Time Thief: A Time Thief Novel (33 page)

“I was expressing my concern about your well-being, you great big lout!”

“Why were you doing that?” he inquired conversationally. “Are you in love with me?”

“Right now I want to smack you upside the head for that annoying comment,” she snapped.

“Go ahead. My hands are tied. I can’t stop you.”

She straightened her shoulders and looked down her nose at him. “I am not the sort of person who takes advantage of a bound man.”

With a wry look, he glanced down at his crotch, which, thankfully, had ceased its attempt to burst through his fly.

She colored. He loved that he could make her blush,
and thought of several ways to do just that when they were finally alone.

“Well, I don’t take advantage in the sense you meant. Sunil, are you done yet? I think we need to be getting out of here before the others come back.”

“I am almost finished. This last bit here is tricky, is it not? Peter-ji, will you be calling others from the Watch in for the arrest? I do not wish to appear like a coward, but I will admit to being concerned about you taking on two Travellers with only the popsy and me to assist.”

Peter had opened his mouth to tell Kiya that he had absolutely no intention of running away when Sunil’s words penetrated the dense haze of fascination that Kiya had woven around him. “What are you talking about?”

The tape gave way on his wrists, allowing him to (painfully) rip off the bonds. It was both a relief to bring his hands forward to flex his fingers and agony a few seconds later when feeling returned to them. He gritted his teeth and ignored the pain long enough to remove the tape from Kiya’s wrists.

“Ouchie. That was beginning to hurt, although William obviously didn’t tie me up as tight as you,” she said, rubbing her wrists.

“I am speaking to you about what I found at the magician’s house.”

“What magician?” Kiya asked, kneeling and taking first one of his hands, then the second in her own in order to massage them. Peter didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was just making the pins and needles, not to mention the abrasions caused by the tape, hurt worse.

“There’s a magician in this area who Dalton has been investigating. Did you find him?” he asked Sunil as the latter’s light bobbed around the caravan.

“I was just telling you about it,” Sunil said cheerfully, then proceeded to summarize his findings.

“Holy jebus,” Peter said softly, considering this information.

“I don’t understand. You mentioned a glamour before, but who’s this whipping boy? And why would Travellers care about them? Nice appropriation of my favorite swearwords, too.”

Kiya pressed a little kiss on the top of his hands. He felt something inside him melting away, leaving him with a warm glow that permeated every cell in his body.

“A whipping boy.” He dragged his mind from the wonders of this new emotion to what Sunil had said. “A glamour I can understand—they can be used for many things. But what purpose would a Traveller have for…ahhh.”

Kiya pointed a finger at him. “You’ve just had an aha moment, haven’t you?”

“I believe the word that Peter-ji was saying was ‘ahhh,’ not ‘aha,’” Sunil corrected her.

“Look at his face,” she told the animus. “He knows something and he’s not spilling. And he’d better, because if he thinks I’m going to marry a man who doesn’t share when he’s figured out something that’s missed me, he can think again.”

“You are getting married?” Sunil buzzed close to his ear and said softly, “Peter-ji, far be it from me to be telling you how to manage your relationships with popsies—”

“Popsy, singular,” Kiya said. “There are no popsies plural in his life.”

Peter grinned at her. “Just one popsy.”

“—but you have not known her very long. Please be
forgiving me for speaking of you as if you were not an honorable woman, but Peter-ji is my friend, and to him I owe my loyalty and advice wherever I can offer it.”

“I think it’s kind of sweet, actually. That you value Peter so much, that is, not that you’re trying to warn him off me. We got off the subject, though. What did you aha about?”

“The whipping boys.” He stood up, flexed his shoulders a few times to make sure the blood had returned to circulating as per normal, then held out a still tingling hand for Kiya. “And now it’s time to arrest a murderer.”

T
hey were waiting for us when we left the RV. All of Peter’s family: Mrs. Faa, the pugs, the wives and grandsons—even the kids—were parked at a kiddie table where they made sleepy efforts to utilize the crayons and paper before them. It had to be around six in the morning, and yet those poor children had been dragged out of bed and forced to color while the adults stood clustered around Mrs. Faa’s chair.

“Well, that doesn’t look good,” I said sotto voce when they turned, en masse, to glare at us. “Everyone is there but Gregory. That rotter. I swear to you that I saw him right before I was bashed on the head, which means either he’s purposely hiding to make us look bad, or he’s staying out of our sight so the family can pretend we’ve done something drastic to him.”

“I don’t think either of those propositions are correct,” Peter answered.

I twined my fingers around his. Behind us, the tiny ball of light that was Sunil whisked back and forth, careful to keep hidden behind us. “You don’t think Gregory is guilty? How can you say that? He was in my tent right alongside Andrew.”

“I think Gregory is guilty of nothing more than bad
judgment. In fact, I’m beginning to believe he might be the only one in this family who sees things as they really are.” Peter’s fingers tightened around mine as he marched over to his family.

William stepped forward angrily, but Andrew put a hand on his arm. “I should have used more tape,” the former growled.

“It wouldn’t have mattered. We have a secret weapon. Oh, you little darlings!” The pugs, who had been clustered around and on Mrs. Faa, scrambled over to frolic around our feet. Clothilde put her paws on Peter’s legs until he absently picked her up, releasing my hand so he could stroke her.

“You’re a shameless hussy,” I told Clothilde. She rolled her bulging eyes back in bliss as Peter’s fingers massaged her neck. I bent to pick up Jacques (who was examining my shoe with a familiar glint in his eye) and Frau Blucher, feeling that no one would attack a woman who was holding two adorable puggies.

“What weapon?” Andrew asked.

“It wouldn’t be secret if we told you,” Peter answered. I gave him a pug-paw high five. “Andrew Faa, I come in the name of the L’au-dela Watch to arrest you for the murders of the mortals Mandy Tallweaver, Shelley Boyse, Antoinette Ducaste, and Melville Wickham. You should know that I am authorized to use force to bring you to a place of confinement, and any statement you make in my presence will be duly furnished to the proper authorities. Are you willing to come with me without resistance?”

Andrew said some things that I won’t repeat here, because my foster mom raised me to be a lady.

“Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?” I
asked, tucking Jacques under my arm so I could cover Frau Blucher’s ears.

He ignored me. One side of Peter’s mouth twitched, however, which made me feel he approved…or at least appreciated the humor of the situation.

“No, I will not come with you to be arrested on your trumped-up charges! Further, I refuse to allow your persecutions of my family to continue. Puridaj, it is time for the kris. I stand before you in the form of krisatora. Do you so accept me?

“I stand before you as krisatora, as well,” William said, his eyes narrowed and glittering with an unholy light. “Do you so accept me?”

I leaned against Peter. “What’s—”

“Krisatora is one who takes the position of judge at a kris. Tradition demands that there are three, and it is they who make the judgment of guilt or innocence.”

I glared at both men. “Oh, like you’re going to be impartial judges. Right, if those two rat finks get to be krisajudges, I get to be one, too.”

“Krisatora,” Peter corrected.

“You can’t be a krisatora,” Andrew snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because this kris is to judge you and Peter Faa!” William answered for him. He turned to Mrs. Faa. “Do you accept us?

“Yes,” she said slowly, her gaze dropping when Peter and I both looked at her. “Yes, I accept you as krisatora.”

“There, you see?” I smiled my best “beat you at your own game” smile at the men. “She accepted me.”

Andrew snorted. “That acceptance did not include you.”

“Actually, I believe it did. Lenore Faa did not differentiate
between those who stated they were willing to judge the kris.” Peter looked at me with interest. “You are about to officiate over your first kris.”

“Go, me.” I gave him a warm smile, then without asking took my place at one of the empty picnic tables, setting down the dogs before me. “Right, let’s get this kangaroo trial under way. I have a man to molest, and I want to do so before the pugs need to do their morning walkies.”

“Puridaj!” Andrew turned to his grandmother, clearly pleading for her to take action.

My smile turned to a cheeky grin when the old lady lifted a hand and said in a clear, forceful voice, “Cease complaining, and get on with it.”

“Right, I’ll chair, shall I?” I bent to the side to pick up a large rock that would make a good gavel, and rapped a couple of times on the top of the table, which made the pugs bark. “First order of business: is Peter guilty of doing something bad to Gregory? I say no. Votes? I’ll take your lack of response as a proxy vote for me, which means hurrah, Peter is innocent. I hereby declare this kris finito.”

“It does not work that way,” Andrew snarled. “Puridaj, you must realize this is intolerable.”

“Very well.” Mrs. Faa gave him an unreadable look. “We will conclude the kris, and I will allow Peter Faa to take you into custody. You may plead your case to the Watch.”

“That’s one for team us,” I told Peter before sending a little smile Mrs. Faa’s way. It seemed to me that her heart wasn’t in the condemnation of Peter.

“Perhaps,” was all he said, but I could tell he was annoyed. He had that look in his eye like he wanted to
punch his dad and cousin, but he was pretty good on the self-control front, and simply stood, relaxed and apparently bored by the whole thing.

“Peter Faa, do you deny stealing that which belonged to the family? Do you deny stealing the time of Gregory Faa until he was left without any time, thus rendering him deceased? Do you deny attempting to make the Watch believe that this family was behind the murder of mortals?” William asked in a voice that was fat with grandiosity.

“I do so deny those charges,” Peter answered with a formality that seemed to be inherent to the proceedings.

I sat up a bit straighter and arranged the pugs so that they looked more suited to my sudden role of dignified judge. “I second that denial. That makes two no votes. And since you guys only have two votes, that means we’ll have to go to a tiebreaker. As head krisatora judge, I will perform that by saying not guilty. That gives us a three to two majority.”

“You already voted,” Andrew argued, jabbing his finger toward me. “You can’t vote twice!”

“Sure I can. That first vote was from me the person who was charged with these so-called crimes. The second vote was my official judge vote.”

“You have just one vote,” Andrew said, frowning.

“She has no votes whatsoever! She isn’t a member of this family, and thus she is not able to sit as krisatora!” William snapped, shooting his nephew an irate look.

“And yet, it would appear that I’m doing just that.” My placid smile was a winner in this situation—it appeared to give Andrew some sort of apoplectic fit.

While he was sputtering with anger, William turned to
where the other men and their families stood. “Piers Faa, do you bear witness to the fact that Peter Faa broke into our caravans, has done away with Gregory, and has long persecuted this family for no reason?”

“I do so witness,” Piers answered. The bastard.

“Where’s your proof? You have no proof, do you? You can’t just say he’s guilty and then expect me to believe that, because hello! Life doesn’t work that way. No proof, no conviction. Them’s the rules.” I crossed my arms as Jacques barked at William.

Mrs. Faa commanded him to be silent. Jacques, that is, not William, which was a shame when you thought about it.

“Arderne Faa, do you bear witness to the fact Peter Faa committed those acts which I have just stated?” William ignored me to ask the other grandson.

He didn’t even glance our way, just bowed his head, and said in a soft voice that he stood witness to our crimes.

“It’s a good thing I believe in karma getting people who lie for their own good,” I told Arderne. “Because otherwise, you’d be in a world of hurt right now.”

His eyes widened.

“Kiya,” Peter warned, his voice a low rumble.

“What, a judge isn’t allowed to threaten a witness?” I asked, all innocence.

“No. Furthermore, you are not helping our case by being so flippant.”

I gave him a long, level look. He didn’t look particularly worried, but all of a sudden, a little spurt of fear gripped me. “I apologize,” I said mostly to Mrs. Faa, but spilling a little of the apology onto the other men who stood with her. “I didn’t mean to belittle the importance of
your family traditions. Carry on with your mudslin—er—evidence.”

“It is the judgment of this kris that Peter Faa and the female Kiya Mortenson are found guilty of crimes against the family—”

“Wait a minute!” I interrupted, standing up. The pugs not on the table instantly swarmed to my feet and began yapping. “Don’t we get to present evidence of our innocence? Clothilde, really, right there? There’s a perfectly good bush not ten feet away—hold on, everyone. Let me take care of that.”

“Does anyone else find it even remotely farcical that the kris is being interrupted because one of those attending took a dump next to a krisatora?” Peter asked, his lips twitching.

I waved the pooper-scooper at the stony expression on the faces of the others before putting it to its intended use. “I think you and I are the only ones who see the humor in the situation.” A little light blinked on and off rapidly from the cover of a fern. “And Sunil.”