by Isabo Kelly
“I think tonight, I’d also like to hear some of those rumors you’ve heard about me. I don’t think they reflect kindly on me.”
She turned at the door and pointedly looked him up and down. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” She was halfway down the hall before he followed.
They sat in a dimly lit corner of the Winnow Tree’s common room. The inn was set near the bottom of mid-sector, so the patrons weren’t quite as dirty and dangerous as Vic was used to, but a keen eye told her that most of the occupants weren’t harmless either. Jacob ordered a bottle of red wine from the Inn’s proprietor, a well-rounded elderly man with a perpetual smile.
“Lot of mercs in here,” she commented as Jacob settled back in his seat.
“Winnow’s known for that. Merchants and traders looking for honest mercenaries come here. Bob keeps an open eye and warns the traders off the less-than-reputable mercs. The highest paying jobs come through here because of that. So any fighter looking for good work pays a little extra for the privilege of sitting in the Winnow’s commons.”
“And that works?”
“Bob’s been doing it for over forty years now.”
“Good scam.”
“Smart business.”
“He must have a good eye for con men.”
“That’s how he’s stayed in business so long.”
She studied the proprietor as he chatted with a couple of men at a nearby table. “I bet I could fool him,” she said after some consideration.
Jacob’s grin said otherwise.
“How’d you end up in your line of work, Victoria?”
“Survival.”
“Where are your parents?”
“I never knew my mother. She died when I was born. My da was around for a while, but…” She shrugged.
“But?”
“He disappeared one day. I don’t know what happened.”
“How old were you?”
“Five. He’d already taught me how to survive, so it wasn’t a big deal. I stayed with Peggy, his mistress, until I was seven. Then I joined Thieves’ Hole.”
Jacob frowned. “Did you ever find out what happened to your father?”
“Peggy thought he was press-ganged into some foreign army. Others say he’s dead. But it’s the same difference.” She waved away the details with a practiced, careless hand gesture.
“Rough way for a little girl to grow up.”
The honest compassion in his gaze surprised her. It also made her uncomfortable. “There are worse ways. I’ve known a few with tougher starts.”
Jacob nodded as Bob returned to the table with a bottle of deep red wine and two pewter, silver-lined goblets. Watching him pour their drinks, Vic chuckled. At Jacob’s questioning glance, she said, “Didn’t even take one drink to tell my story.”
“Can I get you anything else, General?” Bob asked, still smiling.
“Not now, thanks.” When Bob had moved away, Jacob said, “I think you left out some things in that story.”
Vic shrugged and took a sip of her wine. Its rich, bold flavor ran smoothly down her throat. “I told you my story was short. This is good,” she said, lifting the goblet slightly.
“It’s always been one of my favorites.”
She studied Jacob over her cup for several minutes. “I don’t understand you, Marin.”
“What’s got you confused, Victoria?”
“This. You sitting here, talking with me like this. Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“You’re a King’s Own. And I’m not what you might call an honest citizen. You’re getting the information you want. Why do you need to know about my life?”
“I don’t need to know. I want to. Why is that so hard to believe?”
She shrugged, frowning at her own reaction. “No one’s ever wanted to know about me before. No one in the Hole talks about his past. I’m good at what I do and that’s all they care about.”
“I’m not in the Thieves’ Hole.”
“Is this your usual line, Marin?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you do this a lot? Sit over drinks and dig into a person’s past?”
“Only people I’m interested in.”
She snorted. “Like every woman you meet?”
“Can I help it if I like the company of women?”
“Speaking of which, won’t your latest be getting worried about now?” Vic shifted in her seat and took another sip of her wine. This conversation was almost as disconcerting as his scent, a scent even the greasy, ale-tinged air couldn’t cover.
“If you’re asking if I have other plans for the evening, Victoria, I don’t.” He raised a brow. “Don’t look so surprised.”
“Sorry. I just thought…well, anyway.” She shrugged.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, little thief, but remember most rumors are exaggerations.”
“Sure.” She didn’t bother to hide her sarcastic tone.
He chuckled and slouched in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He fixed her with a look that made her pulse jump. How did he do that?
“Have you ever been in love, Victoria?”
“What’s that?”
“I’m truly sorry to hear you say that.”
“Hey, you can’t miss something you’ve never had.”
“I’m still sorry. Every woman should fall in love at least once.”
“Why? I’ve seen what happens when someone like me falls in love. All it does is complicate an already complicated existence. And you end up the worst for it.” She looked down at her goblet, not wanting to see the sympathy in his eyes. She didn’t need or want anyone’s pity. Especially over something as stupid as love. In one steady gulp, she finished her wine then stood. “I need to get going.”
“I’ll walk with you a-ways,” Jacob said, getting to his feet.
“You don’t need to. Finish your wine.”
“I’m going back to the castle tonight anyway.” Without another word, he tossed a few coins on the table and took her arm, escorting her from the inn. His touch made her nervous and excited all at once. She wasn’t used to men taking her arm except to twist it. A burning warmth flowed across her skin from where his fingertips touched her elbow. The warmth seeped through her body like strong whiskey and pooled low in her belly. They walked for a few blocks, Jacob still holding her arm, before she pulled away.
“I’m okay from here,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the quiet night air. Her breath came out in a puff of smoke. Winter was coming fast that year.
“When will I see you again?” he said in a low voice.
“I’ll let you know when I come up with something.”
“When you need to, you can get a message to me through Bob.”
“Tomorrow, leave the five hundred with Mar at the Hawk. She’ll know how to get it to me. Orders are, if the money doesn’t show tomorrow, the deal’s off.”
“It’ll be there.” Jacob stared down into her eyes for a long moment.
She felt trapped in that look, held by the steady intensity in his dark eyes. She didn’t want to move, wanted to melt into the heat his eyes promised. He was like the headiest temptation, the most exciting risk. But she was afraid of what that risk would do to her soul.
Finally, she forced herself to turn toward the side street that would take her back to the Hole. But, before she moved beyond his reach, he took her arm and pulled her close.
“Not all love turns bad, Victoria,” he whispered.
Before she could speak, he covered her mouth with a kiss that was at once gentle and hard. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, trapping her close to his chest.
Against all common sense, she pressed herself against his muscled torso and returned his kiss. Her hands moved around his waist, pulling him closer still. The taste of him, the feel of his hard body against her, the flickering dance of his tongue as it slid past her lips, his heady, musky scent, all shot a jolt of heat through her body
unlike anything she’d experienced before. It licked her nerves and set her on fire. She could lose herself in his kiss.
Never in her life had Vic felt the way she felt in Jacob’s embrace. Secure. Protected. Excited. Vulnerable. Frightened.
A slight shift of her hand caused the strap of her wrist sheath to dig sharply into her arm, and she suddenly remembered who she was. With a rough push to free herself, she fled down the street.
Jacob was half a heartbeat from chasing her. He stopped with the last tenuous grasp on his self-control. Clenching his jaw, he drew in a long, slow breath and commanded his heartbeat to slow. He hadn’t expected that reaction from himself or from her. But those huge, dark eyes had drawn him closer even as her smile had heated his blood. And she’d responded! Kissing him back with that straightforward self-confidence he found so irresistible. Her passion had sent a ripple of lust through him so strong it had almost knocked him over.
Knowing a woman like Victoria wanted him was intoxicating. And she did want him, even if she refused to admit it.
Blowing out a breath he reined in his frustration. He could still feel her warm, agile body in his arms. With a sign, he acknowledged he wasn’t going to sleep well tonight. Straightening his shoulders, Jacob turned back toward the castle. Next time, he promised himself. Next time, he’d help her forget her fears.
Chapter Five
Vic hugged the tiled roof, silently watching the building across the street. It had taken her two days to uncover Tracker’s lair near Upper Market where she’d expected it to be. Tracker’s men could travel in only a few parts of the city without being recognized—Upper Market was one of them.
The building she watched was a nondescript, flat-roofed, four-story brick box. At one time, the building had been an inn, then one of the more discerning entertainment houses. But for the last six months the building had remained empty. To the casual eye, it still looked empty.
A narrow gap between the inn and the trader’s building to its right allowed enough room for a man to walk with an inch or two to spare at his shoulders. Midway up the gap, a side door opened into the old inn. Moving mainly at night, Tracker’s men were able to enter and exit the building virtually unnoticed.
For two days Vic had watched that gap. Tracker himself never made an appearance. This was her third night’s vigil, and she was growing impatient for a clue to what these men were doing in Karasnia. Briefly, she flirted with the idea of breaking into the old inn for a closer look, but for once in her life caution overrode impulse.
Years of practice kept her motionless on the rooftop, her eyes trained for movement, but her mind kept wandering. Occasionally, she bemoaned the loss of the big card game, a game that would have won her enough to last the winter without having to work at all. The game started in two nights and Brad Ruf had spent the week tormenting her with the fact that she wouldn’t be present.
She was annoyed with herself for blowing the opportunity to take part in that game, just to see if she could fool Joe Missek’s sharp eye. Little good that knowledge did her now. If she’d stuck to two Devil’s Highs, maybe Charlie wouldn’t have become suspicious. She’d still know she was good enough, and she’d still have a chance at the big game. Nothing she could do about it now, though. She’d just have to live with the mistake. At least this spying job paid enough to make up for the lost gambling winnings.
But berating herself wasn’t the only thing preoccupying her. More often than not, her thoughts leapt back to the tall King’s Own for whom she was spying. Jacob Marin was more of a trial than she ever expected. And a temptation a lot harder to resist. The way he combined compassion, confidence and indolence into one charming, sexy frame made her forget about being cautious. More heady kisses and she’d fall willingly into bed with the man, though she’d managed to avoid that particular life complication for all of her twenty-one years.
But it wasn’t the sex that worried her so much. A girl had to try it sometime in her life, and Jacob Marin was reputed to know what he was doing. What worried Vic was her inability to separate sex and emotions. Other women managed to do it. Prostitutes depended on the separation. But she couldn’t seem to manage it. One of the main reasons she’d learned to gamble and con was to avoid becoming a prostitute. Unfortunately, emotions were just as dangerous to a con as they were to a whore. She’d seen too many people ruin perfectly good careers by losing their heads to emotion.
So Jacob Marin presented a problem. She knew if she gave the King’s Own her body, her heart would follow close behind. And losing her heart to a man notorious for his transient affairs could only spell trouble.
A sudden glint interrupted and focused her mind on the street below. At a few minutes after midnight, not many moved along the dimly lit cobblestones. The four that had caught her attention moved carefully, avoiding the pools of light from the street lamps. Three wore various combinations of black and purple, one was covered from head to foot in a black robe. Only the silver edging on Malkiney’s tunic distinguished the small group from the shadows.
Vic watched as they neared the mouth of the gap. Dressed in black with a black scarf wrapped around her head so only her eyes peered out, she was part of the night. Her breath moved with the breeze, her eyes narrowed to slits to prevent light reflection.
One of the uniformed men slipped into the gap followed immediately by Malkiney. The robed figure and the third guard waited.
Suddenly and without warning, the robed one turned and looked up—right into Vic’s eyes. She stopped breathing and her mind went blank.
Beneath the heavy folds of his cowl, the man had the whitest hair and bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He was of indeterminate age, his white face almost without lines, but his eyes held a terrible, ancient knowledge. And though she didn’t move, Vic knew with an unmistakable certainty that those frightening blue eyes saw her.
Then the remaining guard motioned the robed man down the gap. A knowing smile raised his almost colorless lips before he disappeared into the darkness with the other man following close behind.
The smile touched a cold horror in Vic’s blood. The small hairs on the back of her neck rose. Only when her chest began to burn, did she remember to breathe. In a movement worthy of her nickname, she soundlessly slipped to the opposite side of the building and shimmied down a drainage pipe to the street below. She took off at a loping run almost before her feet touched the ground.
***
“Are you sure?” Deraun sat behind his desk, steepling his fingers before his face.
“Positive,” Vic said. She paced across the small, dim office, unable to sit while adrenaline still beat through her blood. “I only saw the one, but who knows how many were in there. And that wasn’t a kind and caring Guild sorcerer. I’ve never been so afraid of a magician in my life. He looked right at me.” She stopped and shuddered. “He saw me. With all the other people in those buildings, he shouldn’t have been able to pick me out.” She went back to pacing.
“But in three nights, you’ve still only seen the one?”
“Yeah.” She stopped and looked Deraun in the eyes, holding his gaze for the first time since entering the dim office. “But sometimes one is all it takes.”
He nodded and slipped a hand beneath his desk. An instant later the door opened, admitting the overlarge form of one of the Hole’s leg-breakers. “Get me Kritta,” Deraun ordered. The man closed the door wordlessly. Deraun resteepled his hands, and Vic resumed her pacing.
Five minutes later, the door opened again. In walked the tiniest, prettiest woman Vic had ever known. Her long blonde curls bounced playfully about a round face. Green almond-shaped eyes glistened above a pert upturned nose and red, heart-shaped lips. If not for the obvious curves of her figure, Kritta could have passed for a little girl of ten. She was, in fact, a year older than Vic.
“Kritta,” Deraun said, as the woman took a seat, “What news from the Guild?”
“There’s still a hush over there,” Kritta answered.
&nbs
p; Her voice sounded remarkably mature coming from such a girlish face.
“Henry hinted at trouble,” Kritta continued, “but he’s not talking. I caught him mumbling in his sleep about a prophecy or something, but I couldn’t make it out.”
The tiny woman had insinuated herself into the life and bed of the assistant magician to one of the leading sorcerers in the Magic Guild. When her generally effective persuasion failed, she could often glean bits of information from Henry’s sleep talking. Those bits had proved both beneficial and profitable for the Hole on more than one occasion. Vic had always considered her one of the Hole’s best assets.
Kritta’s almond eyes narrowed as she looked from Vic to Deraun. “Something’s happened.”
“Maybe,” Deraun said, letting his hands fall to his desktop. “Vic saw Tracker’s men with a sorcerer tonight. She thinks maybe they’re smuggling more into the city.”
“You thinking blood mages, Gip?”
“Don’t know yet. But why smuggle a sorcerer into the city otherwise? I want you to play hard with Henry. Get whatever you can about this prophecy and find out if the Guild knows about this mysterious sorcerer.”
“On it.” Kritta left the room with a passing nod to Vic.
“Vic, find that King’s Own. He paid for the information. And he’s dealt with blood magic before. But don’t mention Kritta and the prophecy until we know more.”
“What about the building?”
He tapped the top of his desk. His sharp, hawk nose dipped close to his hooked chin.
Vic clenched her hands together behind her back as she waited, trying not to fidget. In the always-dark office, its heavy drapes pulled closed against spying eyes, Deraun’s dark eyes looked black as he studied her.
“Until we can buy something to mask you from magic,” he finally said, “I want you to avoid that building and Tracker’s men.”
She nodded reluctantly. She’d been afraid of that decision.
“I mean it, Flash. Check your curiosity until I order otherwise.”
“All right, Gip.” She turned to the door.
