by Brian Farrey
Maloch was hunched over, whispering to a small, glowing crystal cupped in his hand. The second I entered the room, he muttered something and tapped the crystal. It went dark.
I smirked. “How’s Reena?”
Our friends Reena and her brother, Holm, had left the Provinces with their parents and the rest of the Sarosans. But Reena and Maloch stayed in touch with a pair of magical crystals Maloch had stolen from the Dowager. It was all kept very quiet—Reena’s people didn’t exactly like magic—but I got the impression Reena and Maloch talked a lot.
A lot.
Maloch stretched out and stared at the ceiling so he wouldn’t have to look at me. “Fine. The Sarosans have started over again on an island. They’re very happy.”
“And Holm? His poetry any better?”
Maloch could only smile. “Worse than ever.”
I changed into my nightshirt. “How are things coming along with the new Shadowhands?”
Ma had restarted the elite group of thieves, and Maloch had signed on as the first recruit. As a stateguard apprentice, he could get information on criminals from around the Provinces who might make good Shadowhands.
“Slowly,” he said, clearly unhappy. “Your ma’s very picky about who we let join.”
Maloch was anxious to have the Shadowhands back in operation. He hoped their first heist would be to steal the other Shadowhands—including his father—from the Palatinate Palace, where they stood as glass statues.
“Trust Ma,” I said. “She knows what she’s doing.”
I put out the candles and crawled into bed. I was seconds from sleep when a thought popped into my head that would keep me awake for hours.
How had Aubrin known what Kolo had said to me? I’d never told her.
In fact, I hadn’t shared Kolo’s last words with anyone.
3
The Sentinels
“An accomplice is only two silvernibs away from being a snitch.”
—The Lymmaris Creed
Every birthday, for as long as I could remember, started with me waking to the scent of freshly grilled singemeat sausages wafting up from the kitchen downstairs. The morning of my thirteenth birthday, I awoke to the smell of sweat and rotten eggs.
I opened my eyes to find Maloch’s bare foot a hairbreadth from my face. He lay unmoving on the hammock above, his leg dangling over the edge. Grimacing, I slid onto the floor and crawled quietly out the door. Just outside, I ran headlong into Luda, standing at her post.
Maybe she really didn’t sleep.
“It’s my birthday,” I announced, stepping around her. “In thieving circles, it’s traditional to hug the birthday boy.”
“I am not a thief,” she said stiffly. “And I do not hug.”
Given that her arms were as big as mokka tree trunks, it was probably for the best.
I resolved to forget about Kolo and the Uprisings and the Jubilee and just enjoy being thirteen. Luda shadowed me downstairs, where we found my family already gathered around the table near the tallest pile of singespice flapjacks I’d ever seen.
“Happy birthday, Jaxter!” Ma and Da cried. Aubrin pulled out the chair at the head of the table for me.
Once Maloch and the Dowager came downstairs, we all dug into breakfast. As was tradition, I led us in a spirited rendition of the Grimjinx birthday song. Standing on my chair, I threw back my shoulders and belted:
“Birthday! Birthday! Steal another year!
Eat up all the scorchcake till it disappears!
Getting what I want is fun!
Hide your purses, here I coooooome!”
Ma and Da linked arms and joined in. Every verse got louder and louder. We were in rare form when we got to verse twenty-three, which glorifies past birthday conquests. By then, though, Maloch and the Dowager were looking a bit glassy-eyed, so we cut the song short. I sang the other fifty-five verses in my head.
Next came the presents. I unwrapped Ma’s gift first and found a set of new green velvet pouches to replace the ones I’d lost. They even came stocked with a healthy supply of the twelve essential plants I used to counteract magic.
From Da, I got a new leather wristband with a secret compartment to hide the vintage lockpicks he’d received when he turned thirteen. They’d been passed down through the Grimjinx family for almost three centuries.
Aubrin gave me a pair of vallix skin gloves, capable of handling cursed items without contracting the curse. Ma passed me a package from Nanni, my grandmother, delivered just yesterday. Inside, I found my very own official copy of the key that opened the Grimjinx family album. Now I could do what every thirteen-year-old Grimjinx had done for years: throw away the duplicate key I’d secretly forged when I was seven.
I wasn’t expecting anything from Maloch but he surprised me. “Since you’re here for a month until the Jubilee starts,” he said, “I’m giving you kioro lessons. You need to learn to defend yourself.”
Of course Maloch’s gift involved hitting. And sweating.
Finally, the Dowager handed me a scroll sealed with a purple wax disc bearing the Soranna crest. “It’s a royal pardon,” she said. “Good for one nonviolent, relatively harmless, but most certainly illegal shenanigan at a future date. Use it wisely.”
I thought Da was going to faint dead away. He gripped Ma’s hand excitedly, his mind no doubt making plans for our next family vacation/heist. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was a joke. The Dowager had given me my gift before we left Redvalor Castle: an antique spyglass.
Usually, a thief’s thirteenth birthday celebration would have lasted all day and into the night, with fistfuls of scorchcake and endless rounds of Shave the Grundilus. Just my luck that on my thirteenth birthday, everyone had responsibilities.
As we cleared the breakfast plates, Da prepared for a meeting about Jubilee security, the Dowager braced herself for a day discussing celebration plans with the Castellan, and Ma talked about her phydollotry shop appointments.
“But,” Ma said, “the festivities will continue tonight with a birthday dinner fit for a High Laird.”
All the while, I kept my eyes on Aubrin, who’d barely touched her food. She was quiet and withdrawn, just like last night. I hoped I could get her alone to find out why she was upset.
Luckily, Ma gave me the perfect opportunity. Before heading out, she handed me a coin purse. “Why don’t you three”—she indicated Maloch, Aubrin, and me—“head to the market and get a hemmon we can roast tonight?”
Then she and Da left for their jobs while the Dowager went upstairs to don her head-of-state robes. I placed the coin purse into Tree Bag, the satchel that Kolo had given me.
Maloch went to the corner of the living room where he stored his apprentice armor. “Count me out,” he said. “I’m going to get some broadsword training in.”
“Maloch,” Aubrin said, frowning, “we never see Jaxter anymore. Can’t you skip one day of training?”
Tears pooled in her eyes. Her lower lip trembled. Maloch instantly looked remorseful. In the two months Maloch had been living with my family, he and Aubrin had grown close. Which meant he was now completely under her thumb. “Fine. But not because I want to spend time with Jaxter. I, um . . . I need to buy some oil so my armor doesn’t rust. Lemme get some money.” Maloch disappeared upstairs.
Aubrin turned to me. The tears were gone and her frown was now a devious smile. She pointed to her head. “Do you see this face? It is a weapon!”
“Well played, Jinxface,” I said, and we bumped elbows.
Even Luda had to concede, “I fear your cuteness arsenal.”
Brassbell Promenade was uncommonly quiet when we arrived. A rumble of distant thunder just beyond the valley had scared most market-goers into returning home before the storm hit. Several merchants were hoisting heavy cloth awnings to protect their wares.
Along the way there, I kept Luda distracted while Maloch and Aubrin competed to see who could pick the most pockets before we got to the butcher. Aubrin brought out Malo
ch’s fun side. I think having a sister made him less of a garfluk.
When we reached Lek’s shop, Aubrin was the clear winner, having nicked nearly three times more loot than Maloch. She celebrated with an odd little dance that involved shaking her hips, raising her arms in the air, and grunting like a sanguibeast. Luda stared blankly. She had no idea what was going on.
Without warning, the wind picked up. A woman selling monx cried out as her awning collapsed. A baby started keening in her mother’s arms. A street musician plucked his oxina and played an Aviard lullaby. As these things happened, Aubrin’s head spun around to watch each of them. First, the awning collapse. Then the baby. Then the musician. She had a strange look in her eyes. Like she recognized all of this. Like it had all happened before.
Thunder rumbled, closer this time. Aubrin slowly looked up. Tears slid down her cheeks. “It’s time,” she said.
“What are you talking about, Jinxface? Time for what?”
The air above us crackled. A ring of blue energy formed just over our heads. Together, Maloch and I pulled Aubrin away from the vortex in the sky. We knew quickjump rings when we saw them. Luda crouched, ready for anything.
Two hooded figures fell from the glowing circle. As they landed on the cobblestone street, there was a snap and the blue circle vanished. The new arrivals wore dark green robes with magical sigils embroidered in gold around the hem of their cowls. They pulled back their hoods, revealing leather masks with metal grids where the mouths should be and round, silver lenses in place of eyes.
Palatinate Sentinels.
The Sentinels were elite mages, highly skilled in spells beyond the grasp of ordinary mages. Whereas the Palatinate governed magical law, the Sentinels enforced it. Most often, that meant they hunted down rogue mages.
Both Sentinels had their spellspheres resting in their palms. The taller mage stepped forward. “Aubrin Grimjinx!” she called out, turning her head from side to side.
Maloch and I shared a look. What could my little sister possibly have done to warrant a visit? Had she picked a mage’s pocket?
Aubrin gently pulled herself from my protective grip. With perfect posture, she walked right up to the tall Sentinel. “I’m Aubrin Grimjinx.”
“Come with us,” the smaller Sentinel said, beckoning with his free hand.
Aubrin nodded. The tall Sentinel held her spellsphere aloft and chanted in the magical language.
“Hang on a minute!” I shouted. Maloch and I rushed forward. “What’s going on?”
“Jaxter, please,” Aubrin whispered. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” It was like she wasn’t my little sister anymore. She was suddenly very calm, very mature.
“We’re keeping these naff-nuts from taking you anywhere,” Maloch said, clenching his fists.
Naturally, Maloch considered violence first. I opted for diplomacy. “Our father is Protectorate of Vengekeep. Let’s go talk to him. You know, without weapons and magic and . . . meanness.”
“The Palatinate does not recognize the authority of Vengekeep’s Protectorate,” the shorter Sentinel squawked. “Stand aside.”
“It’s okay,” Aubrin said. “I’ll go with them.”
“The zoc you will!” Maloch said. He and I each grabbed one of Aubrin’s arms and pulled her away.
The mages advanced, spellspheres sizzling with power.
“Uh, Luda,” I called out, “remember that pledge you made . . . ?”
But the Satyran was already on the move, charging forward with a determined war cry. Her furry hands flew up to her shoulders where she kept two broadswords crisscrossed over her back. With a tinny ssshhhk!, she drew the swords from their scabbards and leaped in front of me.
The tall Sentinel spoke a single word. A cone of smoky gray light shot from her spellsphere and struck Luda. The Satyran’s back arched as her face clenched in a silent scream. A second later, she collapsed like a limp doll.
Before I could check on Luda, the tall Sentinel spoke again. More gray light spiraled from the spellsphere and came right at me. I clutched Tree Bag and braced for the inevitable pain.
But nothing happened. As the gray light touched me, it exploded into a shower of harmless white sparks that disappeared as they hit the street. I looked at the Sentinels. They looked at me. Clearly, that shouldn’t have happened.
Maloch charged. Bent over, he drove his head into the stomach of the smaller Sentinel. As the pair fell, they tumbled and brought the tall Sentinel down with them.
A crowd of people had formed a circle, murmuring and pointing at the melee. Using his hand-to-hand kioro training, Maloch fought to keep the Sentinels from using their spellspheres.
“Go!” he shouted to me.
Grabbing Aubrin’s wrist, I pulled her through the assembled throng and ran.
“Jaxter!” Aubrin protested. But I was hardly paying attention. My mind raced with options, trying to figure out the closest, safest place to hide.
Then it hit me: the Dowager! The royal family could overrule the Sentinels. I led Aubrin back toward our parents’ house. If we were lucky, the Dowager hadn’t left for her meeting with the Castellan.
Lightning flashed and rain started to fall as I hurried Aubrin through the backstreets and alleys of Vengekeep. Splashing through puddles, we turned the corner and saw our house ahead. I pulled Aubrin tight to me and yelled to the two Provincial Guards at our front door, “Get the Dowager!”
One guard ducked into the house while the other moved, as if coming to help. But before he could get far, the air above us lit up and hummed. The two Sentinels dropped from a new glowing ring and stood between us and the house. The tall Sentinel chanted. Red light encased the guard, freezing him to the spot.
I stepped in front of Aubrin and shook my fist at the shorter Sentinel. “Don’t make me get brave!” I warned him, my voice cracking. “Bad things happen when I try to be brave.”
I fumbled with my pouches, searching for something to help us escape. But Aubrin laid her hand on my wrist. I looked down. She was smiling, soft and innocent. “Jaxter,” she whispered, “it’s okay. You need to trust me. I’m going with them.”
I stood there, slack-jawed. Aubrin threw her arms around me and squeezed. Then quietly she stepped over to the Sentinels, took a deep breath, and winked. The sizzling ring of energy in the sky changed from blue to green. It lowered around the Sentinels and Aubrin. A flash and they all vanished.
The Provincial Guard, freed from the red light, shook his head and looked around, almost as if he’d forgotten why he was there. A moment later, the other guard emerged from our house with the Dowager in tow.
“Jaxter?” the Dowager called out from under a thin parasol. “What’s happening?”
By now, the rain was falling so hard that the entire world blurred. My clothes grew heavier as I soaked up every drop. I stood there, staring numbly at the spot where my sister had disappeared. I couldn’t even form the words to explain it.
“Jaxter!”
The shrill voice came from behind. I spun around to find my friend Callie Strom racing down the street. Her fists pulled at her gray apprentice robes, hoisting them up over her shoes as she ran. She doubled over as she reached me, trying to catch her breath.
“Am I too late?” she asked, her eyes searching the neighborhood frantically.
The Dowager met us in the middle of the street. “Someone tell me what’s going on.”
My head had started to spin. I could feel my left hand twitch. My lungs hurt. And I couldn’t stop staring at that spot on the ground.
Aubrin.
“Jaxter!” Callie grabbed my arms. Her puffy cheeks and red eyes told me she’d been crying. “Did they already take her?”
“Take who?” the Dowager demanded.
I nodded, stupefied. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, she’s gone. She was here and then she— Wait. How did—? Callie, did you know the Palatinate was coming to take Aubrin?”
Callie shook as she sobbed. “O-only s-since th-this m-m-morn
ing.”
“How could you know?” I asked.
She buried her face in her hands. “Because it’s all my fault!”
4
An Ancient Decree
“The only difference between a lie and a truth is the telling.”
—Manjax Grimjinx, former commander of the Provincial Guard
“There’s a very good reason.”
Ma had been repeating this for the last hour. It was less convincing each time.
My family had gathered in the parlor of Talian’s home. As a member of the Palatinate, Talian could explain what had just happened to Aubrin. “You wait and see,” Ma continued. “It’s a mistake or a miscommunication or . . . or something. We’ll get it straightened out. Aubrin will be home by sundown. All very simple.”
Da put his arm around her. Their weak smiles told me that neither believed what Ma was saying. The Palatinate had dispatched Sentinels to take Aubrin. There was nothing simple about this.
“Some mistake,” Maloch said with a grunt. His tussle with the Sentinels hadn’t ended well. He sat in a high-backed chair, his bandaged leg on a tuffet. A large gash on his cheek had just started to scab over. A dark red ring around his right eye promised to turn black and blue in the days to come.
Am I to blame? I wondered. I’d been discreet while researching the Great Uprisings. Maybe word had gotten to the Palatinate. It was very possible Aubrin’s abduction was a warning: stop poking your nose into the Great Uprisings.
Da winked at me. “Some birthday party, eh?”
I groaned. So much for relaxing.
A sob from across the room broke through the sound of the rain outside. She’d been so quiet, I’d almost forgotten that Callie had banished herself to the corner. She hadn’t stopped crying since she’d met us in the street.
The Dowager, who had been admiring a glass cabinet filled with phials of sparkling magical elixirs, moved to comfort her. “Callie,” she said in her singsong voice, “please explain what you meant when you said this was your fault.”
