Nightblade: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 1) (17 page)

As they drew farther and farther west, Loren pulled Gem aside. “It may be that some near our destination seek me out,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “If there is any way forward that will hide us best from prying eyes, let us take it.”

Gem pursed his lips. “What manner of someone? Constables, or elsewise?”

Loren thought of Gregor and his men. “We would do well to avoid both sorts.”

Gem’s eyes widened slightly. “Beset on all sides, are you? Very well. I suggest the roofs. Not far from here, we may find a route that will take us all the way west with hardly a heel on a cobblestone.”

Loren followed eagerly as Gem turned their course due north. They ducked into alleys that grew ever more narrow and dark, until Loren felt the press of walls on either side.

To take her mind from their ominous surroundings, she asked a question that had sat with her for some time. “Did your mother name you Gem? I have never met someone with that name.”

Gem shrugged without turning to look. “I know not what my mother named me. Jarmo was the first name I knew. But when I found Auntie, I chose my own. Who has ever heard of a thief called Jarmo?”

Loren had never heard of a thief called Gem, either, but she did not tell him that.

Soon, Gem brought her to a low building. Its roof reached so near the ground, Loren could almost touch it from tiptoe. She boosted Gem to reach it, and made use of a nearby barrel to climb up herself. Gem led her on, up one side and down the other to where the next building’s roof sat a few feet away. Loren leapt the gap easily and followed him to the next.

Gem had spoken truly: The rooftops ran in an almost uninterrupted path west. Every so often, the wide gap of a street blocked their progress, and Gem led her either north or south to circumvent it. Only once did he lead her back to the ground. Then they ran across several streets in a mad dash, Loren looking in all directions for any sign of the constables or Damaris’s men.

On the roofs she felt herself relax and even allowed herself to enjoy the night air as stars sparkled above. The press of the city seemed far away. She could imagine that the soft shingles underfoot were the natural rise and fall of the forest floor. She easily ignored the sounds of the people below and focused instead on the night sky above. That, at least, had not changed from the Birchwood to Cabrus. Loren still saw mighty Dorren making his fiery way across the sky, and from him drew comfort.

When Gem called a halt to their journey, it seemed almost too soon. Loren crawled with him to the roof’s edge. Together, they sidled along the shingles until they could peek down at the people below.

Night thinned the crowd, but still a fair few walked in the torchlight. Among them she saw a few constables in their red leather armor, but scattered far enough to avoid if she were careful.
 

Her eyes fixed on a figure in a pink gown, golden curls spilling from her head.

“There!” she whispered, pointing.

“I see her,” said Gem. “What now?”

Loren inspected the square. There sat the Bottomless Mug, a noisy establishment through whose windows firelight poured to bathe the street below. The woman sat outside the glow, upon a bench placed in the square amid a cluster of grass and flowers. Other nightgoers passed by, some men in fine cloth inclining their head toward the woman. Loren realized that in the rush of explanation, she had never thought to ask the maiden’s name.

“She sits unattended and alone. I can easily come upon her unawares.”

“But the open space that surrounds her,” said Gem. “The constables will easily catch you.”

“They will not have time to react. Besides, I can outrun them. I will make for the roofs again.”
 

Let the constables try and follow her up here.

Gem frowned. “I do not like it. But I see no other choice. She does not look of a mind to move.”

“Very well, then. Come, let us—duck!”

She shoved Gem’s head into the shingles, and he gave a muted cry of protest. The woman’s head had turned toward them, and Loren feared their discovery. But as she cautiously raised her face from the shingles, she saw that the woman’s gaze had simply wandered. Now she looked away again, oblivious to the thieves stalking her from the rooftop. Then, as Loren watched, the woman stood and made for a dark alley at the side of the Bottomless Mug.

“Fortune smiles,” said Loren. “Come! Quickly!”

They rose and crouch-ran across the rooftop toward a gap above the alleyway. The woman in pink disappeared into the shadows below. Loren spotted a wooden gutter.

“Remain here. No need for both of us to risk ourselves. I will return shortly.”

With that, Loren shimmied down the gutter like a squirrel. Her leather boots came down silent on the cobblestones, and without a moment’s hesitation she ducked into the alley.

The woman in pink stood a few yards within, her back still turned to the alley’s gaping mouth. The purse hung from her hip like a prize, dangling by thin strings. Loren stole forward like a mouse, sliding her dagger from its sheath.

This was her first time cutting a purse, but she knew the idea. Grip the purse and slash the strings in a single slice, and the quarry might never feel the tug. In a crowd she might have jostled the girl unawares to hide it, but this would have to do. And if the woman spotted her, what could she do? Pursue Loren in that gown?

Only a yard remained.
 

Loren held her breath, trying to still her heartbeat.
 

Her hand reached out for the purse.

The woman whirled, her hand snapping shut on Loren’s wrist. Loren nearly shrieked from fright as she met the girl’s face.

Then the girl’s eyes glowed, and her face began to change.

Before Loren’s startled gaze, the girl’s eyes turned from deep blue to light hazel. Her skin darkened, and her cheekbones shifted higher. Her hair seemed to shrink into her scalp, turning paler except at the roots, where it was black as night.

It lasted only moments, and then Auntie stood there in the pink gown, an iron hand clasped around Loren’s wrist.

Loren’s mind screamed a word:
weremage.

“What an excellent presentation,” said Auntie in a cool tone. “You have done exactly as you should.”

As Loren tried to understand, she heard the clump of heavy boots behind her. Auntie’s grip kept her from turning, so instead she looked over her shoulder.

A tall, muscular constable with a cruel face appeared in the alley’s mouth. Bern. Behind him appeared another constable—not Corin but a man she’d never seen, with naked steel in his hand.

“I must thank you for finding us,” said Auntie over Loren’s shoulder. “Your reward will go
so
far toward filling the children’s bellies.”

In a flash, Auntie drew Loren’s arm behind her back and pressed a knife to her throat. Bern smiled and took a firm step into the alley.

“We meet again, thief,” said the constable. “It seems that with every encounter, your list of crimes grows—”

Loren heard a shrill shriek above, and her eyes went skyward. Bern, too, looked up just in time to get both of Gem’s bare feet in his face. The pickpocket landed full on the constable’s head, slamming the man back into the building’s wall where he fell to the street, stunned.

Loren’s mind reeled with shock, but she quickly recovered. Her free hand seized Auntie’s wrist, dragging the dagger away from her throat as she threw her head backward. She judged the blow well, for Loren felt Auntie’s nose crumple against the back of her head. Blood spattered across her cowl as she pulled away and Auntie hit the cobblestones. Her hand wrapped around the tip of Loren’s bow as she fell, and Loren heard the
twang
of the string snapping.

Loren looked down in horror. Auntie grasped furiously at her nose as she lay there, but her other hand wrapped the bow.
My bow,
thought Loren.
Chet’s bow.

She could not risk a retrieval. She had no time. Loren nearly ran for the alley but saw the other constable standing there with his sword. Bern, too, rose from the ground, looking around as if dazed. Gem ran toward Loren, snatching her hand and dragging her deeper into the alley.

“Run!” he cried.

Loren needed no second urging. They hit the alley’s end and cut left down a smaller one just as Loren heard the slap of boots behind them.

“The rooftops!” she shouted. Gem understood and led her around another two sharp turns before they found a gutter to climb. Loren gripped the boy under his arms and flung him skyward, letting him grip the culvert just under the roof’s edge. Then she launched herself up hand over foot and in a few moments gained the shingles.

“This way!” Gem ran south and leapt the gap to the next roof, Loren hot on his heels. Behind them she heard Bern’s furious bellow.

On they ran, across another two roofs. Finally, Loren seized Gem’s arm and stopped him, looking back for a moment. Several men had made the climb far behind them.

“They do not share our skill,” Loren said, exulting. “Look at how they scramble to—”

She heard the
hiss
a second before an arrow whizzed by her face, so close it nearly passed through her hair.

“They mean to kill us!” screamed Gem. All the boy’s bravado vanished in an instant, and he turned to flee.

Loren followed. “We must regain the street! We are easy targets!”

Gem heard her through his panic and slid to the roof’s edge, launching into empty space. He bounced off the opposite wall before coming to a hard landing on the street. Loren descended more carefully, gripping the roof’s edge before falling to the ground.

They landed on a narrow street filled with people, some beggars staking a claim on the wealthy area, others men of questionable purpose moving about under cover of darkness. At least a half dozen stared at Loren as she helped Gem to his feet. But the pair must not have been an unusual sight because all eyes soon turned away.

Loren’s gaze fixed on one man in particular. He seemed unaware of their presence, face mostly buried by his cowl, shoulders stooped as if great age had claimed them. But Loren spied his face and the long dark curls hanging from atop his head, and her heart nearly stopped.

“Come!” She seized Gem and pulled him along.
 

The man ducked into the back door of an inn, closing it behind him. But before it shut, Loren jammed her boot into the gap. She flung it open and launched herself into the back room. The man recoiled in surprise as Loren turned to close the door behind her.

She turned to face the man, smiling in grim triumph. “Well met again, wizard.”

Xain straightened, dragging the cowl back from his head, scowling.

twenty-one

They stood in a small storeroom filled with the odds and ends required by any inn. A broom leaned in the corner, several buckets and washcloths stacked haphazardly beside it. Loren’s nose caught the pungent odor of wood polish from shelved bottles above.

Xain scowled down at her, his grey-brown eyes flashing beneath dark eyebrows drawn in anger. His glance slipped to Gem for a moment and then, dismissing the boy, focused on Loren again.

“What are you doing here?” he growled.

“Fleeing the constables and the cell they hold ready for me. I might ask you the same. Prudence would have sent you from Cabrus days ago.”

“Prudence and convenience are not often bedfellows. Now, be off with you. I cannot risk your company, nor should you be eager for mine.”

Muffled shouts came through the heavy wooden door. Loren glanced over her shoulder. The wizard’s eyes flashed with fear as they followed her gaze.

“That’ll be them,” murmured Gem.

“Who?” said Xain.

“Constables,” said Loren. “They are in pursuit. You must hide us.”

“I cannot be involved!” said Xain, his voice low and urgent. He looked toward the storeroom’s opposite door, the one Loren knew must lead to the inn proper. “It is a hard enough task avoiding their clutches without caring for a pair of saplings.”

“Mayhap I could have helped, had you not stolen away in the night like a craven.”

“You were better off without me,” said Xain. “I am hardly safe company.”

Loren pointed toward the back door. “Yet I find myself beset regardless. Did you think if you left me, they would not hunt me down for information? I aided your escape!”

Xain’s lips pressed tightly together, but Loren saw his eyes shift to guilt. His shoulders hunched as if in resistance, fighting the thought she could see creeping into his mind.

The shouts outside grew louder, and Loren heard the heavy tramping of boots. “Loren,” whispered Gem. “Let us flee. This man will not help us.”

“He will,” said Loren, folding her arms as she glared at Xain. “Or I will open that door right now and throw him to the mercy of the King’s law.”

“You would not dare. They would take you as well.”

“They will take me regardless! But if I give you to them, they may grant me leniency. Let us find out.”

Loren turned and put a hand on the door as if to push it. She heard a sharp
crack
behind her, and heat tickled the back of her neck. Slowly, she rounded toward Xain.