Midnight Thief (15 page)

“I may not be one of your noble-born ladies,” said Kyra, voice trembling with anger, “but I in’t an alehouse whore.” She pulled against Tristam’s grip, but he held firm. “Nothing happened between me and James.”

He didn’t let her go, though his gaze softened in a way that bruised her pride. “You’re a puzzle, Kyra.”

Kyra gathered her strength and twisted her arm out of his grip. “What you think matters nothing to me,” she lied. “There’s no more to say on this matter.”

T W E N T Y - F O U R

T
ristam shuffled through his stack of records, trying his best not to hunch his shoulders protectively over them. Though he had permission to view these documents, there was still a clandestine flavor to his questions today.

He looked over at Martin. “Any luck?” The two of them had taken over the records room, and piles of parchments were stacked all along the table between them.

Martin chewed on his cheek as he sorted through his own pile. “Looks like Kyra’s right. The goods taken by the Assassins Guild belonged to Lord Edwin of Perkins. The Palace confiscated the wares from one of his renters on his behalf. The man was late to pay his rent because the trade caravans were attacked. He ran an herbal shop in the northwest quadrant, and a group of soldiers were sent a few weeks…” He trailed off.

“Yes, that was us,” said Tristam. So Kyra had been telling the truth. The Guild hadn’t been raiding for simple gain. They’d had a very specific goal. “Do the records say anything else?”

Martin’s lips moved silently as he read the rest of the report. He wasn’t a fast reader, though he was getting better with practice. “There’s a note here says the storekeeper appealed to the magistrate for extra time, but he lost his case.”

“It does seem hard to turn a profit if you have nothing to sell. Lord Edwin’s never struck me as a pleasant man,” said Tristam. “I wonder why the magistrate ruled in his favor.”

“They didn’t tell you when they sent us?” asked Martin. “They keep us Red Shields in the dark, but I thought you’d know the whole story.”

Tristam shook his head. “I only knew that he hadn’t paid his rent. None of the rest. It’s not a soldier’s place to question the Council’s decisions.” That was what his commanders would have said to him, though repeating their words didn’t make him feel any less uneasy.

Martin gave a resigned shrug. “They’ve always favored the landlords. My uncle lost his smithy last year when he broke his arm.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m sure the magistrate had his reasons.” Martin spoke with his usual pleasant tone, but avoided looking Tristam in the eye. It was a sober reminder that even though he and Martin got on well, they were still from different worlds. There were things the shieldman would never be completely open about to Tristam.

“How are the interrogations going?” asked Martin. Tristam couldn’t tell if the young shieldman was changing the subject on purpose. “There’s all kind of stories flying around about the assassin lass. Can she really kill a man by batting her eyelashes?”

Tristam raised an eyebrow. “Is that really what they’re saying now?”

Martin’s smile was unrepentant. “There are better stories than that one, though mayhap inappropriate to repeat.”

Tristam decided he didn’t want to know. The last thing he needed was to have the barrack’s bawdy tales in his head when he was actually questioning Kyra. “The interrogations are…interesting.”

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated. “She saved my life, you know.”

For once, Martin was startled into silence. “What?” he finally said.

“This was before we captured her. The day the Demon Riders attacked the city, I broke my spear, and a cat cornered me. The beast would have killed me, but Kyra threw a rock and lured it away. I looked for her, but I didn’t see her again until I captured her.”

Martin whistled. “I’ll wager she regrets that move now.”

Tristam gave a wry chuckle. “She said as much, when I brought that up. I don’t know what to make of her. You saw us fighting that night. She would have sliced me in two if I’d let her. Kyra’s dangerous, and I can’t let myself forget that. But…”

“She in’t exactly the vicious criminal we thought we were chasing?”

That wasn’t a bad way to put it.

They were interrupted by a servant entering the records room. “Sir Tristam. Councilman Willem requests your presence.”

“Willem?” From across the table, Martin opened his eyes wide.

“Yes, sir. In his study.”

“Mayhap he wants to give you a promotion,” Martin said as Tristam gathered his things.

Somehow, Tristam doubted it.

Willem’s study was lavishly decorated. The antechamber was covered wall to wall with intricate tapestries, and the furniture was hard oak, decorated with gold leaf. Willem sat at a large desk in the inner room and motioned for Tristam to have a seat.

“I want to congratulate you on your successful interrogation,” Willem said. “It was very clever, holding the funeral where the prisoner could see it. I admit I was skeptical about your age and experience when Malikel put you in charge of the prisoner, but you have proved me wrong.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Tristam was pleased with how the funeral had turned out. Because he’d needed it for the interrogation, the Palace had agreed to pay for the family’s expenses. But had the councilman asked to see him simply to congratulate him?

“Malikel has his…quirks,” said Willem. “But sometimes he proves effective. I hear he’s just left for Parna.”

“Yes, Your Grace. He’s gone for a fortnight.”

“A pity he’s not here. The Council has a pressing matter that cannot wait for his return. I’ve been discussing your prisoner with other members of the Council, and we’re all struck by how she evaded capture by climbing the walls and ledges. From all reports, she is quite remarkable.”

Why did it bother him that the councilman referred to her as his prisoner? By any definition, it was true. Kyra was under lock, and he had put her there. He saw her again, clutching her wounded arm, eyes feverish with poison. She’d crumpled against him when he’d picked her up.

“Her abilities are indeed something to see,” he said to Willem. “She can do things that I would not have thought possible.”

“It seems a waste to have such a tool and let it stay locked up, especially when we’re at war.”

He hid his distaste at Willem’s words. “Did you have something specific in mind, Your Grace?”

“We do,” said Willem. “I understand you made a few attempts to track the Demon Riders in the forest.”

“I’m afraid I have not been very successful, sir. The one time I encountered them, they almost killed me.”

“We think that the prisoner might have a better chance of spying on them successfully.”

Kyra, as their spy? Did the Council trust her? “It’s true that she’s very quiet, and fast,” Tristam said carefully.

“Say we asked her to do this, with the possibility of reducing her sentence if she’s successful. To the best of your knowledge, would she be willing?”

Tristam paused, suddenly unsure. “I understand her better than I did before, but still not well enough to predict her decisions. Judging from her past, she’s not averse to risk, and she may welcome the chance to go outside. But she’s almost regained all her strength. If we let her run free in the forest, the temptation to escape may prove too much.”

“We’ve anticipated that and have instructed the healer Ilona to withhold the last few doses of antidote.”

Tristam tensed. “Sir?” he asked.

“The small amount of poison left in her body shouldn’t interfere overly much with her health,” said Willem. “We believe that the need for her final dose should motivate her to return to the Palace.”

“I see.” So they were holding the poison over her as a threat. “Did Ilona agree?”

“Ilona knows her place. She will bow to the wishes of the Council.”

“Perhaps we should wait for Malikel’s return.”

“There’s no time. The last dose of antidote is to be delivered this week. Either way, the Council has made a decision.”

An unpleasant suspicion came to mind. “And if Kyra refuses to do this, will she still get the antidote?”

“Venom antidote is scarce. Without Far Rangers to replenish our stores, we need to ration our supplies wisely. And that includes prioritizing those who are actively serving the Palace. Do I gather that you object, Tristam?”

Tristam fought to keep his voice even. “If I may speak freely, Your Grace, I’ve been working hard to win her trust, and a move like this may undermine my efforts.”

“I understand your concern, but the city is in danger. We don’t have time to proceed gradually.”

Tristam looked down, reminding himself to speak carefully, that he was addressing the most powerful man in Forge. “I suppose, Your Grace, that these tactics remind me too much of what the Assassins Guild would do.”

“How so?”

“It’s underhanded, and it’s cowardly.”

Willem’s expression hardened. “Watch your tongue, young knight. You speak above your station.”

The rebuke hit him with almost physical force. Tristam took a slow breath. “My apologies, Your Grace. I spoke inappropriately.”

“One of my biggest misgivings about putting you in charge of the prisoner was your youth. At your age and experience, I worried that you’d be unduly influenced by a female prisoner so close to your own age. I expressed my doubts to Malikel, but he vouched for your maturity and character. I hope you don’t prove him wrong,” said Willem. “Remember that we’re working toward the same goals. You lost a good friend to the Demon Riders, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you do wish to defeat them, do you not?”

“Yes, sir.” And the frustrating thing was, he did. He still wanted it, more than anything. And now that Willem had put the idea in his head, he could see how Kyra could help them if she were willing. But that was the sticking point. She wouldn’t be willing with a threat like this hanging over her.

“Remember also, that the prisoner is already under a death sentence. We are offering her a chance to avoid it. Can I be assured of your cooperation, Tristam?”

It wasn’t really a question. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Good. Then I will accompany you to speak with her.”

“Now?”

“I see no reason to wait.”

Tristam was surprised at how desperately he wanted to stall, but he couldn’t find a way. He was bound to obey the Council, and Willem was its head.

Kyra was sitting at her table when they walked in. Under Ilona’s expert care, the color had returned to her cheeks, and her dark eyes were alert. She didn’t look like an assassin. She looked like a young girl—a pretty one at that, with her small stature and delicate features. She started to say a greeting but stopped when the head councilman walked in.

“This is the prisoner?” asked Willem.

Kyra looked away. Her expression grew stony.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Willem gave her an evaluating look. “She’s small, for all the trouble she’s caused.”

Kyra didn’t respond or remove her eyes from the floor. But Tristam had spent enough time with her to see the slight stiffening of her posture, the way she curled slightly more into herself. He cut in before the councilman could continue.

“Kyra, we came to ask something of you. It’s dangerous, but you might appreciate the opportunity to go outside.”

She took a cautious glance up at the mention of “outside.”

Willem gave Tristam an expectant look, and Tristam cleared his throat. “As you know, I spent some time in the forest tracking down the Demon Riders. I did find them once, but they nearly killed me. The Council thinks you may have better luck than I.”

“Better luck tracking them down?” She spoke quietly, her eyes flickering occasionally to Willem.

“I can help you track them down. What we need is someone who can observe them without getting caught. I’ve seen you move. If anyone could spy on them undetected, it’d be you.”

“I see.” He could see her trying to figure out if there was more to the story. “Do you have a plan?”

“We’d have to clear the specifics with the Council, but you’d probably spend a few days with me in the forest. We can ride out under cover of night, and we’ll find a place where the tracks are thick. Then, we just wait.”

“You want me to watch them, not fight them?”

“We want to know where they live and how many there are. What their plans are and if they have any weaknesses.”

She pursed her lips and eyed him cautiously. “I can’t stay quiet if I’m dragging chains.”

And here it went. He took a breath. “You won’t be chained.”

Her eyebrows flew up at this. “The Council will let me run free in the forest?”

He didn’t answer, resentment locking his jaw tight. Willem broke in. “Your last few doses of antidote will be withheld for now. Ilona will give you the rest after you complete this task.”

Tristam saw the exact moment when it sank in, when her expression changed from wary consideration to cold understanding. “I see.” Her voice took on an edge. “I don’t really have a choice.”

He felt some contrary satisfaction in seeing her anger. For a moment, Tristam was tempted to sit back and watch things unravel. But then Willem looked at him, a clear warning in his gaze.

“Remember, Kyra,” said Tristam, “everything you do in service could be considered by the Council in lightening your sentence.”

“I’m just a bloodhound, in’t I? And the poison’s my leash.”

“We’re trying to help you.” The words tasted false on his tongue.

“Of course. Like the Assassins Guild wanted to help me.”

“The Assassins Guild wanted to
kill
you, Kyra.”

“And you’ll delay my death.
If
I’m useful.” The betrayal in her eyes was directed straight at him, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when he saw Willem watching him. He wasn’t going to convince Kyra with platitudes that he didn’t even believe. As much as he hated this, he was a knight of Forge and duty-bound to serve the Council.

“Councilman,” he said, “may I please have a word alone with Kyra?”

“You may have a moment.”

As the door closed behind Willem, Kyra turned her gaze back to Tristam, her entire body tense. Tristam closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“Kyra, I’m sorry about this. It’s not my decision. It was handed down by the Council.”

“And you’re helping.”

“I don’t have a—” He stopped and gathered himself. “Look, it doesn’t have to be like this. I know it’s an underhanded tactic, but really, even if the Council weren’t holding the poison as a threat, you’d do it anyway.”