Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1)

I looked at the silent one, his sweat the only indication he knew the gravity of his situation. My hatred for him rose to a different level. It was personal. The brewer’s boy was fourteen.

“So you’re in charge?”

He nodded.

“Have you done this before?”

“Not here. Other places. It’s good money. But he said it had to be Hell’s Mouth and—”

“You know whose town this is?” I asked.

He swallowed, his expression suddenly crackling with eagerness. “I’ll give you a cut,” he said. “We can make a deal. Half. You want half? Half for doing nothing.”

“You know what would have happened to the boy you grabbed?”

“A mine. He would have worked in a mine. That’s all. Good hard work.”

There was nothing good about dying in a mine. Nothing good about being shackled and hauled in the back of a wagon against your will. He couldn’t conceive that the brewer’s boy had a life, a future. He only saw him as an article of profit. I drew my knife.

“All. You can have it all,” he pleaded. “The money’s in my vest. Take it.”

“All of it?” I stepped closer and knelt so we were eye to eye. “That’s quite a deal you’re offering, but I’m in a hurry, so here’s a better one. I’ll kill you quickly instead of letting my dogs tear you to pieces—which is what you deserve.” I wasn’t sure the words had even registered before I plunged my knife into his throat. Blood sprayed my shirt and face, and he was dead before I had pulled my knife free.

I stood and my attention turned to the other two. They began wailing, trying to back away on their knees, but Mason and Titus stood behind them, preventing them from going anywhere.

“Want me to do those two?” Tiago asked.

I walked over, as if studying them. “Maybe not,” I said. “Maybe they’d be more useful to us as messengers. Would you two rather be dead or deliver a message?”

“A message!” they both agreed. “Please, any message! We’ll deliver it.”

I motioned to Mason and Titus. They jerked their heads back by their hair and in a swift second, an ear from each man was on the ground in front of them. Their screams bounced off the walls of the warehouse, but when I told them to shut up, they did. They had already witnessed what else could happen to them.

“Better. Now here’s the message. You go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and you let everyone get a good long look at your ears, and you let them know who did it—the Ballengers—and you tell them that this is the kind of trouble they’ll find in Hell’s Mouth, and no amount of money that anyone offers them is worth it. The citizens of this city are off-limits. And if I ever see either of you here again, even for a sip of water, we’ll be cutting off something much more valuable to you than your ears. My word is good. You can count on it. Understand?”

They both nodded.

“Good. Our business is done, then.”

I looked at Lothar and Rancell. “Get them bandaged up. I don’t want them bleeding out before they deliver our message.”

It was on our way back to the main house that Gunner said it was time for other messages to be sent too, the one my whole family was pushing for, and now I finally agreed. We had nothing to lose. Or so I thought.

I still couldn’t quite believe that to make good on my promise to my father, I had also agreed to rebuild a Vendan settlement. If the gods had carried that news to his ears, he was probably beating on his tomb walls, demanding to be let out, demanding to name someone else as Patrei.

I rolled out of bed and went to the window. It was dark, the work yard below quiet, a dim bluish light in the gate tower the only sign that anyone was awake, and then I saw a shadow moving through the blackness. Or I thought I did. It was just as quickly gone. Maybe one of the dogs patrolling. Barking erupted but quickly quieted again. Yes, only the dogs.

I stepped away from the window, paced, and wondered if she was having as hard a time sleeping as I was. I remembered her face when I came to her chamber, at first soft, happy to see me, but then it turned sharp.

What do you want, Jase?

I knew what I wanted.

She did too.

* * *

My hand hovered as I debated whether I should knock. It was late. The middle of the night. If she was asleep, I would wake her.