by Beth Alvarez
“Half of what keeps the empire safe is that the northern kingdoms eventually turned on each other.” Oria twisted a lock of her hair around her finger and stared at the unfinished musket on the table. “But rumors surfaced after the theft. People were questioning the empire's security. And the kingdoms in the north began to discuss new alliances.”
A new war, in other words. Tahl bit the inside of his cheek.
The queen touched the musket's barrel, traced the steel bands that anchored it to the wooden stock. “I tried to caution Atoras, but he wouldn't listen. I began to realize that without the crown, nothing I did would sway his opinion. He believes the empire is infallible. I fear someone is ready to prove him wrong.”
“From the inside,” Hadren murmured. He'd been quiet through most of Jeran's explanation of the musket's schematics, his face twisted with thought.
“I doubt it.” Ashyl straightened some of the papers. “Do you know how much weapons like these would have to cost? The only people who could afford that would be the nobles, and then only if they pooled their resources. But the empire was built to favor them. Why would they turn against their ruler?”
Tahl's eye twitched. “Maybe they don't know they're funding it.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What do you mean?” Hadren asked.
“I noticed something odd about Ebitha's books the last time I was there,” Tahl began, his eyes locked on the weapon between them. “The numbers are all wrong. Huge amounts of money disappearing from her estate, but it's a slow bleed. A few pims here and there, but almost every transaction was off, and there were some that didn't make sense or came too early. That's half of why she had to sell her favorite horse.” He gave Oria a hard look.
She stiffened. “I thought you said that horse was stolen?”
“I thought it was. But now I think otherwise. She's a responsible old woman. Cotton was the youngest of her horses, and probably the most valuable. If she couldn't figure out why her fortune was evaporating, I imagine she would sell him willingly to try to keep the other two for a little while longer.”
Ashyl raised a finger. “So, wait. You think someone's stealing money from a wealthy old noble and funneling it into funding that?” She lowered her finger to point at the musket.
Tahl nodded. “You said it yourself. The only way someone could afford to pay for weapons like these would be if the nobles were pooling their resources.”
“So if people are siphoning money from the nobles to pay for this, all we have to do is follow that money.” Jeran stroked his chin and then smoothed a hand over his brown hair. “We start at this Ebitha's?”
“We start at Ebitha's,” Tahl agreed.
Chapter 11
Tahl peered up the back of the tall manor house, his fingers itching to climb. He'd planned to enter by the balcony, but a lamp still glowed in that room. Entering on his own wouldn't be a challenge, but there was no need to tempt fate, and even his luck only went so far.
No one had been happy about being left behind, but they hadn't argued too heartily when Tahl insisted on visiting the old woman's estate alone. It wasn't just that this was his personal mission. Tahl had a good rapport with Ebitha, and was the least likely to be in trouble if something went wrong. He'd covered his scar as soon as he'd reached the old woman's stables, just in case. Scraping the wax back off was faster than putting it on. If he ran afoul of guards, it would be easy to remove it before they got a good look at him.
He dusted his hands together before he scaled the wall. The office window was his best shot for getting in unnoticed, but it was also hard to unlock and the casing was old and stiff. Instead, he aimed for the guest room. The drawn curtains made it impossible to know if someone was inside, but the window opened with hardly a sound.
Tahl clung to the wall, listening for signs of life. When nothing caught his ear, he slipped over the sill and crouched behind the curtains to close the window behind him. The office was just down the hall. He stalked to the door and lingered beside it.
Elsewhere in the house, soft notes of music rose into the silence. He'd seen the harp in one of the parlors, noted how clean it was, but hadn't considered the widow might play. Much less in the middle of the night. The desire to investigate pricked at Tahl until it made him uncomfortable, but he made himself focus and crept to the office instead.
The office door was locked.
Tahl blinked at it and checked again. The office was never locked. He'd been certain his tampering was invisible, too. Why would it be locked now?
Frowning, Tahl removed his picks from his bag and knelt beside the door. Bright color flashed beyond the old-fashioned open keyhole and he froze. Someone was in there. The soft, slow harp music still flowed from downstairs.
Blight it all. Tahl gritted his teeth and sat back on his heels. Did he wait? Or did he barge in and try to catch whoever was in there?
The possibility it was Ebitha crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. She wouldn't lock the door to tend business in a home she lived in alone, even if there was company downstairs to pluck the harp strings. He also doubted the musician could be anyone else, or that anyone awake in the small hours would lack the decency to ensure the house was quiet enough for guests to sleep. Nobles were peculiar that way. A great deal rode on their reputation, or so they believed, and few would willfully mistreat a houseguest.
From that, Tahl concluded the old widow must have believed she was alone. He slid his pick into the lock and worked it open.
Even for a thief as skilled as he was, the lock picks were not silent. The soft sound of movement on the other side of the door grew still.
Giving the enemy time to prepare, Tahl thought. Giving them the advantage. He'd have to compensate. He thought of his smoke, but he'd just used it in the factory. He didn't want to leave a conspicuous sign that might connect the two events if he was seen. The fewer people who knew he'd found the trail, the better.
Tahl gripped the doorknob and stilled his breath. He shifted back as he twisted the knob and flung the door open. A glimpse of bright clothing was all he got before he darted backwards into the hall to shimmy up the walls and join the shadows.
An unfamiliar man charged out of the office with a blade in his hand. He spun to face the way Tahl had retreated, his lip curled back like a growling dog's.
Ever so slowly, Tahl allowed himself to breathe. His reach was just wide enough for him to span the hallway and hold himself with his back pressed to the high ceiling. Fortune had favored him again. Soft illumination spilled from the office, but the man had no light.
The stranger lowered his knife and looked the other direction. His anger faded to wariness when he saw nothing. “Ebitha?” he called, his eyes darting one way, then the other.
Tahl cocked his head. Who was this?
The soothing music halted. The man stared down the far hall, listening. He sheathed his blade and paced forward, uneasy. “Ebitha, was that you?”
Unwilling to miss his opportunity, Tahl dropped to the floor and bolted into the office.
The man spun back, mouth agape, but he was too slow. He got one syllable of a shout out before Tahl slammed the door. He couldn't lock it without a few more moments, but he snatched a book off a shelf and jammed it under the door to keep it from opening. A split second later, the stranger jostled the doorknob and shouted again.
So much for getting in unnoticed. Tahl allowed himself a grim smile as he dragged the chair out from behind the desk and wedged it under the doorknob. Time to make this fast.
A handful of ledgers and a small oak box sat on the desk. Tahl's eyes raked over them and he stifled a curse. He'd known someone was stealing from the old woman, but he hadn't expected to walk in on it.
Tahl pushed the box aside. Inside, coins clinked together when he jostled it. A piece of paper lay atop everything else, a handful of notes and numbers scribbled across its surface. He studied them as he rearranged the books and figured out which was which.
T
he stranger hammered at the door. “Ebitha, call for the guard!”
“Don't call the guard, Ebitha,” Tahl murmured. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to gather his wits. All he had to do was focus, wait for something to leap out at him. Everything he did was led by intuition. He couldn't doubt it now.
When he looked at the papers and books again, he skimmed the names and numbers until a pattern began to emerge. He paused and looked again.
“Thirteen pims a fortnight,” Tahl muttered. A lot of money to bleed from someone, but not so much that a wealthy noble would think it suspicious, in the midst of all their expenses. But where was it going? And who was the man who was taking it?
A soft, familiar voice rose in the hall, the words too muffled to make out, but the alarm in them clear.
One easy way to find out. Tahl rounded the desk and jerked the chair out from under the doorknob. The door flew open and Tahl retreated, positioning himself in front of the desk.
The unfamiliar man stumbled in a step, his dark hair disheveled and his eyes burning like embers. Behind him, Ebitha stood in the hall. When she saw Tahl, she clamped a hand to her mouth.
Tahl's gaze locked with hers. “He's stealing from you.”
The old woman's jaw dropped. “Tahl? What—”
Before she could finish, the man surged toward Tahl with his knife drawn. Ebitha shrieked, but her fear was unfounded. Tahl ducked to the side and caught the man's arm with one hand, hooked his ankle with a foot, pulled him off balance and drove him to the floor. The stranger cried out in mingled pain and anger as Tahl wrenched the blade out of his grasp and dug a knee into his back.
“Don't hurt him!” Ebitha cried.
Tahl motioned for her to calm down. He stashed the knife among his own hidden blades and kept the man's arm twisted. “Who is he?”
“My nephew,” the widow said. “He comes twice a month to help me.”
The man groaned.
“Enough!” Ebitha cried. “Let him up. Oh, Veris, are you all right?”
Begrudgingly, Tahl released his hold on the man. He darted behind the desk before Veris could rise.
Ebitha hurried in to help her nephew to his feet.
“He's coming to steal from you,” Tahl said firmly. “Twenty-six pims a month, enough to hire two or three farmhands for the same amount of time. He's not helping you at all.”
They both gaped.
Finally, Ebitha seemed to give him a proper look. “Tahl, why are you dressed that way?”
“Because he's a thief,” Veris spat.
“You're the thief,” Tahl retorted. “Twenty-six pims a month, thirteen a fortnight. He had your money box out and everything.” He pointed at the desk.
Ebitha's expression faltered and she cast a questioning glance toward her nephew.
Tahl pretended to relax, though every muscle remained tight-wound and ready to spring. “Check his pockets. If he won't let you, then I will.”
Veris paled. He shoved Ebitha aside and bolted for the door.
Tahl darted after him like a viper, striking hard and fast. They toppled to the floor together and the man's panicked cry bounced off the close walls in the hallway. He tried to fight, but Tahl was too fast, his wiry strength more than the nobleman could overcome. Tahl produced a cord from his pack.
Ebitha emerged from the office with a hand pressed to her chest, her white hair falling loose around her face.
Tahl bound Veris tight and turned him over.
“Brant blight you,” the man spat.
“He's had his chance and hasn't done it yet,” Tahl replied dryly. He plunged a hand into the man's pocket with an uncomfortable grimace, but found what he was looking for. When he removed his hand, a fistful of silver coins gleamed in his grasp.
“Veris!” Ebitha gasped. “What is the meaning of this?”
Tahl crossed to her and pressed the coins into her hands. “I'm sorry for entering your house like this, Ebitha. I never wanted to alarm you. But when I happened by the other day and saw Cotton was gone, I knew something was wrong.”
The old woman's eyes filled with tears and she looked him over again, taking in his unusual fitted clothes and the assortment of knives on his person.
Lifetree's mercy, what was he supposed to say now?
“Can we go down to your parlor?” Tahl asked. “There's a lot to explain, and I have questions for your nephew, too.”
Concern and uncertainty warred on the old woman's face. Tahl admitted it wasn't a good look, but there was little he could do about that now.
“I want to get your horse back,” he added. “I know where he is and how we can do it. I just need you to trust me.”
Slowly, Ebitha nodded. “Come downstairs. I'll... make some tea.”
“Thank you, Ebitha.” Tahl touched his chest in a gesture of sincerity and dragged Veris to one side of the hall as the old woman passed.
Uncooperative as the man was, getting Veris to his feet proved harder.
“I know who you are,” the man growled.
Tahl snorted softly. “Maybe, but you definitely don't know why I'm here. Move.”
The man resisted, but when Tahl drew a knife to press to his back, he became suddenly more cooperative and inched toward the stairs.
Together, they descended to the widow's parlor, where the tall harp sat. Something rattled in the kitchen down the hall, and Tahl took advantage of the privacy to shove Veris into a chair and bind him in place with the last of his rope.
“The money's buying weapons,” Tahl said as he tightened a knot. “I know that much. Now give me the name of the buyer.”
“I'm not telling you anything.”
“Really? I thought you knew who I was.” Tahl stood and traced a finger over the wax that hid his scar, indicating the checkmark shape that crossed the bridge of his nose and hooked beneath his right eye.
The man's eyes widened in fear.
Tahl raised a brow. It seemed Veris hadn't known, after all.
“Will you kill me?” Veris's voice quavered.
“Not if you cooperate. Give me the name of the buyer.”
“H-how do you know my aunt?”
“She was good to me when no one else was. Your aunt Ebitha is a good person. Better than you deserve.” Tahl drew the blade he'd taken from Veris and brandished it before the man's face. “And if you care about her at all, you'll give me the name of the weapons buyer before they destroy Orrad and everyone in it.”
A rattle from the porcelain cups on Ebitha's tray heralded her arrival in the doorway. “Here we are.”
Tahl's weapon disappeared in a blink, hidden safely where it wouldn't give the old widow undue fright. He hurried to the door to take the tray from her hands and help her to a chair. She eyed him dubiously, but did not refuse the assistance.
The disdain of another had never unsettled him before. Pretending he was unbothered, Tahl put the tea set on the low table beside Ebitha's chair and filled a cup for her first. “I know all this is strange. I promise I can explain everything.”
“But can you explain, Ebitha?” Veris sneered. “I'm sure the emperor would love to hear why you've sheltered Orrad's most wanted criminal.”
The old woman's eyes widened. For the first time, when she looked at Tahl, she was afraid.
He'd never expected how badly that would sting.
“It's not what you think,” Tahl said softly as he poured his own tea and sat cross-legged on the floor.
Veris snorted. “I would love to hear your explanation.”
Tahl ignored him and blew on his tea. “I feel like I have to apologize for what your nephew's done. Or what I didn't catch him at sooner. This shouldn't have escaped my notice, and I'm sorry.”
“I don't understand,” Ebitha said shakily. “What has he done?”
“Someone is importing weapons into the empire. A kind unheard of in Orrad. Your nephew is stealing money from you to help fund their production.” He sipped his tea and savored the warmth. He hadn't had time to sit
and enjoy a cup of tea in... he didn't know how long.
“You can't prove it,” Veris snapped.
Tahl offered him a tight smile. “I don't have to. You've already done it.”
The man blinked, taken aback. “How?”
“Because you never denied it. You weren't surprised when I told you I knew. You expected to get caught and you aren't even ashamed. You just didn't expect me to be the one to catch you.” Tahl gazed at him over the rim of his teacup, a gleam in his bright green eyes.
Veris faltered.
“Is this true?” Ebitha asked. A note of sorrow touched her voice.
Instead of replying, her nephew glared. “How can you believe him? I thought you were honest! And here you are, with the Ghost of Orrad under your roof!”
Again, worry and fear pinched the widow's face.
“Easy,” Tahl reassured her. He reached to touch her hand and she did not shy away. A small comfort, that. “I'm here because I want to help. Not just you, but I want to help Orrad, too.”
“The emperor will see you both hang,” Veris spat.
“The emperor will do nothing,” Tahl replied calmly. “I'm working for the queen.”
A small glimmer of hope sparked in Ebitha's eyes.
Veris heaved a sigh. “Come, you can't possibly believe him. He's a thief, a liar, and a killer.”
“I've never killed anyone,” Tahl protested. “I don't kill people.”
“But you don't contest the lying and stealing?”
“This job is sanctioned by the queen. I do what I must to ensure it gets done.”
“But not every job you've done is sanctioned,” the man goaded.
A hint of annoyance burned between Tahl's shoulders. He fought to ignore it. “I'm not going to let you redirect this toward me. The fact stands that you're part of the group siphoning money from nobles and using it to fund a force the queen believes means to attack and destroy the empire. You're going to tell me where the money's going.”
“I won't help you.”
Tahl's eyes narrowed. “Then you'll hang.”
