Midnight Thief (9 page)

T H I R T E E N

K
yra winced as the cold cloth touched her shoulder.

“Hold still,” Rand growled. “It’s just a scratch.”

She tried her best not to move, but it stung. “Any others hurt?” she asked as he rinsed his washcloth.

“None from the Guild. Everyone else was smart enough to stay out of the way. You’re lucky the Red Shields arrived before that beast did you any true harm.”

Kyra wondered what Rand’s reaction would be if he knew that she’d put herself in harm’s way in order to help a nobleman. And not just any nobleman—the knight who’d overseen the herbalist’s rent collection. Kyra wasn’t sure herself why she’d done it, though it gave her some perverse satisfaction to think that the wallhugger owed her his life. For all his expensive weapons and training, he’d be dead if it weren’t for a city girl with a rock. And soon she’d take back those herbs he’d wrested from the storekeeper.

“Any news from the southwest district?” she asked.

“Alex was down there. Said the barbarians didn’t make it that far. Your friends at the Dog are likely fine.”

Could be, but she was eager to get back and see for herself.

“How is she?”

Kyra looked up to see James, arms crossed as he appraised her condition. She had wound a sheet around herself for modesty as Rand tended her back, and she pulled it more tightly around herself.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Will she be able to climb?” James asked Rand.

“She’ll heal up well enough. The scratches aren’t deep.”

James bent over her, pushing her lightly forward to look at her back.

“I’ll take over,” he said, waving Rand away. Rand raised his eyebrows but gathered his things and left.

Kyra leaned forward and studied the floor, oddly aware of James’s movements as he stepped behind her. There was a rustle of clothing as he sat down, and the sound of the washcloth being wrung. James didn’t use any less pressure than Rand, but his touch was quicker, more precise, and less painful.

“You should have been more careful,” he said after a while.

“I know.” Kyra shook her head. “Just panicked, I guess.” She drew a sharp breath as James touched a particularly sore spot.

“Easy.” He laid his hand at the base of her neck and squeezed gently. Kyra slowly let her breath out, and James continued cleaning.

“Just stay out of the way. You should know how to do that.” He dabbed the area dry. “Hold your arm out.” James took her wrist between his fingers and guided her arm to the side, pressing a bandage to her shoulder and expertly wrapping it with a long cloth. “We’ll have to move back the raid a week or two. Keep your shoulder clean. Change the bandages every day, and come back when you can move normally again.” He stood up to leave.

“James—” Kyra called before he moved out of earshot. He stopped.

She drew a breath and spoke before she lost her nerve. “The armor we took from the armory raid…I was trying to remember what style it was.”

“We took several different kinds.” His face gave nothing away.

“But most of it was leather, wasn’t it? With metal studs.”

James gave a noncommittal shrug. “It’s a common type of armor. Why do you ask?”

Kyra blinked rapidly, once again seeing the Demon Rider in the marketplace, clad in his oddly familiar leather armor. “No reason,” she said. “I just like to remember what I take.”

“We took many sets of armor that night. I’d have to check the records to get the specifics. Any other questions?”

She flushed red, unsure as to whether she imagined his mocking tone. “No, that’s it.”

“Good. Come back when you’re ready.”

“They had armor this time. Leather-studded armor.” Tristam leaned over Malikel’s desk, emphasizing his assertion with a firmly planted palm.

“You’re sure it’s from the armory raid?” asked Malikel.

“I spoke to Nels. It matches his description of what went missing. It’s just too much of a coincidence. They must be getting help from the Assassins Guild.”

“And now you’re thinking…”

“Maybe they had help avoiding the patrols.”

Malikel nodded his agreement. “Go check. I’ll join you in a couple of hours.”

Tristam rubbed the bruise on the back of his head as he walked to the archive room. The Palace healer had lectured Tristam about facing enemies without reinforcements, and as much as he hated to admit it, she was probably right. Tristam owed his life to that girl who’d thrown the stone at the demon cat. He’d combed the streets after the attack, hoping to thank her, or at least find out if she’d survived. But there had been no sign of her.

The archive room was empty, and Tristam went straight for the far cabinet, pulling out the parchment on which he’d recorded the barbarian raids since the first farm attack. He had a feeling he was close to the answers he needed about the Demon Riders. He just needed to look in the right place.

He slid his fingers down the left side of the paper, scanning the dates, looking for any clue, any hint of a connection. The attacks were spaced out unevenly but had averaged about one or two per week for the past four months. The barbarians’ first engagement with Palace troops had been in May, when he and Jack had stumbled across that fateful farm raid. Over time, encounters had trickled off, and in the past three weeks, they had evaded troops completely.

In addition to the attack logs, there were patrol schedules, some of which he had helped draw out. They were set only a few days in advance and purposely changed from week to week. Tristam laid the patrol schedules on the table next to the attack logs. At first glance, there didn’t seem to be any pattern between patrols and attacks. But then…He stopped and checked the last four attacks. They all occurred in regions for which there had been no patrol assigned that day.

Tristam jumped as the door opened and Malikel walked in. “Did you find anything?” the older man asked.

He related his findings. “The pattern only holds for the past four attacks, so I can’t be sure. But it’s suspicious.”

Malikel lowered himself into a chair, face grim. “You realize what this would mean, if what you say is true?”

Tristam nodded, fighting a rising dread. Patrol schedules were a closely guarded secret, set a few days beforehand and known only to a select few. This was far more serious than a low-level servant informing on daily activities. If the barbarians had known the patrol schedules, then the Assassins Guild’s reach was much, much, deeper. “It could still be a coincidence,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

Malikel shook his head. “It isn’t. Think about the way the attacks have changed recently. How their targets have changed.”

“The trade caravans.” The realization killed any remaining hope he had of being wrong. “The barbarians are focusing on trade caravans because they now have their schedules.” Schedules that were again known only to select Palace officials.

“We need to know everyone who is privy to this information,” said Malikel.

Tristam nodded. “I will compile a list of all knights and officials who are informed of the patrol schedules. We can start questioning people tomorrow.”

F O U R T E E N

“K
yra, Flick, look!” Idalee stood with a bowl in her right hand. Behind it, she had stacked two plates along the length of her arm. Now the girl was taking careful steps around the kitchen, hovering her other hand over the dishes to keep them from falling.

Flick applauded. “You’ll be helping out in the dining room in no time.” Idalee beamed and continued her slow circle.

Kyra forced a short smile and tried not to think about paying for broken dishes. She turned back to the kettle where Lettie’s herbs were boiling. “I think this is the last batch she’ll need,” she said to Flick. “She’s hardly had trouble lately.”

“Moving here has been good for her.” He reached for an empty bowl and held it steady as Kyra poured water into it.

“Idalee, you’re going to break them!” Kyra snapped. The girl, who had been adding yet another plate to her load, jumped and very nearly proved Kyra right. Luckily, she held on long enough to dump the dishes onto a table. The plates clattered but stayed intact.

“Whoa, Kyra!” warned Flick. Kyra turned back and lifted the kettle spout just as boiling water overflowed the bowl.

“Sorry,” she muttered, reaching for a rag. From the corner of her eye, she saw Idalee give her a puzzled look and leave the kitchen.

Flick looked askance at Kyra. “You all right? You’ve not been yourself since the attack.”

“I know.” She avoided his eyes. “I’m just having a hard time forgetting the demon cats.”

“You sure that’s the only thing?”

Kyra glanced around the kitchen. There was no one else there, and the sound of stew boiling muffled the voices in the next room. She hated admitting she was wrong, but…

“How do you decide what’s too much?” Kyra asked.

“Too much?”

Kyra started to elaborate but stopped, wondering how much she could reveal.

“What are they having you do, Kyra?” Now Flick sounded worried.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I mean…I’ve not done anything myself.”

“But you’re bothered by what they do.”

“I suppose. They’re…I don’t know. Some things…right now they scare me, but I worry I’ll get used to seeing it.”

“Worried you’ll turn into them?”

Kyra nodded uncertainly.

To Flick’s credit, he let the moment pass without reminding her that he’d warned her of that very possibility. Instead, he was silent as he stirred the bowl. “I
have
seen folk change over time. Some of the lads spent too much time around the wrong people. They got used to it too, and either got in trouble or turned into someone they didn’t want to be.”

“And it’s not just that,” said Kyra. “What if the jobs are helping them do something I don’t want to help with?” She wondered if that made any sense, but Flick nodded.

“They don’t tell you the reason for your jobs.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t figure James out. What if I’m actually helping them bring down the city or something?”

Flick laughed. “That would be impressive indeed.” Kyra kept her mouth shut about the demon cats and the armor.

“Look, Kyra, you know how I feel about them. If something doesn’t feel right, you should get out.” Kyra held a flask steady as Flick filled it.

“It’s not that easy. Some of the jobs are worth it. I feel like I’m making things better.” She wanted to say more—how good it felt to live without money worries, how nice it was to be taking care of people rather than leaning on Bella and Flick, but she couldn’t find the right words. And were those her only reasons? An image of James flashed through her mind, and she ignored the sudden tightness in her stomach.

“And I don’t know anything for sure,” she finished lamely.

Flick sighed. “I in’t really the one to go to for moral dilemmas, Kyra. Bella’s better at that.”

“Bella didn’t even like it when I was just stealing.”

“Bella’s a good woman, and surprisingly understanding.”

Kyra twisted the cap onto the flask, closing it tight. “I’ll figure it out.”

Flick looked up. “You’re not reporting to the Guild this week, are you?”

“No, James told me to rest.”

“Me and the lads are raiding a house in the northeast quadrant tonight. We could use a good cracker.”

“One of the big houses?” She perked up despite herself. It had been a long time since she’d run anything with Flick, and she missed those trips.

“You in?”

Kyra straightened, an enthusiastic reply on her tongue, when her motion pulled at the scabs on her back. “Oh,” she said, “my shoulder.”

“That’s all right, you won’t have to climb. It’s an easy job. It’d just be fun to have you in the crew.”

True, if she didn’t climb, her shoulder would probably be fine. “But if something happened, and I reopen the wound…”

“Nothing will happen. It’s an easy crack. One guard, no dogs.”

He was probably right. But on the off chance that he was wrong…James had delayed the raid once already because of her shoulder. She bit her lip.

A muscle tightened on Flick’s jaw, and his smile disappeared. “Forget I asked.”

Kyra jumped, startled at how his tone had changed. “No, it’s all right. I can—”

“It’s fine, Kyra. Really,” Flick’s voice was tight, his words clipped. “We have enough men. No need to risk your shoulder.” He stood up. “I should go check my ropes.” He left the room before Kyra could say anything more.

When Kyra returned to her room that night, she heard whimpering from Lettie and Idalee’s quarters. She knocked lightly on the door, then peeked inside when the whimpering didn’t stop. Through the darkness, Kyra could see Lettie turning and kicking on the bed.

“Lettie?” Kyra whispered, and moved closer. The girl continued to flail about, but was obviously sound asleep.

Kyra glanced to the other side of the bed, surprised that the older girl wasn’t comforting her sister, only to see that no one was there. She sat down and stroked Lettie’s hair, whispering comforting words much as Bella used to. The child opened a sleepy eye and closed it again. Her breathing steadied, and she relaxed.

Kyra tucked the blankets around Lettie and took care not to jostle the mattress when she stood. Was Idalee gone because Kyra had snapped at her earlier? She doubted it. It wasn’t like Idalee to run out like that. Kyra searched the hallways of the upper floor, then the lower floors. She was beginning to worry when, finally, she found Idalee sitting outside the back door with a blanket wound tight around her shoulders. The girl gave a self-conscious smile as Kyra approached.

“It’s late,” said Kyra gently.

“I know. I should go back in.”

Kyra sat down beside her. “Any reason you’re out here? Was it because I snapped at you today?”

For a moment, Idalee looked confused. Then she shook her head. “Oh no, not that.”

“I’m sorry, by the way,” said Kyra.

Idalee shrugged her scrawny shoulders. The girl seemed preoccupied with other thoughts.

“So why aren’t you in bed?”

Again, that self-conscious smile. “It’s silly,” Idalee said.

Kyra nudged Idalee with her hip. “Well, I already know you’re silly, so you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

There was a long pause. “I just like to sleep out here sometimes,” Idalee said.

“Why?”

Idalee scrunched up her face, still hesitating, until she finally let out a breath. “I don’t want to get used to sleeping in a bed. In case I have to go back out there.”

Kyra knew the fear deeply, the worry that getting off the streets had been a fluke, that she would somehow lose everything and end up back where she started. She’d grown better at suppressing it over the years, but it had never completely disappeared.

“We won’t let that happen.”

The words felt empty, weightless even as they left Kyra’s lips. Kyra could tell from Idalee’s expression that the girl didn’t believe her. Idalee had seen too much of life to be comforted by a trite remark.

Kyra sighed. “Sorry. I’m not sure why I said that. I know you’re not a child anymore.”

Idalee tucked her bare feet farther under her blanket. Bella had given her shoes, but the child never wore them. “No, I understand,” she said. “Sometimes it’s better to pretend we can control things.”

Kyra put an arm around Idalee and pulled her close. “When I first started living here,” she said, “I squirreled away a roll from every meal. I always kept at least six rolls in my room. Fruits and meat pies too, sometimes. For a while, Laman couldn’t figure out why there were so many rats around.”

Idalee smiled. “He forbade me and Lettie from keeping food in my room when I moved in.” She paused, and her voice became more hesitant. “Lettie’s a lot happier than she used to be. She’s got so much more meat on her bones now than when it was just me trying to feed us.”

“You’ve always taken good care of Lettie. Even when it was just the two of you.”

Idalee wiped a furtive hand across her eyes, and Kyra pretended not to notice. It was then that she remembered. “I’d forgotten. James gave me some extra coin to share with anyone who needed it. I can’t give it to my friends, but I’m sure we could pass it to the other gutter rats. Do you want to visit them tomorrow?”

“Coin?” Idalee looked confused. “Just to give out?”

“That’s what Rand said.”

Idalee’s eyes brightened and she gave a quick nod. “They’d really like that.”

Kyra smiled. “Great. We’ll find them tomorrow evening.”

It would be good for Idalee. For both of them.

She reported back to the Guildhouse a few days later. James was surveying the storeroom.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

“Like new.”

“Really? I’d expected it to take a few more days.”

She swung her arm experimentally. There was a lingering bit of stiffness, but it wasn’t bad at all. “Mayhap it wasn’t as bad as it looked.” As proof, she pulled her tunic down over her shoulder. The skin was new but whole, and there were hardly any scars. James traced the pattern of what had been a claw mark. The light touch made her shiver.

“You’re right,” he said.

A voice in her head pointed out that with her quick recovery, Kyra could probably have run that job with Flick, no problem. She pushed it aside. They’d done fine without her—come back with several bags of flour and dried meat. She’d offered to help him carry his spoils into the back room. He’d declined.

James led her to his study, where he took out a map and rolled it open on the table. It was one of her earliest drawings of the outer compound.

He pointed at a building midway between the outer and inner walls. “This is the storehouse, right?”

Kyra nodded.

“Ideally, I’d send four men in, plus you. That’s enough to carry out the herbs of most value without being weighed down. The question is whether we can get four men in this far.”

Kyra looked closely at the storehouse, considering several possible routes. “I don’t think we can. There’s guards doing half-hour rounds in this region. We’d likely run into several, and a crew that big is hard to hide.”

James traced a path with his finger. “What about this way, through the kennels?”

“The kennels?” Sometimes James had the strangest ideas. “There are less guards, but that’s because they don’t need to patrol an area housing several dozen guard dogs. We’d never get through without raising the alarm.”

“Do they bark at you?”

“No, but I’m a dog talker. They’ll stay quiet for me, but I in’t good enough to get four strangers through.”

“We can drug the dogs. I’ve something that will put them to sleep long enough to get us by. They’ll be groggy in the morning, but not enough to alarm the handlers.”

Kyra cocked her head. “Put a kennel full of dogs to sleep? How strong is this medicine?”

“It’ll do the job, if you can get it into their water bowls.”

She wondered for a moment how much easier life as a thief would have been if she’d been able to get dogs to nap for Flick and the other boys. Kyra looked at the map with new eyes, intrigued by the possibilities. “How long does it take to put them out?”

“You’ll want to wait at least three hours to make sure all the dogs have taken some. Even then, you’ll need to be on the lookout for any that didn’t get enough. Not all of them will drink it right away.”

“I can do that.” She could probably encourage them to drink too.

“When the dogs are ready,” he continued, “you can meet us outside the east wall.”

She nodded, forgetting her doubts about the Guild as the excitement of planning took over. “I can lead you in from the perimeter. Between the wall and kennels, there’s one guard we’ll have to dodge. We’ll be safe enough passing through the kennels if the dogs are asleep. On the other end, there’s one other Red Shield, but he only passes once every thirty minutes. Once we’re inside the storeroom, we’ll be fine if we close the door and keep the noise down. They hardly ever check inside.”

“Good.” James looked down at the map. “Then the question is who to bring. I’ll need my best.”

“Bacchus?” asked Kyra. He seemed to be one of James’s favorites.

“No. Whoever goes in will have to take orders from you, and I don’t trust him to do that.” The corners of his mouth crept up when he saw Kyra’s expression. “Aye, I do notice what goes on in the Guild. Bacchus
is
one of my best. He’s loyal. He’ll take a knife for me without question, and he’s gotten us out of trouble more times than I can count, even when it was my mistake that put us there. But he can be…stubborn, about some things. He’ll come around with time.”

“All right,” said Kyra. “No Bacchus, then.” She had to admit it was a relief. Bacchus had not been openly hostile since the armory raid, but they weren’t exactly the best of friends.

James squinted at the wall, lost in thought. “Alex is solid all around. We’ll take him. Rand’s fast, but he loses his head under pressure. Shea can keep him in line if we keep them together. Will you be the only one scouting ahead?”

“Should be. I don’t see why we’d need other scouts.”

“This will do, then. Shea can’t fend off multiple guards, but if we stay together, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You know your men well,” said Kyra.

“Your job is to crack the Palace. This is mine.”