Thief

by Jane Glatt

this soon,” she said.

  He picked up the book and turned it over. “How did you get this out of the library?”

  Brenna shrugged. “I’m a thief. I wanted this book here, not at the castle. It’s about this house.”

  “I see that,” Dasid said. He put the book down on the edge of the desk.

  Brenna sat in the empty chair between Kane and Dasid and stared at the package from the library. Feiren fingered the covering absently.

  “It’s leather,” Feiren said. “And very old from the look of it.”

  He tried to untie the knotted cord but it was too stiff. He slipped his knife out and sliced the cord. The knife flashed and she felt it react to the nearness of the wrapped items. She raised her eyes and met Feiren’s perplexed gaze.

  “You noticed that too?” she asked softly. He nodded and she turned to Kane. “The old steel knife reacted to whatever is in the bag. The usual hum seems deeper.” Brenna ran her hand through her hair in frustration. “I wish I could explain it better than that.”

  Kane slipped his sword out and held it closer to the package.

  “I feel something as well,” Kane said. He slid the weapon back into its scabbard.

  With careful fingers Feiren unwrapped the package. The brittle leather cracked and flaked as he manipulated it. Once open, two lumps of disintegrating cloth sat before them. With care, Feiren lifted a roundish lump and picked at the cloth. Bits of grimy metal showed through. As it became recognizable Brenna heard Kane’s sharp intake of breath.

  “By the gods,” Kane said. “Can it really be it?”

  “Be what?” Brenna asked.

  The object was a very plain thin circle of metal darkened by years of grime. The sound of it rang loudly in her head and its song urged her to pick it up. She dragged her attention away from it when Dasid answered.

  “Wolde’s coronet,” Dasid said softly, his eyes fixed on it. “It was lost during the time of King Marco.”

  “Not lost,” Kane spoke from her side. “It was hidden, waiting for the right person to find it. If this was hidden during Marco’s time then this coronet has never crowned a king who worships the One-God.” Kane looked directly at Brenna. “There can be no doubt the prophecy is in motion and we have found the true heir.”

  “No,” Brenna blurted out. She met Kane’s eyes and then quickly looked away. “It’s not true. I’m not the heir.”

  “It is true,” Kane said firmly. “You said yourself that these items called you.”

  She refused to look at him, or the coronet. Instead she concentrated on her booted feet. She couldn’t be the heir - she didn’t want to be the heir. Everything that had happened was a coincidence, it must be. She had her own plans, her own path to follow. And yet she heard the coronet’s song. Brenna shook her head and ignored the stares of the three men. And there was still the second package. It too called her.

  “So that’s Wolde’s coronet,” Brenna said. “Then what’s the other item?”

  “Time to find out,” Kane said. “Go on Uncle Feiren, unwrap it.”

  Feiren reached out to the second package and unwrapped it gently.

  “By the Brothers,” Brenna said. “What does that have to do with the coronet?”

  “What is it?” Dasid asked. “Some kind of cup?”

  “No.” Brenna couldn’t believe it herself. “It’s a mortar and pestle. You use it to grind things up, mostly plants and such. I use one in my healing to make poultices and healing teas. Cooks use them for spices.” Bewildered, she looked around at their confused faces. “But it’s rare to find one made of steel. They’re usually hard stone, like marble.” The stout bowl of the mortar was clearly made of the same metal as the coronet, and when she looked, she knew it was old steel. The bowl of the mortar was not much bigger than her cupped hand and it sat on three squat legs. The pestle, nestled inside the bowl, was smooth underneath the centuries of grime.

  “Why wouldn’t they be made of steel? I would think any metal would be durable,” Kane asked.

  “The material can slightly change how the final mixture works, or so my mother always told me. Cooks say steel spoils the flavor,” Brenna answered distractedly. The mortar and pestle called her as well, but where the coronet was a strident demand, the mortar and pestle was a gentle promise. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe whatever you make with it is changed by old steel.”

  “I’ll check the records to see if there’s any mention of that,” Dasid said. “I doubt I would have paid a lot of attention to records that described healing or a mortar and pestle.

  “What do you feel from it, Brenna?” Kane asked.

  She looked up from the items on the desk. How long had she been staring at them?

  “It’s a very soft call,” she said. She deliberately described only the mortar and pestle. There was no need for Kane to know how insistent the coronet called her “And gentle.”

  Brenna drifted, caught up in the song of the mortar and pestle. Suddenly the coronet came to life and she started at its shrill demand. Feiren rewrapped it and placed it in the centre of the desk. Brenna looked at the leather wrapped lump and shivered. She ignored Kane’s frown and crossed her arms over her chest. Let him think whatever he wants to, I’m not the heir. Even if she was she wouldn’t want to rule. Kane would just have to accept it. And so would the coronet.

  “I’m afraid we’re not finished for the night,” Kane said after a few moments. “There’s the issue of Duke Thorold. He obviously knows something about the Brotherhood. And after tonight he’ll suspect we’re involved.”

  “Nor do we know how he plans to use any knowledge he may have,” Feiren said somberly. “I’m uncomfortable that he even knows enough to search for more information.”

  It made Brenna more than uncomfortable. When Thorold turned his attention to something or someone, very soon it was twisted or dead. It might be wise if she got clear of the Rowse’s now that Thorold had his eye on them.

  During the next four days Dasid often dropped by to give them more information on the objects they’d found. The Brotherhood’s records did mention the mortar and pestle. The old scrolls named it Aruntun’s, which made Brenna uneasy. Aruntun had been both a Seer and a healer. Brenna had only had the one vision, but Sabine Werrett had been convinced she had Seer’s eyes.

  Both the coronet and the mortar and pestle continued to call to her. More than once Feiren had come across her stopped, head cocked to one side as she listened. She’d simply smiled and gone on her way but she knew he had questions. She didn’t want to admit the pull the two old steel items had on her – she didn’t want the Brotherhood to see it as more proof of their precious prophecy. She was not going to let them force her into a life she didn’t want.

  Dasid joined her a few times and with the book of plans in hand, they’d searched the Rowse estate. Brenna had surprised him with the hiding spot for the dining room and between them they recorded nine secrets. Later she’d huddled in her room with the second book and looked for similarities in Duke Thorold’s house.

  She was certain she’d found some possible entrances - now she needed to find out if they still existed. The fourth night after the trip to the library she donned her student’s garb and headed out one of the passages. Mindful of Kane’s warning about Brothers without old steel, she took extra care. Silently she slipped through deserted alleys and over roof tops. Once she even climbed into and out of a walled courtyard. Finally confident that she had lost all her trackers, she headed towards Duke Thorold’s estate.

  Brenna walked by the gate and once again the guard’s interest in her was cursory. When she was out of sight she ducked into some bushes. She was directly across from the wall, near a path that dropped down towards the river. There was probably a secret entrance in the actual wall, but she couldn’t search there - the duke’s groundskeepers kept the walls free of trees and hedges so the guards had a clear view. She had to try another way.

  After two hours of searching, she found
it. She had wedged herself into a small hollow, beside a large rock where the plans had marked something. She had to feel around the edges of the rock three times before her fingers recognized a shape from one of Feiren’s entrances. She gripped the rock and twisted.

  There was a slight grating noise and then the rock slid open a crack. A rush of stale air puffed out and Brenna sat back on her heels and waited. There was no light from inside and no alarm sounded at the house. She eased the entrance open enough to squeeze inside. After a few minutes her eyes adjusted to the dark and she shuffled forward a few steps. Roots of trees and cobwebs clutched at her and she pulled her hat down low to keep her eyes clear. It looked like the tunnel had not been used for years - she hoped it was still clear all the way to the house. She carefully backed out into the night. She’d come back later with a small lamp and explore further. A few moments later, the entrance carefully concealed, she headed for home.

  Over the next few weeks Brenna discovered another way in to Thorold’s estate. She’d been able to investigate both entrances enough to know they were still functional. Once she’d dared to open the passageway at the other end and had stepped into what she thought was a servant’s hallway in Thorold’s manor. She’d spent just enough time to make sure she understood how the latch worked from the inside, and then she’d left. She had two ways in to the Duke’s estate