Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1)

I spent a good portion of the night reading the books from Jase’s shelves. After thumbing through several, I realized that nearly all of them were handwritten—and most by Jase. Some of the first books on the top shelf were in a more childish scrawl. It seemed to be a part of his schooling, having to record the family history and stories in his own hand. Maybe that was another reason he knew it so well. Many of the histories were curious, not long stories but hundreds, maybe thousands of short journal entries, some of them bare sentences, beginning with the first one from Greyson Ballenger: Write it down, write down every word once you get there, before the truth is forgotten.

It was one of the ways Pauline had taught Wren, Synové, and me to read, copying some of the ancient histories of Gaudrel, though I hadn’t begun to fill even a single book with words, much less shelves of them. This wall of books wasn’t just a matter of a reading lesson, this was the Ballenger code, a passion, never forgetting where they had come from. Whereas some of us tried to do just the opposite.

I found myself touching the words, imagining Jase as he wrote them, imagining him as a child like Nash, imagining him growing up in this large, close-knit, powerful family, imagining his concentration as he wrote every word.

I startled awake to the sound of rapping at the door and found my hand still lying across the middle of an open book. It felt like I had barely dozed off. I had just thrown back the sheet when Vairlyn, Priya, and Jalaine burst through the door. Vairlyn carried a breakfast tray; Priya, a folded pile of clothes; and Jalaine plopped a pair or riding boots down on the floor, then made herself comfortable at the foot of my bed.

They breezed in like they knew me, like I wasn’t just a grudging guest, but someone else. Priya whisked open drapes, letting light flood in, and Vairlyn set the tray on the side table by the armchair and poured a warm drink into a cup from a small pewter pot. They all seemed in a cheerful mood, even the sullen Priya. She shook out a folded riding skirt, eyeing it for size. “This should fit. I’m taller, but this is one of my shorter skirts. It hits me just below my knees. It should be fine on you. I don’t know what Jase was thinking when he sent for one of Jalaine’s dresses.”

“He wasn’t thinking,” Jalaine said. “He was—”

“Sorry to wake you,” Vairlyn said, “but we’re heading out soon.”

She handed me the cup she had poured and then a bowl of some sort of eggish pudding.

Jalaine’s gaze swept across the room. She had a broad grin pasted across her face. “You kicked out Jase?” She was clearly amused, seeing Jase only as her big brother and not as Patrei.

“I didn’t exactly—”

“Let the girl eat,” Vairlyn scolded. “It’s too early for questions.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

They explained that we were on our way to Hell’s Mouth. Apparently, the whole family was making a show there today so the Ballenger presence was strongly seen and felt. They didn’t only want to erase doubts among the townsfolk, but also wanted to reinforce among the leagues that the passing of power hadn’t weakened the family. I was to be part of that show—a premier soldier of the Vendan queen walking side-by-side with the family.

“And Jase? Will I see him?”

Priya laughed, and she exchanged a glance with Jalaine. “I think she still doesn’t get it.”

“Yes,” Jalaine answered. “You will definitely see Jase.”

* * *

We stepped out the front door of the main house, and Priya noted with a grumble that our horses still weren’t here. I asked if there was time for a little tour before we left, and I was surprised when Vairlyn readily agreed.

“Why not,” she answered. “It looks like we have a few minutes until they bring the horses around.”

Maybe getting the lay of the land at Tor’s Watch wasn’t going to be as hard as I thought—at least now that I was an insider. Getting around last night had been impossible. Eluding the guards wasn’t hard, but unlike a very willing tiger, the dogs were trained not to take food from anyone, so the meat I had taken from the kitchen to cozy up to the beasts went to waste. And hissing vaster itza did nothing to calm them—apparently they only liked hearing the order from Jase. But with a little patience, I was sure I’d find a way into their dark, snarling hearts. Even the most hardened lords and merchants had chinks in their cruel armor. “Where are the dogs?” I asked hesitantly as we walked down the front steps.

“You heard them last night?” Priya asked.

“Only a little snarling.”

“Probably just chasing a rabbit,” Jalaine interjected.

Vairlyn patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. The night dogs are kenneled during the day. The only ones about now are the gate dogs, and they’re likely resting in a nice shady spot. The days are getting so hot.” She brushed back a thick lock of hair, and I was struck again with how young she seemed—and yet a widow already. This way,” she said, pointing to a path that ran between the towering main house and another large building. As we walked past it, she told me that each of the houses had a name. “This one here is Raehouse. It was named for the first child of Greyson and Miandre. It holds the offices for the Ballenger businesses. Priya manages it.”

“How many businesses do you have?”

Priya blew out a puff of air. “Dozens. Farms. A lumber mill. The Ballenger Inn. But the main ones are managing the arena and Hell’s Mouth.”

Dozens. What were the others she hadn’t mentioned? It was those I was curious about, particularly the purpose of housing a cold-blooded killer. What was his business here? According to the queen, the former Watch Captain at the Morrighese citadelle wasn’t notably skilled at any one thing. He’s an average swordsman, an average commander, but he’s an above average deceiver. His skill is in his patience. The betrayal of her family burned in the queen as much as the betrayal of the kingdoms. She would never forgive nor forget it. Besides poisoning her father, the Watch Captain planned a massacre that killed her eldest brother, and he instigated another attack where her youngest brother lost his leg and her third brother was gravely wounded. He never fully recovered and died a year later. When the whole plot was uncovered, she found out that the captain’s stake in all this, besides a fortune, was one of the many kingdoms the Komizar had planned to conquer. Gastineux was to be his. Captain Illarion never got his prize. All the outside world held for him now was a noose—or perhaps he thought there was a second chance to regain what had slipped through his fingers. Is that what he hoped to gain here? His lost wealth and power? And why would the Ballengers be willing to give it to him? Did their ambitions match his?

“The records for all the businesses are kept here in Raehouse. Priya is good with numbers,” Vairlyn said with obvious pride.

Priya shrugged. “Numbers don’t lie. They’re far more reliable than people.”

“Really?” I questioned. “Numbers can be manipulated.”