by Beth Alvarez
A distraction would be enough. Tahl wasn't averse to fighting, but this wasn't like slipping past the city guard. Getting caught entering the emperor's chambers would mean certain death. Another execution, no different from any number of false Ghosts who had already hung.
He ran through his memory of the hall. There was another door not far beyond the emperor's, one he could picture clearly. A door was a better distraction than the hall itself.
Tahl closed his eyes and gathered his energy. He hadn't yet relied on his magic. He'd hoped he wouldn't need to. It had saved his hide a dozen times during his last heist, but that had been out in the city. Atoras had his own personal court mages and although Tahl's power was weak enough that most mages paid him no mind, the last thing he wanted to do was draw the attention of a mage who might sense his presence.
The thoughts made his concentration falter. He brushed them away, cleared his mind, and tried again. For anyone else, this would have been so simple. All he had to do was picture the door, an anchor for the magic he wanted to work. Tahl pushed his toes against the door he hid behind, imagining the crack at the bottom. He focused there, pooling his power.
Though he couldn't see it, he felt the magic take shape. Smoke grew from nothing. Small wisps at first, nothing noticeable. Then the plumes thickened into dense, billowing clouds and poured from under the door.
Down the hall, the guard let out a sound—or maybe a word—of surprise.
Tahl fed the magic as much strength as he could manage in a moment's time, then tied off the flow of energy. He only had a few seconds. His boots touched the carpet in the hall just as the guard disappeared into the thick, enveloping smoke.
Even in boots, he could be silent. Tahl darted up the hall, mindful of each step. Three seconds. Four. He reached the door and prayed it would open.
It was unlocked. Tahl held his breath as he ducked inside and closed himself in. His first glance into the emperor's rooms made him pause for a half beat. Even for an emperor, the opulence was enough to be shocking. Fighting his urge to gape, Tahl darted across the suite. There was no time to spare, and he had to make a decision.
The suite only offered a handful of places to hide. A tall wardrobe stood against the near wall. A number of chests sat near the windows, and the bed did not sit up off the ground. All of them were too obvious of choices.
His eyes darted to the corner, where a massive brown bear reared on its hind legs and stood angled toward the door, as if to challenge any intruders.
Challenge accepted. Tahl jerked his dagger from his belt and bolted across the room to slide behind it. The blade sank deep into the back of the taxidermy beast. He hoped his instinct was right. It was too big to fill with sawdust alone; the weight would have made it impossible to move. His dagger resisted, the fur and hide thicker than he'd expected. A moment later, the blade thunked against a beam of wood and Tahl grinned. He pulled the dagger back until it cut just along the surface, then plunged deeper.
Outside, more voices clamored in the hall. Booted footsteps passed the door on their way to investigate the smoke, which had already begun to dissipate. The cut in the bear's back was no more than two feet, but it had to be enough. Tahl jammed his dagger back into its sheath and wiggled through the gap.
Large as the bear was on the outside, the inside was cramped. A wooden frame held the bear in position and sawdust stuffed its limbs, leaving only a small hollow cavity for him to curl inside. Tahl squeezed in and tried to make himself comfortable, then adjusted the hole in the bear skin to hide his entry.
The voices returned to the emperor's door. The rattle of armor filled the room as guards strode inside to investigate.
“Check the closet,” someone ordered. Booted feet moved everywhere and Tahl closed his eyes. With the sound of their feet filling the room, he couldn't help but envision a half-dozen scurrying lizards creeping across the floor and up the walls.
Dust tickled his nose and he rubbed it firmly to discourage a sneeze.
Outside his bear, furniture creaked and chest lids clacked, reaffirming his choice to hide elsewhere. Still as he sat, the bear did not so much as shift.
“Nothing,” another guard said. A window rattled, and sounds of consternation came from more than one throat.
“No evidence of a smoke bomb, either. What else could it be?”
“Don't know.” Four different voices so far.
“Check the other room for a magnifier.” Five voices.
“What?”
“If the sun hits it just right, the light can burn things.”
“That's a myth.”
“It's not, either. My cousin and I used to steal my father's loupe from his workshop and use it to burn ants.”
“You always were a beast, weren't you?”
A few friendly laughs answered, and the footsteps that moved back toward the door sounded more relaxed. By now, the whole upper floor had been scoured.
The door clacked shut and Tahl buried his face in the sleeve of his stolen uniform, willing himself not to sneeze.
The sun had only just begun to set.
He was in for a long wait.
The creak of the door startled Tahl awake. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep—he hadn't intended to fall asleep to begin with.
Voices trailed into the emperor's quarters, carrying a dull conversation about political matters that were so trivial, Tahl didn't know why they had the emperor's attention to begin with. Atoras was a hard man, the fourth in a line of warrior rulers who had subdued the Westkings under their thumbs. A dispute over fishing ships—from what Tahl could make out—seemed far beneath his notice.
Tahl moved ever so slightly. His whole body ached in protest, cramped inside the upright bear for a number of hours. Stiff, sore muscles could only hinder him. He had little room to stretch, but he tried anyway, shifting from one side to another, twisting in slow motion, careful not to rock or rattle his hiding place.
The conversation concluded but people remained. The rustle of fabric and patter of slippered feet filled the air. Maids, perhaps, turning down the blankets and helping Atoras prepare for bed. A soft giggle confirmed the suspicion.
Stabbing pain shot through Tahl's calf when he tried to flex his ankle. He bit his tongue hard and fought to remain silent as he pointed his heel and pulled his toes toward his shin, forcing the charley horse in his leg to release. Had he been caught skulking around the palace in a stolen uniform earlier, he might have escaped with a mere reprimand. Were he caught now, he had no doubt it would end with his death.
The cramp subsided and he let out a long, slow breath through his nose.
The room grew quiet. A faint light glowed beyond the slice in the bear hide, but after a time, that too faded. Judging by the dark that fell, it was safe to slide out, but Tahl waited anyway. Each moment brought more discomfort, more suffering, but he remained still. Eventually, a soft snore radiated from the space behind Tahl's back.
At last, he allowed himself to emerge. One foot after the other slid out through the slit in the bear's back. His booted toes found the wooden base beneath the beast and he twisted to slide out backwards. Dust stirred in his wake, clogging his throat and tickling his nose. He held his breath and waited for the sensations to pass, though fighting the urge to cough put tears in his eyes.
With the curtains drawn, Tahl could barely see, but a shadow lay in the canopied bed. The crown had to be nearby. He searched the room in the dark. Atoras's crown was a gaudy thing; he'd seen it in paintings. Crusted with jewels as it was, it shouldn't be hard to find it. Yet nothing glinted in the dark.
Tahl kept his breath steady as he stepped out from behind the bear, his boots muted by the plush carpet underfoot. He stalked closer to the bed, loomed over the end of it like a shadow. Like a ghost, he thought with a small hint of amusement.
Before him, Emperor Atoras slept.
The man's face was stony, even in sleep. Anger creased his brow and bitterness twisted his mouth. The emperor ruled
with a cold heart and an iron fist. Yet he lay helpless, prone, and Tahl couldn't help but marvel.
Getting to the emperor had been easy. Easier than anything Tahl could recall doing during a theft. Were he an assassin and not a thief, he could draw his dagger, slit the man's throat or plunge the blade into his heart before he had a chance to wake. Tahl could seize the kingdom, the crown, just as Niada thought he intended.
Beside the emperor's head, a gleam stole Tahl's attention.
The crown, cradled on the second pillow.
Lucky for you, I'm just a thief.
Silent as snowfall, Tahl leaned across the bed and wrapped his fingers around the crown. A tingle of something brushed his senses. Magic, he thought, though subtle, and he couldn't tell what it was supposed to do. Curious, considering he felt nothing from the emperor himself. The crown's enchantment would have to be unraveled another day.
Tahl sank back and gave the emperor one last long look. The man did not stir, though the craggy anger in his face had grown a little more defined. Tahl couldn't help but imagine the pure rage that would twist Atoras's features when he woke.
With luck, I won't be here. Tahl turned toward the door and considered it briefly. Outside, shadows of boots stirred, blocking part of the sliver of light that seeped in under the door's edge. In and out had seemed easier when the way was unguarded. He could summon more smoke in the hall, but the guards would be more likely to rush in to aid Atoras than to go investigate. That left one other avenue for escape.
The curtains whispered against his uniform as Tahl ducked behind them to unlock the window beside the stuffed bear. His fingers found the latch at the edge of the window, the same as the one in the guest room, and he winced as it snapped open.
Behind him, the emperor still snored.
The latch was all that made noise. The panes of glass parted and glided open, as soundless as an owl's wings. Tahl hitched up one leg and rested a boot on the window sill as he leaned forward and looked to the left. The guest room window was too far away, and there were no windows on that side of the emperor's suite. He craned his neck to look right instead. Closer by, another window ledge waited. Below, the courtyard seemed farther away than ever. He doubted he'd survive the fall. Just means I gotta get this right.
He slid the crown up his arm to secure it and keep it out of the way.
It had been a while, but he'd made harder jumps. Farther, higher, but perhaps not to such a small ledge.
Doesn't matter, he reassured himself. You've got this.
His other foot lifted to the sill and he shifted to press the sole of his boot against the window jamb. His heartbeat accelerated and he fought to keep his breath even. The muscles in his legs and shoulders tensed like the coils of a compressed spring. A strange tightness took his throat, and Tahl closed his eyes for an instant. Brant have mercy on me if I fail.
He jumped.
His shoulder skirted the wall and his boot clipped the ledge. Panic surged in his chest as he slipped off. His fingers caught the ledge and his body slammed against the wall. Breath escaped for a single stunned, painful moment. Then Tahl wheezed and willed his fingertips to dig into the stone. Slowly, he dragged himself upward. There was nothing to hold on to but the ledge. His boots scraped against the smooth stone. The worn soles stabilized him, but did little to help him climb.
Tahl's shoulders passed the ledge and he slammed an arm onto the window's outer sill. Already, a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his brow. A shimmy of his other arm put a knife in his hand. He jammed it between the window and the wall, scraping up and down in search of the latch he knew was there. His arm trembled beneath his weight.
The latch popped and the window swung outward against his arm.
A soft gasp was all that escaped as the window shoved him free.
Tahl swung hard to the left and cracked against the wall again, his knife wedged in the window frame all that kept him from plunging to his death. The crown clattered against the stone, the glinting jewels beside his head mocking him.
He braced his boots against the wall and thrust upward hard, swinging his other arm over the ledge. His fingers found a lip on the other side, beneath the window, and he clung to it with all his might. The knife remained stuck and Tahl silently blessed the master smith who must have forged it.
Releasing the knife, he snapped his other arm in through the window and scrambled upward. His boots squeaked against the stone of the palace's outer wall. One more kick sent him up and over and he tumbled into the room in a graceful somersault, bursting beyond the curtains to land in a crouch with his head tucked and one hand pressed to the floor.
His pulse roared in his ears and his heart tried to beat a hole in his chest. Tahl allowed himself a triumphant grin.
He lifted his head and he swore his heart skipped a beat.
A woman in white nightclothes stood between him and the door.
Tahl froze.
Her gaze darted from his face to the crown he still carried on his arm and her dark eyes widened more than he thought possible.
Panic returned and his stomach lurched. Tahl had seen her face a thousand times. It adorned every poster in the lobby of the museum and decorated the surface of every copper mite he'd ever earned—or stolen. She was strikingly beautiful, but he hadn't expected her to be young.
He rose to his feet.
The queen's expression grew steely. She lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye as a cold defiance spread over her face.
Before he could speak or even draw breath, she stepped aside.
Tahl's eyes darted between her and the door and his brows drew together in confusion.
Her head tilted as if to question what he was waiting for. Her attention lingered on the crown, but she said nothing.
In silence, he stalked forward to open the door. With his hand against the latch, Tahl drew a breath, looked at the crown on his arm, and realized he'd set himself up for failure.
Niada should have left the barley. He could have used the bag.
“Time to be famous,” Tahl muttered. He shoved out into the hallway and veered left.
He didn't know what waited that direction, but the emperor's quarters were to the right. The rough floor plan of the castle he'd assembled in his head told him nothing, but he didn't dare try to shoulder his way past the guards with the crown around his arm.
The crown shifted as he thought of it and he crooked his elbow to keep it in place.
“Hey,” a voice barked behind him.
Tahl tucked his chin and kept walking. Belatedly, he considered that emerging from the queen's quarters in the dead of night was quite possibly worse than bursting out of the emperor's quarters and catching the men in the hall off guard.
“Hey!” the man repeated, louder. Booted steps hurried after him and Tahl picked up his pace.
Behind him, the guard broke into a run, and Tahl stifled a curse.
There had to be another way down, if only a narrow servant's stairway. The hall stretched on for what seemed forever before it took an abrupt turn. He darted around the corner and froze.
Instead of another wide hallway, he found a small alcove with a narrow door.
Armor rattled in the hallway, betraying the guard's position. Tahl jerked the door open, praying for an escape route.
It was a latrine.
“Lifetree's mercy!” he spat. So much for avoiding the guards.
Tahl spun back just as the man rounded the corner into the alcove. The guard's face was red, though from anger or exertion, Tahl didn't know, nor did he care. He braced the crown against his ribs and charged the guard.
Startled, the man reached for his sword too late. Tahl bounded past him and bolted down the hall.
“Sound the alarm!” the guard roared to his partner, still beside the emperor's door. The second guard echoed the command and elsewhere in the palace, more voices raised the call.
That was one way to gain notoriety. The second guard positioned himself in the m
iddle of the hall, sword drawn, stance wide. Tahl checked his breathing and picked up speed.
A handful of strides before he met the second guard, he veered hard left and leaped against the wall. His momentum kept him going and he scaled the wall in three steps to flip over the guard. The carpet cushioned his roll when he landed on the other side and he dared a glance over his shoulder as he popped to his feet. The guard watched, his jaw slack.
No time to gloat, Tahl reminded himself on the way to the stairs. The sound of voices grew louder in the halls below. The clatter of weapons and armor rose to meet him. His mind raced ahead. There were more stairways from the third floor down to the second. He'd seen them, if not followed them. All he had to do was make it out of the main halls. Habit would work against the guards from there.
He was halfway down the stairs when a group of men with red tabards over their polished armor appeared below. The Emperor's Elite. Tahl lurched to a stop and swung his free arm to regain his balance. His toes teetered on the edge of a step, one short tip away from disaster. Pinning the crown harder to his side, he spun on his toes and went back the way he came.
“He's got the crown!” one of the Elite roared.
Tahl coughed a laugh. They'd only just noticed? Had they only been chasing him because he'd come from the queen's quarters? He leaped over the last stair and came face to face with the two guards he'd evaded before. Both were red and flustered. Behind them, the queen stood outside her quarters, looking like a spirit in her flowing white nightgown.
There was no worse place to be cornered than the top floor of a castle with only one exit. Tahl's eyes flicked past the guards, to the glass doors. Only one intended exit. He feinted to the side and then darted between the two men. One guard's hand brushed his collar, but his fingers closed a moment too late, and Tahl was past them again.
The emperor's door opened and Atoras himself appeared, his eyes ablaze with fury. Tempted as Tahl was to throw him a grin, he ran for the doors instead. He still didn't know where the latch was, nor did he have time to find it.
Time for a trick. Tahl shut the guards and the oncoming Elite out of his thoughts and trained his attention on the doors. A wisp of smoke stirred before the glass, like the first spurt as a fuse caught. Then thick, churning clouds spewed forth from nothing to flood the hall.
