Thief

by Jane Glatt

at her. “We’ll swear them to secrecy. It works for fresh recruits. Makes them feel grown up. Any complaints about access to you can be countered by the fact you’ve only had contact with youngsters. You’ll need to meet the rest of the council though.”

  Brenna frowned.

  “It’s only another three, besides Uncle Feiren and Dasid,” Kane said.

  She smiled and he nodded. He assumed she was simply worried about meeting more people. And she was. The more members of the Brotherhood she met the sooner someone would realize that she wasn’t their precious heir. And now they had something she wanted. Now she had a reason to stay. But as soon as she learned how to fight with weapons, she would leave.

  eight

  Kane stood near the window of his uncle’s study. Outside, Feiren corrected Brenna’s stance and then raised his practice sword. She raised her weapon and the two flowed through the parry and thrust exercises. Brenna’s lithe body was quick and agile, and Kane couldn’t help but appreciate her controlled grace. Years as a thief had given her a keen awareness of the way her body moved and the space it inhabited. When she performed an intricate parry with his uncle, his heart tightened in his chest. She was stunning when in motion. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought her ordinary.

  Despite her strength and agility she’d started too late to ever be a master with a sword, but she continued to work hard and in a few more weeks she’d be effective enough. Certainly good enough to hold off a single skilled swordsman long enough for help to arrive, which was the most you could expect for a trainee her age.

  He’d been surprised to find she was just past her twenty-second birthday - she’d seemed so much younger than him when he’d first set eyes on her. He smiled ruefully. Now at times she seemed as old as his uncle. She had a perceptive understanding of the underlying workings of the town that he, in his position as Captain of the Kingsguard, only rarely glimpsed.

  His uncle and Brenna exchanged formal bows, weapons up, and then they lowered the practice swords to the ground in the small courtyard. Low sounds of laughter reached him as they each dipped a cup into the water bucket and drank their fill. It was a glorious late spring day, about a month since Brenna had come to stay with Uncle Feiren, and the sun shone brightly overhead despite it being late afternoon.

  Brenna and Feiren each took up short wooden knives and faced each other again. In two steps they were both on the attack. Kane sucked in his breath. By Jik, he hadn’t seen her with the knife in almost two weeks and her improvement was extraordinary.

  After thirty minutes, Uncle Feiren had been able to best her only three out of four times and Kane knew he’d need to make more time for her training himself, if she kept at this pace. He sighed and rolled his shoulders. He’d been worried she’d never be able to defend herself, but it looked as though she could handle herself with a knife. And considering the risks she’d been taking lately, that was a relief.

  His uncle didn’t know, but the Brothers he’d posted to watch the house reported that Brenna had been leaving by hidden exists every fifth or sixth night. He had no idea how she’d found so many of the exits so quickly, but he had to convince her to take fewer chances. What if she was recognized? What could be so important that she would risk the church knowing she was still alive? So much was riding on her and yet she didn’t seem to realize it. No, she realized it, she just didn’t care. Not about the Brotherhood, anyway. In all the years he’d been in the Brotherhood, he’d never once considered that the heir, when found, might not want the task. He couldn’t blame her, not really. But despite what Brenna wanted, the Brotherhood, and all of Soule, needed her. And it was up to him to convince her. He sighed. Something else he’d need to find time for.

  When the two outside finally put down their knives, Kane opened the door and stepped out into the courtyard.

  “Uncle Feiren, Brenna,” Kane greeted them. He had to shade his eyes to see them in the bright sun. “I see you’ve been making good progress with the weapons training. Especially the knife work.” Brenna looked up at him and smiled and his heart stopped, just for a moment. Flustered, he looked at his uncle.

  “No offense, Uncle Feiren,” he said. “But she’ll soon be beyond your training skills.”

  “I can’t be offended by the truth, can I?” Feiren grabbed a cloth and wiped his forehead. “It’s been a very long while since I was Weapons Master and the knife never was one of my best. I always preferred the longer reached weapons, like the sword and staff. If you want to take over the knife, I’ll be more than happy to step aside. She’s much too young and nimble for my old bones to keep up with.”

  “You’re not old.” Brenna said. “You’re just …”

  “Fat?” Feiren asked. He patted his still flat stomach. “Lazy?” Kane opened his mouth to comment but his uncle scowled at him. “You stay out of this, lad.”

  Brenna looked Feiren over critically, her eyes alight. “Let’s just say you’re distinguished,” she said. “But it might not hurt to leave off Cook’s dumplings for a bit.” With that, she grabbed up her practice weapons and entered the house. She turned to close the door and looked at Kane. “I’ll get cleaned up and be back down in a quarter hour.”

  The door closed behind her and Kane, his breath caught in his throat, simply stood and stared at it. Uncle Feiren cleared his throat and Kane turned to him.

  “Be careful, lad,” Feiren said as he walked towards him “She’s the Caller. I dare say we’re all a little bit infatuated with the lass.” He smiled wistfully. “And that might be part of the prophecy. But we can’t let our emotions cloud our judgment. Or hers.”

  “I know.” Kane returned his uncle’s smile with a sad one of his own. He feared that what he felt for Brenna went beyond infatuation - but she was not for him, no matter how much he might hope. Brenna would need to make a political match when she wed. And it was quite likely that he would need to help her make that decision. Perhaps it was part of the prophecy - for he was truly bound to her, as cruel and bittersweet as it was. He’d never expected to lose his heart to the Caller.

  Kane sat in front of Feiren’s desk while his uncle leaned back in his chair behind it. When Brenna entered the room the weapons on the wall flared to life. She looked up at them and they went dark. Kane fingered the pommel of his sword - it didn’t seem to constantly react to Brenna’s presence the way the weapons on the wall did.

  “Does that happen every time you come across old steel?” he asked.

  Brenna frowned and sat down in the chair beside him. “I don’t think so. I’ve been working with these, so maybe I’m attuned to them?”

  “But you’ve been working with mine and Dasid’s swords and they don’t seem to react the same way.” He concentrated on his sword. He could hear and feel an underlying hum when she was close, but there had been no flash of light.

  “Oh, yes, but they’re just part of your song so I know them,” Brenna said.

  Kane looked over at his uncle. They both continued to struggle with Brenna’s description of old steel. She’d explained that each weapon had a specific tone or resonance that was distinct and connected with the Brotherhood family who’d had them forged. When the weapon was wielded by someone from that original family, together they created what Brenna called a song. But when Kane and Dasid had tried wielding the other old steel weapons, the ones that were not from their own families the song, Brenna had explained, was off key.

  “Do you unconsciously recognize and accept them?” Kane asked. “Or is there something you do on purpose so they don’t react?” He leaned closer. “This could be important, Brenna.”

  “Well, I’m not sure. I’ve never tried to figure it out. How is it important?”

  “If all old steel reacts to you,” Kane said quietly. “And comes to life when you’re close, you could put Brothers at risk when you wander around town.”

  Her eyes widened in understanding. Just last night she’d walked past a Brother whose knife had flared up at her presence. Thankfully
the weapon had been well concealed, but if it happened with a long sword in a crowded street at night, there could be serious trouble. The Brother would certainly draw attention to himself and he could even be accused of being a witch.

  “So,” Kane continued. “I ask that you find a way to scan for old steel and make sure it doesn’t react to you. And I’m going to insist that you don’t leave this house until you can do that.” Kane ignored his uncle’s frown and concentrated on Brenna. Finally she nodded and he smiled.

  “Good,” Kane said. “I’ll help you practice this in whatever way I can. I’ll also step up your knife lessons. It’s time you worked with a real blade. Once I’m satisfied with your progress, when you leave this house, I want you armed.” He smiled. “I’m curious to see how you fare with an old steel knife. I don’t think family ownership will matter at all.”

  “So, lass, pick one.” Feiren gestured to the three knives on the wall behind him. “Even the Rowse knife - take whichever one feels best to you.”

  Brenna smiled slowly. She closed her eyes and soon one of the knives glowed softly. Brenna stood and slowly walked to the wall. Almost reverently, she took the weapon down and pulled it from its scabbard.

  It was Kane thought, the oldest knife of the three. It was older even than the