by Jane Glatt
attention as he came upon them. Soule had not been to war for generations and the castle itself had not seen any conflict for even longer, but Kane kept his guards ready just the same. Weapons’ training was thorough and he rotated his men to patrol the border in northern Fallad. Skirmishes with bandits from Langmore helped keep their skills sharp, but he knew he could never compensate for the lack of real battle experience. He did what he could to keep his men ready, as had his uncle before him, and he consoled himself with the thought that war while he was captain was very unlikely.
He’d assigned Andel to guard the thief. His guards were loyal to the king and to him as captain, but the Church’s hold on people, including some of his guards, had become much stronger in the past few years. Like him, Andel followed the old gods and so viewed the High Bishop’s actions more critically than the Church’s followers were wont to do.
Kane nodded to two more guards and entered the jail proper. The outer room held only Jervis, the jailer, and a table and some chairs along one wall. A solid oak door banded with black iron was opposite the entrance that led into the room that held the cells. This door was always kept locked and there was always at least one guard in with prisoners. More guards could be assigned if needed, but it was unusual to hold anyone for any great length of time. Most prisoners for smaller crimes soon had their bonds bought out, either by friends or someone looking for cheap labor. Serious crimes, such as murder, were punishable by death.
“Jervis.” Kane nodded to the man as he rose from a chair at the table. “I have orders regarding the thief. The one caught stealing from the priest.”
“Aye, Captain.” Jervis said.
“Her bond price has been set at two hundred crowns,” Kane said. “I must ask that you hold firm on the bond price. It’s very important.”
“That I’ll do, Captain. I’ll make sure my men all understand that as well.”
“Good. Thank you,” Kane said. Now that he’d completed that small piece of business it was time to get a good look at the thief.
“I want to take a look at her,” Kane said. “You’ve got just the one prisoner today?”
“Aye,” Jervis said. If he thought Kane’s request odd, it didn’t show. He simply grabbed a key from the large ring at his side and fitted it into the lock. With a twist, he opened the door for Kane.
“And not much of a prisoner, if you ask me,” Jervis said and stepped aside to allow Kane to edge past him.
Kane ducked through the door to enter the cell room and nodded to Andel, who stood to one side of the open door. Jervis relocked the door once Kane was inside, the click of the lock echoing in the enclosed space.
Seven barred cells, each inset with a door, ringed the small space in which he and Andel stood. Walls and ceiling were all cut stone and seven of the cells were swept bare. Old odors still clung to the stone but the air was less rank than one might think. Kane expected the cells to be as clean as the Kingsguards own barracks, and so they were.
In the cell on the left along the back, a layer of fresh straw had been piled against the far wall, covered with a light blanket. On the blanket sat the thief.
She looked small, dressed all in black, with her knees tucked up under her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs. She watched him warily through half closed eyes, but when she opened her eyes wide for a moment, Kane sucked in his breath. Witch eyes, they were, one green and one brown; why hadn’t anyone mentioned this? Surely the High Bishop would have used this to make his case for her death? High Bishop Valden despised those who committed crimes against his priests, but he hated witches. A blasphemy against the One-God, he called them. This despite the fact that the Duchess of Aruntun, one of the King’s councilors, was descended from a long line of witches.
Other than the eyes there was nothing remarkable about the girl. Woman, he amended, as she looked to be past twenty. Short brown hair curled slightly around a plain dirt-streaked face. Her chin and nose were rather ordinary, as were the rest of her features, even down to the thin, slightly underfed look about her. She wore a black shirt, a well-worn black leather vest and black breeches that were rolled up to reveal slim ankles and supple-looking black leather slippers. He was amused when she deliberately looked him up and down. Her eyes flicked from his head to his boots before they rested on his face. Kane’s amusement faded and he twitched his shoulders when he met her solemn gaze. He had the feeling she’d seen more than he wanted her to with those witch eyes.
He bent to Andel. “Why was there no mention about the witch eyes do you think?” he asked softly. Witch eyes were so rare surely someone would have noted them? There had been three inn guards, two of his own Kingsguardsmen, not to mention the priest. All would have been able to see this thief’s eyes.
“I gotta tell you, I’m a little relieved Captain, I was starting to think I was seeing things - you’re the first person that’s remarked on them.” At Kane’s raised eyebrow, Andel continued. “Even old Jervis there,” he nodded towards the door to the other room, “him that’s always throwing salt over his shoulder and givin’ the sign when he thinks anyone’s looked at him crosswise, even he didn’t have any reaction to the lass.”
Perplexed, Kane looked at the prisoner again. Except for the eyes, physically she was completely unremarkable. He supposed that came in handy for a thief. Maybe that’s why she was a thief. He loved Kingsreach and its people, but he knew it was unlikely anyone in town would hire a woman with witch eyes. Maybe in Aruntun, but not in Kingsreach.
He stepped closer to the cell and motioned for her to stand. With a slight sigh, she did, carefully brushing some straw and dirt off her breeches. Kane figured her nose was about even with the top of his shoulder, an altogether average height - all in all, nothing outstanding about this woman in any way. But for the eyes he’d bet most people could watch her steal their purse and not be able to pick her out of a crowd an hour later.
“So,” he leaned in towards her. “Why is it no one has remarked on your eyes?” Her only reaction was a small frown and an increased wariness in her eyes. “And why was the priest able to see you so clearly in a dark room yet even he missed those eyes?” Kane was sure her reaction to his last question was fear. Was it because of the priest? The reports he’d read described the priest was a simple country cleric who felt favoured by the One-God when asked to deliver the knife to the High Bishop. Maybe it had something to do with the knife? There was much they didn’t know about old steel.
Kane himself wore a sword of old steel, passed down for generations in his family. The sword was his - he felt it in the way it fit his hand, in the perfect balance, and in the soft hum that ran through his body when he wielded it. Every time he took up another weapon he felt the difference. Could she have reacted to something like that? He remembered the first time he’d handled his sword. Even though he’d been expecting to feel something he’d been startled. Perhaps the knife belonged to her family and the thief had a right to it?
“Andel, please have Jervis come in,” Kane said and Andel stepped to the door and banged on it three times – the signal for Jervis to unlock it.
“I’m going to interview the prisoner in her cell.” Kane told the jailer once he opened the door. It was an unusual request but Jervis simply nodded. He unlocked the cell door and stood aside as Kane stepped through it.
“Jervis why don’t you wait in the other room? Andel will let you know when we need out - and I really don’t think I’m in any danger from this lass.” Kane kept his eyes on the prisoner while Jervis closed the other door on his way out.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Kane took a step in her direction. “But I need to get some answers.”
She eyed him warily, her back against the wall.
“I’m not sure I have any answers.” Her voice was quiet. “But I’ll co-operate.” She shrugged and gestured to the cell. “I’m not going anywhere until my mates buy my bond.”
“Good.” Kane relaxed slightly. She was willing to answer his que
stions - he hoped she was willing to tell him the truth. “This is what I know. You tried to steal a knife from a priest. He woke up in a dark room screaming for the guard and you were caught going out the window. Correct?” She nodded hesitantly. “But something’s missing. Both guards at the inn swear the room was dark when they arrived yet the priest described you perfectly. How did he get a good look at you?” Kane stared at her until she swallowed and looked away.
After a few seconds, she spoke. “Maybe the guards were mistaken about a light in the room.”
After she stopped talking, she fidgeted with a bit of straw stuck to her shirt. There was more to this, he was sure.
“Possible, but unlikely. I know these guards well. They used to be under my command and I’m sure they would not be mistaken about something as obvious as a light. And only an unskilled thief would enter a lit inn room at night.” Kane held up his hand when it seemed she was about to say something. “You don’t strike me as unskilled. So the question again is how did the priest see you in the dark room?”
He studied her as she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. Then her mismatched eyes darted to his sword. There was more in that look than the usual healthy regard for a weapon, even for a thief. As Kane slowly drew his
