Luc picked up his roll and bit into it, smearing butter over his lips. “Don’t worry, Rian. I won’t tell anyone.”
Rian wanted to ask how it was that Luc knew that Vaughn was breaking into his father’s study, but the voices at the end of the table rose in decibel, catching his attention.
“I wonder what’s going on down there.” He murmured more to himself than to Luc.
“Counselor Gilon disapproves of what father did today. He feels that they should have discussed the possibility of helping the Dryads find their princess.”
Rian’s gaze flew to the face of his younger brother who continued to unconcernedly eat his roll.
“What’s happening now?”
Luc spoke through a mouthful of bread. “Father’s telling him that the decision was ultimately his and he felt that holding a meeting on a subject in which he would not change his mind would have been a waste of time. Counselor Gilon says that the Dryads have magic which we can’t even imagine and that refusing to help them out of hand seems like a foolish thing to do. Counselor Stark agrees though he won’t admit it, but he’s nodding his head.”
Rian listened in awe as Luc gave each of the six Counselor’s opinions on what had happened in the throne room that morning. He was disappointed that they did not actually discuss the kidnappings, but discovering that his little brother had a talent like this was extraordinary in and of itself. About halfway through Luc’s description of what was happening at the other end of the table, Rian saw Vaughn slip through the servant’s door that led to the kitchen and give a slight nod, indicating that the task was complete.
When Luc paused in his talking to take a drink of water from the crystal goblet next to his plate Rian seized the opportunity to ask. “How can you do that? I’m sitting closer than you and I can’t hear a thing.”
Luc shrugged his gangly shoulders. “Really good hearing, I guess. I can hear you in your room when you talk to Vaughn, too. That’s how I knew he was going into father’s study.”
Rian stared at him. “But the walls are solid rock. How can you possibly do that?”
“I just can.” He tilted his head. “They’re getting ready to go back to the study. It’s a good thing that Vaughn and Aloisa are out of there.” Moments later their father rose indicating that the meal was over.
Luc bounded out of his chair and disappeared out the door that Vaughn had just entered through. Rian wanted to call after him, to discuss Luc’s strange power further, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.
He and Vaughn followed Luc through the door, but where his little brother had no doubt bounded outside into the late summer sunshine, they made their way back to Rian’s rooms.
Aloisa was waiting there, her fingers clamped around a thick sheaf of papers. She was pale and shaking, as if the effort of breaking the spells had exhausted her beyond her normal capabilities.
Without saying anything she thrust the papers at Rian and strode out of the room. The door slid quietly shut behind her.
Rian smoothed the parchment and scanned the notes written in a clear neat hand. The first page was what appeared to be a list of every person who had been kidnapped. Written in tidy letters across the top was: Name, Age, Place of Residence, Ranking, Date Kidnapped, Date Reported, and Reference Number.
Rian scanned down the page, his eyes taking in the names of every person who had been taken. Their ages ranged from four to sixteen. To his dismay, Rian realized that there were far more names on the list than he’d heard about. He skipped past the last few pages and found the eye witness accounts, each with a corresponding reference number.
He scanned down the pages quickly taking in words like “a creature” and “moved in shadows” and “thirty guardsmen.”
“We have to get these to Natesa Sylvandra.”
Vaughn strode to the door. “We should go. The sun will be setting by the time we get there.”
Rian looked longingly at the pages. He wished he had thought to have Aloisa make two copies. He was loath to give up such a plethora of information, so soon after he’d received it. But he had made a promise and as Prince of Iperia he could not go back on a promise.
He nodded decisively, placed the parchment safely under his vest and picked up his jacket. They made their way to the stables and ordered their horses saddled. No one blinked an eye at the prince and his guard leaving for the city just before sunset. Rian had been “sneaking” into town to visit the taverns for years.
They struck out towards Prosper Street and The House of the Lady, making good time despite the crush of people hurriedly getting their errands done before the markets closed for the day. No one made way for them, no one recognized Rian as a member of the royal family. Instead, they cursed at him when he urged his horse forward, nudging them to the side.
He preferred it that way, not being recognized allowed him to travel through the city with only Vaughn as a guard. Edwin had to have at least six guards, if not more.
As they made their way and the sun began its descent into the hills on the horizon, Rian noticed that the mothers who had their children with them clutched a little tighter at their hands than usual. They passed a group of women and he picked up a snatch of their conversation.
“If a dryadian princess can be stolen then surely no one is safe.”
A hard-faced woman with arms larger than Vaughn’s said, “I heard that the older princess came to ask for help and the King threw her out of his court.”
A woman with mousy brown hair spoke, “I’ve bought three new protection spells this week alone, but I still don’t feel safe. I just want…”
Her voice trailed out of hearing range as they moved on.
Rian wondered if the king and his counselors knew just how much their people were panicking. When they passed them, Rian noticed that the magic shops were overrun with people spilling out onto the sidewalk, anxious to get in and buy some form of protection for their children, for themselves. One harried looking shopkeeper was trying desperately to shoo customers from his shop saying loudly, “no more protection spells or trinkets. I’m all out. Come back the day after tomorrow. I should have more.”
They reached The House of the Lady, just as the sun touched the horizon. After dismounting they made their way into the foyer of the spacious building. A smiling woman in flowing white robes approached and bowed graciously.
“How may I help you, gentlemen?” Her voice was soft and serene.
“We are here to see Natesa Sylvandra der Harfina of the Dryadian people.”
The woman smiled widely. “Ah, yes, she told us she was expecting visitors. Will you kindly follow me to a waiting room? You cannot visit her in her chambers. It is not allowed.”
Rian nodded and followed the woman, watching as her robes billowed behind her. She showed them into a well-appointed sitting room with wide windows and flowing, light fabrics everywhere one turned to look. “I will bring refreshments,” the woman said bowing out of the room with the wide smile still plastered on her face.
Rian looked at Vaughn, who looked out of place in this entirely feminine room. He tried hard not to laugh as Vaughn sat uncomfortably on a chair that seemed much too delicate to hold his weight.
Moments later, the door opened and the woman was back with a tray full of tea, scones and fruit. She placed the tray on the table and poured out three cups of steaming liquid then bowed out of the room once again. The cups were dainty with tiny pink flowers painted on them.
“This place is too bloody…” Vaughn started, but just then the door opened yet again to reveal Natesa Sylvandra. She swept into the room wearing trousers and a vest as though she wore a gown sewn by royal seamstresses. Her green grass-like hair hung in a thick braid down her back.
She didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Do you have the information I require?”
Rian reached under his vest and pulled out the papers. She strode across the room and closed her fingers around the parchment still warm from his body. She flipped thr
ough the pages, her eyes scanning as he had done.
“There’s a pattern.” she said after a moment. “There’s a pattern to the kidnappings.” She flipped to one of the other pages and pointed. “Look here. Last August five children went missing in County Reza. This August four children went missing from County Reza and one from the Sidonia Wood.”
“Which lies directly south of Reza?”
“And look here, five children from Lyre in the month of September for the last two years.”
Vaughn stood up and came to stand on Sylvandra’s other side. He looked at the papers for a moment then said, “We need a map.”
Two hours later they had a large map of Iperia spread out on the floor. Brightly colored pins marked the place of each kidnapping. The number of pins sickened Rian. Over two hundred. Over two hundred children had gone missing in the last three years. How had this been kept a secret for so long? How had the number released to the public been limited to only fifty-five? Actually, he knew the answer. As he’d suspected, fifty-five was the number of children who had gone missing from the higher ranking households. The other one hundred and fifty belonged to the working class.
An average of six children a month had gone missing from their homes in the last three years and the public knew nothing of it. Rian, a prince of the country, had known nothing of it.
Sylvandra rubbed her dark brown eyes and sat back on her heels. “I can’t believe it.”
Vaughn sighed. “Twelve counties, twelve months in a year. One county for each month. It’s like it was planned, laid out for this kidnapper.”
“The only one who planned it is the fiend responsible,” said Rian, wryly.
“What I don’t understand,” Sylvandra said. “Is how he steals the children from their houses, takes them where ever it is he takes them and repeats it for the next five children. It is simply impossible for him to do that, time wise... at least for every county.”
Rian didn’t want to point out that maybe it was because the children didn’t survive the kidnapping that the kidnapper was able to travel around the country with such ease. He didn’t feel that it would help the situation, though he could tell Vaughn was thinking the same thing.
“Well, at least we know where he’s going to go next.”
“County Lyre.”
Chapter 4
REKS
Two weeks later
His Royal Majesty Reks Malarkey grumbled as he crouched down in the alley amidst trash and waste. He could feel some sort of strange slime soaking through the knee of his trousers and he tried not to think about just what it might be.
There had been a time that he had been accustomed to this line of work. To crouching in dark alleyways like a common criminal, keeping out of sight. But in the year since he’d ascended the throne of Thief Lord, he’d gotten out of practice.
He just didn’t trust anyone else to do what needed to be done in this particular situation. He shifted slightly, but never took his eyes off the door of the tenant house down the road.
Inside, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the danger that might befall her was seven year old Mya, along with countless others of his large court.
Knowing what it was like to live on the streets, to wonder where the next meal was going to come from, Reks' first act as Thief Lord had been to procure housing for his many followers who had nowhere else to go. He’d dipped into the Thief Lord’s generous store of gold and bought three large houses, spread throughout the city, and had hired people to run them as if they were inns. The only people allowed to stay in one of his houses were the ones who, while checking in, spoke a series of phrases. All others were turned politely away after being told that the tenant house was full.
With children it was different. Reks had given explicit instructions that any child who needed help was to be allowed in.
It killed him that some of the members of the court were as young as three, thrust in by other members of their family. Mya herself had two younger brothers which she tried desperately to take care of. Her mother had died nearly a year ago and Mya had never known her father, though she suspected he was a sailor that had only been in town for a short while.
Many of the older members of the court had grumbled about Reks' need to actually help his people, saying that the new Thief Lord was soft, that he wouldn’t last longer than a month. Reks had put a stop to that immediately
One of his primary oppositions was Eraden who had been in the tight circle of the previous Thief Lord, Volker. He had begun to spread rumors amongst the court that Reks was weak, that Reks was born a noble, and so wasn’t hard enough to live in the streets, to be the leader of the Court. Two days later the man had turned up dead with a crimson smile.
Reks had given him a fair fight, had given him weapons and didn’t stab him in the back as Volker would have done. He’d put up a hell of a fight but Reks was simply faster. He hadn’t lasted more than three minutes.
No one in the court knew that Reks had been the one to kill him. They all assumed that he’d had one of his guards do it. Or maybe Zavier Meade, Reks' number two. Reks let that rumor lay, if they knew what he was truly capable of, it was sure to increase their respect but he preferred to keep a few secrets.
Reks' predecessor had cared very little for the plight of the people that he was meant to protect. Only one of the many reasons why Reks had relished the fight between them and in ending Volker’s life. Reks preferred not to kill his opponents but it was the rule of the Thief Lord’s Court that the challenger to the Thief Lord’s crown must defeat him in a fight witnessed by at least twenty members of the court.
The kidnappings last year had actually helped Reks to gain his position. In a way, he felt that he almost owed the kidnapper a ‘thank you’ before killing him. A year ago, Volker had not been able to protect his people. Reks, who had joined the court for the express purpose of taking over, began to quietly garner the support of people that Volker trusted. He never would have been able to do it if the children hadn’t gone missing, but the people were scared when pickpocket after pickpocket disappeared.
Then at the end of September last year, Reks had challenged Volker in front of the entire court, knowing that he would be able to easily defeat him. He could have had Volker within the first few minutes, but allowed it to last for nearly twenty. Volker did deserve some respect, after all he had held his position for nearly fifteen years, a feat that was virtually unheard of. So what if he had been the worst Thief Lord for the last one hundred. But when Volker’s breath had become wheezy and he began to stumble, Reks thought it would be better to simply end it.
And, at twenty-one, Reks had become the youngest Thief Lord in anyone’s memory.
The kidnappings in that area had stopped immediately following that. Reks had had nothing to do with it, though he didn’t mind taking the credit. For a time, every person with a child that they cared about would approach him on the street, grasp his hand and shake with a desperation that made Reks cringe. Occasionally that still happened.
Now a year later, two weeks before his year anniversary as the leader of the underworld, the kidnappings had started again. Reks cursed his bad luck. It couldn’t have come at a worse time.
He’d just made plans to extend his kingdom further, into other cities starting with Carpius, the country’s capital. He’d never understood why the throne of the Thief Lord wasn’t in the same place as the throne of the king. He intended to move it there once he seized control. He’d carefully laid plans, sent out spies nearly six months ago to report back on the state of the underworld there. From what news he’d received it wouldn’t be hard to take over.
But now he had to put his plans on hold all because the kidnapper was back.
His other two houses had been hit in the last week, he was sure that this one was next. Reks adjusted his weight slightly to check the placement of the knives on various parts of his body; his wrists, his back, his legs, at his waist.
He pulled on the wrist of the glove
that covered his left hand. He never showed his Caste Mark to anyone. He was a strong believer in not placing people into neat little boxes. Most of the working class felt the same. It was only the nobles who felt their birth was something to be proud of.
A horrible smell hit Reks, worse than the filth he was sitting in, like the smell of raw meat that’s been left out in summer heat for far too long. He wrinkled his nose and looked around for the source of the smell that made bile rise in the back of his throat.
Moments later a movement at the door of the house caught his attention. Reks' silver eyes tried to focus in the dark, to see through the black to the shadow that was now moving along the alley. It was too big to be one of the children or even one of the women that lived and worked in the house.
Reks started forward, keeping his back to the wall. He intended to follow at a safe distance, hoping that the kidnapper would lead him to the other children he’d taken. A muffled cry sounded from the kidnapper. Reks watched as he paused and wrestled momentarily with the bundle in his arms.
“Get yer bleedin’ hands off me!”
Reks recognized that voice. Mya was fighting for all that she was worth. The kidnapper gripped her by the shoulders raised her to his eye level. The little girl let out a whimper of fright, looking into the eyes of her attacker.
Reks waited, waited for Mya to kick out. He would help her if she did. He would help her escape and come up with another way to find the other children.
But she didn’t.
Instead, the kidnapper whispered a word that Reks couldn’t make out and she went limp in his hands like a rag doll. The kidnapper threw her over his shoulder, her head and arms flopped against his back.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay where he was. He had always liked Mya, had sort of taken her and her little brothers under his wing and provided for them what they couldn’t provide for themselves. He had almost started to think of them as his siblings, though they worked for him.
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