Redemption of Thieves (Book 4)

by C. Greenwood

“You’re too late,” I choked out. “He’s already gone. Even you can’t heal death.”

  Brow puckering, the Praetor pushed me aside and knelt to press black-gloved fingertips against the side of Terrac’s neck. “What do you know of the powers at my disposal?” But it was an absent question. His focus was all on Terrac.

  “You’re wasting your time,” I repeated bitterly. “I know a dead man when I see one.”

  “Maybe. But the condition you ignorant woods rabble call dead isn’t always the real thing.”

  Before I could jerk away, he grabbed my hand and pressed it to the pulse point on Terrac’s neck.

  “Feel that?” he asked.

  I felt it. The flutter was faint but definitely real.

  “How can this be?” I gasped.

  The Praetor ignored my question and spread his hands above Terrac’s heart. His lips moved in a soft incantation I caught only snatches of. Whatever invisible magic he was using, it worked. Terrac sucked in a sudden gasp of air and heaved it out again. I leaned my face closer to his, ignoring the Praetor’s instructions to keep out of the way.

  “Terrac, can you hear me?” I whispered.

  The only response was a flicker of his eyelids. But at least he was breathing again, the strong, steady breath of one who sleeps a healthy sleep.

  “Get back, foolish girl. Give him some air,” the Praetor commanded and I obeyed this time.

  “He was dead,” I said disbelievingly. “I don’t understand what happened.”

  “Oh course you don’t. Brilliant men with twice your years and intellect wouldn’t comprehend it.”

  Too dazed to take offense, I said, “But he wasn’t breathing. His heart had stopped. How did you bring him back?”

  Was it my imagination or did the Praetor hesitate before letting out an exaggerated sigh?

  “Very well,” he said. “I suppose a young woman of your background knows how to keep a secret. If you don’t, just remember all I hold over you and perhaps that will keep you discreet.”

  “I’m as silent as the grave,” I said quickly, thinking of Fleet in his prison cell and Terrac now fully at the mercy of this man.

  “Then suffice to say both the damage to Terrac and the healing of him were a matter of magic. A powerful spell was slowly drawing the life from him. Soon his carcass would have been an empty shell. As a mage, I was able to find Terrac’s still-lingering essence and tug it back into his body. If he had been dead longer than a moment, it would have been impossible, as his life force would have moved on to some other place.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “I doubt it. What would a forest mongrel like you know of such things?”

  He briskly examined the bandages I had placed over Terrac’s shallower wounds, saying, “All he needs is rest and plenty of fluids when he wakes. You shouldn’t get much food into him for the next day or two, but when his appetite does return, it’ll be doubled. After that, he’ll be back on his feet again.”

  He checked another bandage. “You did all right with these, I suppose.”

  I knew by the way he said it he had expected to find otherwise.

  I ignored the dubious praise and said, “Won’t you do something about his fingers? Can’t those be magically healed too?”

  He unbound Terrac’s injured hand and looked for the first time on the wound.

  “No, I can do nothing for these,” he said, neither his expression nor his tone betraying any emotion. “Take care of them as best you can. Keep the cut clean and packed with earthleaf to protect it from infection. That should be simple enough, even for you.”

  He deftly rebound Terrac’s injured hand as skillfully if it were a task he had accomplished a hundred times before.

  He continued flatly. “The boy was lucky. His sword hand is undamaged so he can still be of use to me. And the thumb of the bad hand is preserved, so he’ll soon adjust to the missing digits.”

  “You really don’t care about him, do you?” I realized. “For all you believe, Terrac is your own flesh and blood, the offspring of your brother, he’s nothing more to you than a useful tool, a soulless piece in your greater game. His suffering doesn’t matter, only his fitness to serve you.”

  I was angry enough not to care if I tread on dangerous ground. “If he had died here tonight, you wouldn’t have mourned his death, only the inconvenience that brought you all this way for nothing.”

  The Praetor grimaced at the blood smeared on his gloves. “What do you know about my brother, Habon?” he asked quietly.

  I should be afraid when his voice had that edge to it. I knew that. But I couldn’t seem to care about the consequences of my outburst.

  “Do you take me for a fool?” I asked. “Do you think I don’t know the significance of the brooch he wears, bearing the Fidelity and Service motto of the house of Tarius? I did a little research on you during my time in Selbius. No one but one of your blood would have access to that brooch. And no one in your house is unaccounted for but your long-lost brother.”

  “Habon was not lost. He was disgraced,” the Praetor cut me off. “My brother made an… unwise decision, for which I had no choice but to disinherit him.”

  “Because he pursued a woman of humble origins and poor ancestry,” I said.

  “Because he loved a witch descended from the very pale savages who torment the province now,” he countered. “When he chose her over his duty, he became an enemy of the province.”

  “And brought your wrath down on all magickers,” I said. “But then Terrac showed up a dozen years later with the brooch. I suppose your wrath had cooled by then.”

  “Justice had been satisfied by the death of his parents and the destruction of every magicker I could get my hands on,” the Praetor corrected. “Guessing the boy’s parentage, I saw fit to show him mercy.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I and not Terrac was the offspring of his brother and the “witch.” But then I looked down on Terrac’s sleeping face. He looked peaceful now and much younger, like the boy I remembered. Maybe by keeping silent on this matter, I could keep him safe.

  “You brought him up at the keep under your protection,” I mused. “That’s why he was trained with the Fists and promoted at so young an age to Under-Lieutenant, third down from the top of command. You had plans for him.”

  “I foresaw he might have his uses one day. Much like you.”

  I clenched my teeth. It was bad enough to hear him speak so of Terrac, but I was unaccustomed to being treated as if I had no thoughts or feelings of account.

  “I hope you got all you needed from me,” I said. “Because I’m no longer yours to command. Find yourself a new instrument.”

  He feigned surprise, saying, “I am disappointed. Are you forgetting your vows of service so quickly?”

  “I have forgotten nothing. Those cursed vows have never been far from my mind since the moment I took them. I’m not one to break my word. Which is why you are going to break it for me. You’re going to release me from my oath.”

  “Am I?” he sounded amused. “And after I went to such trouble to procure it. Tell me, my ignorant forest friend, why should I do such a thing? Your services have proven invaluable already. I’d be a fool to cast them aside.”

  “You’d be a greater fool to hold close to you an enemy who knows the secret that could lead to your downfall, the secret you will do anything to keep from seeing the light of day.”

  “Truly? That sounds intriguing. What is this dangerous mystery I’m so desperate to conceal? I know you do not speak of my exploration of the art of magic. Because that’s not the sort of accusation I’m likely to admit before witnesses.”

  “I don’t need you to,” I pointed out. “The merest breath of rumor will be enough to cause your downfall. And the beauty of it is it will have been brought about entirely by your own law. It was you who declared the practice of such magic punishable by death.”

  “Yes, that was before I realized the talent could be learned, not m
erely inherited. It was then I recognized its fascinating potential in the right hands.”

  “Meaning yours alone.”

  He shrugged. “It would be unwise to allow such a weapon to be wielded randomly.”

  A muscle in my cheek twitched. “So you wanted to eliminate competition?” I asked, my voice coming out so cold I hardly recognized it. “My family died so you could be the only one to possess the shiny new talent you’d discovered?”

  I didn’t give him a chance to respond as I rushed on. “My mother and father were magickers. They were killed, murdered, before my eyes during the cleansing you ordered all those years ago.”

  “Heartbreaking,” he said dryly. “Unfortunately, this means you also carry the strain of magic—not something I would admit to openly, were I you.”

  “I’m not finished yet.” At this point, I was beyond feeling fear. Speaking of my parents had brought up old memories and the anguish I had only imagined healed. The pain had been put away and forgotten for a long time but never dealt with.

  I threatened, “A single whisper to the wrong person, a moment’s gossip with some fishwife along the docks. That’s all it would take for word of your magery to get out. I have no fear for my hide. I’ve worn it long enough already. But you value your life and your power. I don’t think you’d enjoy giving up either.”

  “Enough.” The Praetor looked at me distastefully. “Clearly you’re quite mad.” He titled his head to one side. “I could have you silenced and all your vermin friends with you. I think I would enjoy that.”

  Under his gaze I felt a stir of unease and wondered if I had miscalculated my position.

  “It would be so easy,” he continued. “I would not even have to employ an executioner. With my magic, I could just reach right here into your chest.”

  His fingers hovered over my heart. “I could close an invisible fist and with one tight squeeze you would never trouble me again.”

  My heart beat faster as if already feeling the pressure of an unseen hand. I struggled to keep fear from my face.

  “But you won’t do it,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “If you wanted me dead, I’d be a corpse already.”

  He dropped his hand away and I breathed a sigh of relief as he admitted, “Alas, you are right. I haven’t any intention of disposing of you right now. Something holds me back. I have the strangest feeling there is unfinished business between you and I—and him.”

  He looked past me to Terrac’s sleeping form. “There is a future yet undecided.”

  I narrowed my eyes. I wanted nothing to do with this man who was my uncle or any future plans he might lay.

  But aloud I only said, “You were about to release me from my oath.”

  The hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “You’re a single-minded young woman, aren’t you? Courageous, I am told, and a force to be reckoned with. You’ve even impressed my men. And now here you stand… defying me. Perhaps you should have been of my blood and not the disappointing young Under-Lieutenant here.”

  I held my peace. No need for him to know how dry the back of my mouth was or how shaky my insides.

  “Very well,” he said. “It pleases me to grant your request. But be warned, this battle is far from over.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  When he placed his palm on my forehead, his skin was cold to the touch and I felt the bite of the ring of his ancestors pressing against my brow.

  He said, “I hereby release you from my service. You may go your own way, severed from all vows or obligations, for the space of a year and a day.”

  I rocked backward. “What is this about a year and a day? What sort of release is that?”

  “It is the best bargain you are going to get,” he said. “I advise you to accept it. I expect we can do without you until next winter. The Skeltai savages will settle down now that their pagan holiday is past for another year. We’ve unsettled them, striking back as we did, and now that they know we’re not easy prey, they may let us be altogether.”

  I frowned. “I don’t see how you can be so certain of that.”

  “Let us just say I have learned the skill of foresight. Enough so to see I shall have no immediate need for you here.”

  I felt a little queasy, wondering what else he had seen in the future.

  He gave me no opportunity for questions. “But on the day after this, one year hence, I expect you to return to my service and take up whatever duties I see fit to set before you.”

  My jaw tightened. “That’s not the freedom I demanded.”

  He smiled thinly, an expression that held no warmth. “There are other small favors I’m prepared to offer. Such as a pardon for your crimes and those of your circle of thieves. Each of you may walk among ordinary folk, may leave this shaded wood without fear of capture or punishment.”

  I choked on my rage and not all of my anger was directed at my enemy. I had thought myself so clever. I had imagined my plans well laid. And yet he had caught me up in them with as little effort as a spider capturing an unwary insect. He watched me now, waiting for my answer.

  “Do we have a bargain, thief?” he asked.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  “And what of him?” I nodded toward Terrac.

  The Praetor shrugged. “What of him? He will travel back to Selbius with us in the morning. He’ll sleep like a babe, most likely, even on horseback. The kind of healing I employed is strength sapping, for sufferer and healer alike. Once he’s home again, he’ll be back on his feet and returned to his old duties within the week. Perhaps some new ones as well. His superior, my lieutenant of Iron Fists, was killed in the fighting at Beaver Creek. My captain believes this boy is level-headed and resourceful enough to take his place and I’m inclined to agree with him.”

  He looked at me as if he knew something of what was on my mind. “It is what the boy wants. Believe me, not for anything would he give up the opportunity to be the captain’s second.”

  “I suppose not,” I said aloud. Were my feelings really so transparent? But at least Terrac would live, I thought, watching his chest rise and fall. Whatever became of me and whatever future or freedom I was forced to give up, at least one of us had come through right in the end. Who’d have thought it would be Terrac rather than me? And who’d have thought I wouldn’t want it any other way?

  I turned to inform the Praetor I agreed to his terms but he had already gone, slipping quietly into the dark night. No need to tell him what he already knew.

  I knelt and resettled Terrac’s blankets. For a moment the urge had been so strong. Frighteningly strong. I could have opened my mouth and spilled out another truth to the Praetor, one he hadn’t heard before. That Terrac was not his nephew. Perhaps it would have shaken him, discovering he didn’t after all grasp the situation he imagined himself in such firm control of. But to do that would have been to deny Terrac his opportunities. The Praetor would withdraw his support, maybe casting Terrac out of his place among the Fists, and then my friend would return to the futureless impoverished state he had sprung from. Only this time I couldn’t imagine he would have enough hope for the future to sustain him.

  Terrac stirred in his sleep and I realized he was waking. I repositioned myself so my face would be the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

  “Ilan… is it you?” He blinked and rubbed his good hand shakily across his face as if just waking from a deep night’s slumber. But I could tell by the weakness in his voice and the carefulness of his movements that the healing had left him far more drained than any ordinary sleep. His words confirmed it.

  “Are we safe?” he asked. “Because I don’t think I could summon the strength to crawl away even if another savage was coming straight at me.”

  I smiled, trying to seem ordinary, although I felt a strange tight sensation at the back of my throat at hearing his voice again when I had thought never to hear him speak again. “Yes, we’re safe now. The Skeltai s
haman who injured you is dead. For a time we feared for your life, but the Praetor came and looked after you, and now you’re past all danger.”

  “The Praetor?” He gasped. “He’s here?”

  He made a feeble move as if to sit up and I pushed him down again, easy to do since he hadn’t the strength to lift himself more than inches from the ground.

  “He’s outside somewhere. Forget about him. He’s seen you, pronounced you whole enough to remain of use, and said you would be fit to travel in the morning.”

  “Whole enough?” He looked down at his bandaged hand. “Oh yes. I’d almost convinced myself it was only a dream.”

  I tried to sound comforting but not too comforting because I knew pity would not be welcome. “It’s not so bad,” I said. “As the Praetor pointed out, it isn’t your sword hand. You should still get by well enough without it. You’ll just need some time to adjust to the change.”

  I forced a smile, knowing matters were not as simple as I made them sound. I could only imagine how he felt knowing he would spend the rest of his life less than whole.

  “Not so bad…” he repeated quietly, his eyelids half-closing. I could see he wanted to rest again, but I made him drink a little water before I left him.

  Then I crawled out of the shelter and into the cold night. The stream babbled nearby, and overhead, the treetops stirred in the wind. It was good to be home again. Almost good enough to drive away all my worries. But not quite.

  A blazing campfire had been lit nearby and the lost villagers gathered around it, talking softly over the meager meal they had managed to scrounge up. Mothers rocked small children in their arms and many folk sprawled out in the shadows beneath the trees at the clearings’ edge, because the cave wasn’t large enough to hold them all.

  The Praetor had brought a large contingent of fighting men with him. I judged them to be the same soldiers we had left near Beaver Creek when we stepped into the portal and the horrors that awaited us on the other side. I never thought the sight of a Fist would bring me any feeling of security but it did now. The Fists who had come through our shared ordeal mingled with their fellows but they were quiet, as if they couldn’t yet believe they were safe and had lived to tell of their adventure.