by A. M. Deese
The air was dry and the heat clung to his clothing, warming his skin. He wished he hadn’t chosen such a thick cloak. His clothing options were limited these days. He supposed he should be grateful for the heat of summer. The winter months were so cold a man could freeze to death without shelter. Tylak had spent the last few nights sleeping in various door steps. He had to be careful not to get too close to the palace lest someone spotted him and returned him to his cell. Tylak didn’t wish to tempt fate. He managed enough of that on his own.
He rounded the corner and found Peppik where he’d left him. The old man sat cross legged in an alley drawing circles in the sand with a long stick he’d sharpened to a point. He looked up at Tylak and grinned a gap-toothed smile.
Tylak handed him a piece of flat bread he’d managed to steal, and Peppik bit into it with relish.
Tylak watched him eat in silence.
“I didn’t see anyone leave the building,” Peppik offered, licking his fingers and swallowing hard.
Tylak narrowed his eyes. “You’re sure? You were watching the entire time?”
Peppik nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. I didn’t leave. I was here watching.”
“Thank you,” Tylak said. He sat down beside the older man and stared at the darkened building across the street.
Was anyone in there? He wondered if he’d had Peppik watching an empty building. He hoped not.
Peppik was still drawing his circles. His hand seemed to move of its own accord as he kept his eyes trained on the building.
“You can stop watching,” Tylak said. “I’m going to go check it out myself.”
Peppik nodded, turning his attention to his drawings in the sand. “They’re inside. They watch too, waiting.”
“Who’s watching?” Tylak asked, but Peppik didn’t answer, just continued drawing circles. Tylak stood back up, dusting the sand from his trousers. “Will you be here when I get back?”
Peppik nodded, but he didn’t look up. “Peppik will be wherever you need him to be.”
Tylak frowned at him. Peppik often said odd things. He took a deep breath before darting across the street toward the darkened building.
It was square, with traditional clay walls and a low roof. There were windows, but they were closed up and covered with curtains. Tylak couldn’t see any light shining from inside. The building was far away from the square, but shadows from the fire pit still flickered against its walls.
Tylak hoped his information was correct, that he hadn’t hit yet another dead end. If he was right, the leader of the Shadow Dancers would be inside. He stepped in front of the door and took a deep breath, poised to open it when the door suddenly swung out at him. He leaped away and rolled to the side of the building, peering around its corner and praying he hadn’t been spotted. A hooded figure exited, their cloak drawn tight around their shoulders as they walked briskly onto the street.
Tylak paused, unsure what to do next. Follow the cloaked figure or rush inside the building? He deliberated for another moment, then pushed to his feet with an inward moan and hurried after the figure.
They were headed in the direction of the palace, though they took the most inconvenient of routes to get there, darting in and out of alleyways and crossing the streets only to cross back at the next intersection. Can he tell I’m following?
As if in answer to his question, the hooded figure stopped and Tylak took his chance, pouncing at the figure and tackling him from behind.
The figure hit the dusty, unpaved street with a grunt. Tylak was amazed at how slender the figure was beneath him. He turned the figure around and stared into the startled brown eyes of a woman.
“You.” He stood up abruptly, ignoring her outstretched hand for help up, and glared down at her.
“Tylak.” The woman smiled, rising to her feet and wiping her hands on her robes.
“Denir. I should have recognized it was you. Trying to scratch a dragon’s balls leads to less trouble.”
“Dragon’s ba… Is that any way to speak to your better?” She pouted.
“Better at what? Being a lying, deceitful cu—”
“Ouch,” she interrupted. “Careful. I’ll think you don’t care.”
“I don’t,” he sighed. He’d missed his chance at getting answers. By the time he got back to the building it would be empty. Yet another opportunity wasted at the hands of one of the Thirteen. He scowled at her.
She smiled, cocking her head to the side and raising a delicately arched brow. “Hmm. I thought we killed you.”
He grunted. “You certainly tried. What are you doing out here?”
She looked around the empty street and motioned for him to follow her into a darkened alley. He did, but kept his hand on his dagger, just in case.
“Lovely night for a stroll, isn’t it? I was just heading home. What are you doing? Besides attacking ladies in the street?”
“You’re no lady.”
“I’m Fifth of the Thirteen.” Her voice was indignant but her smile widened. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“Are you? It didn’t seem that way when you told the Light Guard you saw me stealing fire from the Everflame.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t entirely sure the fool man would believe me. Who but Fire Dancers can steal fire? Besides, I can’t help it if you’ve gotten sloppy.”
“Why did you do it?” Tylak hoped she wouldn’t hear the pain in his voice, couldn’t stand it if she did.
“Why does a woman do anything? If you didn’t know it was me in the street, then why did you attack me?” Understanding slowly dawned on her face and she laughed, a lyrical tinkling sound that sliced at his gut. He’d once loved that sound.
“Oh, you poor, foolish boy. Will you ever learn?”
“Apparently not,” he sighed. “I don’t suppose you know where they’ll be next?”
Denir frowned, drawing her eyebrows together in concern. “Even if I did, why should I tell you? What do you want?”
“Information.”
Her face smoothed into one of her charming smiles. “Perhaps I can help?”
Tylak snorted. “Doubtful. Besides, I’ve had enough help from you to last a lifetime.”
She reached out a slender hand, cupping his face. He flinched at her touch.
“Do you really mean that?” she asked.
“More than I’ve ever meant anything in my life. I want nothing from you.”
“You didn’t always feel that way.”
“You weren’t always such a bitch.”
Her hand fell to her side, and she looked so sad that Tylak almost felt bad for her. Almost.
“I am sorry, you know.” Her deep brown eyes peered up at him, searching.
“For which part? The betrayal? That time you sold me out, or the time you had me killed?”
“For all of it.” Her voice was soft and her eyes were far away. “You should leave the city, Tylak. Things are happening here. Things you know nothing about. The Republic isn’t safe anymore.”
“It was never safe for people like me. I’ll take my chances.”
She nodded. “I understand.” She pulled her hood up, tugging it low to cover her pretty face and hide her flowing mahogany locks.
Tylak watched her go, hating the woman she was and remembering the man he had once been with her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
JURA
She went to her father’s chambers. His Arbe was stationed outside his door. They looked at her questioningly. She motioned them all inside.
“I haven’t discovered who’s behind my father’s blood chain. I have one more day. If this doesn’t work, I’ll have no choice but to reveal his situation to the Thirteen.” She met the eyes of each of them. “I don’t know what this will mean for our house. We may need added protection.”
The men nodded.
She sent them out into the hall to guard her while she slept. Then she curled onto her father’s bed and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think anymore.
In seconds she was asleep.
