Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1)

“Developing!” he spit out, his lip lifted in disgust. “What does that mean?”

“It means that your goods will be protected from door to door. That’s all you need to know.”

“That’s a grandiose claim for someone—”

“Grandiose!” I answered with the same level of disgust he had just thrown at me. “What does that mean? An idea too big for your small Candoran head?”

His wiry brows twitched and a grin lit his beady black eyes. “Your father always sweetened the pot for us when we had to wait for something.?

??

I paused, even though I already knew what I would give him. If I gave in too easily, he would balk and argue for more, and I wanted to get out of here as soon as I could with what we needed—and what we needed were the Candorans. They were our largest trader, and they had legitimate complaints.

We had patrols on the major routes to conduct raids on those who came under the guise of trading at the arena, but then, just short of it, only sent a lead man in to make contacts and lure buyers away to where their caravans waited, offering them better deals and avoiding our cuts. No one used us as a storefront without paying the lease. The same patrols who guarded our interests offered a degree of safety to our legitimate traders too, but we didn’t have enough manpower to escort every caravan once they left our territory—and that’s where the other caravans had been hit. A hundred miles out. Even with their own security, drivers died and goods were lost. If there were even rumblings of them pulling out because of raids, it would hurt our business. That’s what other leagues counted on, but it was about to change. Soon, just one of our hands could single-handedly guard a whole caravan. Protection was what the Ballengers had always been good at. Now we would be able to extend it beyond our borders.

“Nothing?” the ambassador pushed, revealing his eagerness to still work with us. Our location was ultimately more central and far more comfortable—we made sure of that. Shiramar was a hot, dirty pit, and Ráj Nivad out of the way. Not to mention we looked the other way on the ambassador’s little side trades that his king knew nothing about—as long as we got our cut on those too.

“A free lease on these apartments until we deliver on our promise. That sweet enough for you?”

The ambassador nodded, his stubby fingers happily tapping his chest. “I was wrong. You are your father’s son.”

I stood. Gunner and Titus rose beside me.

“The Ballengers keep their word,” I said. “Now don’t bother me with any more of your demands.”

He huffed to his feet, a greasy smile wrinkling his face. “Patrei. Always good to do business with you.”

Once we were out of the apartment, Titus whispered, “Free lease is going to cost us a fortune. And if the other tenants get a whiff of the deal we gave him—”

“It will only cost us a fortune if we don’t deliver on our promise.”

From the arena, we went straight to see Beaufort, prepared to pressure him. For us to deliver on our promise, he and his cohorts had to deliver too, and we were tired of waiting. His promises had worn thin. But as soon as we came through the gates, he greeted us as if he anticipated our visit and ushered us over to the testing range, saying they had worked out a major stumbling block. “It was all a problem of translation,” he said, then gave us a demonstration of the arms they had promised. It was half the scale of the final firepower, but still impressive. It looked like it was everything we had hoped for—and more.

“Another couple of weeks. A month at the most to refine,” he promised. “But we do need more supplies.” Gunner and Titus gawked at the destroyed target that was more than a hundred yards away, then erupted in hoots. “Just tell us what you need,” Gunner said. “We’ll have Zane get it to you right away.”

“And the fever cure?” I asked.

Beaufort’s brows pinched together and he shook his head. “That’s a bit harder to rush along. Phineas is testing it. Don’t worry, every day brings him closer.”

Closer. I had been giving my mother that same update for months. It was a thread of hope that seemed to appease her, and for the time being, it appeased me too. The weapons we needed now, and I’d just seen evidence of that success.

Back in my room, I bathed, washing away the heavy stench of the ambassador’s apartment. I felt hopeful as I dressed, thinking about the weapons. There had been no more fires last night, and today, no evidence of more labor hunters. Things appeared to be returning to normal. I hoped the ambassador was wrong about caravan attacks, but if there were any, our patrols were instructed to come down hard—hunt down the attackers no matter what it took and find out who was ordering the hits.

* * *

Gunner whistled low. “Now that’s a sight you don’t see every day.”

Wren, Kazi, and Synové emerged from the arbor, shoulder to shoulder.

I stared at Kazi. She hadn’t spotted me yet. Her black hair was braided in an elegant crown around her head—no doubt a creation of Jalaine’s. A dusting of fallen yellow petals from the arbor clung to her hair, and her violet dress floated in light waves past her ankles. Her shoulders were nearly bare except for the smallest wisp of sleeve draped over them. Her eyes skimmed another part of the garden, searching for something, and I couldn’t help but wonder—or maybe hope—that she searched for me.

Titus elbowed me. “Close your mouth, Patrei. You look too eager.”

I was eager.

“What’s going on with the one in pink?” Gunner asked.

“That’s Wren,” Aram and Samuel said simultaneously.