Among Thieves

by Hulick, Douglas

  Solitude narrowed her eyes. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning Shadow,” I said. I didn’t mention Jelem or the pages he had demanded in repayment of the favor I owed over Tamas’s rope, let alone the notes he had taken in payment for working on the book itself. Given Solitude’s mood, the fewer names mentioned, the better.

  If I’d been expecting another outburst, I would have been disappointed. Solitude bit her lip instead and turned toward the curtain. “Gryph!”

  The Arm standing guard outside the alcove stuck his head in.

  “Clear the taproom,” said Solitude. “I want everyone out—even the owner. This place is mine until I say otherwise.”

  Gryph vanished back through the curtain. A brief commotion sounded on the other side, then quickly quieted down.

  “All clear,” said a voice from outside the alcove.

  “You leave, too,” said Solitude. There were footsteps, then a door closing, then silence.

  Solitude spun back around toward me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she said. “We had a deal. You have no right deciding what to do with that journal, let alone breaking it up! You should have at least—”

  “No right?” I said. “I have more right to that journal than anybody else in this damn city! I’ve sweat, bled, killed, and betrayed for that damn thing. While you sent out Cutters and tinkered with dreams, I was fighting Princes and Mouths and Arms in the street. I’ve seen people tortured and beaten because they were unlucky enough to be close to me. That journal is more mine than it is yours, Shadow’s, the emperor’s, or anyone else’s. If there’s anyone who’s earned the right to make a decision about it, it’s me!”

  “And what was your brilliant decision?” said Solitude. “To give Shadow Imperial magic! You’ll make him the most dangerous Kin in the city! And what’s worse, when he starts using it, the empire will come down on all of us harder than a hammer on an anvil. Or aren’t you worried about that? Maybe you’re going to give some pages to the emperor, too, to cover your ass.” Solitude threw up her arms in disgust. “You can’t make everyone happy in this, Drothe. You shouldn’t even try.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about anyone being happy,” I said. “If I wanted to cover my ass, there are a hell of a lot better ways to do it. I’m doing this because it’s the best way to help you, to help the empire, and to keep the people who matter to me alive. That’s all it comes down to anymore.”

  “And Shadow? What about when he starts bringing things down around our ears?”

  I sat back in my chair. “He gets the journal, yes, but not enough to do him much good.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” she snapped.

  “He’s never seen the book,” I said. “Never knew what was in it—just that you wanted it, and that it talked about imperial glimmer.” I gestured at the pages in front of her. “When I had . . . my people . . . remove those pages, I had them alter the journal as well. Parts added, parts removed, new water stains—there’re still notes on glimmer in there, but he’ll be working a hell of a long time to make sense of it.”

  “And you think he won’t notice?”

  “My people are very, very good.”

  Solitude stared at me, her nails picking at the wood of the table. “Damn it!” she said at last. “We had a deal!”

  “I kept as much of it as I could.”

  “You kept as much as you wanted to,” she said. “There’s a difference.”

  “The difference,” I said, “is that I realized I had obligations to other people as well, and that they were just as important.”

  “How convenient—you get morals, and I get screwed.” I started to answer, but she held up her hand and continued. “No, shut the fuck up for a minute. I’m thinking.” Solitude reached down, picked up the papers, and leafed through them.

  “What about the people who did this for you? Do we have to worry about them?”

  “You don’t,” I said. I expected Jelem to remain content, but Baldezar? He had information on me now, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he became tempted to use it on me someday. The only thing that would likely keep him quiet was his own complicity in the whole affair. Falsifying part of a relic was heretical, after all, and for all his bluster, Baldezar was a coward at heart.

  “And what are you going to ask of Shadow in exchange for the journal?”

  “For him to walk away.”

  “From?”

  “Everything that has anything to do with me.”

  “You think he will?”

  “I don’t have much of a choice,” I said. “Like you said, I can’t keep him away from anyone he wants to reach, so the next best thing is to get him to step away on his own.”

  “And if he won’t?”

  I shrugged.

  “You expect me to believe you don’t have a backup?” Solitude folded her arms. “There has to be more to it than that.”

  “That depends,” I said. “Am I still yours?”

  Now it was Solitude’s turn to shake her head. “Not after this. I can’t give you more than a clear path to the door, and even that’s being generous. Given what you know and what you did, I should dust you right now.”

  “But you won’t,” I said.

  “But I won’t,” she agreed. “You kept at least part of your bargain, and that counts for something. You could have given Shadow everything, but you went to a lot of effort to hide what you’re giving me. Make no mistake: I’m not happy about what you did—I’m damn pissed—but I’m not going to dust you.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Solitude waved an impatient hand. “Just get the fuck out of my sight.”

  I rose and was through the curtain and halfway across the taproom before she spoke again.

  “Drothe,” she called. “One last thing.”

  I stopped but didn’t turn around. “What?”

  “About Iron,” she said. “What happened with him, really?”

  I took a breath, let it out. “He tried to help me keep my word to you,” I said. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t know I was going to do this until afterward. He died keeping his Oath.”

  Silence from behind the curtain.

  I waited a moment longer, then continued through to the taproom, out the door, and onto the street.

  The stairs at the back of the warehouse in the Barren creaked as I went up them. I pointedly ignored the week-old bloodstains my night vision picked out on the treads, just as I pointedly ignored the ghost pain that fired in my leg with every step.

  Just like last time, it was dark; and just like last time, the place smelled of dirt and mold. But it wasn’t raining now; nor had I been sent here by Shadow to find someone; rather, I was here to meet the Gray Prince. Alone.

  That was the strangest part—not having Degan at my back. I’d felt his absence while coming through the Barren, and felt it even more now. It wasn’t just the security of a strong arm and a ready sword that I missed, but the lack of his presence, his voice—even his dry sense of humor—that left me feeling exposed. It was as if part of my shadow were missing.

  I had spent the past three days holed up with Jelem and Baldezar. My foray out to see Solitude had been my first major trip on the street since I’d killed Nicco. Plenty of people wanted me dustmans for that, along with a host of other things. Now was the perfect time to settle old scores, especially with an out-of-favor Nose. But even with all that, I’d slipped out twice—the first to ask Fowler to track down Degan, and the second to learn that she hadn’t had any success.

  I still wasn’t sure whether I was relieved at her failure or not. Part of me wanted to talk to Degan one last time, to try to explain, to hear him say he understood, or even for him to tell me to go to hell—just as long as I could apologize. But another part knew better; knew that no matter what I said, things were broken between us. And that part was glad I wouldn’t have to go through the torture of trying to explain the inexplicable.

  The blanket was still lying in the doo
rway. I stepped over it and walked a little over halfway into the room. I set down the bulky satchel I’d brought and pulled out the candle Jelem had given me. It was thick—about as fat around as my wrist—and heavy, made from a dirty yellow wax that looked like tallow but felt somehow softer to the touch. It was half as long as my forearm, with a clean-cut bottom and top.

  I set the candle on the floor and pulled out my fire box. I sparked the tinder and lit it in short order.

  The wick caught, hissed like an angry cat, and went out. I waited. Then, just as Jelem had said it would, the candle rekindled. The flame was small and yellow, with just the faintest hint of silver around the edges. If you didn’t know to look for that trace of magic, you could miss it. I was counting on that.

  I looked around the room: four windows, the one door, no chairs. I went back and retrieved the blanket, folding it as I recrossed the room. I stuck the journal inside the blanket so it couldn’t be seen, then placed it under me as I sat down on the far side of the circle of light, well away from the door. I put the satchel containing Iron Degan’s sword behind me, pulled out the bag of seeds I’d gotten from Jelem, and waited.

  Shadow showed up an hour later, which made him three hours early for our meeting. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or frightened.

  The candle, of course, had given me away. Shadow swept in without hesitation and walked straight toward me. As he moved, his cloak flared out and back, showing hints of a gray doublet and black jerkin, tall riding boots, and a silver-handled sword. His face was a veil of darkness.

  I sat, motionless, my heart hammering louder in my ear with each step. When he reached the outer edge of the circle of candlelight, I spoke.

  “That’s far enough,” I said.

  Shadow took two more deliberate steps and stopped just inside the light.

  “You’re early,” said Shadow.

  “And you’re not?”

  “I wasn’t the one who pulled a knife last time we met,” he said. “I thought it best to come ahead and make sure you didn’t have any surprises waiting for me.”

  “And maybe install a few of your own?”

  Shadow waved a dismissive hand. “I think we both know that isn’t necessary.” The cowl panned back and forth, surveying the room.

  “He’s not here,” I said, knowing the Gray Prince was looking to see if Degan was lurking in a dark corner. “Nor is anyone else. It’s just you and me.”

  “Which effectively puts you at my mercy.” Shadow crossed his arms, putting his right hand disturbingly close to his sword’s handle. I remembered his taking on Degan and holding his own. I couldn’t beat that, not straight on. “You must have something good, if you think you can talk me out of killing you,” he said.

  I made a point of digging out a seed and slipping it into my mouth. “What I have is Ioclaudia’s journal. I want to talk terms.”

  Shadow threw his head back and laughed. “So you decided to do it after all,” he said. “First you betrayed Nicco, and now Kells. Splendid! You’re becoming quite the operator, Drothe. With a bit of money and time, you could make a reasonable Upright Man.”

  “If that’s a job offer, I’m not interested.”

  Shadow’s tone grew as serious as my own. “It wasn’t. You tried to kill me. I can’t let that stand. Showing any kind of leniency, let alone favoritism, would only undercut my reputation. And what are any of us but half action and half threat to begin with?” Shadow hooked his thumbs in his sword belt. “I can let the baroness live. I’ll leave you alive, too, but there has to be a visible consequence—a missing finger, an ear, something small. And you have to leave Ildrecca. Five years, maybe seven—until people forget.”

  “It won’t take them that long to forget.”

  “It will for me.”

  And there it was: This had become more personal than business for Shadow. My jumping him and getting away were eating at him more than the idea of Solitude getting her hands on something he wanted. Unless I could convince Shadow what I had to offer was more valuable than getting his hands on me, I wasn’t going to get out of this in one piece.

  I shifted on my seat, feeling the journal beneath me. “Have you forgotten what’s in that book?” I said. “What I had to go through to get it?” I indicated the shadowy space around us with a sweep of my arm. “Degan and I fought White Sashes in this room. The empire has troops in Ten Ways because of it. Hell, I had to sneak through their lines just to get here. It’s fucking Imperial magic! And now you’re telling me that in exchange for something that will give you a stranglehold on the Kin, you’re going to cut pieces off me and banish me from Ildrecca?” I let out a short, derisive laugh. “Something tells me I can hold out for more.”

  “You can hold out for whatever you want, Drothe,” said Shadow. “But you need to remember something: Bargaining only works when both parties have something to lose. Whether I walk out of here with the journal, or you, in my hands, doesn’t really matter. Either way, I’ll be satisfied. And either way, I’ll eventually end up with the book.”

  “And if I’ve made alternate arrangements for the journal?” I said.

  “In case you don’t come back?” said Shadow. “What are you going to do? Destroy it? Regrettable, but then no one else has it, either. Give it to Solitude? If you were going to do that, you would have done it already, and she would be here backing your play. Sell it back to the empire?” Shadow snorted a laugh. “We both know you stand a better chance with me than trying to deal with the emperor. No, unless it’s destroyed, I’ll find it. You’ve shown that that can be done, after all.”

  I looked up into the cowl. This was just about how I had figured it would play out: Shadow wasn’t the kind to negotiate when he didn’t have to—after all, he was a Gray Prince. We both knew the only real leverage I had was the book, and once that was out of my hands, all the power reverted to him. At least he was being honest about it.

  The only thing that had gone my way so far was the fact that he hadn’t tried to dust me the moment he’d walked into the room. And even that was dubious luck at best.

  “I’m not going to offer again,” said Shadow.

  I sighed and shifted off the blanket. “I know,” I said. I pulled out the journal and stood up.

  Shadow chuckled. “Sitting on it this whole time? No one can say you don’t have balls.” He held out his hand.

  “So that’s it, then?” I said as I took a step forward. “For all the posturing and magic and mystery, you end up doing business like a common Cutter on the street? ‘Give me the swag or you bleed!’ I’d hoped for more from a Gray Prince.”

  “You get what you deserve,” said Shadow. “For you, little Nose, this is good enough.”

  I stopped beside the candle. I looked down at the book in my hands, then up at Shadow. And met his gaze with my own.

  He was smiling. It was a smug smile on a full mouth, with a dark spade-shaped beard beneath and a long nose above. An otherwise round face was given a hard edge by high cheekbones. But what struck me the most were the generous laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. Who expected a Gray Prince like Shadow to genuinely laugh enough for it to show on his face?

  I smiled in turn and watched Shadow’s grin falter. He could sense something had changed, but he hadn’t figured it out yet. Hadn’t figured out I could see him now; that all the magic in the room had been burned up by Jelem’s candle.

  “No,” I said, “I deserve more.” And I tossed the journal at him. My last glimpse of Shadow in the candlelight was of his eyes going wide and his reflexively lunging forward for the book. Then I kicked the candle over, and the room went dark.

  Chapter Thirty

  I rolled to my right, getting out of any direct line of fire. The candle flame had been dim, but it was still going to take a moment or two for my night vision to adjust. I didn’t want to be caught standing still, waiting to see my death coming at me.

  That was assuming my vision would adjust. My stepfather had performed the ritual
nearly twenty years ago; with magic that old, Jelem hadn’t been sure what the candle would do to it. Like everything else tonight, it was a risk.

  I circled two steps farther to my right in the darkness, silently drawing my rapier as I went, and waited. I could hear Shadow in front of me, muttering under his breath. Then I saw the hint of a gesture—an amber-hued blur several yards away that looked like a hand passing rapidly through the air. And another. And then, rapidly, I saw the image of a cloaked figure, crouched and gesticulating in the darkness, the rectangle of a book lying at his feet, all but forgotten.

  The air before Shadow was empty: of power, of light, of threat. I slipped farther to my right, moving to circle behind, even as he reached to his belt and tossed a scattering of coins before him. They clinked on the floorboards, refusing to melt and burn as they had against Degan.

  Shadow was no fool. As soon as he saw that his portable glimmer wasn’t going to help him, he turned and raced back the way he had come. I couldn’t blame him; if I were in a dark room with a man who put out the lights, I’d want out, too. People don’t set up situations like that without a plan.

  I flicked my left hand, felt the wrist knife drop into it, and let fly. I knew better than to try to hit him—it was dark, he was moving, and I was throwing left-handed. The odds of my even bouncing the pommel off him were negligible. But hitting the wall hard enough so the blade made a loud noise against it, and then again when it fell to the floor—that was another matter entirely.

  Shadow skidded to a halt at the sound. In an instant his sword was out, sweeping before, beside, and behind him in a deadly circle. When no one tried to stab him, he began backing slowly away, two steps at a time.

  “It was the candle, wasn’t it?” he said to the darkness. “It interfered with the magic somehow.” I could see his cowl searching back and forth for any hint of motion, of sound. His left hand made another pass in the air. Nothing happened. “And I can’t imagine the darkness was an accident, either. Which means you have a way of finding me, yes?”