Thief's Blade

by C. Greenwood

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I gritted, feeling the heat begin to scorch my skin.

  I thought she murmured back something like, “I hope so.”

  Before I could protest further, the rope binding my wrists suddenly snapped. My hands were free.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Quickly I sat up and untied Ada’s hands too. I was about to wake Ferran and do the same for him when my ears caught the sound of approaching footsteps.

  Ada and I dropped to the ground and resumed our positions, hands behind our backs, as if still bound. I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep, but watched from beneath lowered lids as the soldier who had brought us water earlier peered into the gloom of our stall. On finding all as it should be, he walked away.

  I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until he was gone. Then I let it out in a whoosh.

  “I hope this isn’t as far as your plan goes,” I whispered to Ada, “What do we do next?”

  “I’m thinking on it,” she answered. “You see that little door there?”

  I followed her pointing finger to a tiny side exit a short distance away. It was clearly unintended for people, being sized for chickens or some other small animals.

  “You expect me to squeeze through that?” I asked.

  “If I can make it, you can.”

  She was right. I was short and narrowly built for my age. But the odds of our slithering the distance across the ground to the opening in the wall, unnoticed, were low.

  Nonetheless, I woke Ferran, unbound him, and quickly explained what was happening. The three of us crouched at the edge of our stall, peering around at our enemies. Most of the men gathered around the campfire were sleeping, but two stood guard. Weapons, pieces of armor, and other articles were scattered all over the barn. At the far end, behind the soldiers, were the horses. My white mare and donkey were among their animals, but I could do nothing about that. Getting ourselves out was going to be hard enough.

  I was about to set out on the long crawl through the darkness when Ada touched my arm. I waited to see what she had in mind. She held a hand out toward the soldiers’ campfire. It had burned down to embers, but as I watched, it suddenly flared up into an angry flash. Little sparks snapped and hissed out of the fire, some of them flying far enough to set the scattered hay ablaze.

  The soldiers on guard noticed and gave warning cries, running to stomp out the fire.

  “Now,” Ada whispered, taking off in a low crouch.

  I nudged Ferran to go after her. Then I took up the rear.

  Stealthily but quickly we crept across the short distance toward the little door in the bottom of the wall. Every second I expected to hear shouts, signaling our escape attempt was discovered. But the only yells I heard were cries of “Fire!”

  I risked a look back. The flames had spread from the straw on the floor to the great bales of hay lining the back wall. I doubted Ada had intended it to go so far.

  Ahead of me, she reached the door first and slid aside a block of wood covering the gap. First Ada and then Ferran crawled out the narrow opening, disappearing from view.

  I was about to do the same. But I hesitated after I passed the soldiers’ saddlebags, piled against the wall, unguarded. Among them, two familiar bundles had stood out. Mine and Ada’s traveling packs. It would be foolish to stop now. Yet we wouldn’t get far without the provisions in those packs. I decided to take the risk. I doubled back, coming dangerously close to the enemy. Pulse thundering in my ears, I snatched the packs and scurried away into the shadows.

  Nobody noticed. The crackling fire was climbing up the barn wall now, eating surprisingly quickly through the rotting wood. The enemy had stopped trying to fight it, and the captain of the troop shouted an order to get the horses out. I was running out of time. On my knees, I squeezed through the narrow door and out into the night.

  The first thing I felt was cold and wet. Rain pelted down on me. I found Ferran and Ada crouching, waiting in the mud.

  “What took you so long?” Ada asked.

  Her eyes lit up when I showed her our rescued possessions.

  We shouldered the traveling packs and set off. The small door had let us into what seemed to be a chicken coop surrounded by a rickety fence. Luckily, it was easily escaped through a swinging gate. Then we were running across the wet grass and through a field of tall wheat that waved in the blasting wind.

  Rain sleeked my hair to the sides of my face, and a stream of cold water trickled down my coat collar. The ground underfoot was slippery. We stumbled and splashed through puddles as we ran, not daring to slow down. I glanced over my shoulder only once to see that the barn was now fully ablaze. The enemy soldiers were tiny dots in the distance, leading plunging, rearing horses out of the fire.

  Beside me, Ferran fell down, and I grabbed his arm to haul him up and keep him running. Thunder crashed, and lightning forked overhead as we raced through the darkness.

  * * *

  We fled all night, cutting across fields and avoiding roads. The storm passed sometime after dawn, but there was no emerging sunshine to dry our clothes, only a chill gray morning. When we were too tired to run any longer, we lay in a damp hollow where we were concealed behind tall grass and rested. Ada couldn’t create one of her fireballs to warm us, because its glow might draw attention.

  We only meant to stop long enough to catch our breaths. But I could see Ferran was exhausted. It hadn’t been long ago that he was too sick and weak to walk at all. The past few hours had been hard on him, and I feared he might grow ill again. So we lay in a soggy heap, shivering against one another, until Ferran and Ada fell asleep. I didn’t dare close my eyes but kept alert for any sign of our enemies.

  After an hour, I woke the other two and insisted we continue on.

  “We can rest when we get safely to the next province,” I told the sleepily protesting Ferran.

  “Speaking of which,” Ada cut in, “are there any more surprises I should know about? More enemies you’ve forgotten to mention?”

  “I hope not,” I said briefly, hauling Ferran to his feet and shouldering my traveling pack for the trek ahead.

  “You haven’t explained why those soldiers took us,” Ada said as we set out.

  “They work for an enemy of our father,” I answered vaguely. “They killed him, and now they want to imprison us.”

  “Why? Why should soldiers of Camdon take interest in your family?” she asked skeptically.

  It was a fair question, but I wasn’t ready to explain our noble identities. Ada had been a great help to us thus far. She was probably the only reason we were free now. But this secret wasn’t one I could share lightly. The truth would endanger her as much as us.

  So I changed the subject. “The storm probably washed away our tracks last night. But if those soldiers are still looking for our trail, it probably won’t take them long to find it. We should cover as much ground as possible before they do.”

  To my relief, Ada asked no more questions.

  * * *

  We trudged on for hours across the soggy fields. Eventually the gray clouds dispersed. At the sight of the golden sun, my spirits lifted a little. Our enemies were on our heels, but we had dodged them for now. Maybe we could continue to do so.

  Finally we came upon a little-used country lane, half-overgrown with grass. Although Ada and I had agreed to avoid main roads in the future, we decided there could be little harm in following this one awhile. It was only a quiet path between farms, and it was unlikely any of our enemies would take such an indirect route. Just as importantly, a quick examination of the map I had bought in Varnai revealed this way would take us in the right direction, toward the border between provinces.

  As we traveled the narrow lane, the sun shone warm on our backs. Mud and occasional puddles in the rutted road were the only signs of the recent rain. We walked late into the afternoon until we came to a tall shady tree that looked like a good spot for us to rest and take our first meal sinc
e the previous evening.

  We ate swiftly beneath the tree and were soon packing away the leftovers and the waterskin, preparing to take to the road again. That was when we heard the sounds of someone approaching.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Maybe we had been careless to sit so close to the lane. There were deep ditches on either side, and I wondered if we should jump into one of them and hide. But the wagon coming slowly toward us didn’t look like it would belong to any of our pursuers. It was probably just a farmer driving his wagon to the market.

  The conveyance drew closer. It wasn’t a typical farmer’s cart but a long, covered wagon of the kind often used by peddlers to carry their wares. On the driver’s seat behind the horses sat a woman dressed in an oversized shirt and a pair of breeches, a broad-brimmed straw hat shading her from the sun. She had a weathered face, and her dark hair was streaked with gray.

  As the stranger drew even with us, she slowed her horses and halted the wagon.

  “Can you younglings tell me if this road will take me to Varnai?” she called down to us.

  I opened my mouth to say that it would. But Ada, seated on the grass next to me, silenced me with a bony elbow to the ribs.

  “That depends,” she called up to the stranger. “There’s a fork down the road. One branch leads you to Varnai, the other doesn’t. The roads aren’t marked, but we might be persuaded to tell you which path to take.”

  The peddler woman tipped back her hat and regarded us thoughtfully. She had bright blue eyes that I suspected could be either warm or icy, depending on her mood. Right now they held a faintly stern expression.

  “I take it you propose some sort of exchange?” she asked.

  Ada looked unintimidated. “Trade us something we want, and we’ll tell you the way,” she said firmly.

  I expected the strange woman to scoff at the ridiculous suggestion and drive off, leaving us in the dust. Instead, she studied Ada for a moment, and then her thin lips split into a smile.

  “I admire a youngster with spirit. You’ve got yourself a deal, girl,” the peddler said.

  She glanced at Ferran and me, and her expression softened further. Ferran in particular must have made a piteous sight with his clothes hanging loosely on his skeletal frame.

  She said, “Anyway, I can see you have your hands full with two little brothers to feed. So go around back, and each of you can pick something small for yourselves.”

  Her assumption that we were all siblings was an unlikely one, with Ada’s silvery, pale hair and my and Ferran’s dark, shaggy locks. But Ada didn’t correct her, and neither did I.

  The peddler woman climbed down from her seat, walked around to the side of the wagon, and drew back the canvas covering, revealing an array of goods laid out on display.

  Ada made her selection quickly, a long sharp knife, which she tucked into her belt. I supposed she meant it for cooking with. Ferran was immediately captivated by a small bag of multicolored glass balls that seemed to have no purpose but to roll around and knock into one another. It wasn’t a practical choice. But it had been a long time since I had seen my brother so pleased with something, so I couldn’t bring myself to discourage him. Besides, I saw nothing better. I had been hoping there would be various kinds of food to choose from, but there was none. I was about to settle for a coil of rope, when Ada directed my attention toward a bent limb of polished wood with delicate engravings running down it.

  “It’s a bow,” she said. “Take it.”

  The bow didn’t seem particularly useful to me. Its damaged string looked as if it needed replacing, and the thing didn’t come with any arrows. What good was a bow if I couldn’t shoot it?

  “The time may come when you’ll need to protect us,” Ada encouraged.

  “If it does, I could hardly do it with this,” I pointed out.

  I picked up the bow and tested the string. It held, but the tension was bad.

  In that other life, when my parents were still alive and we had all lived together at the castle, I used to play at archery out on the lawn. I had also bow hunted a few times with my father. I knew enough to realize this weapon would require repair before it could be used.

  “No one will know there’s anything wrong with it, unless they look close,” Ada said. “Trust me, on the road you never want to look defenseless. The point isn’t to use the bow but to make strangers think twice about troubling us.” She dropped her voice, glancing toward the peddler. “And remember, we could still run into those soldiers again. Next time we won’t look like such easy prey.”

  She made good sense. I was willing to take the weapon. But the peddler woman was reluctant to part with it, because she felt that the fine wood and exquisite carvings made it valuable. She had got the bow from a trader who had made a dangerous trip into the Black Forest, savage Skeltai territory. She said he had likely stolen it from the Skeltai people, together with the other exotic goods he brought back. Those other items the peddler had been able to dispose of quickly, but she had yet to find a buyer for the damaged bow.

  “And you probably never will,” Ada interrupted boldly. “The thing is worthless in this condition, so you might as well give it to us.”

  It didn’t sound like a remark that would buy us any favors. But to my surprise, the peddler woman seemed to like Ada’s impudence.

  “I could have it restrung and sell it yet,” she replied. Her eyes flitted over Ada’s silver hair and slimly pointed ears. “But with your obvious Skeltai ancestry, I get the feeling its fitting the bow should go with you. Maybe it will be happier with one of the sort of folk who crafted it. Truth be told, a part of me will be relieved to have it off my hands. I don’t usually believe in curses and other nonsense, but I’ve always felt there is some menacing magic about this bow. It’s as if it has a will of its own.”

  Ada raised a doubtful eyebrow. “What kind of magic do you mean?”

  “You’ll find out, my girl,” the peddler answered, and that was all she would say.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, we continued avoiding towns and main roads, sticking to cutting across fields and following little country lanes. My fear of encountering the soldiers and being recaptured gradually eased. We traveled slowly since we were on foot, and I was still mindful of Ferran’s recent illness. But he seemed to be recovering well and had no trouble keeping up, as long as we kept an easy pace and stopped often.

  The day we crossed the border out of Camdon and into Ellesus, I dared to hope we had successfully eluded all pursuers for good. I didn’t know what lay ahead, but at least Ferran and I were together. We had no quarrel with the praetor of this new province, and the soldiers from Camdon and its praetor would have no authority here. There was no reason for anyone to trouble us.

  For the first time, I was free to think beyond immediate dangers. The future still held plenty to worry about. How would I provide for Ferran and myself in a strange province? Ada seemed to think when we finally reached Dimmingwood there would be room for us in one of the small villages dotting the forest. But why should there be? What skills did I have that would guarantee a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs?

  And there was another problem. Our food supply was rapidly dwindling. Ada said we were approaching a city she had visited a few times before. We could procure more food there to last us the rest of the way to Dimmingwood. As the capital, Selbius was the biggest city in the province. In a place of that size, we should certainly find anything we needed. This became important when the last of our food ran out shortly after we crossed the border. Ada and I could go without for a while, but in his frail condition, Ferran needed every meal he could get. I thought of the few remaining coins I had from Cadvan and hoped they would be enough to see us through.

  * * *

  My first glimpse of Selbius was of a great lake in the distance with a long bridge stretched over the water. The bridge linked the shore to a walled town. Although Ada had described it as a great city, it was little bigger t
han Varnai. It seemed the cities of this province were not as vast or as beautiful as those of Camdon. Selbius was surrounded by ugly gray stone walls that rose so high only the tallest roofs and towers were visible over the top.

  Despite the unappealing glimpses of what lay behind the stone barriers, the surrounding lake lent the city a degree of natural splendor, its sparkling waters reflecting the sun’s rays like a magnificent mirror.

  Traffic grew thicker on the road as we got closer. Foot travelers and horse-drawn carts began to appear until, by the time we reached the bridge spanning the lake, we found ourselves amid a crowd. We attached ourselves to a line that moved only slowly. I could see what was causing the delay. Far ahead, there were guards at the gate who occasionally stopped and questioned the visitors before waving them through.

  As we waited beneath the afternoon sun, enjoying the cool breezes drifting in off the water, I mentally practiced my answers for if the guards asked who we were or where we were from. Except for a few slip-ups, Ferran and I had grown used to addressing each other as Ardeon and Rideon in front of Ada. If I felt guilty about the deception, I told myself it was good practice for what lay ahead. I only hoped Ferran would remember to keep up his new identity if questioned by the gate guards.

  As the line moved us closer and the shadow of the tall gate fell over us, I tried to catch Ferran’s eye to give him a warning look. But my brother was too excited by his surroundings to notice. He was fascinated by the lake, the gulls, and even the strong scent of lakeweed in the air. It was a long time since I had seen his eyes so bright and such color in his usually pale little face.

  I needn’t have worried about the guards because, when our turn came, they motioned our party through with bored expressions. Apparently, we didn’t look interesting enough to merit their attention.