Among Thieves

by Hulick, Douglas

  “You may be able to vanish if things go wrong, but we can’t. Not that well. I’m not going to tell my people to hunt down Solitude, watch half of them die in the process, and then take the imperial heat, just so you can come out of this with one less rival and a bunch of new glimmer at your fingertips.”

  Shadow stood up slowly. If it was meant to be intimidating, it worked. “It doesn’t matter what you want,” he said. “We have a deal. Solitude is in this. I’m in it. If you want to come out in one piece, you’ll follow my lead. I know how to deal with Gray Princes—do you?”

  “No, but I’m learning,” said Kells.

  “I’m sure you think you are,” said Shadow. “Now . . .”

  “I’m not finished,” snapped Kells. Shadow froze, and for a moment I wished Kells hadn’t decided to stand so close to me. “We cut a deal,” said Kells, “but it didn’t have anything to do with the empire or White Sashes or imperial glimmer. We agreed on three things: keeping my organization in one piece, rolling Nicco out of Ten Ways, and making sure Solitude doesn’t establish a foothold here. You stick to that, you make sure those things happen, and I’ll make sure you get the book when we’re done.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” said Shadow. “If I get my hands on that journal, your problems with Solitude and Nicco are over.”

  “Maybe,” said Kells. “But you promised to support me before the journal ever came up. Hell, you’re the one who came to me offering help, not the other way around. You wouldn’t have done that unless you needed me more than I need you.”

  “Believe whatever fantasy you like,” said Shadow, “but you need me, Kells. Your men can tell you—Drothe can tell you—that if I leave now, you’re doomed. Solitude has had more time to build ties, more time to lay groundwork, more time to import Mouths and get her plans in order. You’re flailing by comparison.”

  Kells stepped past me and folded his arms over his broad chest. He planted his feet, straightened his back, and spit on the floor between himself and Shadow.

  “I don’t renegotiate in the middle of a fight,” said Kells, “and have little use for cowards that do. The simple fact is, you get the book when my ass is out of the fire—not before.”

  I’m not sure what I expected—lightning to come down through the roof, Kells to be thrown about the room like a rag doll, or for the Gray Prince to simply walk over and casually eviscerate my boss—but none of those things happened. Instead, Shadow stood stone silent for a long moment, and then stalked past us.

  “We’ll finish this discussion,” he said, “after you’ve had some time to see just how bad things can become.” The door slammed shut behind him.

  Kells let out a long breath. “Well, that didn’t go as well as I would have liked.” He walked over and settled into his desk chair with a small grunt.

  “Now,” he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, “why don’t you tell me everything you’ve been holding back since you walked through that door? And it had better be good, because if it’s not, you and that journal will become my peace offering to Shadow.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I stumbled and caught myself on the banister beside the stairs. My left leg was numb, and my right felt like a pincushion. I ran a heavy hand over my face yet again—it still did no good.

  How many hours had I been in with Kells? Judging by the light coming in through the windows a floor below me, it was a fair number. No wonder I felt like I’d been up for days—I had been.

  I laid both of my hands on the banister and carefully guided myself down the last two steps to the landing. Then I sat on the bottom step, resting my head on my arms. It felt good, better even than the chair in Kells’s office. Of course, that seat had been uncomfortable for other reasons.

  I had told Kells what I knew about Ioclaudia’s journal: the imperial glimmer, the talk about tinkering with souls to control the magic, the hunt by the White Sashes—all of it. The only pieces I danced around were the talk with Solitude in my dream and the fact that Jelem had been the one who had looked at the journal. The first piece I didn’t want to share just yet, and the other I kept close for Jelem’s sake. Bringing him to Kells’s attention at this point would be far from a favor.

  I felt guilty. Kells had stood beside me and told Shadow to go to hell when it came to using me. Shouldn’t I return the favor by being completely up-front with him? I knew the answer, but I just hadn’t been able to bring myself to do it—not until I learned more about the deal he had cut with Shadow. Aside from our both being on the Gray Prince’s shit list, I didn’t know where my boss stood with Shadow in the grander scheme. That bothered me, especially since I was starting to figure into it.

  During my entire telling, Kells had sat unmoving, his eyes closed and his head back. He barely interrupted to ask questions.

  “Well, you certainly know how to ruin a man’s day, don’t you?” he had said when I was done.

  “You’ll pardon me if I’m not too sympathetic,” I said, “considering I walked in here to find you in Shadow’s pocket. Never mind that he seems to have been using me for Angels know how long.”

  “He’s using both of us,” said Kells. “Just as I’m trying to use him. There’s no surprise in that. And I’m not in his pocket.”

  “Oh, so where exactly does Shadow keep you, then?”

  Kells cracked an eyelid. “You think you’re the only one not happy with how this is turning out? Not only do I have Nicco and Solitude to contend with, but now I get to look forward to the empire knocking about Ten Ways, searching for a book on magical blasphemy. Recall what I said earlier: If the empire gets involved, we all go down.”

  “I remember,” I said, “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “No, I didn’t. Probably because I’m not sure anymore. Before you walked in here, I could have told you precisely where Shadow and I stood, but now . . . ?” He shook his head. “He’s after more than just Solitude now.”

  “I suspect he always has been,” I said.

  “Very possible.” Kells’s hand crept up and began absently running along the edges of his mustache. “You think he’s after the same thing as Solitude? Becoming the next Dark King?”

  “Who the hell knows? I’m not even sure that’s what she’s after at this point. But Shadow? Yeah, I could see that.”

  “Is the journal safe?” said Kells.

  “For the time being.”

  “Good.” He rubbed his mustache some more. “We’ll need to get rid of it, you know.”

  “Oh?”

  Kells stared. “What do you mean, ‘oh’? That thing is a lodestone if I’ve ever seen one.”

  “It’s also the only thing that has been keeping me alive,” I said. “As long as I have Ioclaudia’s journal hidden away, Shadow, Solitude, and who knows who else won’t lay a hand on me.”

  “You think so?” Kells crossed his arms. “What would you do if someone were keeping something from you? What did you do to Athel? These are Gray Princes, Drothe. This is the empire. They won’t fuck around.”

  “I know that,” I said. “But there’s no good way out of this at the moment. The empire will lock me away for knowing about it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Shadow or Solitude dusted me on principle, once they have it in their hands. Keeping it hidden keeps me valuable. I like that.”

  “I don’t,” said Kells. “Too many people want it for too many reasons, and all of them will come sniffing around for you sooner or later. And since you’re mine, that means they’ll come to see me. That puts not just me, but the entire organization—all of us—at risk. I won’t have it.”

  I swallowed and sat up straighter. “It’s not your call,” I said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m the one with the journal,” I said. “I’m the loose end they’re all going to want to tie up. I’m not saying you won’t take some heat, but most of it is going to fall on me. That makes it my decision, not yours.”

  Kells lowered his hand from his musta
che. “Who the fuck are you?” He stood up. “Who the fuck are you to decide what’s best for my organization? I’m losing a damn Kin war right now, and you tell me I don’t get to make the call? You work for me, damn it—I’ll tell you what to do and you’ll do it!”

  “Do what?” I said. “Give it to Shadow so he can kick Solitude’s ass? Where does that put us once he’s done? Under his thumb? Because we sure as hell won’t be able to stop him after that. Or are you wanting to buy off Solitude instead? Give her both the book and Shadow on a platter? We know even less about her than we do about him!”

  “At least we have a relationship with Shadow,” said Kells. “He’ll be grateful.”

  “Do you hear what you’re saying?” I said. “You’re willing to make”—I pointed at the closed door—“that the next Dark King?”

  “Better the devil you know,” said Kells.

  “Excuse me, but weren’t you the one who just told him to go to hell? I heard some pretty damn good arguments coming out of your mouth about why you shouldn’t give it to him.”

  “Then maybe you also heard what I said at the end,” said Kells. “About giving him the book after he pulls my ass out of the fire!”

  “Your ass,” I said. “Not mine. Not the Kin’s.”

  Kells put his hands on the desk and forced himself to take a deep breath. “Think about it,” he said. “Think about it like I have to think about it, Drothe. If Shadow does manage to save my ass, I won’t be in a position to tell him no. The only reason I’ll have an organization at that point is because of his help. I meant what I said: If he pulls this off, I’ll give him the book. I gave my word, and I’ll keep it.”

  “What about the empire?” I said. “What happens when they come looking?”

  “He’s the big fish,” said Kells. “He’ll draw the most interest. Besides, there’s nothing that says Shadow will go down the same road as Isidore. He could surprise you and pull it off, you know.”

  Yes, he could, I realized. And that was what worried me.

  Don’t give it to anyone. Not even to me.

  What Kells was saying made sense, except it felt wrong. He was seeing the journal as a piece of swag—a problem that would go away once it was out of our hands. I knew better. There was too much in Ioclaudia’s journal for people to simply forget about it. Nor would they forget about who else had had it—us, for example.

  “You know that you and I will be the prime scapegoats,” I said. “No matter what Shadow says?”

  “I know,” said Kells. “But it’s going to take time to beat back Nicco and Solitude, and Shadow won’t get the book until that’s done. I figure that gives us some time to figure out a way to pin it on someone else.”

  I had made some noncommittal noises at that, which Kells had pretended to ignore. He wasn’t expecting an immediate change of heart on my part, but he figured I would come around. I always had in the past. Except the past felt like a long time ago, now.

  From there the discussion had turned to Nicco and Ten Ways and strategy, but not for long. I was too far gone to be of any more use, and Kells had sent me packing off to bed. I just hadn’t realized how far gone I was until I had left his room.

  I groaned and lifted my head off my arms. There were beds down there, I knew. . . . Rows of them . . . Only two flights down . . . Soft beds . . .

  I was still thinking about those beds when I slid down onto the landing and curled up on the floor, happy just to meet the darkness.

  I woke up to something hitting my foot.

  I rolled over and looked up to find Degan standing over me. He had a short walking stick in his hand, which he was applying methodically to the sole of my boot. I also noticed I was in a bed in a private room. I didn’t bother to ask how I’d gotten to this one, or how Degan had talked his way in.

  “Let’s have it,” I grumbled. “You’re only this annoying when you have bad news.”

  Degan slipped the stick under his arm. “The empire’s closed off the cordon.”

  That was bad, all right. I sat up and winced at the pain in the muscles of my back. “Tell me.”

  “There are Swads at every gate into Ten Ways,” said Degan. “At least a legion’s worth. They’re not letting anyone in or out—except the White Sashes, of course.”

  “Regular army and the Sashes?” I said.

  “Word has it they’ve already started making forays into the cordon.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think?”

  My first thought was the journal, but that didn’t make sense. Yes, the emperor wanted it, but surrounding Ten Ways wasn’t going to flush it out. Besides, it would draw far too much attention to something he, of all people, wanted to keep quiet.

  “The war,” I said. “The emperor’s had enough of Nicco’s boys’ playing Hunt the Rags. Now he’s out to remind us who really owns Ten Ways.” And probably bring it down around our ears. Markino was old—he wasn’t in a patient or understanding frame of mind anymore. “How long ago did they surround the cordon?”

  “About three hours ago. From what I heard, one moment, everything was normal—the next, there were Black Sashes everywhere. They sealed the place up in less than a quarter of an hour. No one had time to get out.” Degan sighed, and I knew he was wishing he’d been there to see the execution.

  “Three hours ago?” I said. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “I just told you—Ten Ways is sealed off. Where were you going to go? Besides, Kells said to let you sleep.”

  “Speaking of Kells, how’s he taking it?”

  “Out in the field, assessing the situation.”

  “Must be bad, then,” I said, standing up. My left leg was stiff, but not nearly as bad as I’d expected. I was pleasantly surprised to find that my gait felt almost normal as I followed Degan out the door and into the hallway. Damn, but Jelem knew his stuff.

  Dusk was settling outside the building. There were candles aglow in the hallway, and someone had already gotten a small fire going in a brazier in the front courtyard.

  Kells’s people were on the move, rushing from place to place with a sense of urgency only desperation can bring. No one was saying it, but I could see it in their glances, hear it in their panting breaths. The empire is here, they were thinking. We’re going up against the Sashes just like Isidore did. And everyone knew what had happened to the Dark King and to his Kin. No prisoners had been taken; no quarter had been offered; no deals had been cut.

  This time wouldn’t be any different. If anything, it might be worse.

  “Come on,” I said. “I need to . . .”

  And I stopped dead in the courtyard.

  Deals. The emperor hadn’t cut deals last time, but that was because no one had had anything worth bargaining for. What could the Kin have offered him, then? Nothing.

  But what about now?

  “You need what?” said Degan.

  I held up a hand for silence—for a moment to think.

  The Kin had had nothing to deal with before, but, now, there was Ioclaudia’s book. If there was anything that would catch the emperor’s attention, anything that might convince him to walk away from the cordon and the Kin, a dead Paragon’s journal might be it.

  If it didn’t bring him down on us harder, that is. There was always the chance he’d want to wipe out anyone who could have seen the book in the first place. But that would be a hell of a long list, and besides, if the Sashes were already in Ten Ways, he was close to doing that, anyhow.

  It was a risk, but it was also a way out; and all it required was for me to betray Kells. And the Kin. And, in a way, myself.

  It was a basic principle: Kin didn’t go to the empire; we screwed the empire. We laughed in its face and pretended it didn’t scare us. We were Kin. We were wise to the game and able to live outside the rules because we were smarter than that. The empire was a system to be used, a heavy hand to be avoided, sometimes even a pocket to be lightened; but it was never a cove to be trusted.

  Nor
was any Kin who went to the empire to be trusted, either. Turning rat meant becoming ostracized by the people who had once called you cousin or brother. If I managed to cut this deal, every door I had ever known would close, every friendly face I had once hailed would turn away. I would be dead to the Kin. No one would care why I had done it; all that would matter was that it had been done. I would have gone outside the organization, outside the extended family of the Kin—to the empire, of all places—to solve a problem. Even Kells wasn’t considering what I was considering, and he had more on the line than I did.

  Going to the empire meant not only being cast out, but also hunted, by the Kin. Why was I even considering this?

  Because the alternatives were worse: Shadow as the Dark King, Kells as a lackey, and me under it all; or even worse, Solitude in charge, with Nicco at her left hand. Neither scenario appealed, and neither offered a very comfortable place for me once all the dust settled. Either I would work for a man I couldn’t help but see as broken, or spend all my time trying to dodge the Blades Nicco would send after me in droves. And in the end, the Kin would be crushed by the empire, anyhow.

  No, far better to be the Nose who had walked into the emperor’s lair and saved the Kin, or at least tried. Even if they all turned their backs on me for doing it, none of them would forget me. I could live with that.

  The only part I would regret would be having to betray Kells to do it, but I knew he wouldn’t give his blessing to this. He’d already decided on Shadow, and I couldn’t watch him follow that path.

  “You need what?” repeated Degan.

  “I need to get the hell out of this cordon,” I said.

  “Not that I’m arguing,” said Degan, “but why?”

  I stepped off to one side, away from the passing Kin.

  “Kells wants to give the journal to Shadow,” I said.

  Degan drew back. “Shadow?” he said. “How did . . . ?”

  “I just know,” I said.

  “And I take it you don’t like this idea?”

  “No. Nor do I want it to go to Solitude.”