The Thief's Daughter

by Jeff Wheeler

  It was a heart-stopping moment. And the danger was far from over. Clark was always sure-footed and steady, but there was a feverish, pained look in his eyes. He had been poisoned; Owen felt sure of it, and from the look in Clark’s eye, he knew it too.

  “What happened?” Evie cried out, already on her feet.

  Clark was safely back on the rock, but his body was swaying. Sweat dribbled from his pores.

  “I’m sick too,” Justine complained, her eyes darting back and forth as she gripped her stomach.

  The Espion grabbed Owen’s shoulder, his fingers digging in hard. “You saved my life,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “I haven’t yet,” Owen said with worry, realizing the dangerous predicament they were in. If Iago had ordered them poisoned, they were not safe in his hands or at his court. A spasm jolted through Clark and his knees buckled. Owen put an arm around Clark’s shoulder to hold his weight, but he did not dare take his eyes off Evie as she climbed up to the higher rock to join them.

  Justine choked back tears, her face full of misery at the sight of Clark’s suffering. She was milk white herself, shivering as if they were in a winter storm.

  “We need some help down here!” Owen shouted to the servants looking down from above. He shifted to his back to take more of Clark’s weight and helped him climb up the next rock. The sound of the falls and the river was an ever-present reminder of what would happen if they fell. Some of the nimbler servants hurried down and helped by grabbing Clark’s arms and hauling him up the side of the cliff. Owen turned back and extended a hand to Justine. Her palms were sweating, so he grabbed her by the wrist instead. She suddenly slumped, her eyes rolling back in her head, but he caught her around the waist before she fell.

  “Justine!” Evie cried in terror and rushed forward to help, but Iago held her arm.

  “You’ll fall! He’s got her!” the king said. Then he shouted, “Don’t just stand there, oafs! Help him!”

  Owen ducked under Justine and hoisted her up onto his shoulders, then climbed up to the next rock, where several servants met him, ready to take the load. Clark had already been carried up the trail, and as soon as he passed Justine off to the others, Owen rushed over to him. The servants had settled Clark down on the brush, and Etayne was already kneeling next to him, her ear on his chest. Moments later, Justine was laid down beside the other patient.

  Owen’s chest felt like a beehive that had been caved in. His emotions were swarming.

  “They’ve been poisoned,” Owen whispered to Etayne. His gaze was already assessing the servants, looking for an expression of guilt. The poisoner must be among them, he deduced. He probably wasn’t the one who had thrown them the saddlebag, but he had intercepted it first. One of these men had tried to kill them. But which one?

  He saw Iago helping Evie up to the trail, his hands gripping her waist, and he had to smother the rage that burned inside his heart.

  “His lips are blue,” Etayne muttered worriedly. She stuck her fingers into Clark’s mouth, then turned his head to the side as he messily expelled everything he’d eaten.

  “Get the bag of food he ate from,” Etayne whispered to him. She hurried over to Justine and repeated the maneuver, making another mess. The servants backed away in disgust. Evie shoved Iago away and rushed to the side of her maid, her eyes glistening with tears of worry. Owen had a hand on his sword hilt as he approached the edge of the cliff.

  Iago saw him coming and his eyes widened with fear. “I had nothing to do with this. I swear by the Fountain! For all I know, that lunch was meant for us.” His face was twisted with worry and anger, which added credence to his tale. “Fetch my surgeon!” he called out to one of his knights. “I know it’s bloody far! Start riding now!”

  “Where’s the saddlebag?” Owen said, and then saw it down on the rocks.

  “I’ll send someone down to fetch it. Toal! Down and fetch it. Now!” Iago snapped.

  Owen turned back to the crowd gathering around the victims, his insides suddenly turning to ice. He realized that Iago had inadvertently saved his life. If Owen hadn’t been so upset watching him and Evie, he would have eaten from the saddlebag as well. Then all three of them would have been sickened.

  The king joined the crowd around the bodies and laid a hand on Evie’s shoulder. “I don’t know who did this,” he said in a low voice. “But I will find and punish him. I promise you that. No one besmirches my honor this way. You are here under my safe conduct. I’ll flay the man when I find out who it was!”

  Owen didn’t care for the promises of vengeance. But Iago’s reaction was exactly what he would expect from someone who was innocent. Justine and Clark were convulsing violently now. Their skin looked ashen, their lips blue. He stared at Etayne in wild despair and knelt down beside her.

  Her eyes were focused and serious as she met his gaze. “I need my supplies,” she whispered to Owen. “We’ve got to get them back to Edonburick.”

  “Then we ride at once!” Evie commanded, her voice shaking.

  Owen’s frown felt as if it would be fixed on his face always. He stared down at Justine in her sickbed. Her cheeks were so waxy and pale she looked like a corpse, an effect that was only increased by the purple bruises under her eyes. Her lips were white, slightly parted, and her breaths were so far apart that she appeared for all purposes to be dead. Clark was in the next bed, his body still trembling as it fought off the poison trying to kill him.

  Etayne was slumped in a chair between the two patients, looking weary and stern. Evie sat at Justine’s side, stroking her hand.

  “Do you think she will live?” Evie whispered to Etayne. “Tell me the truth.”

  Etayne stretched her arms and sighed. “I don’t know, my lady. I’ve done all I can. I gave them both the antidote, but the poison was in their system for a long while. Her constitution isn’t as hardy at Clark’s. I think he’ll make it.” She reached over and took a cool cloth from the array of supplies on the small dresser. “Even asleep, he’s still fighting,” she said as she wiped his forehead.

  Owen put his hand on Evie’s shoulder to comfort her, and she turned into his abdomen and started weeping. He smoothed her hair, his throat tight. Justine had been their companion for years. She was like a sister to him, not a servant. It was not fair that she should suffer.

  It was nearly midnight. The physicians and midwives of Iago had done their best to help, but it was Etayne’s quick thinking and knowledge of poisons that had helped her identify which one had been used. There was no one else in the room with them. Iago had come several times to express his anger and sympathy, but Evie had no wish to talk to him or to accept his condolences yet.

  Evie’s tears started to ease as Owen rubbed her back, and after a while, she stifled a yawn.

  “There is little else you can do, my lady,” Etayne said to Evie. “Maybe if you were to lie down next to her and hold her? Help keep her warm?”

  Evie nodded enthusiastically and quickly slipped onto the bed behind Justine, wrapping her arms around the pale, sick girl. Etayne rose from her chair and walked over to the open window, where she rested her elbows on the sill and stared into the night sky. The rushing sound of the falls in the distance reminded Owen of home.

  Evie’s eyelids started to grow heavy as she stroked Justine’s hair, and before too long, she gave into the exhaustion of the day and fell asleep. Owen walked slowly over to Clark, who was still shivering and jolting beneath his mound of blankets. Though he was not inclined to climb into bed and snuggle with his friend, he was pleased to see the Espion’s cheeks looked ruddier.

  He then went back and bent over Evie, soaking in the sight of her chest rising and falling regularly, feeling tenderness and gratitude that she hadn’t been harmed. He bent low enough to kiss the hair at her temple, grazing it lightly with his mouth, and then pulled away and walked over to the window. Etayne was still staring into the night sky.

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

  She glanced at him,
flushing a little at the compliment. “I might not have saved either of them,” she said. “Save your thanks until morning.”

  He shook his head. “You did your best, Etayne. You knew what to do. That’s why I’m thanking you. If you hadn’t been there, I would have watched both of them strangle and die by the falls. At least now they have a chance.”

  She shrugged a little, turning back to face the open window. The moon was a thin sliver of light, just over a nest of trees. Then she turned to him. “It’s going to be a long night, Lord Owen. Would you teach me a little about the magic? Can you show me how to use it?”

  He was tired and weary, but he did not want to leave her awake all alone. Perhaps it was no coincidence that it was so late at night. After all, Ankarette had given him his first lessons in Fountain magic in the dark.

  “I will try,” he said wearily. “I’m not a very good teacher. The place we should begin is figuring out how you can fill your cup. Without that, you can’t use the magic at all.”

  “Filling a cup,” she said with a nod, listening to his every word with great interest.

  “For me, it started when I was a little boy. I saw my brother stacking tiles in a row and then knocking them down. It utterly fascinated me and I began to mimic what he did. I could stack tiles for hours, every day. It was never a burden or a chore. I loved it.” He chuckled. “I still do. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found some of the same satisfaction from playing Wizr or reading. It’s about strategy, I suppose. Plotting what will happen in advance. That is what gives me power with the Fountain. To know your power, Etayne, you must know your passion. Is there something you have always been fond of? Some work that isn’t a chore or a trouble?”

  “I have been giving this some thought since our talk on the ship, and I think I may have figured it out.” But she looked abashed, as if she did not wish to speak the words out loud.

  “What?” he asked carefully.

  “I think you’ll laugh,” she said.

  “Why? Is it strange?”

  “I hate when people laugh at me,” she said seriously.

  “Then I won’t. Tell me.” He said it coaxingly, trying to put her fears at rest.

  “I’ve always loved trying on clothes,” she said hesitantly.

  He wrinkled his brow and waited for her to say more, curious.

  “You didn’t laugh,” she said, pleased. “I know it sounds ridiculous. When I was little, I used to pretend to be other people. I loved to put on different dresses. I’d imagine I was a baker’s wife. Or a chandler’s girl. An alderman’s daughter. As I got older, I began to wish for more. My favorite was to pretend I was an earl’s daughter.” She looked down, flushing. “I’ve always taken a secret delight in studying people. How they walk. How they move. How they speak. I would practice playing a role in front of my little sister and my friends, and force them to treat me like I was something more than what I truly was—a thief’s daughter.”

  Her mask fell away as she said those words, revealing her true self. Without the disguise, he could see years of bitterness and resentment, years of abuse and worry. Years of yearning to be someone important, to hide the shame of her past. Her confidence was gone, replaced by a look of self-loathing and contempt.

  “How did you come to join the Espion?” he asked her softly.

  Her lips pressed hard together. “My father,” she said in a low, angry voice. Then she sighed. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. No one ever asks about my story. They only want me to do something for them.” She glanced at him. “Except for you. My father is one of those fountain-men at the sanctuary of Our Lady. I grew up with my mother and sister in a hovel outside the sanctuary, but my father had to stay there during the day for fear of the law. He used me to cheat people. He’d dress me up in fine gowns he’d stolen. He taught me how to watch the nobles, to act like them. All so I could steal from them. I even stole coins from the fountain. When I was twelve, I was caught by the Espion. They took me to Mancini.” She frowned at the memory, her eyes guarded. “He offered me a chance to join them. He needed someone young, someone he could teach. Someone he could mold. Well, it was that or go into the river! To ensure my father and everyone else I knew would believe I was dead, Mancini shoved another body into the river. Then he sent me to Pisan.” She shuddered at the word, her eyes blinking rapidly. After a moment, she collected herself again. “So you see, Master Owen, I’m more of a pretender than Eyric is.” She sniffed, and then looked him in the eye. “I suspect that you are pretending as well.”

  Owen felt a coldness settle over him. He knew what she meant, but he wasn’t going to say it. “Am I?”

  She nodded with certainty. “I have a suspicion. Mancini never told me about you, you know. He told me about Ankarette, the greatest spy of them all, and how she had helped him become master of the Espion. But he never once mentioned you. After you and I met, I found myself wondering why. I think it’s because Ankarette helped you both. When you were brought to Kingfountain as a young boy, I remember hearing about you. I think I even saw you once at the sanctuary. All by yourself. Then I learned about the little boy who could see the future in his dreams.” She blinked. “That’s not true, is it?”

  Owen took a deep breath. This was so dangerous, talking to her. Yet she had secrets of her own, some of which he now knew. She had trusted him with the story of her past, something he realized she rarely, if ever, did.

  Over the years Owen had missed his relationship with Ankarette—there had been no lies between them, and yet she had also understood and could relate to his powers. What if he lost Evie? Not having a companion to confide in and trust would make his life an utter misery. He shared Etayne’s eagerness for friendship, but he felt conflicted by it, particularly because he knew she would be able to understand him in ways that Evie could not. Evie should be the one with whom he shared everything; Evie, who was not Fountain-blessed.

  The feelings wrestled inside him like snakes, and he could not bring himself to say the words. But she was looking at him so imploringly, so desperate for anything resembling friendship, that he could not resist. He shook his head no.

  Etayne breathed out. Her voice was very low when she spoke again. “That wasn’t easy for you to admit. Thank you for your trust.” Then she looked him in the eye, her face vulnerable and intense. “I swear by the Fountain that I won’t tell anyone. I swear it.”

  “Thank you,” Owen whispered. “I won’t tell anyone about you either. You have my word.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “I will do whatever you ask, Lord Owen. Anything. Just teach me. If I’m truly Fountain-blessed, that is a secret I don’t want anyone else to know. Especially Mancini.”

  Owen nodded.

  She sighed, relieved. “How do you use the power then? How do you summon it?”

  “It’s difficult to describe,” Owen said thoughtfully. “It just seems to happen naturally for me. I don’t need to force it, but I do need to open myself to it. I can feel the Fountain all around me. It’s like a river of rushing water, always flowing. When I want to access the power, I just open myself to it and let the current take me. Let me show you.”

  He let out his breath and opened himself to the Fountain’s magic, letting it flow from him into her. There it was again, that sensation of his power draining away and not being replenished. This time, he wasn’t trying to probe for her weaknesses. He just wanted her to feel what it was like. She closed her eyes, lifting her chin slightly, and sighed.

  “I can feel it,” she murmured. “It’s like rain.”

  “Good,” he said coaxingly. “Now try to use it. I don’t know how the power will manifest in you, but let it flow through you, and then try to—I don’t know—direct it back at me.”

  He watched as she stood there, eyes closed, hands pressing against the edge of the windowsill. She was concentrating, or perhaps meditating was the better word. It did not seem to be a strain or difficulty.

  He remembered how Ankarette had t
ried to teach him about the nuances of the Fountain when he was a little boy. She had been so patient, so tender with him. He could tell that Etayne had experienced little tenderness in her life.

  “Is that what she looks like?” Etayne asked. “I see a woman’s face in my mind. It’s coming from you. Is that Ankarette Tryneowy?”

  Owen was startled. Was she reading his mind?

  “Yes, I was just thinking about her.”

  “She was pretty,” Etayne said, eyes still closed. He felt the flow of the Fountain magic shift, a ripple like a huge stone plunging into placid waters.

  His vision rippled like the waves and he blinked rapidly.

  The person next to him by the window wasn’t Etayne anymore.

  It was Ankarette.

  “By the Veil!” Owen gasped in shock. It looked just like her!

  The mirage vanished as Etayne opened her eyes wide in surprise. “What? What happened? I feel faint.” She started to wobble and Owen had to catch her before she crumpled.

  There has always persisted deep enmity between Ceredigion and Occitania. Over the centuries, great wars have been fought to assert rights of rulership in Occitania. The greatest and most interesting war occurred nigh on fifty years ago. A young girl from Donremy in Occitania arrived at the court of the exiled prince of Occitania claiming the Fountain had spoken to her and that she had been instructed to take the prince to the sanctuary of Rannes and there crown him king. And she did. Never underestimate the power of those who are Fountain-blessed to achieve great things.

  —Polidoro Urbino, Court Historian of Kingfountain

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Evie’s Duty

  Etayne’s dizziness did not last long. Owen helped her into a nearby chair and quickly found some of the invalids’ broth for her to drink. She took a swallow, blinking rapidly, and then took a longer sip.

  Staring down into her eyes, Owen pressed, “Have you done this before?”

  She shook her head. “That was the first time. I’m surprised how tired I got so quickly. Like I was plunged into a river. I struggled to swim in it. But if I practice, I think I can get used to it.”