by Beth Alvarez
The fall had given him some headway. The bear trundled down the slope, snarling and snuffling as it followed his scent through the rock. With the blood that trickled from Tahl's skinned knuckles and the cuts on his arms, he expected it was an easy track to follow.
The bear stopped at the bottom of the tree and bawled. Its agitation had lessened, but it gazed up at him as it reared onto its hind legs and placed a paw against the trunk, seemingly considering whether it was worth pursuing him up a tree.
Tahl wiped blood from his hand and drew slow, deep breaths. Gradually, the discomfort in his chest eased.
At least the bear had followed him and not Nia. As much as he wanted to will the creature away, he didn't want it to return to its den just yet. A few more minutes would give her enough of a head start that she could find her way back out of the cave.
And if she doesn't? He grimaced as the thought sprang into his mind unbidden. He had no intention of leaving Nia to fend for herself, but he wasn't equipped to deal with a bear.
As if on cue, the bear released a low, frustrated moan. Deciding Tahl wasn't worth pursuing, it dropped to all fours and turned away. Bored, it lumbered farther down the slope.
Tahl let his head drop back against the trunk of the tree as a deep sigh of relief escaped his lips.
“What were you saying about perfect?” a small voice called from a short distance away.
Startled, Tahl straightened and scanned the ground.
“Over here.”
His eyes snapped up to a tree some twenty feet away, where Nia clung to the top branches, her skirts bunched around her knees.
Tahl's brow furrowed. “How did you—”
“Turns out mine was the shortcut. I got here first.” A smug smirk twisted the corners of her mouth.
He returned it with a grin. “I don't know about you, but I still think it's perfect. I can't imagine anything better for keeping guards off our trail.”
Nia rolled her eyes and sagged against her tree. “You're the worst, Tahl.”
“You love me anyway,” he retorted.
“Yeah, right.”
They limped back to the city walls together as the sun sank behind their backs. Or rather, Tahl limped; Nia trudged, unharmed but weary after their escape. She eyed the guards at the western gate with some trepidation, but they weren't interested in her. Tahl grimaced when one of the guards waved for him to stop.
“Trouble on the road?” the guard asked, his voice gruff.
“We got chased by a bear,” Nia provided helpfully. “He fell.”
The guard's brows rose.
“It didn't get me,” Tahl grumbled and glowered her direction.
“It almost did.” She returned his glare with a neutral look.
He cleared his throat. “Just a warning, the bears don't want to share their early season berries. There's a big one in a den down that slope, a little ways to the south. It's not too close to the road, but you might want to let travelers know, just so the berry brambles don't tempt them off the path.”
The guard grunted and turned his head when Tahl pointed the right direction. “I see.”
Tahl gave a stiff nod and jammed his hands into his pockets as he slinked past.
Once they'd turned the first corner inside Orrad's walls, Nia nudged his arm. “Why'd you tell them where the cave is? We won't be able to use it now.”
“Were you really thinking we'd use it?” He held up his hands to display his bloodied knuckles. “There is a bear inside.”
She tucked in her chin and looked sullen.
“I know what I'm doing, okay?” Tahl lowered his voice. “We can still use the tunnel for emergencies, if we need to escape or slip in and out of the city, but it's definitely not getting used for anything else. A bear might be worth the risk if it slows down someone who's chasing me, but that's it.”
Nia huffed. “But you told—”
“I know,” he replied before she could finish. “Because the more people who know there's a bear that lives over there, the fewer people will be nosing around. It works out better for us. Nobody's going exploring a cave if they know there's a bear inside, and nobody's got the means to hunt a bear except the guards. They're not going to bother.”
A doubtful twist took the corners of Nia's mouth, but she said nothing else about it. Instead, her eyes settled on his scraped and bloodied arms. “Maybe we should go to the temple and get you healed.”
“I've had worse.”
“Yeah, but you need to be at the top of your game for what we're doing next.” She put a little too much emphasis on the last word. A few passersby cast her curious looks.
Tahl snorted. “As long as I don't slip down any more rocky hills, I'll be fine.”
“It's not like you to slip.”
“It's also not like me to get chased by bears, but that happened, didn't it?” He turned her down a wider road than he'd planned on taking. It was a more innocuous path than the winding alleys he preferred, and the people whose heads had turned when they overheard Niada lost interest. “We still need to decide on a place to go, though. I've got an idea for that.”
She perked up. “You do? What is it?”
He led her back to the sewer grate they'd entered through and she stared at it, confused.
The cover had settled back as if nothing ever dislodged it. Tahl shifted it aside again and started down the ladder. Before his head disappeared into the hole, he paused to reach across the dusty ground and pluck a pebble from the earth. “Coming?”
Nia picked at the front of her skirt. “What about the bear?”
“We're not going back that direction. I know the way to a particular place in the city from here. That's our destination.” He let go of the ladder and dropped to the sewer tunnel's floor without making a sound. “Coming?”
Uncertain as she looked, she still followed.
Tahl closed the entrance behind her and poured his focus into the pebble in his hand. He regretted losing the copper coin he'd flung at the bear's face, even if it had bought him a few seconds. That half-mite was supposed to provide his supper. Without it, he'd need to rely on Nia's charity, and he doubted she felt particularly charitable after he'd led the two of them off to be chased.
“This way,” he murmured as the pebble flared with light. It wasn't as brilliant as the coin had been; the pebble was smaller and he was tired. His magic always suffered first when his energy began to drop.
Niada trailed close behind him, though she was understandably less enthusiastic about their second trip underground.
He led her a different way this time, winding toward the east instead of the west. The underground tunnels were more direct than the roadways above, and he counted the branching passages they strode past in order to keep his bearings.
“Where are we going?” Nia asked, voice quiet.
“The Queen's Museum.” There was little point in keeping it secret. “There's an outlet to the sewer within the building. I think they meant to build some sort of fancy lavatory and connect that part of the museum to the sewer. They tiled over it, but I'm pretty sure we can open it up again.”
She squinted distrustfully at his back. He didn't have to look to see it. There was a familiar heat and weight to her gaze when she looked at him that way.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“It was one of the entry routes I considered when I broke in to distract the guard with the Seed.” Tahl flashed a grin over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes in response. Fine. She didn't need to revel in his successes like he did. Of course, it hadn't gone perfectly. That venture was what had earned him his scar.
The rest of the walk was quiet. Eventually, he led her down a dead end and pointed at a large, square block of stone in the ceiling. “That's it. We just need to pry that out.” He motioned for Nia's hand. When she extended it, he pushed the mage-light into her palm. “Hold that.”
“Not giving me much choice,” she muttered.
Ignoring the complaint, Tahl
pulled a knife from his belt. He'd figured the low-quality blade the false Ghost had threatened him with would be useful, but he'd thought its use would come from putting a few mites in his pocket. Instead, he jammed the blade between the large stone and the rest of the ceiling to chip away the mortar.
It was slow, frustrating work, and long minutes dragged by before the stone had any give when he pushed on it.
“Lucky the ceiling is so low,” he mumbled to himself as he worked the blade deeper. “If I were as short as you, I couldn't reach it.”
Nia's cheeks puffed with indignation. “I'm still growing.”
Tahl shrugged and pushed the stone upward. It shifted. Chunks of broken mortar rained down on his head and he turned his face toward the earth to keep it out of his eyes. Again, he pushed, and the stone slid up and to the side. “There we go.”
Curious, Nia crept forward. The space above the new hole was dark. “I thought the museum was open.”
“It should be.” That was part of his plan for exploration, at least. If the museum was filled with visitors, a few more voices wouldn't be noticed. He laced his fingers together and braced his hands against his thigh to make a foothold. “Come on. Climb up.”
She eyed him, wary.
“It's easier for both of us if you go first. You can't get up there on your own and it's easier for me to lift you than to pull you up.” He tapped his thigh and laced his fingers again. “Come on. Take the light up.”
“If I get caught—”
“You won't get caught. At least, not if you're half as good a thief as you think you are.”
Her nose crinkled with offense, but it spurred her into motion. She nestled her toes into his hold and pushed herself up.
Tahl kept his head down as her skirts went over the top of him. She usually wore leggings under her skirts, just in case she needed to make a quick escape, but there were few ideas less pleasant than getting a glimpse up his honorary sister's legs.
Nia disappeared into the space above. The shadows around the mage-light took a bluish tint.
With the sewer's ceiling as low as it was, it wasn't difficult for Tahl to catch the edge of the hole and drag himself up into the museum. The space was tight, and he realized with a start that his shoulders were a shade wider than they used to be. Maybe he was still growing, too. That put all sorts of unpleasant thoughts in his head. If he outgrew his heist outfit, could the old woman who knitted the thing adjust it? A full new outfit was out of the question. It had cost more than an average man earned in a year.
The room he emerged into was as dark as he'd expected. When the addition of lavatories failed, the space had been converted to storage. Wooden frames of unfinished walls cast skeletal shadows across the crates and sheet-covered sculptures stowed in the large, incomplete space.
“Big area to leave empty,” Nia murmured. Low as her voice was, it carried in the quiet emptiness.
Tahl shrugged. “Museums can never have too much storage. They can't have everything on display all the time, you know.”
“Why not?”
“There's too much stuff. Things that have to be cleaned and restored, too, and things they remove from display because of the times. Depending on the state of things in the empire, some artifacts and pieces of artwork are considered too sensitive to share.” He crept to a crate and pried at the lid, curious to see what was inside. It was nailed down fast. A thick coat of dust on its surface indicated it had been stored for some time. He brushed his hand against his trousers and his dusty fingers left streaks of gray. “Besides, sometimes they get things on loan, like the artifacts they had from the temple. They had to take stuff down to make room for that exhibit.”
“Looks like some of it's never going back up.” Nia frowned at the massive stacks of crates.
Tahl paced toward the door. “I'm not surprised. We're not near the exhibits.”
She followed with the light. It glowed steady, a surprise of its own, given how tired he'd grown before he made it. “Where are we?”
“The basement. Or, sort of. This level is halfway underground, according to the diagram I found in the hall of records.” The door was locked when he tested the knob. Perfect.
Nia blinked. “We have a hall of records?”
“We have a lot of things,” Tahl replied mildly. “This room was supposed to be where the plumbing went. Pipes fashioned to connect to all the lavatories, which were going to be just above us. I think they planned to have water cisterns in here too, if I remember right, but I'm not sure how they thought they were going to get that water up to the lavatories to use it.”
“And we're going to just crawl through a hole in the floor every day?” Skepticism oozed from her tone and for a moment, Tahl reconsidered the wisdom of working with an adolescent. He wasn't much older, but he'd left the attitude behind when he'd been ejected from the mage academy.
“Yes.” He shoved a box aside. “If we get creative in rearranging, nobody will know we're here. Judging by the dust on the floor, no one's been in here for years.”
She crossed her arms. Her fingers shielded most of the light from the pebble in her hand. “And when they do decide to come calling?”
“Then we'll hopefully be built up big enough that we'll have allies on the inside.” Tahl flashed her a grin and stepped back, his arms spread wide. “So I think this is it. Our new headquarters. The new guild, led by the Ghost of Orrad. What do you think?”
“I think,” Nia said, “we need to talk about how this guild is supposed to get together.”
“They'll come to us.”
“How do you figure?”
He shrugged, surveying the room like a man appreciating his holdings. “Because two days from now, the Ghost will be wearing the crown.”
The words carried a certain weight, and he paused to appreciate them after they left his mouth. One day to heal. A day and a half to plan. A hint of a smile worked its way onto his lips.
Chapter 6
A full day of planning was simultaneously not enough and more time than Tahl needed. His research efforts proved fruitless within the first few hours. If there were diagrams of the palace, they weren't anywhere he would find them. The hall of records showed nothing of value. The museum's library showed nothing at all. It wasn't the first time he'd winged something, but winging the theft of the emperor's crown was madness.
At least no one had to know that he had no clue what he was doing. Niada didn't need to know there was a complete lack of strategy beyond what got them in the door. They'd split up not long after that. Nia would face little risk. The worst that could befall her was a scolding and being physically removed from the palace grounds. But him... Tahl shook his head. There was no room for failure.
He checked his daggers for the dozenth time, a quick tap to each hilt to make sure they were still in place. Without his heist outfit, he felt strangely naked, but the dark, inky blue fabric would have been so wildly out of place that he'd never make it through the door. Instead, he wore average street clothes, the simple brown trousers and unbleached cotton shirt he wore for most day-to-day business. The heist clothes were more comfortable, but the worn outfit he sported was broken in and didn't hinder his movement much. It was the best he could manage.
“Ready?” Nia's small voice piped from the alley behind him. She'd probably meant to startle him, creeping up from behind like she did. Too bad Tahl had heard her coming. He didn't reward her with so much as a twitch.
“I've been ready.” He spared her a glance. Instead of the skirt she'd sported the day before, she wore comfortable riding breeches and knee-high doeskin boots, suitable for a young girl working menial stable jobs. Though it was sensible for what they intended to do, he fought an inward cringe. Orrad sported its own fashion sense and while close-fitting breeches weren't unusual attire for women in the capital city, they always struck him as strange compared to what women on the coast wore—the loose, billowing trousers that tied around the waist. “Don't those chafe?” he asked with
out thinking.
Niada raised a brow. “They're more practical than what you're wearing. They won't get caught on anything.”
Fair as the assessment was, Tahl bit his tongue to hold back a retort. He was an expert thief. He didn't get caught on things. “Fine. Let's go.” He allowed himself one more tap to each dagger hidden on his person, then turned toward the palace looming against the northern sky.
A steady stream of business flowed through the front gate, though it had dwindled as the day went on. There were fewer deliveries to be made in the late afternoon, which was both convenient and problematic. Deliverymen would be tired this late in the day, eager to recruit help and conclude their day's work early. The lack of bustle inside would make it harder to move around unnoticed, but Tahl clung to the idea of using nightfall to hide his escape. The later they got started, the better.
“There's one,” Nia whispered. She glanced up, seeking his approval. When he nodded, she darted forward to put herself in the way of a small wagon. The driver reined his mule back with an irritable protest.
“Unload your goods for a half-mite,” Niada offered in her most cheerful voice.
The driver sneered. “You couldn't lift a single sack of flour with those arms.”
She shook her head. “Not just me. My brother, too.” Her thumb jerked toward Tahl and he presented himself appropriately. Their coincidental shared dark hair and green eyes had often come in handy for schemes like this. His darker complexion was easily explained away with the claim he worked the farms outside the city.
The driver gave Tahl a quick look up-and-down and sneered. “Feh. Arms that size aren't worth a half-mite.”
Nia cringed, but Tahl only raised a brow at the derision. The wagon lumbered past to disappear through the palace gates.
“Sorry,” Niada murmured, presumably for the driver's insult.
Unbothered, Tahl shrugged. “He didn't have the money.”
“What makes you think that?”
