Thief (Brotherhood of the Throne Book 1)

by Jane Glatt

  There was only an hour before dawn and certain discovery - she’d have to go out through the window. It would be dangerous and noisy and she’d need the help of the gods to get over the wall, but it was a chance. Unless she could find a secret exit in the wall of the office.

  With prayers to Jik for protection and Toru for knowledge, Brenna inched back towards the wall. She felt along the floor where it met the wall. Please be here. Most of the triggers at Feiren’s house were higher up but standing would expose her to the silent guard. Brenna’s hands feathered over the walls and she reached as high as her crouch allowed. There, that spot. Was that something? There was a soft click and she froze. The wall began to move out towards her. Light spilled out of the passage and she blinked. A cloaked figure held a lantern above her.

  “Well, look here,” a man’s voice said. “I’ve caught myself a thief.”

  Rough fingernails bit into the skin of her wrist and Brenna was dragged to her feet. She clamped her lips together and forced her body to relax. She wasn’t going to give this guard an excuse to hurt her. A second guard, her unknown watcher, appeared in the doorway to the office, a round ‘O’ of surprise on his face. He closed his mouth and shuttered his expression so fast Brenna wondered if she’d really seen that surprise.

  “Aye, good catch, Barton,” the second guard said. “Looks like a thief to me, though you seem to have caught her before she could steal anything. I think the master will want to know about this first thing in the morning. Why don’t I lock her up? You can finish up with the scholar.”

  Barton grunted his agreement and Brenna was handed off to the second guard. Her knife was quickly unbuckled from around her waist but they didn’t seem to notice her pack. She was marched through dimly lit rooms to a door that led down to the lower level of the house. She wasn’t surprised when she was finally pushed into a cell and the door closed. She heard the sound of a wooden bar being dropped into place on the door.

  Her wrist bled where the first guard had grabbed her and she rubbed it. Enough light showed through the cracks around the door for her to see that it was a small room, no more than four feet square. Not enough room for a large man to lie flat, though Brenna would be able to stretch out if she lay corner to corner. Not that she planned on being here long enough to sleep. She needed to get out now.

  She ran trembling fingers along the edges of the door, looking for something, anything, that might help. But the hinges were on the outside and they’d barred the door so there was no lock to pick. She pushed at the door fruitlessly before she sank to the cold stone floor. Think, she had to think. She couldn’t afford to give in to fear or despair - not even when they brought her before Duke Thorold, as they would, eventually. The thought of Thorold laughing at her helplessness, as he had laughed at her mother so many years ago made her so angry her fear burned away. She would not let him win.

  Brenna pulled her pack off and dumped the contents on the floor. There, her lock picking tools. She grabbed a long thin piece of metal and knelt beside the door. She slipped the piece of metal between the door and the frame just below the bar. If she could just get one side of the bar off, she’d have a chance. But the metal tool was too short. She hunched over the pack contents again. Her mother’s knife, how could she have forgotten it? She unsheathed it and moved back to the door. As she did, the blade of the knife brushed her bleeding wrist and she felt a shock run up her arm. The knife glowed white hot and the single note that sounded in her head sent her to her knees.

  Brenna shoved the blade under her vest and mentally reached for it. But when she touched it, the song had changed to a soft, calming hum. She clamped down and the light went out. Brenna pulled the knife out and studied it.

  It was a simple, serviceable knife, smaller than she remembered. The double edged blade was slightly longer than Brenna’s hand with a plain straight cross piece and a small knob of a pommel. The handle was wrapped in well-used leather, darkened by all the hands that had gripped it over the years. Brenna remembered the way the knife had flashed in Wynne Trewen’s hands as she cut herbs or stripped willow bark from branches. She leaned over and sniffed at the leather somehow hoping to catch the scent of her mother, but she only smelled oiled leather.

  Caught in the past, Brenna ran a finger over the blade. And then she had to clamp down on the knife when it flared again. A drop of something dark danced on the blade and then was absorbed into it. Curious, Brenna looked at her finger. There, a small knick from the blade. She touched the cut to the old steel and was surprised at the intensity as the blade once again flared to life. This time when she reached to control it her consciousness spiraled outward in an ever expanding circle, away from the cell in Thorold’s estate where her body knelt.

  In wonder, Brenna saw pinpricks of light that she knew were old steel. There, a Brother with his family’s weapon, and over there, a discordant match between wielder and weapon. As her mind’s view expanded Brenna felt the pull of the coronet, and beside it, the mortar and pestle.

  There was Kane. She knew that sword, knew its owner. If only she could reach him, tell him where she was. Kane she thought. But he couldn’t hear. Why would she think he could?

  Subdued, she reeled herself back to the cell. The knife lay dark in her hands and she stared at it. Her mother’s knife. Full of magic she didn’t know how to use, and secrets. Secrets her mother had never known. She tucked the knife back into her pack. Her knife now.

  She was still imprisoned by Thorold, but knowing she had the knife brought her comfort. And she knew how to use it as a weapon. Her training might be good enough for her to kill Thorold before he had her killed. Strangely calm, she traced her bleeding thumb on a stone block beside her and watched as the red dried to rusty brown.

  Startled, Kane stopped mid stride. “Brenna?” He shook his head and continued down the hall towards his office. For a moment he’d thought he’d heard Brenna calling his name. That’s what happens when you get far too little sleep. He and Dasid had much to do before he resigned his captaincy.

  Kane dreaded telling King Mattias that he was leaving, that he would not fulfill his oath. When he’d sworn that oath he’d understood the importance of it, had always believed he would live up to the promise. And he’d grown into it until it had wrapped around his soul and become part of his identity. Now he would have to strip that away, just as he was stripping away his rank. For more than ten years, ever since he’d been a fifteen year old recruit, the Kingsguard had been his life. But he’d made another promise, taken another oath, before he’d been welcomed into the Guard. That duty called him now. But he didn’t like what he had to do, didn’t want to have to choose. Breaking an oath. No man did that lightly, especially not those who lived by them. But he would not be bitter - he would accept his fate even though he felt diminished. And if, his choice made, Brenna never accepted her destiny, he would have failed that oath as well. He had to gain her trust.

  Kane turned into his office and found Dasid waiting for him with Ormston. His stomach flipped. Now what? Ormston had been set to watch over Brenna with instructions to let him know the moment she was in danger. He closed the door.

  “What’s happened to her?” Kane asked. Ormston and Dasid exchange glances. “Come on, you wouldn’t be here if something wasn’t wrong.” And I wouldn’t have had that feeling on my way here.

  “Well, sir, the lass has been taken by Thorold,” Ormston said. “I had word early this morning from our man inside the duke’s house.”

  Kane felt cold at the thought of Brenna in Thorold’s hands.

  “How did this happen? Does he know who she is?”

  “We don’t think so, Captain,” Dasid said. “It seems our girl was inside the house when she was discovered. From our accounts this morning, the duke doesn’t even know she’s there.”

  “In the house.” Kane’s sat down heavily. “How did she get in? No, don’t bother to answer that.” She’d found a secret way into the house. She’d been applying herself to the s
ecrets of his uncle’s house with such enthusiasm he’d thought she was simply bored. It turned out she’d had a different plan altogether. He slumped lower in the chair.

  “All right, Ormston. Thank you, you can go. Dasid will let you know if we need anything more from you.”

  “What do you want to do?” Dasid asked once Ormston was gone

  “What do I want to do? I want to stick to our original plan,” he said. He rubbed his temple with a shaky hand. “What I have to do is go in there and get her out. They won’t treat her as a simple thief for long. Once Duke Thorold sees who she is it will be close to impossible to get her back. We need to get her out right now.” Kane ran his hand through his hair in frustration - how could she have put herself at such risk?

  The door rattled and woke Brenna. She patted her pack where her knife lay and mumbled the concealing spell. Thanks to the old gods the spell had worked so far. She stood up with her back against the wall. The door opened and the guard from this morning entered, followed by Thorold’s pet scholar, the one she’d seen at the library - Fridrick. She kept her head lowered and watched him through downcast eyes.

  “Let’s see what you’ve caught here, Tobias,” Fridrick said to the guard. “You say she was not caught with anything on her? No stolen valuables or papers?” Tobias nodded. “How odd.” Fridrick continued to study her. “Girl, come closer, I want to look at you.”

  Brenna took a small step forward and briefly raised her head. She had to co-operate at least a little.

  “Hmm, brown hair, brown eyes. You have the look of Aruntun about you,” Fridrick said. “Could you be the thief who tried to steal the knife from the priest? It would mean that madman killed another girl by mistake.”

  Brenna kept her eyes fixed on the floor. Fridrick had figured that out much too easily. But he’d called Sabine Werrett’s death a mistake. Kane thought the church had been responsible for the death but if Fridrick knew, then Thorold was involved as well.

  “There’s something familiar about you,” Fridrick said. “I can’t place it. Not to worry, my dear, I’m sure Duke Thorold will be able to figure it out. I’ll leave any questions for him. I wouldn’t want to spoil his fun. Tobias.” The guard opened the door for Fridrick. The guard glanced her way before he followed the scholar out.

  Confused, Brenna took a step back. By the brothers, the guard had looked her straight in the eye and nodded. Just a tiny tilt to his head, but she hadn’t imagined it. She slid back down to a sitting position. Could he be part of the Brotherhood? Maybe Kane knew where she was and could get her out somehow? She had no desire to end up in Thorold’s control again. But if the guard was a Brother …

  Brenna thumped her head against the wall. She was a fool. The Brotherhood had a spy in Duke Thorold’s household. If she’d asked Kane, he probably would have told her. No doubt he would have been able to get the information she sought as well; information that tied Duke Thorold to the King of Langemore, proof that he was committing treason against King Mattias. All the times he’d tried to get her to trust him and she never once thought that he might hold the key to her plans. As he’d told her, she tended to forget who and what he was. He was young to have risen to Captain of the Kingsguard, family legacy or no. It stood to reason he’d be smart enough to keep watch on his enemies.

  But why had he not told her about his spies? She’d handed her own contacts over to him quickly enough. But she’d never asked. Nor had she asked him how he’d known about the knife she’d tried to steal from the priest. She’d been too busy trying to figure everything out on her own, too caught up in keeping secrets from Kane that she’d never considered that he’d have a few secrets of his own. He would have told her, if she’d asked. He would have told her in order to gain her trust for both him and the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood, with their weapons of old steel. Weapons made of the exact same metal as her mother’s knife.

  Carefully she reached back and pulled the knife from her pack. How was her mother’s knife connected to the Brotherhood? It was - she could feel it. Hand on the knife, she searched for old steel. One piece was just outside her cell. That must be Tobias - he wore a sword that was not from his family. She widened her search. There was more old steel on Thorold’s property. This time the mismatch between bearer and weapon was even more jarring. And there, on the road, were half a dozen more pieces. And one was Kane’s sword.

  Thorold dabbed his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto the table before he fixed Fridrick with a glare. “I assume you’re interrupting my breakfast for a reason, scholar.” He knew about the thief of course, his personal guard had informed him first thing this morning. He also he knew that Fridrick had been to question the thief.

  “Yes, my Lord.” Fridrick’s voice quavered slightly.

  Thorold really wished the man was made of stronger stuff. He might need to find ways to toughen him up a bit. He hated having to coddle anyone.

  “As you no doubt are aware the guards captured a thief early this morning,” Fridrick said. “A female thief.”

  Thorold straightened. His guard hadn’t mentioned that fact.

  “This thief,” Fridrick said. “Is a match to the description of the one caught stealing the knife from the church. I have little doubt she is the one.”

  “Have you questioned her? Did she admit it?” Thorold almost laughed out loud. He’d never believed that the healer who’d been killed had been the thief. He would love to hand this one over to the High Bishop. He would not allow a lowly thief to escape his justice. Even if this girl wasn’t the same one she could still help him cement his hold over the High Bishop. People had a habit of dying when questioned by the High Bishop. One more death would be one more lever to keep the man loyal.

  “No, my Lord,” Fridrick said. “I thought you would prefer to question her yourself.”

  Thorold nodded. “Very good Fridrick. Have the thief brought to me in the salon.”

  “My Lord,” Fridrick said. “There is one more thing. The girl seems very familiar to me, but I can’t place why.”

  Fridrick left and Thorold puzzled over his last statement. The scholar had a very good memory for people. It was unusual for him to not be able to place the thief.

  Duke Thorold’s salon resembled an audience chamber more than a sitting room. A single imposing armchair faced the door that led from the main hallway. Small tables sat to either side of the chair with plenty of room beside them for guards. He chose not to be flanked by guards today - he was, after all, dealing with a simple thief. The two guards escorting the thief should be enough to manage her.

  He had just settled himself on his own chair when there was a knock at the door. Fridrick entered followed by a slim figure in black and two of his most trusted guards. He watched as the girl, head bent, slowly walked the length of the room. She stopped in front of him, raised her head and met his gaze. What was this? His mouth opened in shock and he saw the small smile of triumph on her face. He scowled. The brat had surprised him, like her mother had, but he’d make this one pay as well.

  “Well Fridrick,” Thorold said and turned his attention to the scholar. “I believe I know why our young guest looks familiar to you. I always thought my bastard daughter bore some resemblance to me, although her coloring is her mother’s.” Thorold smiled at the shock on not only Fridrick’s face but on the faces of his two guards.

  “So daughter,” Thorold said. “How proud your mother would be if she were alive.” He eyed her dirt-streaked clothing and tangled hair. “A common thief. I always knew you were worthless despite my blood. I suppose it was you who tried to steal the knife from the priest, was it not?”

  His bastard daughter simply shrugged. “My mother would be proud,” she said. “I’m free. As for the priest’s knife. I have nothing to hide on that score. I was caught and my bond was paid. Although I’m sure you’ve had other items go missing over the years, none would have matched the loss the knife would have been. Oh, forgive me, that knife was for the High Bishop, wasn’t it?�
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  Thorold narrowed his gaze. Had she just admitted that she’d been behind a cluster of small thefts that had plagued him for years? And how did she know that the knife was destined for him?

  “That,” Thorold said. “Has no bearing on your current circumstance, does it? You, a known thief, found in my house.”

  “I’m sure the Kingsguard will deal with the charges in the manner they see fit,” she said.

  “I’m sure they would. If they had the chance.” He smiled as her face paled. “Do you think the Kingsguard will care what happens to a thief caught on my property? And there’s still the little matter of you being a runaway indentured servant. I’m sure that once all the accounts are added up, you’ll be quite in my debt for years to come.” Thorold laughed when her expression went from fear to anger. Oh, she was much more fun to goad than her mother had been.

  “When all accounts are added up you owe me for the death of my mother.”

  Before he could reply there was a noise from outside in the hallway. The sounds of muffled voices came from beyond the closed double doors, then they were flung open and Kane Rowse strode into the room, four men in the blue uniforms of the Kingsguard at his back.

  “Captain Rowse.” Thorold could barely contain his rage. How dare the man barge in to his home? “What is the meaning of this?”

  Kane Rowse stopped two paces in front of him and bowed slightly.

  “My question exactly, Duke Thorold,” Rowse said. “What is the meaning of this?” He gestured to the two guards and the prisoner. “As you know, anyone caught breaking the law must immediately be reported to the Kingsguard and prisoners handed over for questioning. I appreciate the efforts you and your men have gone through to apprehend this person, but we’ll take custody of the prisoner now. My men will take statements from you and your household.”