Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1)

Why Kazi? Why steal something you had no use for?

There was only one reason I could share with her.

I wanted to let it go. I knew eventually the animal would die, and the butcher would watch it happen, slowly, for it would have taken all of the butcher’s precious meats displayed in his shop to properly feed such a beast and he would never sacrifice his livelihood for an animal, nor would he care day by day as he watched the tiger’s ribs protrude, its cheeks hollow, and its flesh sag. He already saw that every day among his human patrons, and their suffering didn’t sway him. Besides, he would profit from the tiger’s death too, selling its tough meat as magical, pulling its enormous teeth from its jaws for trade with other merchants, selling patches of its striped hide to the chievdars, and its clawed paws to governors who loved exotic trophies from the land beyond the Great River. When the last roar of the tiger was gone, death would be a bonus, bringing more rewards to the butcher. He paid a hefty sum to the Previzi driver but knew he would triple his investment in a few short months, and in the meantime he would derive his ultimate pleasure from the fear he would sow, and he’d have yet another way to chase the undesirables from his stall.

I had already experienced the fear he liked to spread four years earlier. My mother had been gone for only a handful of days. I was lost without her, and my eyes itched with hunger. I had stumbled upon his shop, his skinned lambs hanging from hooks, a flurry of flies buzzing and tasting their slick pink flesh, his caged doves pecking at one another’s bald heads, his mysterious pearlescent meats showing the rainbows of age, and I had stopped to stare, wondering how I might make such treasures mine, when I felt a sharp snap across my face. I hadn’t even had time to reach up to touch my bleeding cheek, when it slashed across my calves. And then I saw him laughing, watching my confusion. He lifted his willow switch and snapped it again, the lithe green branches cutting across my brow. I ran, but he yelled after me, warning me to stay away. Street rats with no money were less welcome than the flies that swarmed his meats.

But the prize was something that could have easily turned and killed you. Was it worth risking your life?

She had looked at me thoughtfully then. I knew the queen had the gift, but I didn’t think she could read minds. Even so, she saw the answer in mine. Yes, it was worth it. Every missed meal was worth it. The grueling new depths of patience I had to learn were worth it. Every groveling favor I had to pay off was worth it.

But there was more I couldn’t tell her. A reason that hooked into my heart as sharply as a claw. It was the tiger’s eyes. Their beauty. Their shine. Their amber glow that had wrapped me so tightly with memory that I couldn’t breathe. I saw the desperate brokenness in them that was masked behind a defiant roar. Shhh, Kazi. Don’t move.

In the flash of that moment, I already saw myself leading him across a rickety chain bridge, setting him free in a forest where he would roar, fierce, loud, and unbroken. At least that was my hope for him, to be restored and free.

The animal you steal for me will be even more dangerous, Kazimyrah. You must be every bit as careful and cunning, and above all, you must use every ounce of patience you possess. You must not be reckless with your own life nor with those who are with you. This beast will turn and kill you.

Cunning. Careful.

Patient.

I had always been patient. Even the simple stealing of a turnip or a mutton bone required waiting for opportunity to cooperate. It might take an hour or more. And when opportunity didn’t present itself, more patience to create opportunity, or learning to juggle to distract a merchant, or telling them a puzzling riddle to make their minds tumble in different directions, abandoning their guard. The brass-button theft alone had taken a week of planning and patience. The theft of the tiger, over a month, testing my limits, always unsure if the tiger would survive long enough for me to follow through with my plan, wanting to rush, but then holding back, my patience gnawed and eaten away, like a worried bone. I thought nothing could be harder.

But this theft of a traitor had complications I hadn’t foreseen, namely Jase Ballenger. And now something else had gone wrong, something worse than a complication. I could hear it in Mason’s deliberate footsteps and the long silence between us. I could taste it in the air, the foreboding tang of blood and anger. In Venda, when I sensed things going wrong, I could back out, silently walk away, and disappear into a crowd. Move on to a different mark. Here, I couldn’t do that.

Patience, Kazi. Patience. There is always more to draw from.

It was a lie I told myself.

So far I believed it and that was all that mattered.

I eyed the blood on Mason’s sleeve. What business had suddenly taken them all by storm? Did they find Wren and Synové? What if the blood was—

“Why didn’t Jase come and get me?” I asked.

Mason grinned. “Am I really such a bad escort? Don’t believe the rumors.”

“I always believe rumors.”

“Relax. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

When someone said that, it was precisely the time to be worried. “I was only wondering—”

“Jase had to go clean up.”

Clean up? He was spotlessly clean just a few hours ago. “It must have been some very messy business you were taking care of.”

“It was.”

I knew I wasn’t going to get anything more out of him. Mason was tight in the inner circle, family, one of many keystones firmly wedged and committed, and nothing could make his lips slip free for anyone outside that circle. I understood and admired that because one loose stone could make a whole bridge collapse, but unfortunately, his

loyalty did nothing to help me.

We reached the end of a long hall. Tiago and Drake stood on either side of the doors.

“They’re inside,” Drake said. “Waiting.”

Who? A salty taste swelled on my tongue. Patience, Kazi. The tiger is not yet yours. And I knew patience was the dividing line between success and failure.