were standing. “And what is it I’m receiving in exchange for my pack?”

  “The privilege of living another day,” he answered, flashing a grin that was surprisingly cheerful.

  Now that I had a chance to study my attacker, I realized my initial impression of him as a grown man was slightly off. He seemed older because of his unusual height—he would tower a good foot above the heads of most men—but he was probably only about my age. I judged him to be seventeen or eighteen years old at most.

  I followed his motion to remove my traveling pack, slowly sliding it off my back and dropping it at his feet. There wasn’t much I valued in the bundle. My leather-bound book was in an inner pocket of my cloak, and the jeweled necklace I had stolen from the thieves’ guild was safely sewn up inside my cloak’s lining. But the magic amulet was in among my food and other possessions. I wasn’t eager to lose those things.

  In a single, swift motion, the thief snatched my pack with one hand and leapt back out of reach. He kept his knife pointed at me as he backed away.

  “You see? I told you it would be quick and easy,” he said, clutching his stolen prize. “I’m off now. Don’t follow unless you want to forfeit that extra day of living I promised.”

  I smiled grimly. The forest thief might not realize it, but putting distance between us was a mistake.

  “Don’t be in a hurry to go,” I said as soon as he was too far away to reach me with his knife.

  I tossed my cloak out of the way and pulled my bow around. I drew an arrow and notched it to the string with lightning speed.

  The thief’s eyes widened in surprise. “Now that’s a cruel trick, hiding an extra weapon,” he complained. “You know they say a bow is a coward’s choice.”

  “It’s also the favored weapon of one who will not be losing all his possessions today,” I said unsympathetically. “Now toss me my pack before I remember how much I dislike having knives pulled on me.”

  “All right, all right,” he agreed soothingly. “Take it back then. I was only going to search it for something to eat anyway.”

  He tossed the pack toward me, and it landed in the dust a short distance away.

  “Leave your knife and mine as well,” I ordered. “Drop them at your feet.”

  I watched him carefully, my arrow trained on his heart and my eyes never leaving his hands until he had dropped both knives. Then I made him back away from the discarded weapons. Now that he stood before me unarmed, I dared to relax a little. My curiosity got the better of me.

  “How did you manage to catch me so unawares?” I asked. “I’m familiar with your trade and don’t easily fall prey to it. Yet I never saw you coming.”

  “Nobody does,” he said, his tone surprisingly agreeable for a man still being held at the tip of an arrow. “That’s the beauty of hiding up in the trees. Most nervous folk look to either side, not overhead. All it takes is waiting quiet and still until your mark passes directly beneath you.”

  I lowered my bow a little since he didn’t seem about to make any sudden moves.

  “You do this regularly?” I asked. “Rob travelers on forest paths?”

  He shrugged. “Not usually. I’m a traveler myself but lean on provisions. Robbing passersby has got me this far.”

  An idea nudged at the back of my mind. I remembered the fat merchant trains I had seen these past weeks winding down the lonely roads of the wood. The thought had been growing in me for a long time that maybe my guild brothers in Selbius were doing things the hard way by working in town, where they had to dodge the city guard. There might be room for a smaller, less subtle operation right here in Dimmingwoo
d. But robbing strangers at knife’s point was a very different thing from the pocket picking and sneak thieving I was used to. It would require boldness—and experience. More than that, the leader of such a band of forest thieves would have to choose his companions carefully.

  “Where are you from and to where are you bound?” I asked the redheaded stranger.

  He nodded toward my bow. “If it’s conversation you want, I would chat more readily without an arrow set to shoot through me.”

  It was a fair point. I put down the bow but still maintained enough distance between us that I could raise it again if he charged me. I picked up the pair of knives lying in the dust.

  “Have you eaten?” I asked. “I was about to stop for an evening meal. It’s only dried meat and bread but better than nothing.”

  He looked surprised. “You’re offering me food?”

  I shrugged. “Only if you’ve given up the idea of robbing me. I believe sharing bread is the usual method of taming enemies. And you did say you were hungry.”

  He smiled slowly, a strangely amiable expression from one who had so recently had a knife pressed to my throat.

  “So I did. Truth be told, I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Very well. Consider hostilities ended. I never kill a man in the same hour I’ve eaten with him.”

  I went to my traveling pack and rummaged through it. All the while, I kept a wary eye on the unpredictable forest thief in case he changed his mind. He must have sensed my caution, for he didn’t come too close but sat down in the grass along the edge of the road.

  I tossed him my waterskin and a chunk of hard bread. He caught the items in midair.

  “Do you have a name?” I asked as I watched him tear hungrily into the food.