Clockwork Thief Box Set

by Katherine Bogle

  Ale, whiskey, and tobacco filled the air with their stench, rooting up her nostrils but not disturbing her façade. She steered between wooden tables, chairs, and drunks with grab-hands, until she reached the bar.

  “Jin,” she said. The Rovan man turned, a bushy eyebrow raised. Dark brown eyes met hers beneath his shaggy mop of hair. Nedan Junior, or Jin, owned the bar after his father passed away several years ago. He employed local children to gather intelligence whenever she asked and never charged her or Erik a dime for a drink.

  “Yes?” He glanced at her cleavage, his eyes lingering for several moments too long. “We don’t need any more harlots tonight, though I may be able to find you room in my bed this evening.”

  Narra started, eyes wide. Did he truly not recognize her?

  “Jin ,” she growled more forcefully. She flicked the knife from her sleeve and drove it into the worn oak bar-top. The wood splintered beneath her blade and she met Jin’s wide eyes with a glare.

  “What are you—”

  Asher leaned beside her, elbow brushing her forearm, having finally caught up. His breaths came quickly. “We’re looking for someone.”

  “Mikael Ruvand,” she said. Again, her blue eyes met his.

  Understanding quickly blossomed in his brown depths. He started suddenly, his fingers gripping the bar white-knuckled.

  “Rheka! ” Jin gasped.

  Finally.

  “Yes,” she hissed .

  “You… you.” His eyes roamed her face to her bosom. Her fingers flexed around the smooth metal hilt of her small blade. “What are you wearing?”

  “It’s a long story, Jin,” she said, her tone flat. “Is Mikael here?”

  Jin slowly tore his eyes from her breasts and met her gaze, nodding slowly. “Yes. He’s upstairs still, I think.” He glanced from her to Asher, his eyebrows furrowed.

  Narra yanked the blade from the wood and slipped it back inside her sleeve. “Excellent. What room?”

  The barkeep paused and narrowed his eyes in thought, his gaze locked on Asher. The general glanced between Jin and her, his jaw set. What was he looking at was written across Asher’s face.

  “You!” Jin bellowed. His breath whooshed from his lungs. His eyes flew wide. Her heart skipped. “You’re the man who put my brother in jail for ten cursed years .”

  Oh no.

  Narra stepped away from the bar, pulling Asher by his bicep. Not now. The noise around them dulled, Jin’s sudden outburst drawing curious eyes. Ancestors .

  “You’re the colonel, or general, or whatever the damned they call you cursed soldiers.” A growl ripped from Jin’s throat. His face twisted in anger and he drew a short sword from somewhere behind the bar.

  They needed to get out of there now .

  Narra spun for the door. A wall of criminals blocked their path. She turned back. They were surrounded. Her heart raced as tall men closed around them. Any thieves she’d seen when she’d stepped inside were gone. Only angry gang members and locals stood at their shoulders. This could not end well.

  “We need to get out of here,” she whispered to Asher.

  He glanced at her, his hand already rested on the hilt of his rapier. She cursed him for forcing this dress upon her. She had hardly any weapons, and dozens of men to take down if they were going to escape. Though she’d never blanched at a challenge before, she wasn’t looking forward to this one .

  “Rheka, did you bring this man into my bar?” Jin moved around the counter, flipping open a long wooden leaf so he could join the crowd.

  “It wasn’t my intention to disrespect you, Jin. But I have a mission that goes well beyond the normal call of duty.” Narra slipped her twin knives into her hands.

  The soft shing of swords being drawn from their sheathes filled the quiet between huffs and growls from the surrounding men. Narra took a breath. She found her calm, though her heart still raced. This would simply be a battle. She’d faced much worse in her father’s overzealous training.

  “Military pig .” A man with a scar across his cheek spat at Asher’s feet. He pointed a long, straight blade at the general.

  “You’re dead,” another snapped. Boots rushed forward. And so it began.

  Narra spun between Asher and the gang member. Her knife parried the jab in time for her to knock the sword from his hand. It clattered across the floor. The man reached for another weapon. His chubby fingers wrapped around a bronze pistol. Her eyes went wide.

  Her dagger flew through the air, burying deep in the back of his hand. He howled and fell to the floor, his hand stuck to the side of his leg. That was one of her blades lost.

  Several men charged Asher. He whipped his rapier from its sheath, knocking the attacking blades away before delivering swift artful jabs to their arms and legs.

  He was trying not to kill them, and she was fighting for their lives.

  Another man with an eye-patch and white beard leapt at her. A long knife sliced open her sleeve, but didn’t go deep enough to draw blood. Her fist slammed into his cheek. Blood and loose teeth flew from his mouth. She spun and sent him flying into the pack of mobsters.

  “Head for the door!” Narra called.

  Keeping at Asher’s back, she dodged blades, brass knuckles, and broken bottles being used as weapons. In their drunken stupor, they didn’t realize how foolish this was. These men knew her, and better yet, knew who she was. As a commander of the Thieves Guild, she wouldn’t lose this fight.

  Narra whipped her longer daggers from the two holsters strapped to her thighs. She drove the first into the shoulder of a man. Blood spread beneath her fist as it thunked against his flesh.

  A hollow blast stilled the chaos.

  Her heart skipped. She spun. Blood blossomed through Asher’s dark coat, deepening the navy to dark violet.

  “Asher!” she said.

  The gunman grinned, rotten teeth sticking out against his olive skin. Her dagger flew from her fingers before she knew what she’d done. The blade shot through the air and hammered into his skull. His dead body hit the ground hard, his bronze-plated pistol falling beneath a round table.

  Everything slowed as Asher dropped to one knee, his rapier still in his grasp. Several other spots on his coat leeched blood. Clean cuts tore apart the fabric. He’d been stabbed already without her realizing it. Too many men went for the general. She had to do something.

  Narra plucked a discarded short sword from the ground and vaulted over his back.

  Two men scattered, their blood on her blade as she spun around the open space. She sliced at every face, hand, and blade that dare threaten her.

  A shot of pain flared through her bare thigh. The gang member shot his blade for her abdomen next, but she’d already slammed her knee into his leering face. He crumpled to the floor as a line of blood welled against her pale skin. The cut barely grazed the surface.

  “Asher,” she hissed. Her heart beat erratically, thundering in her ears. He sagged, blood coating his left hand. She grabbed his bicep and yanked him to his feet. “I swear to Ashra, if you give up, no Goddess of Death will be able to stop me from killing you myself.”

  He smiled slightly, his brown eyes glazed over. “You killed for me.”

  Narra hoisted his arm over her shoulders. With only a few men left in her way, it was time to leave. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  A sher leaned most of his weight against her. The man had at least fifty pounds of muscle on her, and half dragged his feet out of the bar. Narra ground her teeth and held onto his waist and wrist. Her legs strained under his heavy form.

  Shouts rose from the bar, followed by the crashing of furniture. Narra slammed the door closed behind them and propped a wooden plank beneath the handle. It’d only gain them moments, but each second would be worth it.

  “I shouldn’t have come in there with you,” Asher said. He groaned as she adjusted her hold on his arm slung over her shoulders. Sticky, wet blood clung to her fingers wrapping his waist.

  She need
ed to get him to a hospital, or a doctor at the very least. But the Guild had none, and in the Criminal District, finding a healer this late at night would be next to impossible. What could she do?

  Narra took a deep breath and heaved him forward. Her breathing grew labored as she towed him across the cobblestone street and into a dark alley. Rats squeaked and skittered from their path, diving behind a large dumpster leaning against the brick wall of an apartment building. The stench of rotten vegetables mingled with the scent of dead fish. She wrinkled her nose, and her stomach flipped .

  “Where can I take you?” she asked.

  Asher’s head lolled forward as she dragged him out the other end of the alley. Her shoulders ached under his weight.

  “Asher,” she snapped.

  He righted himself, blinking wildly.

  “You can’t pass out.” Narra met his gaze with a stern glare. She couldn’t get him to a hospital without his help.

  Asher nodded slowly. Through the shadows she could hardly see his expression. Only the faint flicker of a streetlamp illuminated his dark hair. At the far end of the street his eyelids began to flicker. Not now. They needed to keep moving. Narra stopped at the mouth of a short path between apartments. She leaned the general against the brick wall and took a few deep breaths. She needed a moment to gather herself.

  “You aren’t allowed to die on my watch,” she said. Asher didn’t look up. She snapped her fingers inches from his nose. He stood at attention. “Got it?”

  “I need to stay awake,” he agreed. His dark brown eyes glazed over.

  Emperor’s ancestors , she did not have time for this.

  “Tell me about your family.”

  She needed a way to keep him awake and alert while she thought of a plan. Asher fixed her with a half-hearted raised eyebrow. Narra narrowed her eyes.

  She wasn’t asking.

  Asher sighed and tilted his head back against the brick. His breaths fogged the air. “I’m the bastard son of Zaneth. What else is there to say?”

  “So you’re Emperor Malek’s half-brother?” She already knew this, but it helped to have him speaking. The glaze slowly faded from his eyes as he stared at the stars.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ve never married, but you have a son?”

  “Yes. Ezriel,” he said. Asher held his wounded shoulder gingerly. “I met his mother a long time ago, when I was a young man. We got involved, but it was never serious.” He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, and then laid his gaze on her. “She sent a letter several years ago when she was dying after that winter sickness hit the slums—telling me I had a son and she wouldn’t be able to take care of him anymore.” Asher swallowed audibly. “He’s been my charge ever since.”

  Narra nodded. She glanced at the street. Though the hollers from the bar were distant, the thuds of boots were not.

  Someone was nearby.

  She shifted to the mouth of the alley, keeping her only remaining dagger in hand. “Go on,” she said.

  “My brother always treated me well, and never as the half sibling bastard that many at court believed me to be. After the Battle for Bordertown, where we fought side by side against the Kiznai, he named me his chief of armies.”

  “Yes.” She let him drone on, his voice stronger than she expected. She tilted her head for the street. The hollow thuds echoed up the narrow road. They’d be on them soon.

  “Though he calls me his general, he refuses to let me back on the frontlines.” Asher shook his head. “What a fool.”

  A smile pricked her lips before she could stop it. She couldn’t believe the emperor’s brother dared call him a fool.

  “He must care a great deal for you.” Narra glanced at Asher, who continued to watch the sky, only one side of his face illuminated.

  “He does.”

  Two Patrolmen rounded the corner only a block away. Narra’s eyes widened and she jumped back into the darkness of the alley. Asher met her gaze with his eyebrows cinched together.

  “Patrolmen.” She froze. Wait. Patrolmen would know Asher’s face, or at the very least his rank. They’d be able to get him to a doctor quickly and safely. She sighed in relief and stuck her index fingers into the corners of her mouth. A shrill whistle pierced the quiet.

  The boots stopped.

  “What was that?” a deep voice snapped .

  “Rheka, what are you doing?” Asher leaned off the wall, nearly losing his balance. He righted himself before he toppled into her.

  “Saving your life,” she said. She glanced at the street. Two tall men in blue jogged across the cobblestone.

  “I guess I owe you another life debt.” Asher smiled.

  Narra glared at the general. “I guess you do.” With irritation flashing through her, she sunk into the shadows of the alley.

  Asher slid to the floor of the passage, his boots scraping against the packed earth. His hand barely clutched his wound.

  The two Patrolmen skidded to a stop, blocking most of the streetlight.

  “Sir!” one of them gasped. “Are you all right?”

  The second leered through the dark. “You there!”

  Narra danced back through the alley and disappeared around the corner. Boots followed her for only a moment. She spun into the alcove of a shop entrance, pinning her back to the wall.

  “We don’t have time for this Franc, we need a steamwagon now!” the first man called to the second.

  The second huffed out a growl, only a few feet from her hiding spot. Her heart beat loudly in her ears. After a long pause, his boots kicked up gravel and he returned to the alley.

  Narra left her hiding spot and found an escape ladder a street over. She gripped the cold metal rungs and hoisted herself up the bars until she reached the two-story roof. She had to make sure Asher got out of there alive. Though it was he who owed her many debts, somehow she still cared whether he lived or died. The thought startled her. She froze on the roof’s lip, watching the scene unfold below. One of the officers took off for help, while the other used a small med kit to patch up the bullet wound.

  The man whispered calm assurances until sirens filled the night and a bronze-plated steamwagon barreled down the cobblestone from the shopping district.

  Its wheels skidded on the damp ground, and three men hopped out of the cab. They heaved Asher from the ground and deposited him in the back, two of them staying at his side while the others leapt back in the front. The engine roared and they pulled away from the curb.

  Narra stood, a chill breeze ruffling her loose strands and raising the hairs on the back of her neck. At least the general would be one less man on her conscience that night. She rubbed her arms and crossed the barren roof for the rusted escape ladder.

  She still had a pirate to find.

  Narra surveyed Nedan Inn from an alley. The rooftops surrounding the bar were shingled and would make for horrible climbing in her current footwear. She glared between the irritating boots and her target. Several Patrolmen had stopped by in the hour she watched, but no charges had been pressed with the problem long gone.

  Once the officers disappeared down the street and Jin closed the bar for the night, she snuck around back. The back entrance of the two-story wooden inn was surrounded by a plank fence with an easily destroyable lock. She broke it off with her dagger, the pieces of the metal latch clicking faintly against her velvet boots before landing on the rugged stone alley. She slipped inside the small backyard with trash bins and empty kegs piled against one wall and two chairs with a tin ashtray against another.

  She went for the backdoor, a slab of oak with a single glass window across the top. The door was unlocked. Perfect .

  Narra eased the door open. It creaked, and she winced. The door had to be nearly as old as the empire. With an irritated glare at the slab of wood, she slipped between the spaces she’d made, just big enough for her to slide through.

  The kitchen beyond the door had a single lantern dangling from the ceiling. Its small flame
flickered, the oil nearly run dry. Though she’d been inside Jin’s bar many times, she hadn’t the faintest idea where he’d be now. With his patrons gone, and any of the travelers upstairs most likely asleep, the innkeeper had to have somewhere to stay. Perhaps a room of his own ?

  She shut the door softly behind her and padded across the worn wood floor.

  It creaked beneath her toes, the heels of her boots clicking ever so softly. She should have returned home to change while she waited. Instead Vena’s choice of attire and footwear continued to hinder her movements.

  Narra passed by the cabinets, worn countertops, and into the bar beyond. Darkness consumed the front room. Not even the hearth’s embers lit the black.

  “Who’s there?” a voice growled. The kitchen door slammed open. She spun, her dagger raised.

  Wielding the kitchen lantern, Jin crashed into the dining room, his eyes wild and breath heavy with ale. Narra stopped and their eyes met. She lowered the dagger.

  “You!” he bellowed. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his dark eyes.

  Narra placed her hands on her hips. “I came here for information, and I’m not leaving without it.”

  “You upset my entire inn, brought the Patrolmen down upon us and—”

  Narra cut off his tirade. “It was your overreaction that brought on the riot.”

  “You impudent girl !”

  She had her dagger to his throat before he could blink. “Take me to Mikael Ruvand’s room.”

  Jin’s eyes flew wide beneath his bushy brows, disappearing into his shaggy bangs. He sighed deeply and raised his hands in surrender. Once the fight left the man’s body, she lowered her weapon and stepped out of his path.

  The older man grumbled beneath his breath as he stomped to the stairs leading to the second floor where the guests stayed. He plucked a set of keys from his pocket and shuffled upward, stairs creaking beneath his heavy frame.

  The lantern cast shadows on the dark wooden walls, sparse of any decoration. They reached the landing, a long hall lined with doors— tarnished metal numbers at the center of each door. Jin marched to the end of the corridor, flicked the key into the lock and swung the door wide.