The Thief

by Aine Crabtree

  "That you would find interesting," I finished, blinking innocently. "The end. What did you think I was going to say?"

  "I told you, we're not friends," he frowned at me.

  "That's the face. We were talking about chemistry and you were scary," I said, backing away with my tray, faking timidity.

  His expression went slightly bewildered and I managed not to smirk as I crossed the room to where Camille sat eating thick noodles out of a soup bowl with chopsticks. I sat down next to her with my tray. She'd recommended it, so I'd gotten the same thing she had, something called ‘kitsune udon.’

  "Ok, how do you pronounce this?" I asked her. "I know udon is noodles, but what's the first part mean?"

  "Kit-soo-neh," she said, accenting the first syllable. She pointed at the big triangles floating in the broth. "Kitsune is fox. See the fox ears?"

  "Well now I don't want to eat them!" I exclaimed.

  "It's tofu, tofu!" she chided.

  "I know, that's what I get for asking. They're too cute now."

  Camille shrugged and reached for mine with her chopsticks. I hurriedly covered my bowl with my hand. "I was kidding!" I laughed. "Eat your own lunch!"

  “Ladies, it’s hot wings day!” Mac announced, setting his tray down triumphantly. Then he looked in shock at mine and Camille’s plates. “Did you forget your hot wings? Where are your hot wings?”

  “You should say hot wings some more times,” Destin said, sliding calmly into the last open seat.

  “Still a vegetarian,” I reminded him.

  “Still makes no sense to me,” Mac said.

  Camille eyed Mac’s plate dubiously.

  “What?” Mac wanted to know.

  “Chicken wings?” she asked.

  “Well yeah.”

  “They’re orange,” was her only comment, and she shifted her attention to her sandwich.

  “Wait a minute,” Mac said slowly. “You’re not...are you saying...that you’ve never had hot wings before?”

  “No.”

  “No...you’ve had them, or no, you haven’t had them?”

  She blinked, looked at me, then back at Mac. “Both of those are ‘no’?”

  “Focus, woman, this is important! Have you ever eaten hot wings?”

  “I have not,” she said cautiously.

  “That’s insane!” Mac exclaimed, earning him some looks from nearby tables. He immediately pushed his plate at Camille. “Here! Eat these right now! My generosity knows no bounds.”

  Camille looked baffled, but she reached for the plate anyway. Mac snatched it back suddenly. “Never mind, my generosity does have bounds. I forgot I was really hungry.” Then he frowned. “You’re serious? Never?”

  Camille shrugged.

  Slowly, like it pained him, he edged his plate forward again. “Ok, you can have one. One! I’m seriously starving, but I can’t let you go on living life without hot wings.”

  “You sure you’re not going to take it back?” I asked.

  “Quick, take it before I change my mind!” he said.

  Camille shrugged again and reached for her fork.

  “Put that down!” Mac ordered, aghast. “You really weren’t kidding! No, you eat them with your hands.”

  “It’s covered in sauce,” Camille frowned.

  “That’s half the point!” Mac insisted. “It’s like ribs, if you don’t have sauce all over your hands and face when you’re done eating them, you’re doing it wrong.”

  “I don’t know, I’ve seen people eat them with only getting like two fingers dirty,” I offered.

  “They’re doing it wrong,” Mac stated flatly.

  Camille picked up a chicken wing with two fingers, looking at the bright orange sauce dubiously.

  “Ok now,” Mac instructed, reclaiming his plate and digging into his wings in earnest, “Now you eat everything that’s not bones. You’re welcome.”

  “I like buffalo sauce but wings look like they’d be really hard to eat,” I said, dipping into my soup.

  “You’re missing the point,” Mac said with his mouth full. “If you’re not going to destroy the wings, you might as well just get boneless.” Beside him, Destin made a show of eating one of his boneless nuggets. “You don’t think about it as difficult, you think about it as awesome. And then it doesn’t seem difficult anymore.”

  “That would sound more profound if you didn’t have sauce all over your face,” Destin said.

  Meanwhile, Camille had wiped her hands with several napkins and was standing up.

  “Aw come on, you seriously didn’t like it?” Mac complained.

  “I’m going to get more,” Camille said gruffly, and took her tray back to the lunch counter.

  “Alright, maybe she’s ok,” Mac admitted, in her absence.

  My gaze wandered across the cafeteria to where Rhys sat with Kei, Hayley, and Amity. Hayley was chattering away at Amity and tugged on Kei's sleeve, demanding something or other. Rhys was buried in a book, ignoring them completely. Kei leaned over and tried to read over his shoulder, and Rhys snapped the book shut, giving him a genuine glare. It wasn't the same look of blanket disdain he gave everyone else - there was real loathing there. I remembered Rhys saying that Kei was his bodyguard. What would make him despise him like that? Why did Rhys even stay around the others when it was so obvious he'd rather be alone?

  Kei looked up and met my gaze from across the room and he winked, like he'd done on the first day. I looked away quickly, but I didn't feel any of the thrill I had before. Between the way he'd appeared and vanished so suddenly outside the empty lab, and the look Rhys gave him - not to mention what he'd done to my mother's journal - he was beginning to make me nervous for non-romantic reasons.

  That night, I couldn't sleep, so I snuck out of the house and went to the orchard mirror. I found the Tower mercifully empty. It was the middle of the night, after all. I didn’t expect Rhys to be here, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy to deal with him tonight. A thick tome lay on the table, and I moved closer to inspect it. Rhys must have left it out, forgotten to re-shelve it.

  The book had a faded red cloth cover, with gold embossing that had all but worn off. Encyclopaedia of Spellcraft, third edition. Thinking this looked promising, I opened the cover. Property of the Runesong Monastery was stamped inside. I found that curious. Did that mean someone had stolen it and brought it here, or had a Mirrormaker created it from memory? I scanned down the table of contents, thinking I should look for something to do with iron swords. I tried not to get distracted by the other intriguing subjects - Uses for Feral Blood; Alchemy and other Human Spellcraft; Immortals in Folklore; Dragons Through the Ages; Baking with Magic; and then, towards the bottom of the page:

  The Magical Properties of Iron, I read. Now we're getting somewhere. This could be useful in helping Camille. I thumbed to the page, spread the book on the table and read eagerly:

  Iron is the most magic-friendly of all the metals. It readily takes to spells, seeming to make it a logical choice for enchanting. However, it is not often used, because of its capacity to take in more than is intended. A greedy metal, iron is entirely avoided by the fae, who despise its tendency to draw their magic out of them against their will, with unpredictable results. For this reason, they apply their enchantments to wood, or metals more difficult to spell, such as gold and silver. Iron is particularly harmful to dryads, whose powers are derived from the earth and plant life. Iron can be used to bar their connection to the earth and its flora, rendering them powerless. See chapter 12 for more information on dryads and other hybrids.

  Unenchanted iron can be used by ferals or humans, but once enchanted, iron can only be wielded by a human, lest there be unexpected side effects. Though ferals (like humans) cannot perform magic, volatile magic will react to them, because of the magical properties of their blood. For more information on feral blood, see chapter 8.

  Note: Enchanted iron may be reforged without losing its enchantment.

  Iron can also be used
as a portaling medium for imps. For more information on creatures from Below, see chapter 14.

  Famous enchanted iron artifacts:

  The Crown of Angwar - worn by the monarchs of the human kingdom of Angwar. Intended to prevent any non-human from succeeding the throne. It will permanently absorb the powers of any non-human who wears it. Following the invasion and takeover of Angwar by the fae Ryan dynasty, the crown was lost.

  The Grey Ward - shield used by the warrior priestess Theodora Vogel in the War of Temples. Capable of absorbing incoming spells, and reflecting them back at attackers. Often credited as the sole reason the Vogels won the Battle of Waycross. The shield resides at the Runesong Monastery.

  The Wand of Willard the Mad - iron wand employed by the fae Willard Bloom. Known to be one of the most volatile artifacts in existence, and has never been successfully bent to a user's will. It is unknown whether using the wand drove Bloom insane or whether he was already before he forged it. The wand is on display at the Museum of Curiosities in Matoba.

  The Tailor's Sword - imbued with the ancient power of the human Tailor family, this sword was forged to kill immortals by severing their soul from their body. Taken across the mirror when the Tailors fled the Inquisition.

  "I hadn't finished reading that," Rhys said, over my shoulder, and I jumped. I hadn't heard him come in - I must have been pretty intent on the book.

  "Then you should have left a bookmark or something," I said, feeling my face warm.

  "What's your interest in iron?" he asked, leaning over the back of the couch to see the contents of the page.

  I hadn't told him about the sword. Camille might not want me sharing that information - I got the impression she didn't like him very much.

  "Looking for ways to weaken fae?" he said, tone becoming suspicious at my hesitation.

  "I think there's an imp at the school," I said quickly. "I wanted to know how it's been getting around."

  "Did you lose something to it, too?" he sighed, setting his backpack down on the table. "I'm about to buy Hayley a new bracelet, just so she'll shut up about the old one."

  The image of him sitting at their table, but looking so apart, came into my mind. "Why do you hang out with them?" I asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's been bugging me. I mean I just don't get it. You don't seem to like them at all."

  "I don't," he said flatly. "You wouldn't understand."

  "Try me."

  His eyes narrowed at the challenge. "Being with them requires the least amount of effort. Kei draws enough attention that no one bothers me, and Hayley talks enough I don't have to contribute."

  "I guess you're right," I said. "I don't understand. I'd want to hang out with people I like."

  "I don't like people."

  "No kidding?" I said. "Nothing about you gives that impression."

  He frowned at my sarcasm. "I don't get you. First you're a frightened mouse at school. Then you're this..." he gestured vaguely at me. "Other person."

  "Maybe I'm sick of being a mouse," I said, setting the book aside. "Do you think I'm better that way?"

  "No," he said, then immediately changed his mind. "I mean yes. Mice mind their own business."

  "Mice don't find you books on mirrors," I said, handing him the book I'd mentioned in the lunch line earlier. "You're welcome, by the way."

  He sourly accepted it and sat down in an armchair on the other side of the table.

  "So what's it like?" I asked, suddenly curious. "Your kingdom."

  "There used to be lots of kingdoms on the other side," he said, "but now there's only ours. Most of them joined us of their own volition, wanting a piece of the stability we had. Others started to fear our size, and went to war with us." He shrugged. "They lost. This was all a long time ago. Now my father rules the whole continent from Angwar Castle."

  "But what's it like?" I asked. "Is it as hot there as it is in Havenwood? Are there towers? Dungeons? Tapestries? I bet there's lots of tapestries."

  "I don't know," he said, voice neutral. "I've never been there."

  "But I thought - "

  "The only way to get there," he said, expression closed, "is through a traveling mirror. And there are none of those left." He glanced down at the book I'd given him. "Until someone makes more."

  "Oh," I said. "So your father - "

  "If I can't make a traveling mirror it doesn't matter who my father is," he snapped. "He doesn't even think I can - " He broke off abruptly.

  I hadn't thought I'd be stepping into a touchy subject. So he was a prince, but only in name as long as he was on this side. I bit my lip. "My dad's not too confident in my abilities either," I said, smiling weakly. "He never even told me what he was working on. Like he thought I'd never amount to anything. And yet here I am," I looked around, "in a Tower made of magic helping a fairy prince regain his birthright."

  "Fae," he corrected. "Hybrid." But the corner of his mouth quirked up.

  "This library is enormous," I said. "And it was built by Mirrormakers, right? There's got to be at least one lousy recipe for a traveling mirror."

  His brow creased. "Lately," he admitted, "I haven't even been able to change the windows in the sanctuary. I don't know what's wrong."

  "You'll figure it out," I said. "You're stubborn enough."

  That startled a laugh out of him. Holy crap, he actually knew how to laugh. "Maybe," he said, "but who knows how long it'll take? I don't have an eternity."

  "We'll have to make you immortal then," I said.

  "Excellent. Get on that, minion," he smirked.

  "You do not get to call me your minion," I objected.

  "I do if you don't quit with that 'fairy prince' crap."

  "Oh alright, alright," I said. I thought of Bea’s warning about the Ender the day before. "Incidentally, what do you know about immortals?"

  “I know that you don’t get in the way of someone who can’t be killed.”

  I recalled Meredith peeling away the spike that had impaled her, and was inclined to agree. “Are there a lot of them? Immortals, I mean.”

  “There’s a lot of people you don’t get in the way of,” he said, “and there’s people who live long lives, but there are only three people I’ve heard of who are truly immortal. Where is that really old one...”

  He shuffled several books aside, and pulled out one with overlarge parchment pages. He sat next to me on the couch, setting the book on the table between us.

  “There’s some legend or other that they’re instruments of the gods, but people will come up with anything to explain the unexplainable,” he said, flipping the page to a series of portraits very similar to the ones I’d uncovered. “She’s been hunting monsters for the last hundred years,” he said, pointing at Meredith, “though before she went amnesiac she destroyed enough cities herself. Him - ” he pointed at the one of Gabriel, named here also as Gohei, “he’s the one that used to do the monster hunting. Self-appointed protector of humanity. Was famous for it for ages. Seems to keep to himself now.” He moved on to the green-haired man. “The Thief - he’s serious bad news. He’s assassinated kings, stolen countless priceless artifacts, thrown entire nations into poverty. He and Meredith did a lot of damage on the other side, before she crossed over here. Hemlock hasn’t been seen in a century, though. He’s either hiding or someone finally figured out how to kill him.”

  He shrugged, but I was transfixed by the portrait. It was by a different hand, a border drawn around the edge of the page in twisting vines, but it was the same green-eyed man I’d seen in the school lab.

  Gabriel, Meredith, and Hemlock. Three immortals, Camille had said. Bets on the winner.

  “How long have they been around?” I asked.

  “Nobody seems to know,” he said. “And they aren’t very forthcoming. Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush,” Rhys said, noticing my stare.

  “Please,” I said, flushing. “I’ve seen him before, is all.”

  “You have?”

&n
bsp; I explained what had happened earlier at school, with the paintings.

  Suddenly he was on edge, excited. “You broke the spells? You saw the prophecies?” He got up, digging through his backpack for a notepad. “Tell me as many of them as you remember!”

  I racked my brain, telling him as much detail as I could, but I really only remembered about half of them, and there had been at least thirty, maybe more.

  “...and a fox,” I finished. “It was silver, and something about its face was way too smart for a normal animal.”

  “Foxes are clever,” he said absently, looking over his notes. “Are you sure you can’t remember more?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll bet I won’t be able to get back in there anyway, they probably have the place on lockdown now.” I slumped down on the couch, folding my arms.

  A strange expression had come over Rhys, looking at me.

  “Is there something on my face?” I asked, self-consciously.

  “When’s your birthday?” he asked unexpectedly.

  “May 1st,” I replied, baffled.

  He looked away quickly. “You broke the spells hiding the prophecies. Probably did the same to the orchard mirror. I can’t properly twist glass when you’re around. And yet, you can’t remember half the paintings.”

  “It was a lot of paintings,” I said, defensive.

  “I agree,” he said, “but not for someone with infallible memory.”

  My skin went cold. “What are you saying?”

  “All Grimms are Hunters, and all Hunters have infallible memory. I’m saying...what if you’re not a Grimm?”

  I opened my mouth and closed it.

  “May 1st is my birthday, too. You’re the one who said it,” he said, rising. “Mirrormakers and Nulls are born in pairs.”

  “But that would mean...that would mean...”

  Simon was my best friend, Tailor had said. And she ruined him.

  Tailor...and my mother?

  “He’s the only one left,” Rhys said, his voice softening. “If you are - if you’re a Null, it has to be him. Would that be so horrible? Think of the things you could do! This is a gift - ”