Thief

by Jane Glatt

rubbed a salve on the worst of her aching muscles and donned a clean set of clothes. Now she felt ready to tackle the stairs.

  Brenna felt out of place as she stood in the doorway to the common room. In Thieves Quarter, she’d never felt self-conscious but here in the country, a woman wearing breeches seemed unusual. Conscious of many eyes on her she spotted Kane and headed his way.

  She slid onto the bench beside him.

  “Perhaps I should have packed a skirt,” she said. Brenna caught the eye of a serving girl and signaled for a mug of ale. “Our fellow travelers seem very interested in the way I’m dressed.” As she gazed around the room, heads ducked and eyes turned away from her.

  Besides the bench she and Kane shared, the round table they sat at had three other benches pulled up to it. She and Kane, the only ones seated at their table, both had their backs to the wall. The other six tables in the common room held a collection of merchants and locals of varying degrees of wealth, judging by their clothing.

  “Do you own a skirt?” Kane asked. She watched his eyes dart around the room as he sipped his ale. He obviously didn’t feel any more relaxed than she did.

  “Of course I own a skirt.” She paused when her own ale arrived and took a sip. “Well, I used to, anyway. I left it back in my old rooms. No doubt Eryl’s given it to one of his women by now. It’s fitting actually, since he’s the one who gave it to me.”

  “Trying to domesticate you?”

  “Maybe. It did come in handy a few times as a disguise, though,” Brenna said. “Eryl always thought that was funny, that I’d need to disguise myself as a woman.” Brenna took another sip.

  “Eryl’s a fool,” Kane said quietly. “Ah, here’s supper.” He leaned back as the serving girl set two bowls and a plate of dark bread in front of them. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered the beef stew rather than the fried fish. We’ll be traveling beside the river for a few days so there’ll be time to eat fish another day.”

  Brenna sniffed at the bowl before her. “This smells great.” What had Kane meant by that comment about Eryl? She grabbed her spoon and dipped it into the stew. Did it mean he thought of her as a woman and not just the heir to the prophecy? She put a spoonful of stew in her mouth and chewed slowly. Maybe he hadn’t meant anything by his comment. Maybe it had just been a general opinion about Eryl. The old gods knew he often was a fool.

  It didn’t take long for Brenna to feel sleepy once her belly was full. Soon after she popped the last piece of gravy soaked bread into her mouth, her eyes drooped and she tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a yawn. She dragged herself up the stairs and a short time later she lay quietly in bed. The muffled sounds of the common room drifted up from below.

  Kane had insisted she take the bed. He’d told her he’d check on the horses and then he’d be up. Earlier Brenna had decided that his comment about Eryl hadn’t meant anything, so why was she nervous? All they were doing was sleeping in the same room. Something they’d be doing often she’d better get used to it. Eventually the long day caught up with her and Brenna fell into a deep sleep.

  At the knock on his study door, Thorold tucked the document he’d been reading - correspondence from Langmore’s King - underneath some other papers on his desk.

  “Enter,” he said. It was his newly appointed militia captain, Barton. Thorold had been impressed with the way the man had handled the fiasco with Kane Rowse and he’d promoted him. Barton had shown himself to be competent, unflappable and above all ambitious.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “My Lord. I’ve just had word that Kane Rowse and the girl left Kingsreach. I thought you would want to know as soon as possible.”

  “When was this?” He’d expected the girl to run, but with the Captain of the Kingsguard? And the man had resigned from his position just the day before. What was their connection? He didn’t like this at all.

  “Just before dawn,” Barton said. “Apparently they crossed into Comack on the ferry this morning. They were seen along the road to Silverdale shortly after that.”

  “Hmm, that’s almost twelve hours ago,” Thorold said. He had a pretty good idea of where they would have stopped for the night. “Captain, well done. Send some men after them. If they leave now, they should be able to catch up with Rowse and the girl before they enter Fallad.”

  “I’ll go myself,” Barton said. “My Lord.”

  “There’s more?” Thorold asked.

  “Yes my Lord. From all accounts, the two were very well provisioned.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It seemed unlikely they could have prepared so much since yesterday,” Barton said. “I asked around and Rowse and his uncle have been buying travel provisions for some time.”

  “Really? That is interesting, Captain. Thank you.” So Kane Rowse had planned to leave Kingsreach. But what about the witch? Where had she been all this time? She hadn’t been in Thieves Quarter. He would have known.

  “My Lord?” Barton said. “Here is the knife we took from the girl when she was caught in this office.” Barton stepped forward and placed a sheathed knife on his desk in front of him.

  Thorold nodded his dismissal. Barton turned and left the room and he reached for the weapon. He didn’t like mysteries and this was an uncomfortable one. Why would his bastard granddaughter and Kane Rowse travel together? First he’d defended her against him and now they’d left town together. By all accounts they shouldn’t even know each other - the Captain of the Kingsguard and a common thief. The only time they would have come into contact was when she’d been held for trying to steal the knife from the priest.

  Thorold sat up. Could that be it? Did Kane Rowse know something about her that he didn’t know? He slid the knife he held from its scabbard and stared at it.

  This knife was almost as old as the one she’d tried to steal from the priest. He’d never been satisfied with the priest’s account of that night. How had he seen the thief in his darkened room? It wasn’t some sort of divine intervention by the One-God, but he had no other explanation.

  What was it about these weapons that were connected to the girl? The age of the weapons was similar - Kane Rowse’s sword, the knife from the priest and now this knife taken from Brenna. And he couldn’t forget the first one, the one he’d killed the girl’s mother with.

  It made sense, in a way. The witch’s knife had started him down this path, why shouldn’t her daughter be part of it as well? And the Brotherhood was somehow behind it all.

  “Fridrick!” he yelled. “Someone get that useless scholar in here now.” Thorold heard hurried steps in the hall outside the door. The door opened and Fridrick stepped in, panting as he straightened his robe.

  “Yes my Lord, you wished to see me?” Fridrick bowed low.

  “What have you found out about the Brotherhood and Rowse?”

  “Since I last reported, my Lord,” Fridrick said. “I’ve discovered that the gathering Feiren Rowse hosted some weeks back to honor a retiring Weapons Master had more than just Kingsguard in attendance. Many guests were merchants. There were even some farmers.”

  “At an event to honour a Weapons Master?” Thorold asked. “You think this was a meeting of this Brotherhood?” He remembered that party. There had been something odd about it. Oh yes, there had been very little carousing in Kingsreach afterward. Unusual for a party involving so many soldiers, but maybe not so unusual for a secret meeting of the Brotherhood.

  “I think it quite possible,” Fridrick said. “And even a hint that the newly-appointed interim Captain of the Kingsguard belonged to a secret society could be damaging.”

  “I have another piece of the puzzle,” Thorold said. “The knife I had hidden in the desk drawer has been stolen. I’m assuming the girl took it before she was found. It’s important, in some way. How did she know where to look?”

  “Why did she even want that knife?”

  “It belonged to her mother.” Thorold ignored Fridrick’s sharp intake of breath. “It’s t
he piece that started me down this road. I never would have begun collecting these old weapons if it hadn’t been for that knife. It’s key, I know it. But how did she know where to find it?

  “You must find out more about the Brotherhood,” Thorold said to Fridrick. “I will take care of Feiren Rowse.” A few words spoken at the right time, in the right ears, and good Captain Rowse’s reputation would suffer. And he would get his own man appointed as Captain of the Kingsguard. He would not tolerate Feiren Rowse much longer.

  seventeen

  The sounds of movement outside the door woke Brenna up. She winced when she sat up. Her back was stiff and her legs ached. Nothing in the room looked out of place, so she relaxed back into the mattress. Kane was sprawled on the floor beside the bed. She could hear his steady breathing underneath the sounds of the inn coming to life. After a few moments, she gave up on getting any more sleep.

  “By the Brothers …” Brenna said as she eased her legs onto the floor. The muscles of her thighs stretched and she stifled a grunt of pain. This had to get better. She could hardly move. Every muscle in her body ached. As quietly as she could, she dressed and left the room in search of breakfast.

  Downstairs, the common room was empty so she poked her head through the kitchen door. A serving girl sorted out tea and food and a few minutes later she navigated the stairs back to the room with a heavy tray.