by Beth Alvarez
Tahl took a longer step over a pile of rat droppings and forced his thoughts back to the task at hand. “Imbued items aren't common. Especially not weapons. No merchant will touch them, and if I'm being honest, this isn't pretty enough to keep in my collection. Think you can identify the mark again if you see him in the city?”
Nia tucked in her chin and rubbed her arms, as if the thought alone was unpleasant. “He's hard to miss. I wish I'd chickened out when it crossed my mind.”
It wasn't like her to confess such feelings. Nia was a cautious thief, but once she picked a mark, she could be brash. Tahl raised a brow, though he didn't say anything, lest she clam up.
She went on unprompted. “He was creepy. I didn't realize it until I was right up on him, but something about that guy was weird.”
“So in other words, you'll gladly point him out so I can put this back in his pockets,” Tahl said.
Reluctant, she nodded. After a moment, curiosity claimed her expression. “You think it'll be that easy?”
“Pickpocketing works backwards, too. I'm just as adept at planting things on people as getting things off them.” He stopped at the end of the alley to peek into the roadway. People flowed past without noticing him, distracted by their own business. Satisfied, Tahl waited for a gap to slip into the throng.
“There she is!” someone cried behind him.
Tahl spun on his heel. Nia yelped and bolted past him as a pair of guards he swore hadn't been there a moment ago burst from the crowds.
Biting back a curse, he put himself in their path at the last moment.
One of the guards plowed straight into him, bowling him to the ground. The other tripped over the two of them and landed hard on the cobblestones.
“Hey!” Tahl protested, struggling to remove himself from the tangle of limbs.
The larger of the two guards—the one who had tripped—planted a hand on his face and shoved him down.
“Brant's bloody branches,” the other guard spat as he freed himself and staggered to his feet.
Tahl curled up on the cobbles with a groan, covering his face with one arm. He didn't think the wax covering the scar on his face had come loose, but if it had, it would make putting himself in a guard's path the most dangerous thing he could have done.
Yet the guards never looked his way again after they were back on their feet. The one he'd entangled stepped over Tahl's legs and marched onward in search of Nia, without looking back.
Tahl unfurled himself slowly and peeked out from between his fingers. Under the guise of shielding his face out of fear, he probed the wax over his scar to ensure it was intact before he lowered his hand. He watched as the guards disappeared around a corner, momentarily unsure what to do.
Nia had nothing on her now. The knife was still on him. Even if they caught her, they had no evidence to support the claim she'd stolen something.
Unless, of course, they took her before her mark and had him identify her.
That was another problem. He could roam the streets all day, but without Nia at his side, he had no hope of finding the target. It was just as easy for him to abandon the knife somewhere; the blade meant nothing to him. But if the guards caught Nia and she was identified as a thief...
Tahl halted that thought before it could go any farther. “For the love of leaves,” he muttered as he pushed himself up. There was no avoiding it. He retreated back into the alleyway and peeled the wax from his scar.
If anyone could draw attention off Nia long enough for her to escape, it would be the Ghost.
Tahl would have loved to have his heist clothing.
He could still climb walls and leap rooftops without it, but the close-fitting navy blue outfit had come to be as much a part of the Ghost's image as his scar. Some tiny, vain part of him had considered having his emblem added to his ensemble somehow. Perhaps not to his clothing, as it would have been foolish to add anything that stood out from the dark fabric, but maybe a scarf. Or a symbol on his bag. Right now, it would have been useful. Something, anything more that made his identity obvious would have been.
Instead, he had to hope his scar would be enough.
Tahl rubbed the cuff of his sleeve against his cheek as he bounded across the gap to another roof. The last traces of wax came free, and he threw himself into a sprint.
The guards had disappeared around a corner somewhere ahead. He had to find a way to cut them off, separate them from Niada long enough for her to make an escape.
Angry voices rose from the city below and he veered toward them, ignoring the instinct to keep quiet. Tahl breathed deep as he dashed across the rough wooden roof tiles of the poorer district they were in. They were easier to keep his footing on and he pushed ahead.
He knew every inch of Orrad by now. Just ahead lay a handful of shops—a perfect place for a distraction. From the sound of it, that was where Nia had gone.
Hope this means you have a plan. Tahl ran through his memories of which shops were where, then adjusted his course. When he reached the last roof before the wide shopping avenue, he slowed and gripped the roof's edge to swing down with as much force as he could muster. His heels struck the shop's glass display window and crashed through.
A chorus of shrieks rose as he swung back and released the roof. He landed lightly on the cobblestone street as broken glass hit the ground and splintered. The jeweler had already appeared on the other side of the window, his face distraught.
“I need to borrow this, sorry,” Tahl called as he seized a fistful of jewels from the display and spun to scan the streets.
More cries went up through the shoppers nearby when he turned. “It's him!” a woman screamed.
“The Ghost!” a man added.
Tahl fought not to cringe. Thieving in broad daylight wasn't his style, and the number of eyes that turned toward him was uncomfortable. But at the far end of the street, he caught the gleam of armor as a pair of guards turned back his direction.
A pang of regret struck him like a punch to the stomach.
It's part of the plan, he told himself as he took two hopping steps backwards and raised his stolen jewelry overhead. “I'll bring these back, promise!”
From the obscenities the jeweler shouted at him through the broken window, the man didn't believe it.
Before the jeweler could make it through the door, Tahl ducked between a handful of startled shoppers and raced toward the oncoming guards. He'd barely taken a few steps before they were close enough for him to recognize them and be certain they were the guards after Nia. The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled and an unpleasant shudder tore down his spine. Racing toward guards in broad daylight was another thing he didn't do, but here he was, cutting straight toward them and praying they didn't call for reinforcements.
Tahl had expected to see Nia somewhere past them, but she was nowhere to be seen. That better mean you got away. He skidded on the cobbles to keep from crashing into someone, then cut toward a side street.
He crashed into Nia, instead.
“Hey!” she cried as she tumbled to the ground. Tahl sprang over the top of her to keep from tripping, then spun back to offer her a hand.
She blinked at the gold laced between his fingers.
“Come on!” he snapped.
Setting her jaw, Nia grabbed his wrist and let him help her up. Then they both darted into the narrow street. “I don't need you to save me,” she said, the edge in her voice sharper than the window's broken glass.
“Really? It looked to me like you were headed for the gallows!” He slapped her arm to get her attention and veered into a narrow alley. A few steps in, he kicked off the wall and started his vertical ascent, bounding back and forth between the close buildings.
She followed, but grunted and struggled to keep up. “You climb like a squirrel.”
“Yeah, I've heard that.” He swung onto a roof and leaned down to offer his hand. When she took it, he hauled her up and then glanced at the jewelry that still decorated his hand.
Nia nodded toward it. “What's that for?”
“Getting the attention of the guards. Come on, we have to keep moving.” He backed up a few paces and took a running start to leap to the next building over. Nia landed next to him with a quiet thump. Before he could offer any directions, she lit off on her own.
“Where are you going?” Tahl called after her, uncomfortably aware of the noise of the city growing louder in the street below. They wouldn't have long to gain a head start.
“The docks!” Nia shouted back. “You still have it?”
Tahl was beginning to regret taking the knife. He nodded once and took a step forward, only for a crossbow bolt to thud into the rooftop at his toes.
“Archers,” he breathed. “Perfect.”
A second bolt cracked against the rooftop. Tahl launched into a sprint to follow Nia onto the next roof over.
A volley from the crossbows followed.
Niada yelped as one skimmed past her head, taking a few raven strands with it. “How did you manage to make things worse?” she cried.
Tahl vaulted over the peak of the roof to hunch on the other side, hoping that removing himself from sight would slow down the bowmen below. “You're the one who wanted me involved!”
“Yeah, to help me fix things! Not to bring half Orrad's guard after us!”
Offended, he put himself directly in front of her as she crested the roof and slid down beside him. She squeaked in surprise, clearly not having expected him to be so close. He pressed his fingers to his chest in a gesture of hurt. “Who helped you get out from under them, exactly? They almost had you.”
“We aren't out from under them, stupid. They're right there!” Nia ducked reflexively as a bolt arced overhead.
Below, someone shouted, and an argument broke out. Whoever had fired didn't have permission. It seemed their reckless shot would earn them an earful—and hopefully buy Tahl a little time.
“Come on,” he whispered, motioning her to the next roof. It was a longer jump, harder to make without a running start, but he bounded across the gap without difficulty and then spun to catch Nia. She didn't need his help, though she landed hard. They put two more rooftops between them and the crossbowmen before he motioned toward a narrow alley at the back of a building.
Together, they descended into the shadowy space.
“We need somewhere to hide,” Nia whispered.
Tahl arched a brow. What did she think he was doing? He bit back a retort and waved for her to follow him, instead.
The alley snaked farther toward the edge of the city before it finally opened into a familiar yard. A round stone cap covered a sewer access tunnel in the middle of the weedy cobbles. He braced a foot against it and pushed. It didn't budge.
“Help me with this,” he ordered as he dropped to the ground, braced his toes against the uneven paving stones, and pushed with both hands. Nia knelt to do the same, grunting with exertion. Perspiration just rose on his brow before the stone shifted. With the crust of dirt broken, it moved more easily, but he didn't fool himself for a second into thinking they'd be able to move it back. Tahl stopped with the stone halfway across the opening, swiped the back of his hand across his brow, and plucked a loose pebble from the ground. “Down.”
“Don't have to tell me twice,” Nia muttered. She slid over the edge and disappeared into the gap.
Tahl followed, too aware of the sound of people approaching. They stood a chance of escaping in the sewer, at least, but how easily the guards seemed to track them through the city made him uncomfortable. He'd never had that difficulty before.
They hurried down the tunnel until the light from the opening was no longer visible, then walked a bit farther, trailing their hands on the walls to find their way. Once he was certain they wouldn't be spotted easily, Tahl pushed a tendril of power into the pebble in his hand. It took a soft, warm glow, but he kept it faint. If anyone looked into the tunnel, a light could be visible. If he kept it faint enough, the mage-light wouldn't illuminate much beyond the ground beneath their feet.
“Think we made it?” Nia asked softly as they padded onward.
“Hopefully.” Tahl's sense of direction rarely failed him, and he'd set a path toward the eastern side of the city. He'd explored a good portion of the unused sewers that had fallen short of expectations and ended up paved over, and he was confident when he assumed they could get close to the docks, but he had a stop planned along the way. He rubbed his mage-light with his thumb and fought back a frown. “Let's go a little farther. Once we get around a corner somewhere up ahead, I think we should sit down and have a proper look at this knife.”
She made a soft sound of assent and said nothing more.
The tunnel carried on for some time before they found a branch. Tahl shifted their path north and continued for a while before he took another eastern branch. Not long after, he lowered himself to the ground and allowed himself a sigh.
Nia frowned. “You okay? It seems like that run took more out of you than usual.”
“Fine. I wasn't planning on escaping any guards today, but at least they weren't Elite.” He withdrew the knife and poured a little more magic into the mage-light, letting it brighten before he pushed it into Nia's hands. “Here, hold that.”
She leaned forward, curious, as he unwrapped the blade. After the unpleasant shock of touching it before, he chose to keep it on the cloth. That shock was what made it all the more confusing that he didn't see anything out of the ordinary.
Now that he inspected it close up, he saw it was a nice blade. Plain, but good quality. Ordinary of appearance, anyway, yet clearly unusual. Ordinary blades didn't bite with magic when you touched them.
“See anything strange?” Tahl asked. He didn't expect she would. Noticing things was what kept him alive and made him a good thief, but he wasn't arrogant enough to think nothing could escape his attention. Especially when magic was involved.
Nia shook her head. “It's just a regular knife.” She reached for it, then hesitated.
Tahl raised a brow. “What?”
“What happened when you touched it before?”
He snorted. “It hurt. It was like shuffling across a carpet and then poking someone to make a spark, times ten.”
Now her face twisted with bemusement. “When I touched it, it just made me feel creepy-crawly. Should I touch it again? Is it safe?”
“I don't know,” he admitted. “I get the feeling it's a lot more special than it looks. None of the mages at the academy are able to imbue objects with magic, you know. They call it a Lost Art.”
“Can't be that lost, if someone's still making magic knives.”
“That or this is a lot older—and more important—than we thought.” He studied the knife for a moment longer, then folded the wrappings closed once more. “I know this is going to sound weird, but I think the guards are able to follow it somehow.”
Nia tilted her head. “Like sensing it?”
“No, I don't think so. I didn't feel any mages in their group, and even I don't really pick up anything odd about it. But they might have an artifact that lets them know where it is. I don't think they'd pursue us so with this much determination otherwise.”
She sat back on her heels, rolling the mage-light between her forefinger and thumb. “Why do you suppose they'd have something like that? Or be after a plain old knife?”
“I don't think they are,” Tahl said. “If they've got something like that, I suspect they're looking for something else. We may have just tripped their alarm by mistake.” He had a good idea of what sort of magic-imbued item they might be looking for, but he'd keep that to himself. If there was any way to sense the crown from outside the vault-turned-office he'd stashed it in, their headquarters would have been discovered by now.
“Then we definitely want to give it back.” She stood up and dusted off her knees.
He blinked twice and rose after her. “Really? You seemed like you hated that idea.”
“I do, but
I hate the idea of getting caught worse.”
Tahl couldn't help but laugh. “Fair enough. We're halfway to the docks now, but we've got one thing we need to stop and get before we move on.”
“Really?” Nia asked. “What's that?”
“Disguises.”
“Ready,” Nia announced.
Tahl glanced over his shoulder and bit his tongue. He'd elected to wear the simple gray uniform of a soldier out of armor, something he'd liberated from a guard's house after his romp in Orrad's fortress-like palace. She, on the other hand, looked little different from her everyday appearance as a barmaid.
“You're going to need to do better than that.” He fastened the last button of his coat and turned to help her. The dress she'd chosen was ordinary and suited a peasant girl, but she'd done nothing with her black hair. He slid his fingers along her hairline and gathered it all behind her ears to smooth it into a braid.
Nia scrunched her nose. “I can do my own hair.”
“Really? How come I've never seen you do anything but tie it back, then?” His fingers were deft and with her hair little more than shoulder-length, it wasn't long before he'd tied off the braid and coiled it into a simple bun against the back of her head. But he didn't have any hairpins on him, so he caught her hand and clamped it over the bun to make her hold it in place until he could find some.
“Because I don't like it being fancy,” she replied with a sniff.
Tahl snorted and pulled the box of treasures out from underneath his bed. “All the more reason to do something fancy, then. The goal is to avoid being recognized, remember?” He fished around in a smaller wooden container inside the box until he produced a few hairpins. He couldn't recall where he'd gotten them or why he'd decided to keep them, but the container was filled with bits of wire and string and miscellaneous pieces of who-knew-what he'd always assumed would come in handy. More often than not, he was right.
