Midnight Thief (7 page)

The tea was strong, with the mix of spices common to Malikel’s homeland of Minadel, a couple of weeks’ journey south of Forge. Too many flavors in one vessel for Tristam’s taste, but it did help clear his mind. Martin took a sip, hid a grimace behind his mug, and put the drink back down.

“Did she say anything about who they were, where they came from?” asked Malikel.

Tristam shook his head. “Nothing. She’s a strong beast speaker though. Her cats obeyed her completely.”

Malikel was silent for a moment. “We’ll have to think about this further. But at least we have some confirmation that they’re out in the forest.”

There was a knock on the door. By the time Tristam registered the sound, Malikel was already halfway to the door. Tristam and Martin scrambled to their feet, but Malikel waved them back down, and they reluctantly sat, exchanging uneasy glances at letting their superior do such a menial task.

Malikel opened the door to reveal a shieldman and signaled for Tristam to wait while he and the shieldman walked into the corridor. Through the doorway, Tristam saw the older man’s face darken as the man spoke.

Malikel motioned for Tristam to join them.

“There’s been a raid,” Malikel said curtly. “Come with me, Tristam; you have an eye for detail.”

“A raid?”

“One of the Palace armories was broken into last night. I have my suspicions about who was involved, but I need someone with fresh eyes.”

Malikel questioned the guard as they followed him into the city. “I thought we had the locks changed in all the armories and storehouses.”

“We did, sir, and only two copies of the key were made.”

“And the armory guards?”

“There were two of them, and neither of them had a key. Both guards are missing.”

“This is what I was trying to avoid.” Although Malikel kept his voice level, Tristam could see the anger in his brow.

A group of men in Palace uniforms were already at the armory when they arrived, some examining the building’s outer grounds while others rushed in and out with parchments. He made quick note of the armory’s thick walls and solid door as a tired-looking official came out to meet them.

“Sir Malikel.”

“Nels, what’s missing?” Malikel asked.

Nels sighed, raising a hand to rub his temple. “Fifty to seventy-five sets of studded-leather armor. They didn’t touch the heavier ones.”

“How did they get in?” Malikel asked.

“There’s no sign of damage to the doors, and the locksmith insists these locks cannot be picked. The Palace armor steward and I have the only two keys.”

“Could someone have copied the key?” asked Tristam.

“It’s possible. Anything’s possible.”

Nels led them inside, past the atrium, and into the back rooms, where the armor was kept. Their first stop was a large chamber, a quarter of which was stacked with boxes. The room had stone walls with no windows and only one door.

“This is where the leather armor was kept,” said Nels. “They took most of it.”

The more Tristam thought about the robbery, the stranger it seemed. Fifty to seventy-five sets were enough to outfit two or three units. It was too many for a band of brigands to use themselves, which meant that whoever stole this probably intended to sell it to someone with a sizable force of armed guards. Within Forge, only the Palace employed so many soldiers. There were the neighboring cities of Parna and Edlan, but why would they go to the trouble of stealing something as simple as leather armor?

“What do you make of this, Tristam?” asked Malikel.

Tristam shared his confusion, and Malikel nodded, seemingly satisfied with Tristam’s reasoning. “I agree. It’s unlikely that Parna or Edlan is behind this. And none of the noble houses of Forge employ this many soldiers. So what does that leave us?”

“I don’t know. Is someone building a secret army at Forge’s expense? It seems far-fetched.”

“It does. And yet…” Malikel led Tristam to the back of the room, away from Nels’s hearing. “There’s unrest in the city. Whispers amongst the common-born against the Palace. My men have been picking up on it for years. Nothing concrete, but enough that I ordered all the locks changed in our important storehouses. Apparently, that was not enough.”

“But who could possibly…”

“Are you familiar with the stories of the Assassins Guild, Tristam?”

“The only Guild I know of is the one from the history books.”

The older knight nodded. “About a hundred years ago, they were a threat in the city, dealing in illegal trade and eventually becoming powerful enough to influence the government. The Palace was able to capture their leaders, and the Guild dissolved. But in the past decade, there have been rumors that it never completely disappeared. And since becoming Minister of Defense, I’ve encountered hints that they, or some organization like them, are returning to power. Reports of strangers asking our low-level servants for information, for example.”

“So someone is recruiting spies,” said Tristam. Espionage was by no means new to Forge, and all squires learned the basic history. Edlan and Parna were always trying to gain an upper hand, but they usually infiltrated the nobility to learn the goings-on at court. “Perhaps it’s not too bad, if they’ve only been able to get to the servants.”

“Don’t underestimate your servants, Tristam. They’re capable of more than you think. My predecessors as Defense Minister were too busy waving their swords at Parna and Edlan to notice the threats right around them. If they hadn’t been so quick to discount the abilities of the poor, they might have acted against the Guild before they grew strong enough to breach our walls.” They circled back to Nels. “Show us the rest of the building,” said Malikel.

They visited the other storerooms, but none had been touched. Tristam began to see why Malikel would be worried. The raid had been accomplished with unnerving precision. The burglars had known exactly what they were looking for. And even more disturbing was the fact that they’d left no signs of how they had broken in. That, combined with Malikel’s suspicions about the Guild…Tristam had to fight the urge to look over his shoulder.

After they covered the ground floor, Nels led them to the unused upper floors. A few smears in one hallway’s dust pattern caught Tristam’s eye—not quite footprints, but the dust wasn’t as smooth as in the other corridors.

“Sir Malikel,” Tristam called. He picked his way down the edge of the hallway, careful not to disturb the dust. It led to a small room, meant to be a lookout point perhaps, with three narrow windows opening high above the street. Holding his breath at the musty smell, Tristam crossed to the windows and peered out. The drop was dizzying. He spent a few moments watching the tiny people below before returning his gaze to the windowsill. They were dusty, but one slot was much cleaner than the others.

“Someone was up here.” Tristam moved aside to let his commander take a look.

“It looks like it, but how did he get up here? It’s too high for a grappling hook, and there are no buildings nearby.”

Tristam looked through the window again. The buildings across the road were much too low to offer a way up, and there were no obvious rooftops to either side. An arrow trailing a rope, perhaps? But the armory’s façade was solid stone, with no place for an arrow to lodge.

“I don’t know,” Tristam said. “But if someone had indeed climbed through this window, he could have opened the front door for the others.”

“Perhaps,” said Malikel. “Stay up here, Tristam, and take a closer look at this room. Let me know if you find anything else.”

T E N

K
yra pressed her back against the wall, palms flat on the cold stone of the alcove, ears trained toward the footsteps down the hall. This section was tricky. The door she needed was in the middle of an open hallway. Once she was out there, she’d have no cover while she picked the lock.

She waited until the footsteps faded and glanced into the corridor. Empty. Kyra took her chance and ran down the hallway. The candles cast flickering shadows that settled somewhat as she stopped outside the door.

The knob didn’t turn. Kyra hadn’t expected it to, but she never knew when someone would forget and save her some work. She looked around again—still safe. Kyra inserted a thin piece of metal into the bottom of the keyhole, twisting it and maintaining pressure as she reached for her lock pick. Some thieves favored sets of picks in different shapes and sizes, but Kyra preferred to carry just one. It required more practice, but one was lighter, simpler, and quieter to carry. Kyra kept twisting the lock as she inserted the lock pick into the top of the keyhole, delicately pushing up tumblers one by one. She knew this lock well by now. The first tumbler to give was about two-thirds of the way in. Then it was the innermost tumbler.

She stayed alert for sounds as she worked. If a guard passed, she’d have to run and start over. Tonight, however, she teased up the last tumbler without incident. The lock clicked open. Tucking her tools back into her belt, Kyra slid into the empty room and locked the door behind her.

The room was lined with cabinets, with a few desks in the middle. By now, she knew that older records were kept in the cabinets while newer ones were usually on the desks. She took a pile of records from the nearest desk, making note of their position and order, and took them to the window, shuffling through in the dim light until she found the one she wanted. Kyra then replaced the rest, fished out a pen and parchment from her belt, and grabbed an ink bottle from the table.

She copied the record line by line. Bella had taken it upon herself to teach Kyra how to read and write a few years ago, and Kyra was glad she had. James’s surprised look when she’d told him had been worth it. It took a good half hour to copy the whole thing, but finally she capped the ink bottle and returned the original to its place. She blew on her parchment, then crept back toward the door and pressed her ear against the wood. It was quiet outside.

Kyra made it down a few corridors before she heard footsteps again. She only had time to duck into a side hallway, press against the wall, and hope nobody looked back. The smell of roasted ham teased her nose, followed by three kitchen servants. One carried a half-eaten ham. Another had a platter of cheeses, and the last carried a plate of leftover fruit. The servants would take them back to the kitchen, where they would eat what they wanted and throw the rest out. It was painful to see all this waste, but Kyra couldn’t risk following them. The footsteps faded, and Kyra almost started out when she heard someone else. She held her breath as a Red Shield walked past. His scarlet tunic made her flinch. The guards at the armory had worn the same red uniforms. Several times now she’d woken up in terror and lain awake in bed as the beatings replayed in her mind. James had promised her she wouldn’t have to kill, that he’d set those guards free. But still…She pushed those thoughts aside and focused on getting out of the Palace.

James was in his study when she arrived at the Guildhouse. She dropped her parchment on his desk. “Trade route schedules for this month.”

“Good.”

She watched his eyes as he scanned the paper, trying to figure out what he used this information for. “I saw some other records tonight that might be useful. Recent payments for locksmiths.”

James looked at her in surprise. “From the Minister’s command to change storehouse locks?”

She nodded, pleased at his rare display of interest. “A list of buildings and locks. I can copy it tomorrow.”

“Well done. This new Defense Minister is getting to be a headache.”

Kyra took her leave. A few blocks from the Guild, a crowd clogged the road, and Kyra slowed to take in the scene. The people were gathered opposite a store, muttering discontentedly but softly. Apparently, they were afraid to anger the shieldmen who marched in and out, loading parcels onto a wagon. A middle-aged shopkeeper stood by the door. Anger and frustration were clearly etched in his face, but he made no move to stop them.

Kyra worked her way into the crowd, ears open for gossip. She nudged a woman next to her. “What’s going on?”

The woman glanced at her. “The herbalist couldn’t make his rent because the trade caravans lost their cargo last week. Caravans finally came this week, so the landlord’s taking his rent out of his wares.”

“It in’t his fault the caravans were raided. How’s he supposed to meet his next month’s rent with nothing to sell?”

The woman snorted. “Why don’t you explain that to Sir Knight?” She gestured toward a young knight who stood by the wagon overseeing the operation. The knight had dark hair, a high-bridged nose, and an aristocratic bearing. He was also surprisingly young, not much older than Kyra, and he said little as the soldiers carried out their duties. Kyra noticed that he avoided looking at the storekeeper. The coward nobleman couldn’t even face up to what he was doing. He’d go home tonight to the Palace and enjoy a hot meal while the storekeeper and his family scrounged their remaining coppers.

Kyra was working her way closer when someone grabbed her elbow and she fell against a well-muscled chest. Kyra looked back, opening her mouth to protest, when she found herself face-to-face with James. She snapped her mouth shut, tongue suddenly dry. James’s expression clearly said to be quiet, and his eyes flickered meaningfully toward the soldiers. She turned back to the store, pretending that nothing had happened.

“Don’t draw attention to yourself.” James’s voice was a breath on her ear, so soft even she could hardly hear it. “Wait, then follow.”

The crowd shifted behind her, and out of the corner of her eye she saw James disappear into a nearby tavern. Kyra couldn’t guess his intentions, but following him seemed wiser than continuing to gawk at the spectacle. She counted a few more breaths before going after him.

He was waiting in the entryway and acknowledged her with a quick nod, though he offered no response to her inquisitive glance. A large man, unsteady on his feet, laughed as they walked past. “Tastes running younger these days, James?” The look James shot him was pure ice. The drunk straightened and walked away. James took a seat facing the window and signaled for some ale.

“You’re too timid,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

He jerked his head in the direction of the drunkard. “The way you react to fools like him. Like you’re fading into the wall.”

Had he taken her here just to insult her? “I in’t rolling over and showing my belly. I know the type. It’s less trouble to ignore them.”

“That’s the problem. You’re avoiding trouble from them, but they should be the ones afraid of
you
.”

“Right. I’m sure Rand quaked in his boots when he bruised my shoulder last week.”

“You’re getting better.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been watching.”

The simplicity of his words—and the way he looked straight into her eyes as he answered—made her fall silent. The serving girl arrived with the ale. James flipped her a coin and looked out the window toward the crowd.

“Why are we here?” asked Kyra.

“It’s quieter here,” he said simply. Kyra drummed her fingers on her ale mug until he finally spoke again. “I see you’ve been watching the rent collection.”

Kyra shook her head, indignation rising in her chest. “It’s not his fault the caravan didn’t make it in. Is his landlord so strapped for coin he can’t wait a few months?”

“What will you do about it?”

Kyra stopped and stared. “What?”

“Will you let the landlord keep his rent, or return it to the shopkeeper?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re one of few folk who can do anything about it.” When she continued to stare at him in confusion, James laid two fingers on her jaw and guided her gaze back toward the herbal shop. “Who’s emptying the shop?”

She pulled back from his fingers. “Shieldmen.”

“Just any shieldmen? What are they wearing? Who’s commanding them?”

“They’re Red Shields. There’s a knight leading them.”

“And what kind of nobleman can request the service of the Palace guards?”

“He’d be high ranking. In with the Palace somehow.”

“Not just that,” said James. “He’d have to
live
in the Palace. And where do you think they’re taking his wares?”

Kyra’s mouth dropped open as she understood his meaning. She laid her palms on the table, staring at its surface as her mind raced. “There’s several storehouses in the outer compound. They’re too big and cluttered for me to flip through myself. I’d have to know which ones hold the herbs.”

She paused, stymied for a moment. James watched patiently.

“But there’d be records,” Kyra blurted, answering her own question. She suddenly remembered that there were others in the room and hastily lowered her voice. “They keep the inventory list somewhere. I could easily fetch it.”

“Very good.”

Kyra closed her eyes, mentally tallying the rooms she needed to search. James was right. She could do something about this, and the rush of power was exhilarating.

“But once I find the herbs, I’ll need help raiding the storehouse. I can’t do it alone.”

“We can help. Just find out where they are, and we’ll make it happen.”