by Beth Alvarez
Nia rolled her eyes, but stood still while he worked the pins into her hair.
Satisfied, he stepped back to give her one last inspection. “Ready?”
“No, but if we get shot at again, I'm blaming you. I don't think I can run or climb in this skirt.” She gathered the fabric in both hands and gave it a swish. It wasn't an impressive dress, but it was all he'd been able to procure for her on short notice.
Brant forbid she appreciate that it fits, he mused. “Fine. Let's get to the docks.”
Though she groaned, Nia followed him out of his latest hideout.
He moved, every now and then; he still missed the cozy space above Ebitha's stables he'd called home after he’d been ejected from the academy, but it was safer not to be in any one place for too long. More often than not, it was Nia getting herself in trouble that prompted his moves. Tahl shut and locked the door behind her, lamenting the packing he'd have to do as soon as this was over.
With his stolen guard's uniform, no one bothered them on the trek to the docks east of the city. While they traversed the city streets, he found it a boon. Once they passed the gate and he saw how many men in armor swarmed the riverfront, his choice of disguise sent a trickle of sweat down his spine.
“I've never seen so many guards in one place before,” Nia murmured. “Not even when you—”
“Now would not be the wisest time to discuss previous exploits,” he said through clenched teeth. He expected her to come back with a retort, but she blushed, instead.
Keenly aware of the cosmetic wax that hid the scar on his face once more, he squared his shoulders and tried to look as if he belonged.
Together, they walked the crowded street, and it wasn't long before something brushed the edge of Tahl's senses.
“I think I see him,” Nia whispered.
He nodded and slowed just enough for her to take the lead.
The farther they went, the more the sense of something prickled. A presence, a power unlike anything he'd ever felt before. The prickle turned to an itch and he rolled his shoulders, fighting the urge to scratch.
Nia tugged at his sleeve. “There. That's him. I'm sure of it.”
“All right,” he murmured. The itch turned to a burn, a heat that rolled over his skin like the air from a baker's oven. He fought back a shudder and made himself walk on. Magic had never put him so on edge before, but it felt raw, wrong, and the closer they got to their target, the worse it seemed to be.
It was the target, Tahl realized. The brown-cloaked figure that stood on the pier and watched cargo be loaded was a mage. That presence grew stronger, stranger, flooding him with a sickening urge to run. Nia must have felt it too, for all that she wasn't a mage. She stopped at the end of the pier and watched with wide eyes as Tahl forced himself to continue on.
Heat. Power. His heartbeat quickened and his stomach lurched.
Stealing was easy.
Returning something should have been easy.
Instead, he struggled onward, fearful he'd be ill.
The figure shifted, its hooded head canting to one side. It seemed the target had sensed him, too. It grew still as Tahl approached.
Power rolled off the stranger, more wild, more sickening than Tahl ever imagined magic could be. The sheer weight of its presence poured over him and threatened to drive him under.
The stranger turned.
Unable to resist, Tahl sank to his knees and presented the stolen blade on his upturned palms.
“You are not the one who stole from me,” the mark said, his words thick with an accent Tahl had never heard before.
“But I'm the one who's giving it back,” Tahl said.
A soft chuckle answered. “You've learned a lesson?”
All Tahl managed was a nod.
“This was not for you.” Rather than anger, amusement colored the man's voice. He reached for the blade, and instead of fingers, it was claws that curled around the hilt.
Startled, Tahl lifted his head as that subhuman hand—and the dagger—vanished into the stranger's cloak. From the depths of the hood that shadowed the stranger's features, a pair of deep violet lights stared back.
The pit of Tahl's stomach dropped.
A shout from the ship beside them drew the stranger's attention and he turned away. With a grace as inhuman as the rest of him, the man swept up the gangplank and disappeared without a word.
All of a sudden, the crushing weight of power lifted, and Tahl's shoulders slumped with relief. Beads of sweat marred his brow and he swiped them away with the back of his hand. He'd never felt anything like that. Silently, he prayed he never would again.
Hurried footfalls thumped behind him, earning a few curious looks from passers-by, but not even the armored guards on duty watched them for more than a moment. Their luck, it seemed, had changed.
“What was that all about?” Nia asked as she knelt beside him. Her hands curled around his arm, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if she was seeking comfort or trying to offer it to him.
“A lesson,” Tahl said. He freed himself of her grasp and pushed himself up.
Nia glanced toward the ship as the sailors pulled in the plank and prepared to set sail. “What lesson?”
His eyes glazed and he swallowed hard. “Don't steal from demons.”
To Steal the Queen
The Third Heist
Chapter 1
The numbers in the ledger didn't add up. Tahl chewed the inside of his lip and tapped a finger against the desktop as he skimmed the columns again. The pad of scratch paper beside him was already full.
“No wonder Ebitha can't afford her horses,” he muttered as he closed the ledger and put it back. If not for the odd jobs he'd done for the woman, he wouldn't have known where to find it. The widow's estate was a mess, to say the least, and had only grown worse after Tahl left.
He ripped the top sheet of scratch paper off the pad and stuffed it into his pocket. The next few pages bore impressions from his borrowed pen, but he doubted Ebitha—or whoever managed her money these days—would notice. They probably wouldn't have noticed if the office was out of order, either, given the state of things around the manor, but he still returned the pen to its cup and ensured the chair was in the same position it had been when he entered. Satisfied by the overall appearance of the office, Tahl stalked to the window and slipped outside.
Moonlight bathed the house. It wasn't the best night to be climbing, but Tahl was not concerned. Out of everyone in Orrad, Tahl could only think of one person he trusted more than Ebitha, and she waited below the window. The moment his feet touched the ground, Niada emerged from the shadows. Tahl didn't need a lookout, but after leaving Nia out of the jobs that put him on the map, he felt he owed her a few nights on the prowl.
“Get what you needed?” Nia asked in a whisper.
Tahl grunted in response. Had he? The numbers in the ledger were suspicious, but they weren't exactly important to anyone but him. Knowing someone had it out for the old widow who had fed and sheltered him after he'd been expelled from the mage academy bothered him more than it should.
“I'll take that as a yes.” Nia glanced up the back of the house, but Tahl hadn't left anything out of place. The curtains were drawn and the window was closed. No one would ever know he'd stopped in for a visit.
“Not yet.” Tahl made his way to the stables to steal a peek inside. A handful of equine heads lifted when the doors opened and he took a quick count. One was missing. He frowned.
Nia watched his back, puzzled. Without another word, he motioned for her to follow and together, they slipped into a narrow, winding alley.
“See anything interesting?” he asked once they were safely away from the widow's manor.
“I didn't see anything at all,” Nia complained. “This part of the city at night is more dead than the emperor's grandmother.”
Tahl quirked a brow at her choice of words, but let them go as he caught hold of a drainpipe on the side of a building. “Maybe it's time to
liven it up, then. Think you can keep up?”
Her eyes brightened and he didn't wait for a response. He darted up the wall and kicked off the top to land on the roof of the lower building across the alley. Below, he caught the scuffle of Niada following. They'd have to work on that; Tahl's ascent hadn't made a sound.
Soon, she landed on the roof next to him. He spun in place and lit off in a sprint, building momentum to vault the alley and land on the next roof over.
Even three months ago, it wouldn't have been safe to travel the city by roof. Tahl wasn't sure safe was the right word to use for it now, but bounding from rooftop to rooftop no longer carried the same perils. He would have felt safer in his heist clothes, but those were reserved for important jobs, not for breaking into an old woman's house to nose through her financial statements.
Orrad had changed in the wake of the Ghost's return. His return, Tahl thought with a hint of smug satisfaction. Not every thief in the city was part of his guild, but their numbers grew daily and his reputation was enough to scare the rest into submission. Even some of the guards had now fallen under his sway. The city was easy to corrupt when you had coins to press into the right palms.
Behind him, Nia landed hard. She grunted as her knees cracked against the tiled roof, but he moved on. He needed to make her train more often. As the Ghost's second-in-command, she should have been the second most capable thief in the city. In reality, she wasn't far up the ladder in terms of skill. It was easy to hide her lack of ability when all she did was shuffle paperwork and pass orders to the lower-ranked thieves, but sooner or later, they'd be stuck in a situation where he'd need her to be at the top of her game.
The Queen's Museum loomed ahead and Tahl slowed his pace. His pulse drummed in his ears, but it was strong and steady and though his breath came quick, he was far from winded. He'd missed the freedom that came with his rooftop acrobatics, even if he hadn't missed the scrapes and bruises. On a particularly low roof, he worked his way to the edge and contemplated the best descent. He preferred a challenge, but he'd also left Nia behind several buildings ago.
She reappeared on a roof across the alley as he tried to work out an easy way down. “I give,” she gasped, bracing her hands against her knees. “That last... last one was... a lot taller... than I thought.”
“Maybe you should have said you couldn't keep up.” Tahl smirked, but pointed at handholds in the uneven stone face of the building. “Swing over the edge and you should be able to climb down.”
Nia groaned and hung her head.
“I'll go first,” he offered as he slipped off the roof and caught a stone with his toes. The alley was narrow enough that he could have shimmied down with his feet braced on either building, but Niada's legs weren't long enough for that. Instead, he demonstrated the path down the side of the building. There were no windows facing the alleys through most of the city, so their chances of being seen were slim. All the better, considering how long it would take her to descend.
Though Nia grumbled, she followed. “So are you gonna tell me what we were doing at your old place?”
“I wasn't planning on it.” Tahl paced backwards down the alley to give her more space.
“What do horses have to do with it?”
“One's missing.” Which horse was missing hadn't escaped his notice, either. Tahl frowned at the thought.
Nia dusted her hands against her pants when she reached the ground. “Stolen? Is this a rival thief vendetta thing?”
Tahl led the way down the alley. Though the museum was their destination, he and his guildmates took care to never be seen near the building. “No.”
Unconvinced, Nia narrowed her eyes at him until they were little more than slits. “Something more personal?”
“I don't expect you to understand.” It also seemed unlikely she was going to drop the subject. Tahl rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how he could explain.
“Is it because it's the sweet old lady whose horses you took care of?” she goaded. “I didn't think altruism was your thing, Tahl.”
He rolled his eyes. “It's not.” Ahead, a ring of stone with a wooden cover lay hidden in shadow. He waited to be sure the alley was clear before he pushed off the cover and slid into the hole underneath.
Niada followed with considerably more confidence than she'd shown the first time he'd taken her down a manhole. She stopped partway down the ladder and wrestled the cover back into place. “Why are you always so secretive when you're planning a heist?”
Startled, Tahl turned back to face her as the cover thunked into place and the last sliver of moonlight disappeared. “What makes you think I'm planning anything?”
“Because you got secretive.” Her soft shoes rasped against the rough ladder on her way down.
Tahl grunted in displeasure. Instead of answering, he dug a coin from his pocket and poured energy into it to make a mage-light. The cold illumination stung his eyes after the pitch black of the sewer and he grimaced. Someday, he'd learn a little finesse with his lights. He didn't practice it as often as he practiced with his smoke.
“Speaking of heists,” he said as casually as he could, “have you found anything else on the queen?”
Nia shook her head. “Nothing much. She married Atoras just before his father died and he took the crown, but the ceremony and celebration were private. It was just the old emperor, Atoras and the queen, and the chief clerics from Brant's temple. Nothing else about the ceremony is public record.”
“Huh.” Tahl suspected he'd find more information than that in the museum. He made a mental note to cover the scar on his face and explore the exhibits one afternoon.
“It's weird, Tahl. It's like they tried to stick her in front of the city like she'd always been there. They even destroyed all the old currency, the coins that had the old empress's face on them.”
The new coins offered precious little information, themselves. Tahl frowned as a thought flitted through his head. “What's her name?”
Nia paused and gave him a blank stare. After a moment, her mouth dropped open.
“Exactly.” He shook his head. Nameless queens and missing horses. Two things that pricked at his mind, and the two couldn't be more different. Unsettled, he focused on the ground under his feet. To his relief, the distraction worked, and Niada asked no more questions.
They padded through the underground tunnels in silence. Eventually, they reached another ladder, this one newer. Tahl went up first and fit his fingers into a hollow on one side of the slab that blocked the way. The hidden pins were cold to the touch and he manipulated them with a practiced ease. Seconds later, the slab slid aside.
“I'd still like to know how Jeran did that,” Nia muttered.
“I'm sure you'll have a chance to pry the schematics out of him someday,” Tahl said as he extinguished his mage-light and climbed through. The trap door really was a feat. Jeran had been one of their first recruits, chosen primarily because of his background in engineering. Most of the doors in the new thieves' guild headquarters had been outfitted with contraptions of Jeran's design. Every lock functioned differently, and no two doors used the same hinge system. It would have been easier to blast a hole in the wall of the Queen's Museum than figure out the complex mechanics the young man had built.
A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Tahl's mouth as Nia emerged from the hole behind him and the trap door closed. He had no room to think of Jeran as young; the other thief had four years on him. Whether or not Tahl was the leader, he'd only just turned eighteen two weeks prior and was among the youngest members of the growing guild. Nia was the youngest of all, though no one harbored her any ill will. If anything, her age had granted her favored status among the rest of the guild members. Tahl had already heard a half-dozen different outlandish stories hypothesizing what she had done to impress the Ghost enough to be made second-in-command.
The moment the door to their hidden headquarters opened, a half-dozen thieves inside leaped to their feet. Tahl motioned f
or them to settle as he strode in. The group eyed him with mingled reverence and wariness. Although they seemed to fear him—or at least, feared his reputation—Tahl didn't trust any of them. Complacency was what had landed Bahar Eseri in a grave. The old guild had shattered after the former guildmaster's death, and Tahl had no doubt any thieves connected to Lord Eseri's guild might find reason to plant a dagger in his back. Regardless, he'd allowed them in thus far. Safety—and control of the city's underbelly—came with numbers.
“Nia,” Tahl said as the door latched behind them, “get the green books and bring them to my office. Is Ashyl in here?” He scanned the faces in the front room for his answer.
“She was after the wharfmaster tonight,” someone called from among crates at the back of the room.
Tahl nodded. “Good. Send her to me if she returns in the next two hours. Nia?”
“On it.” She wound her way between numerous crates and baskets to disappear into her own makeshift office.
Though most of the museum's basement had been outfitted to meet their needs, there were only a handful of finished, private rooms. The need for secrecy in construction outweighed the need for doors, so the shared quarters the rest of the thieves used remained unfinished. Even the latrine—the true crowning glory of Jeran's engineering feats—had only a curtain to keep eyes at bay. Tahl's office, on the other hand, bore a reinforced door with a lock only three people could open. Tahl himself, Nia, and Jeran had the code, and Jeran only had it because he'd built the thing. Unsurprisingly, the office on the other side of the door was dark, its contents untouched.
If only that was what Tahl had wanted.
“Send Jeran in, too, if you see him,” he called over his shoulder. Skilled as the engineer was, he was also given to distraction. Blueprints for the rest of the unfinished headquarters should have been on Tahl's desk.
The back end of the museum's basement had been easy to appropriate for his needs. The first thing they'd done was shuffle the stored art and artifacts to the front, where the stairs descended into the cool storage space. After that, they'd built a wall. Tahl and Niada had done most of that themselves, smuggling in stone through the underground tunnels the rest of the city had forgotten. Jeran had joined before they finished; his expertise meant there was a door hidden in the wall, its edges blending perfectly with the mortared stone. Without knowledge of the hidden switches, there was no way for anyone to access the headquarters from the museum side. No one used that entrance, but it would have been foolish to leave themselves with only one way in and out.
