Among Thieves

Chapter Thirty-one

I stood loitering against a wall across the street from the Imperial cordon, trying to look casual. That wasn’t easy, considering I had a dozen Gold Sashes staring me down.

The avenue that separated us was as wide as three normal streets and in impeccable repair. Along the west side, where I stood, ran residences with gated compounds, prosperous specialty shops, well-appointed taverns, and whorehouses of the best repute. On the east side stood the Wall, an immense line of red-and-white brick running more than a mile north to south, until it swept in a grand curve to meet the seawall that surrounded Ildrecca. Taller than any of the surrounding buildings, and thicker than most of them as well, the Wall marked the boundaries of Heaven on Earth, if you listened to the priests, or the playground of the pampered and powerful, if you had a more earthy bent. Either way, it wasn’t the sort of place to let my kind in.

But that wasn’t why the Sashes were staring at me.

I made a point of ignoring them and instead looked up at the sky. A dark smudge ran across the otherwise placid blue expanse. Ten Ways was burning, and had been for almost a day, thanks to Shadow and me. The blaze was contained-it turned out the legions were good for something after all-but there was ash settling all across the city, its pattern depending on which way the wind blew. A dark winter falling on the eve of spring.

I half wondered if the ash wasn’t following me, making sure I didn’t forget about how I had brought things to this point. Not that I would have forgotten, even under a clear sky.

The slam of the sally port in the gates across the street brought my eyes back down to earth. The Golds were at hard attention. A tall, familiar figure had just come out of the Imperial cordon. She was sporting a white sash around her waist and had ribbons running through her braid. Lyria.

She spoke to one of the Golds, who pointed in my direction. Lyria looked me over, frowned, then glanced at the folded piece of paper I’d had them deliver to her. Concerning your Oath. Outside, it read. No signature. She’d clearly been expecting someone else-a broad man with a big damn sword, a man by the name of Iron Degan.

I put an ahrami seed into my mouth and began walking away, up the street.

Footsteps came up behind me. I was just getting ready to turn around when I felt a hand grab me across the back of the neck. Another took my right shoulder and steered me into the wall. I bounced off it once, got shoved up against it again. The seed popped out of my mouth and went skittering away on the paving stones. I could hear laughter and jeers coming from the Imperial gate.

Lyria put her mouth up to my ear. “No one summons me out of the Imperial cordon, especially not a Crawler like you.”

“Back off, Sash,” I said into the wall. “I’m here as a favor.”

“To whom, Iron Degan? Did he send you?”

“Iron’s dead. I’m here as a favor to you, you stupid White.” The pressure on my neck eased momentarily, and I twisted around and shook off her grip. She didn’t bother to react.

“What do you mean, he’s dead?” she said.

“What the hell do you think I mean?” I said, rubbing where my shoulder had hit the wall especially hard. “Dead. I’m sure you’re familiar with the condition, at least secondhand.”

“You’re certain?”

“I saw him take the steel cure myself.”

“Who did it?”

I shook my head. “Not important. What is important is that I’m here to help you.”

“You help me?” Lyria stepped forward, forcing me back against the wall. “In case you’ve forgotten, you and your friend killed two of my sword brothers. The only reason I didn’t kill you before was because of my word to Iron Degan.” She smiled wickedly. “But now that he’s dead, I suppose I’m free of that, aren’t I?”

“That’s just it,” I said. “He’s dead, but your word to him isn’t; it’s gone up for grabs.”

Her back went as stiff as if she’d been called to attention herself. “What?”

That was more like it. “Your Oath wasn’t just a deal with Iron,” I said. “It was a promise to the entire Order of the Degans. If the degan who holds your Oath dies, the other degans are free to pick up the promise.”

“You think I’m an idiot?” she said. “I know the terms of the bargain. My obligation ended when I delivered you!”

“That’s not how I remember the conversation going outside the wineshop,” I said.

Lyria’s hand moved to the handle of her sword. She looked far too willing to use it at the moment. “I think maybe you’re remembering wrong, Crawler.”

I turned my head and spit into the street. Lyria puffed up even more.

“I don’t misremember things,” I said, meeting her eye, “especially when it comes to Sashes and debts.”

She pressed against me further, holding me against the wall with her body. Under other circumstances, I might not have minded; there were some interesting things going on under that uniform. As it was, though, I didn’t even have space to draw a decent breath.

“Are you threatening me, little man?”

“Not threatening; just telling. Iron’s dead. Unless the degans hear otherwise, the Order’s going to assume you still owe him. They’ll come collecting, and I’m guessing they won’t give you credit for services previously rendered. You’ll get to start your debt from the beginning.”

I watched as realization crept into her eyes, followed closely by fear. Whites were supposed to serve the emperor first, last, and always; owing anyone else service-especially someone like the degans-was strictly beyond the pale. I couldn’t guess about the deal she had struck with Iron, but I could guess what would happen if she was found out: excommunication, banishment, possibly even a public execution for treason. Not things someone who had sworn her life and soul to the emperor would care to consider.

She needed to keep this quiet.

She needed me.

“And I suppose you can fix this?” she said sourly.

“I was the only witness, remember?” I said. “There were just the three of us there when you delivered me. If I tell the degans you cleared your debt with Iron, you’ll be off the hook.”

Lyria took half a pace back and crossed her arms. “And why should they believe you?”

“You beat the crap out of me and delivered me to Iron Degan,” I said. “Plus, I’m Kin. Do you honestly think they’d believe I’d lie for a White Sash, especially under those circumstances?”

“And you don’t think your volunteering the information might raise some questions?”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “You really don’t understand how this works, do you?” Stupid Whites. I looked up into her eyes. Still smoldering but with a trace of interest in them, too, I noted. Good.

“Listen,” I said, “I don’t go to them-we wait for them to come to you. When they do, you tell them Iron and you are straight. When they don’t believe you, you mention I was there. The degans hunt me down and ask me questions. After being vague with my answers and generally pissing them off, the degans scare me enough that I grudgingly admit that, yes, Iron said your debt was paid.” I spread my arms and smiled. “Problem solved.”

“And if they don’t believe you were there?”

“I know where his sword ended up,” I said. “They’ll believe me.”

Lyria studied me for a long moment. “How much?” she said at last.

“One service, payable to me-the same as you owed Iron Degan.”

She shifted on her feet. “What service?”

I made a show of straightening my clothes. “Hit me.”

“What?”

“We’ve been talking quietly for too long,” I said. “Your friends at the gate are probably getting suspicious. Hit me, and I’ll tell you the favor I want.”

“No problem.” I saw a blur, felt something hard connect with my jaw. I went down.

“If that wasn’t convincing, I can do it again,” said Lyria. She sounded far too pleased with herself.

“ ’S okay,” I grumbled. I rolled over and looked up at her. No smile, but the sparkle in her eyes was all too evident. I ran my hand over my jaw, just to make sure it was still in one piece.

“Well?” she said as I climbed slowly to my feet. I hoped she was keeping her fists cocked just for show.

“Remember that book you were looking for in the Barren? The one you and Degan-excuse me, Bronze Degan-nearly killed each other over?”

“Ye-es.”

“I want you to tell the emperor that it was destroyed in the fire in Ten Ways.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I have what’s left of it. You’ll have proof.”

“Was it destroyed in the fire?”

“As far as you know.”

Lyria ground her teeth. “I am not going to lie about the thing I was ordered to recover,” she said. “And certainly not to the emperor!”

“You understand this is blackmail, right?” I said. “And that, for you to get what you want, you have to do what I want?”

“Yes, but I’m still not going to do it.”

“Why the hell not?”

Lyria looked at me for a long moment, then turned and began walking away. “I can’t,” she said.

I grabbed her shoulder and swung her around. “You don’t understand,” I snapped. “You don’t have a choice. It’s me or the degans-it’s that simple.”

“No, it’s not!” she said. “I’ve already broken the oath I took to the emperor once. I’m not going to do it again.”

“Your oath?” I said. “Screw your oath! Let me tell you something about promises; they aren’t blind, they aren’t immutable, and they aren’t fragile. I’ve seen more oaths and promises broken in the last few days than I want to think about, but I learned something about them in the process-you can’t keep every one of them. No matter how hard you try, it’s just not possible. So you have to choose, not only which ones you are going to keep, but how you’re going to keep them. You have to look behind the words, behind what you want them to mean, and see what they’re really about.

“It’s easy to hold on to the idea of what the words meant to you when you spoke them, but that’s not what it means to take an oath. A promise like that has to change as you change, and more important, it has to be able to adjust to fit whatever the world throws at you. The question isn’t whether or not you keep your word; the question is whether or not you keep the intentions behind the words.” Even if your Order disagrees with you, I thought. I understood that now. “If you walk away from me, you not only don’t bring the emperor back the book he wants, you also put yourself in debt to the degans. You, a White Sash, trusted guardian of the emperor, will be beholden to them. You had an agreement with Iron Degan, but who knows what the hell they will ask you to do?”

Lyria looked away. I didn’t bother telling her the degans essentially had a job similar to hers, only with a slightly broader focus. That wouldn’t exactly help my case right now.

“Listen,” I said, “you can draw this line now, after you’ve already crossed it once, and pretend you’re pure, but we both know that’s a lie. The degans will come collecting, and you’ll be in it even deeper. Or you can do this one thing and walk away clean from any other obligations. Which one serves the emperor better in the long run?”

Lyria looked up at the walls of the Imperial cordon, seeing beyond the brick and mortar.

“Why do you want me to lie about the book?” she said.

“Because it’s the only way to keep you and your friends from tearing apart the city-and some of my friends-looking for it. The only way they’ll be safe is if the emperor thinks the book is cinders.” The only way your boss won’t skin me alive for what I know, I thought, but didn’t say.

Lyria let out a slow breath. When she spoke, I almost couldn’t hear her, it was so soft, so final. “Fine. What do I do?”

I reached into the satchel and partially withdrew the charred remains of the journal. There was just enough left to identify the book as Ioclaudia’s, but not enough to be able to tell that pieces were missing. I’d burned it myself once I had gotten away from the warehouse.

“When the fire dies down in Ten Ways, you’ll go back to the warehouse in the Barren where the other two Whites were…” I paused, the rest of the sentence hanging in the air between us. Lyria took a slow, dangerous breath. “Where your brothers died,” I amended. “You’ll find this book there, along with whatever’s left of a body and a sword. Leave the sword, but take this. I’ll make sure it looks as if the book was spared in the fire.”

I slid the remains of the journal back into the satchel, then drew out a small cloth-wrapped case. “Here, take this, too. It might help you get in good with your boss.”

Lyria reached for it, then hesitated. “What is it?”

“A relic,” I said. A bribe, I thought. “The reliquary is a bit worse for wear, but the artifact itself is all right.” It’s meant to keep you from being too pissed off at my using you. I pushed it into her hands. “It’s the pen Theodoi used to write the Second Apologia.” I don’t need any new enemies right now.

“How did…?”

“Long story,” I said. “You’re better off not asking.”

Lyria stared at the bundle for a moment, then carefully slipped it into her belt. “And after this, I never see you again, correct?”

“Not even in your dreams,” I said.

“You’d better hope not,” she said. Then she extended her hand.

I looked at it, surprised, and reached, out of habit, to exchange the Clasp. Except she wasn’t Kin. Our fingers brushed, and then she was grabbing my wrist and using it to hold me while she drove her knee into my stomach.

I doubled over, collapsed to my knees, and started retching.

“Can’t have it look like we’re parting on good terms,” explained Lyria coolly from above. “People might get suspicious.” I watched her boots as she walked away.

If I’d had any breath left in me, I would have laughed. Instead, I gasped and watched my lunch spread itself across the cobbles.

I was just starting to suck air back into my lungs when a pair of soft brown shoes came walking up and stopped beside me. The legs sprouting out of the shoes wore faded red stockings.

“Still making friends wherever you go, I see.”

I knew the voice. It was one I shouldn’t be hearing. I pushed myself into a sitting position and looked up at Kells.

My heart surged in my chest at seeing him alive, but I wasn’t sure if it was out of joy or fear. He was healthy, hale, and even looked to have put on a couple of pounds. He was also smiling.

That couldn’t be good.

My wrist knife was in my hand in an instant.

“Ah-ah!” said Kells, raising a scolding finger. “The Sashes are watching, and they tend to frown on what you’re thinking about doing.”

“Two Kin trying to kill each other in the street?” I said, rising to my feet. “What would they care?”

“We’re Kin-they’ll care, on principle, if nothing else.” Kells looked me up and down. “Secondhand clothes, same old boots, a freshly bruised face-at least I know you didn’t cross me for money.”

“I didn’t cross you,” I said.

“No,” said Kells coolly. “You abandoned me. You left me swinging in the breeze, at Nicco’s mercy, trapped in a cordon surrounded by imperial troops. ‘Cross’ doesn’t even begin to describe the totally thorough screwing you gave me.”

I tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t. I had an explanation, of course, but didn’t offer it. No matter what I said, it would sound like an excuse. All Kells knew was that I hadn’t followed his instructions, that I hadn’t brought him the journal so he could hand it over to Shadow. Thanks to me, he was an Upright Man without an organization; a fallen Kin wandering the streets-just like me.

Kells didn’t want excuses, and I didn’t insult him by offering any.

“I swore I’d make you pay for that,” he said. “Pay long and hard. And I will-don’t worry-but not like you might think.” I tensed. Kells sighed. “Come on,” he said, stepping past me. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

I was so stunned, I simply stood there.

Kells stopped and turned around. “What?” he said, obviously enjoying my confusion. “You don’t think I’d dust you now, do you? You’re off-limits. If I even tried to touch you, Solitude would have my ass.”

“Solitude?”

“How hard did that Sash hit you, Drothe? You were the one who cut the deal to get me out of Ten Ways, remember? Solitude kept her promise-she got me and half of my people out of there before the Imperials waded in in real force. I work for her now.” Kells began walking again. I followed without thinking.

“You work for Solitude?” I said.

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

“That’s one word for it. I didn’t expect Solitude to honor any part of my deal with her after what I did.”

“You mean after you played her?” said Kells. “I wouldn’t have, either, but she’s a different creature. Even after you came up short, she stepped in and used your name to get my attention. Before I knew it, we were exchanging the Clasp. I can’t say I’m thrilled at the terms, but I’m alive, and so are a lot of my people; I can’t fault her for that.”

“You can’t fault her,” I said. “But what about me?”

“As I said, you’re off-limits.”

We walked in silence after that, away from the Imperial cordon and into friendlier neighborhoods. Kells indicated a small cafe down a side street. We sat beneath the crimson-striped awning. I ordered a pot of coffee, currant-laced pastries, and a young sweet cheese for spreading. Kells ordered a pitcher of wine.

“You’ve heard about Nicco’s territory?” said Kells after the food arrived.

“I’ve heard,” I said, breaking open one of the pastries. It was more biscuit than pastry-dry and crumbly, but buttery sweet underneath the tartness of the currants. I spread on some of the cheese and found it overlaid the whole thing with a nutty smoothness. “How much of it did Rambles manage to take?” I said.

“About a third,” said Kells, “maybe a little more. The rest is still up for grabs.”

I grunted and had another bite. I would have been happier if Rambles had taken three feet of steel through his ribs instead, but life doesn’t always work out that way. He had known the war was coming before anyone else; it must have been easy for him to position his people to take control once things went to hell-or maybe even before then.

No, Rambles wasn’t stupid, but I was still going to need to kill the bastard one of these days.

Kells took a sip of wine and stared out at the street. He cleared his throat. “I heard about you and Degan,” he said. “You seem to be on a roll with turning on people, if you don’t mind my saying.”

I didn’t answer.

“Have you heard from him?” said Kells.

I thought back to the sight of Degan in the warehouse, of him turning away without a word. “No,” I said.

“Are you going to try to find him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you think anything I could say would make a difference?” I said. “That he would forgive me if we could sit down over cakes and drinks and have a chat?”

Kells looked at the spread on the table and frowned. “No, he wouldn’t.”

“Nor will you,” I said. “So why are you here? If you’re not going to dust me, and not going to forgive me, then why? I can’t believe that Solitude has you running messages to me-not after our last meeting.”

Kells sat back in his chair. “To tell you you did the right thing,” he said. “You bucked me and you conned Shadow and you played Solitude, and I don’t think I could have done it, damn it, but you did. You put your head down and followed it through when just about anyone else would have walked. That’s worth something.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but it’s not enough. Not when I consider all the wrecked people I’ve left in my wake.”

“I never said it would be enough,” said Kells. “Just that it counts for something. That’s the price you pay for signing on to a cause. The sooner you realize that, the better-for you and for all the people you’ll end up using. And you’ll use them, trust me. You won’t have a choice.”

“What about you?” I said. “Have you signed on for anything?”

“You mean with Solitude against the emperor?” Kells stared out at the street. I was surprised he knew about that, but only mildly. He was Kells, after all. “I don’t know,” he said. “I was ready to work under Shadow, but that was different-that was climbing into bed with a Gray Prince. This other thing is”-he waved his hand vaguely in the air-“bigger. I don’t know.” Kells glanced at me. I took another bite of my food. “Why, are you planning on starting an organization?” he said.

I nearly choked at the suggestion. “Me?”

“You ran a hell of a game all by yourself, Drothe. The street is talking.”

“Me?” I said again, swallowing. I hadn’t considered doing anything except surviving once I had gotten rid of the journal. That had been the final move, as far as I was concerned. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m on my own-no allies, no organization, no muscle. How the hell am I supposed to do anything?”

“How were you supposed to juggle two Princes, as many Upright Men, a Kin war, and the empire?” said Kells. “A lot of the Kin may not like you for what you did, but they respect you for it-now more than ever. You did something no one thought could be done. That counts for a hell of a lot, believe me.”

I stared at Kells. Did people really think I’d had some sort of plan, that I had meant for things to turn out like this? I stared down at the crumbs of my pastry and shook my head. “Angels help me,” I muttered.

“Let me ask you something,” said Kells. I looked up. He was grinning.

“What?”

“How did it feel?” he asked.

“How did what feel?”

“Playing the Princes,” he said. “Conning the empire; balancing Nicco and me; doing the right thing, at least in your own book. How did all of it feel?”

I looked into his eyes and saw a yearning there, a hunger to know what it was like to do what I had done-to beat the odds, to pick a side, to do something, right or wrong, for a reason. And I wondered for the first time how many other Kin-how many other people-felt that same yearning.

“It felt good,” I said. “And it felt wrong. And it hurt, and it scared the hell out of me. And I still can’t say whether it was worth it.”

Kells nodded once, sharply. “Fair enough,” he said. Then he pushed his chair away and dropped to one knee on the other side of the table. Before I could react, he had reached across and taken my hand in both of his. “In that case, you are my Prince, if you will have me.”

I leapt back so fast, I nearly upended the table. “What?” I stammered.

Kells laughed. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” He gestured for me to sit, then did the same. “But you have to admit, it makes the point.”

“What, that you’re a twisted bastard?” I said.

“No, that the street has given you a promotion.”

I gawped. I knew I should have said something-or run away and hid-but all I could do was stare at my former boss with my mouth open.

“It’s true,” said Kells. “Word has been going around about how a new Gray Prince is rising up from the ashes of the war, how he bested Shadow and Solitude and a host of Upright Men-me included-and is even now in the process of putting his people in place throughout Ildrecca.” Kells took another sip of wine and then examined something in the bottom of the cup. He dumped the rest of the contents out on the ground. “Did you know people are already sporting your colors?”

“Colors?” I said. “I don’t have any colors!”

“The street, and probably about twenty Kin wearing them, say otherwise. I hope you like gray and green, by the way.” Kells poured himself more wine. “There are even whispers that Blue Cloak Rhys wants to meet with you. I’d recommend demanding a straight twenty percent off the top, by the way, since he’s approaching you first, and then charging a higher cut for any Rufflers and Uprights who come after. That’ll make Rhys feel special-and put him deeper in your camp-while encouraging some of the fence-sitters to get on board sooner rather than later. You need to build fast right now.”

“But I’m not a-”

Kells stopped me with a look. “Yes, you are!” he hissed. “You are a Gray Prince. The street says so, the Kin say so, and, based on how Solitude was talking about you, she’s ready to say so as well. With that many people believing, it doesn’t matter whether you agree with them or not, because they’re going to treat you like a Prince. And so are the other Princes.”

The other Princes. Shit. My stomach dropped even as I began scanning the street for likely Blades.

“Now you’re getting it,” said Kells. “I think Solitude is amused by the whole thing, but you can’t expect that sentiment from everyone.”

“Which means I need to recruit people and lie low. Fast.”

“Hmm. Wish I’d thought of that.”

I ignored Kells and continued to watch the street. Was that Purse Cutter looking at me strangely? And how about that beggar over there? Were they targeting me, or just checking out the newest Gray Prince?

Or was I being paranoid?

A woman with a child walked by and I caught myself following them with my eyes, my hand already on my dagger.

Okay, I was being paranoid.

I sat back in my chair and rubbed my face. A Gray Prince? Me? What the hell did that even mean? What was I supposed to do? The only firsthand examples I had came from a dream-walking woman who wanted to kill the emperor, and a glimmer-using schemer who had hidden behind a mask of darkness. Since I didn’t exactly see myself wrapped in a dark cloak and holding vague, mysterious meetings in abandoned mansions, there weren’t a lot of useful pointers there.

What was a Gray Prince, anyhow? The head of an organization that ran underneath other organizations. A Gray Prince was a Kin who worked past the street and cordon level, even past the level of the city. Looking at what Solitude and Shadow had wanted, I knew they thought broad. And big. And long-term.

And, I realized, deep down, they wanted to be as good as Isidore had been; as good as the man who had organized the Kin and made himself into the Dark King. Princes wanted to show they were kings.

Except I didn’t want to be a king. I just wanted to be a Kin. Only I didn’t seem to have much choice about that now.

I looked over at Kells. He was watching me, a hint of a smile on his lips, cold ice in his eyes. And I realized I didn’t need to look to Solitude or Shadow or any of the other Princes, or even Isidore, for examples; I’d had one of the best organizers in the Kin as my mentor for years. And I still did, if I was lucky.

“The offer you made a few minutes ago,” I said. “Is it still good?”

“It is. And it includes about a dozen of my people who are in Solitude’s organization as well. We’re yours, if you want us.”

“I can’t offer you anything right now,” I said.

“You saved us; the least we can do is return the favor. Once you start having some stronger sway on the street, we can talk price.”

I shook my head and looked out past Kells, at the street, and Ildrecca. Drothe, Gray Prince of… what? A Jarkman who’d tried to have me killed? A Djanese Mouth for hire? A handful of Cutters who were wearing colors I hadn’t known I had? And now, thirteen Kin in another Prince’s organization. What the hell kind of a start was that?

I shook my head and began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he said.

“My ‘organization,’ ” I said.

“What about it?”

“Almost half of them are Long Noses. Who the hell starts a criminal organization with a bunch of Long Noses and no money?”

Kells began to laugh as well. “Sounds like a perfect fit for you.”

I nodded. “I suppose it does.” I took a sip of cold coffee and considered. Yes. Those Noses would come in handy when it came time to bring Solitude to heel someday. After all, there was still an empire to save and the Kin to keep alive, and I’d be damned if I’d let her fowl it up.

When we left, Kells insisted on paying for the meal. It was only fitting, he said; after all, I was his boss.