I noticed the laces of my right boot were still undone, as they had been when I crossed the mosaic floor and kissed her. Had she left me? I’d trusted her and she had left me there to die. Had it all been a lie?
I looked into the Dragon’s Eye, now nestled in the grass beside me. Either the bond had been severed, or it hadn’t. Either she had deliberately left me, or she hadn’t had a choice. Whatever the answer, sitting in the grass waiting for the truth wouldn’t solve anything.
I coughed, dragged my aching body upright, and trudged toward the remaining horse. The cup was lost, but I still had the Eye. I still had a plan. Nothing had changed … except me.
PART II
With a good sword and a trusty shield
A faithful heart and true
King Jacobie’s men shall understand
What thieves of the past can do
They have fixed the where and when
And shall Brea die?
Here twenty thousand Brean folk
Will know the reason why.
~ Brean folksong.
Chapter Twelve
Wind pushed a swirl of snowflakes in through the Inn’s open door, causing a few nearby locals to grumble. The woman who had let in the winter growled back at the crowd, tugged the door closed, blew into her hands, and stamped snow from her boots. Her gray eyes finally settled on me, but before making her way over, she ordered a drink; it’d be something rich and syrupy with enough alcohol to keep out the cold.
“This winter is a bitch, Vance,” she said, sliding her generous build into the wooden booth opposite me. Snowflakes melted in her bush of wiry hair.
“Then you should feel right at home, Agatha.”
She grinned and rubbed her hands together. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Master Vance. And lookin’ so well too. Thought you’d gone done yourself some disappearing?”
“The best thieves are those you never see.”
“And you were always my best.” She grinned. “You owe Lyn a payment.”
“I told your brother I’d get the gems.”
“And he knows you’re a good thief, but that was over a month ago. Winter’s blown in and looks like it ain’t going nowhere soon. He needs your payment.”
“I’ll have the gems soon, but you must do something for me, Agatha.” I leaned an arm on the table, moving in nice and close. “A good little earner between you and me.” She’d do it. She couldn’t resist the chance to earn a little on the side.
“My pockets have been much bereft in your absence.”
“I need you to put word out to a few select antiquity buyers. Try Lord Fallford first. I have something I doubt he’ll be able to pass up. Tell him it’s priceless and may even be too rich for his blood. In which case, there are always other more discerning buyers.”
Her eyes widened. “What is it?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Oh, Vance. You are a wicked tease.” She plunged her fingers into her nest of hair. “What’s my cut?”
“Five percent.”
“Five percent of what? I have a house to run. I can’t feed my girls on meaningless numbers.”
I held those steely eyes of hers, eyes that had witnessed many disservices over the years. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”
She replied with a laugh and muttered something about how when she found me on the street, she would have tossed me back had she known I’d be such a player, but my own words rebounded and hooked into a memory, and my mind wandered to another woman who had said those very same words.
“Vance? You’re not in any trouble, are you?” Agatha asked. “You know me an’ the girls will always help. It might not be much, but we look out for our own.”
That wasn’t strictly true. She looked out for herself first, her girls second, and kept her finger on people of interest who sometimes paid off, like me.
“No trouble. Just get the message to Fallford next time he visits one of your girls.”
“There’s always a place for you in my house.”
I laughed and leaned back. “I prefer to have my fingers in locks, Agatha.”
She laughed along, but her shrewd eyes were watching me more closely, searching for weakness, a tell, something she could use to bring me back into her fold. “I’ll tell Fallford. How can I reach you? You’re not at your old place. Not since the boy’s body was found …”
I caught her tone, sly as it was. “Before you start thinking you can twist my arm for more gems, the boy’s death was not my doing.”
“You have to admit, you leaving seems mighty suspicious. City guards were asking after you, not by name, of course.”
“I left because it was time.” She knew I rarely stayed in one place long enough for the locals to remember my face, making it an odd question to ask. I stood, pulled my scarf tight, and my cloak closed. “I’m nearby. That’s all you need to know. Leave word with Saul, the barman here. And don’t worry. There’s enough value in this job to keep you and the girls in the warm. Lyn too.”
Outside, the winter air nipped at my face. I trudged through the slush lining the street, took a few necessary detours should Agatha try to tail me, and headed back to the small room I was renting. The one window overlooked parts of the Inner Circle and afforded a marvelous view of the spire. Gray snow clouds had blocked much of the spire for days, but on nights like this one, the Inner Circle and its spire twinkled on the hillside.
I kicked off my boots by the door and hung my cloak and coat up, then set about lighting a fire to chase away the biting cold. Somewhere outside, a baby’s cries pierced the quiet.
With the fire spitting and popping, I propped myself up against the headboard, dagger in my lap, and stared through the slightly open window, across rooftops, at the Inner Circle wall and the glittering Inner Circle.
I had never given much thought to revenge. Somewhere inside all the deep-seated guilt, there was a chance I had believed my action in the Circle had been just. But with Shaianna came the truth. I had reported my parents to the city guards, my beliefs a lie, and they had died for my willful ignorance.
And my sister had despised me until the day she killed herself.
Magic was real—I knew that now—and if it could heal, what else could it do? My mother had used diamonds to heal my father. What else could they heal? I should have thanked my mother, not betrayed her. I couldn’t tell my parents I was sorry, but what if I could make it right? What if magic could be revived?
I left the window open, as I did every night, and drifted off to asleep with magic in my thoughts.
The first clear skies in weeks broke over Brea the day I received word of Lord Fallford’s interest and an invite to his residence. His home was a three-story townhouse, part museum, part one man’s obsession with valuable trinkets. It stood proudly in the middle of a grand terrace, far from the reek of the docks. I climbed the sweeping steps, boots crunching against frozen snow. I had been here once before, but only as far as the hallway.
Molly, Fallford’s housekeeper, answered the door. Slim as a broom, she had a mop of orange hair and a smattering of freckles on her pale cheeks. Her light, quick hands scooped my cloak from around my shoulders and whisked it onto a coat stand.
“Milord will be down in a moment, Master Vance.”
I trailed snow across the polished hardwood floors. She muttered an obvious curse that I may have taken personally had I not heard her do the same to Fallford. She would have more colorful things to say should she see the dagger tucked against my back.
“Molly, stop pestering the man. Go on with you.” Lord Fallford descended the flourish of a staircase in a few long-legged strides and offered his hand. “Mister Vance, what a fine pleasure. Welcome to my home. Please, keep those quick fingers of yours to yourself though, sir.” As a tall man, his slim-fitting burgundy vest, silk puff tie, and black trousers gave him a harsh, angular appearance—as though he were all hard edges and no give. The kind of man whose pockets I would pilfer on market day.
; We shook. His grip was firm and uncompromising. A small dart of pain shot from the scar left by Shaianna’s dagger.
“Of course,” I smiled. “I rarely steal from my clients, Lord Fallford. It’s not conducive to business.”
“Rarely?”
“I’m a man of opportunity, sir.”
“Of course you are.” He laughed, sharp and loud, and clamped a hand on my shoulder. “It is of opportunity we speak. I’ve heard you have something of great worth?”
“I do.” I cast a glance at the housekeeper fussing beside the coats.
“Ah, yes, in private. Molly, would you fetch Mister Vance and me some tea. Good-good.”
Fallford strode into a fine reception room, his steps quiet on carpet so thick my boots sank deep into the pile. Gold-lined curtains and brightly colored flocked wallpaper declared the room one for entertaining. I had seen gaudier rooms, but then I had never been one to critique the wealth of others. Steal it, yes.
Fallford beckoned me to a glass case. I smiled at its contents and remembered the bronze bull it contained, and how, while riding through the forest, I’d explained to Shaianna its meaning.
“It has brought me much wealth, Vance.” Fallford’s face lightened with delight. He had faith that the bull was lucky. I wasn’t sure if that made him brave or foolish.
I smiled back. “I’m pleased to see it appreciated.”
“Oh, indeed. Indeed. And this parchment …” He stepped to the next glass case. “Written in a language we do not understand, and yet so beautiful, do you not think?”
I swallowed, careful not to reveal my surprise. The parchment’s faded artwork resembled the art I’d seen on the Arachian tomb walls. The intricate interwoven symbols coiled around beautiful figures; some resembled a blend of man and mythical creature. Although terribly faded, I could make out a pair of wings arched wide, as though embracing the lines of foreign text.
“Beautiful,” I agreed. “Do you know its origin?”
“No, though I have attempted to have it translated. As far as my peers tell me, the text refers to a great severance between two forces. Given the designs, it seems to suggest a battle. But alas, it is all conjecture. Though it has power, don’t you think?”
“Power?” Surely he couldn’t hear my heart racing.
“Something this beautiful will always have the power to lead the imagination on a merry chase. It is why I collect such things.”
“Imagination?”
“Fantasy, Vance. As a thief, do you not submit to fantasy now and then?”
I unbuttoned my coat and loosened my collar. “I suppose.”
Molly arrived, distracting me from the very real sense of history crowding the room. We sat at a fine low table while Molly poured tea and Fallford chittered about the terrible snow and its effect on the city’s businesses.
“You know, some believe the restless gods make snow by shaving diamonds,” he said.
There are no gods here. I heard Shaianna’s voice clear as day and turned my head toward the whispered words. Of course she wasn’t there. Just the memories of her haunted me.
“Lord Fallford.” I set my tea down on the low table between us. “I have approached you first because of your passion for the history of an item and not merely its intrinsic value.”
“Oh, yes, quite. It is the past that makes such items more beautiful.” He sipped his tea to disguise his eagerness. “What is it you have for me, Vance?”
“It is a gem, but not something easily explained as such. Expertly cut so that it holds many hundreds of years in its gleam. It has a name.”
He lowered his teacup to its saucer. “Go on.”
“One of only two pieces, and the other is lost, as far as I know, and my sources are faultless. The Dragon’s Eye.”
Fallford blinked. When he set his cup down on the table, it rattled inside its saucer. “The Dragon’s Eye, you say?”
“Do you know of it?”
“I can count myself among the few who do. It is an artifact much coveted. But scholars would have us believe it is a legend.”
I couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “It is no legend, I assure you.”
“You’ve held it?” he whispered, leaning forward.
Held it, dangled from the snout of the stone dragon I’d prized it from, and almost died for it. “I have.”
Fallford's tightly restrained excitement had my heart racing. I’d kept the Eye’s existence a secret, not wanting to let it go—let her go. I had hoped Shaianna would return, but with every passing night with no sign of her at my window, the Eye demanded to be known. It was time to move on.
“Do you have it on your person?”
“No. It’s safe.” I paused, reeling him in. “Can I assume your interest?”
“Assume? Yes, assume! I will need to see it, of course. Do you know what they say of the Eye, Vance?”
‘“Some.” For if any mage should harness it, they would have the power to shift continents, move mountains, create rivers, or destroy cities. I rubbed at the ache in my palm.
“It is something to be feared,” Fallford said, “as though it is the key to unlocking powers we have yet to understand. Did you sense any power in the treasure, Mister Vance?”
I opened my mouth to automatically deny it, but the hunger in Fallford’s eyes held back the denial. “I have witnessed some things that some might find difficult to explain through conventional means.”
“Just say it, Vance. By the gods, man. Say it.”
A tale would add value. The Eye might as well have its own myth to inflate its gravitas. “Yes, I’ve witnessed something of its power, and I know of its potential. I assure you, this is the genuine article.”
Fallford shot to his feet and paced in short strides behind the table. “I don’t doubt it. I must see it.” He laughed. “I must have it. Do you have any other buyers lined up?”
“One other,” I lied. I trusted no other not to speak of such a find in the taverns. “There is a condition, my lord. The Eye is somewhat … desired. I would suggest you keep its existence to yourself, at least until we have made the trade.”
“Oh, by the Halls of Arach, this is delicious. Secrets and legends! Of course. I wouldn’t want another buyer hearing of this. You have my word.”
“Good. Shall we discuss its value?”
By the time I finished priming him, Fallford would have handed over his estate. As it was, the sum I’d asked for was ludicrous and would be more than enough to buy a place on the next ship and set me up for the rest of my days in a land far away from Brea, the Inner Circle, the workhouse, and regrets. I told him a time and place to make the trade and then left him with a reminder not to tell another soul of our business. If I suspected any involvement from an outside source, I’d approach my other interested party. Fallford would contain his excitement, at least until he had the gem in hand. After that, it was no longer my concern.
I returned to my rented room, cloak and boots wet and heavy with snow, and lifted the slate in front of the fireplace, checking that the gem sat snugly inside. It did, its luster even more beautiful surrounded by filthy rags. Some things deserved to be admired. A glass case in a rich man’s home had to be better than under a stone in a thief’s one-room dwelling.
I set the stone back into place and crossed the room to the window. Sunlight glinted off the ice-encrusted city spire, giving it a keen edge. I closed the window, latching it for the first time in thirty-three nights. It was time to let go of my foolish hope that she’d return. She had used me, the same as I had intended to use her. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Shaianna had always been one step ahead. At least, where she had won her freedom from the foolish thief, I had won the gem. So we were even. That fairness, however, didn’t fill the hollowness in my chest. In all the time I’d spent fearing her and deciphering who she was, it hadn’t occurred to me I might miss her. Somehow, behind the barked orders and cool glances, something about her had sunk its hooks into me.
My h
and lingered on the window latch. Why would she return? What was I to her? No more and no less than a thief she had found in an alley.
The door to my room burst open.
I spun, dagger out.
“Vance, you’re a hard man to track down!” Tassen removed his hat and patted snow from its rim. “You’ve no idea the taverns and brothels I’ve had to acquaint myself with just to find word of the slippery Brean thief.”
By the curious way in which he smiled and tossed his glance about the room, his search hadn’t been as taxing as his words suggested.
“Who told you where I live?” I grumbled.
“You know of a woman named Agatha? Yes, I see you do. She’s loyal. Her girls are not. Like most Breans, a few gems soon loosened their loyalty. The winter is hard. Loyalty is the first to go.” Tassen pointed a finger at me and kicked the door closed behind him. “Thought you could slip away from me, did you?”
I returned the dagger to its sheath and shrugged a shoulder. “If you recall, I did.”
“And took fifty rubies with you.” He moved from the door to the single dresser and started opening cupboards. “I’ll have those back.”
He wouldn’t find anything. I crossed my arms. “I don’t have them. You’ll be pleased to know I spent your gems on much debauchery. Now we’ve cleared that up, if you would kindly leave, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll leave, but you’re coming with me.” He shoved a drawer closed and turned. “On my search for the infamous thief, I discovered another man asking after you. He wants to meet the infamous thief who stole her heart. His words, not mine. It’s a small world for you, Vance, and getting smaller by the sounds of it. You are a wanted man.”
My pulse quickened. The words were familiar. “I have no idea what you mean.”
I had a pistol under the pillow on the bed—if needed—but Tassen wasn’t here to fight and I didn’t care to leave another body behind.
“Well, that’s a shovel of horseshit right there. You’re curious. You want to know who hired me to track your intriguing woman and who else is asking after you.” Tassen waited for me to deny it and then grinned when I didn’t. “You and me both, Vance. You want answers, and I gotta admit, I’d like to know more. A man like me, I don’t much care for riddles, but she’s got me questioning too many things. She wasn’t what she appeared to be. Ask yourself if you can live with not knowing, because I sure can’t.”
The Heartstone Thief (Dragon Eye Chronicles Book 1) Page 12
