The Thief Who Spat In Luck's Good Eye (5 page)

“
The Duke is looking for something.”

“
Well he’s not on an afternoon stroll. He’s looking for an artifact that will grant him immortality. If he’s willing to kill - Vik, was it? - out of hand, do you think he’ll have any qualms about killing the rest of you once he’s got what he wants?”

“
He’d never do that. There’s no way he could take all of us.”

“
Couldn’t he? He seems like the type that likes his secrets kept, and there are far too many of you to tell tales.” I tried to test the ropes that bound my hands. Useless. I couldn’t even feel my hands anymore.

“
He wouldn’t even have to kill you. All he’d need to do is leave you here.”

“
Having a pleasant conversation, Lieutenant?”

Even over the rain and the rumbling thunder I should have heard the Duke’s approach. The man was truly irritating.

“
Just listening to this filth try to squirm her way out of death, Your Grace.”

“
I suggest you don’t, Lieutenant. Who knows what sort of venom she might poison your ears with.”

“
As you wish, Your Grace.” The Lieutenant disappeared. The Duke looked down at me. I looked up at him.

“
You’ve got some hellishly disturbing eyes, you know that?” I finally said.

“
Hold your tongue, dear, or you’ll die now instead of in the morning. I like to see what I’m doing. Make me hasty, and I’ll be sure you suffer proportionally.”

I thought about that a moment. “You won’t kill me,” I said.

The Duke arched a brow.

“
You won’t kill me because you need me.”

“
What on earth for?”

“
You don’t know what’s in the Tabernacle, or what you’re looking for exactly—not where it is, not what form it might take. You need someone like me to get it for you.”

“
My dear, I’m a master of the Arts. What could I possibly need a thief for?”

“
If you thought getting this thing yourself was your best option, you’d never have offered ten thousand marks as a reward.”

“
That was for proof of the existence of this city. Not for the artifact.”

“
You wanted someone to find the artifact and carry it out of here, so you could take it away from them. It would be easier that way.”

“
You’ve strayed from educated guesses into wild suppositions now. You’re boring me to boot. Good night, little thief. I look forward to seeing you in the morning.” He walked away, back toward his tent.

Damn.

Three o’clock in the morning? Four? The rain kept pounding down. The Duke’s men had long ago broken out their oilskin tents. Despite the stomach-churning distaste for the dead man next to me and my fear of becoming a corpse myself, I’d managed a few minutes of miserable half-sleep when I heard someone approach. I looked up. The lieutenant. He squatted down in front of me and stared at me for a long time.

“
What?” I finally mumbled.

“
You’re going to die in a few hours. You understand that?”

“
Looks that way, yeah. If you’ve come to gloat, make it quick. I’m trying to get some beauty sleep here.”

“
I need to ask you a question, and I need you to answer it honestly, if you’re capable.”

“
Anything for you, friend.”

“
Do you really think the Duke will abandon us here if we find the artifact?”

“
Yes. I really do. You must know what kind of man you work for.”

“
This is our first assignment with the Duke. He called us from the border forts to protect him during this expedition. He said he needed seasoned fighters.”

“
Lieutenant, did you just fall off the turnip wagon?”

“
What do you mean?”

“
Never mind. No, don’t never mind. Don’t you see? He did want seasoned fighters, ones that didn’t know his reputation for treachery, deceit, and murderous madness. He needed warriors he could trust. Expendable ones.”

He was quiet for a long time. I watched the idea sink in, watched his jaw harden and his eyes go cold. He got up and stalked away.

“
Goodnight, Lieutenant, pleasant dreams. See you in the morning when I get tortured to death.” I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. Like an idiot I’d reminded myself I was going to be tortured to death in a few hours.

I heard the lieutenant’s footsteps again. I looked up and he dropped a sack next to me. He pulled out his belt knife and cut my bonds. I dropped the dead things that were my hands into my lap, stretched out my legs.

“
When the blood comes back to them, they’re going to hurt so bad you’ll want to scream. Don’t. There’s food in the bag.”

“
Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“
My name is Gnarri. Now listen. This is how I see it. The only way we’re getting out of here alive is if you get to the thing before the Duke does.”

“
That’s not possible.”

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Then I guess we’ll all die here.”

“
We could take the talisman away from the Duke.”

“
I won’t do that, not until he gives me cause. I have an oath to uphold.”

“
Then you’re an idiot, Gnarri.”

“
I’m an officer in the Duke’s service.”

“
Same thing.”

“
Find the artifact or stay here and starve. Your choice.”

Just then my hands came back to life. I had to stifle the screams.

Gnarri stood up and said, “If you were really smart, you’d have noticed Vik kept a knife in his boot. You could have escaped hours ago, if you were nearly as good as you think you are.”

I would have called him what I thought he was, but I was too busy paying attention to the agony in my hands. Besides, he probably wouldn’t have heard me. The storm had picked up again, and was screaming across the city.

I dragged myself away from the Duke’s camp and hid in a dry nook where I kept my gear, devoured hard tack and jerked rabbit, and looked over my options. Nothing good. Stay here and starve, or go back to the Duke’s camp again and try to steal the talisman, or raid the Tabernacle and try to steal the artifact. Damn, damn, damn.

I returned to where I had left my gear, dug out my tools and the grappling hook from my pack, and made my way through gale-force winds to the side of the Tabernacle opposite the Duke’s camp. I scaled the wall and surveyed the grounds below. It was a black riot of foliage, visible only in the brief flashes of lightning.

Two choices. Either drop down into that and make my way to one of the domed buildings on foot, or try to set my hook on one of the domes and hopefully make my way in from above. I didn’t relish traipsing through that jungle. Anything could be down there. However, it was going to be difficult to get a good cast in that wind. And I remembered the hawk, and its limp fall from the sky.

I finally decided to take the high road. I could always climb down if I couldn’t get a good cast. And hopefully the storm would cover my actions.

It took eight casts to get the hook set. Once it was, I hammered a small piton into the wall and secured the rope, then began to shimmy my way upward at about a twenty-degree angle toward the dome. The lashing rain mingled with my cold sweat, and I expected to die at any moment.

The storm whipped at me, buffeted me, stung my face and hands, and tried to pry me from the rope. Lightning struck the city around me, sometimes so close I could smell it. And the further I climbed, the steeper the angle grew. The rope began to sag as it soaked up the rainwater like a sponge. My abused hands ached fiercely. It was the hardest seventy feet I’ve ever traveled. Every second of it I expected that unearthly shriek to turn my bones to pudding and stop my heart.

I made it to the southern dome, set my feet on the ledge and collapsed, willing my breathing back to normal.

I was here. Now what?

The first thing I noticed was the dome was not merely golden. It was gold. One seamless sheath of gold, who knew how thick. It looked as if it had been cast all of a piece, which was impossible. There was enough gold on just the one dome to buy half of Lucernis outright. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. I was the richest woman in the world, if I could figure out how to haul it all away.

The next thing I noticed was what looked like vent holes at the very top, wedge shaped, spaced evenly around the central spire. I inched up a little and saw they were in fact windows, or had been. The glass had long ago broken out of them. A few jagged shards still clung to the edges. There was something odd about the shards. I pulled one loose and took a closer look. It was a deep blue. It must have been pretty inside during the day, before the windows had broken. More importantly, I had a way in if I could figure out how to get down.

The windows were wide enough for me to slip inside, but the drop was a bone breaker. I cast a glance back at my rope. No help there, it was tied securely to the outside wall. No way I was getting it loose from where I was, and I hadn’t brought a spare. The interior angle of the dome was too steep for me to try to climb unassisted. I sighed, cursed myself, and put a hand on the thin rod of the spire.

Lightning struck the spire just then, and the raw power of it convulsed my body. At the same time a scream rose from the depths of the dome, a rising bubble of agony that was more than sound. It enveloped me and turned my own pain into a tiny corner of an agony that enveloped the world, and knocked me out.

Far, far away, the buzz of a dragonfly’s wings magnified a thousand times. The hum and whine of metal being tortured out of shape endlessly. I thought I could hear Holgren telling me to wake up.

Slowly I opened my eyes, but could not make them focus. Holgren’s voice went away. It was replaced by another voice I could hear clearly above the hum and whine.

Wake. You must wake.

“
Wha? Done my chores, Da.” Something wrong with my voice. Muffled. More than muffled. Gone? No, that wasn’t quite it either.

Wake, now, and do not move until you can move with purpose.

I tried to open my eyes again. I saw only blackness. “Great, I’m blind,” I mumbled. Something wrong with my voice, and something was cutting into my waist, and my hands were throbbing, especially the right one.

No, not blind, only looking into darkness. You have been deafened, however.

I finally snapped back into reality. My entire torso was hanging through one of the windows of the dome. It was a wonder I hadn’t fallen through. Slowly I inched my way back from the precipice.

Come down to me now.

“
I don’t think so.” No way in hell was more like it. Whatever it was down there was talking in my head. I’d take my chances with the Duke.

You will never overcome the Duke alone, by stealth or any other means. I can aid you, though.

“
I’ll just have to take your word on that, I guess. Now get the hell out of my head.” I slid down the curve of the dome to the ledge and took stock of myself. Deaf, except for the hum and whine that threatened to split my head open. My own words were muffled things felt in my chest and throat rather than heard by my ears. The palm of my right hand was charred. My vision swam, and muscles all over my body spasmed randomly.

I’d never be able to climb back down that rope without falling. Maybe the canopy of vegetation in the Tabernacle grounds would break my fall somewhat.

Doubtful.

I ignored the voice—the presence in my mind—as best I could. Down into the Tabernacle grounds, and then what? Not over the wall, not like this. Out the gate, then—into the Duke’s camp, then death by torture. I put my head in my good hand and held back the tears.

Come down to me. Amra. I swear no harm will come to you from me.

“
How do I get down?”

Climb down the spire. It runs straight to the floor. And more.

I climbed back up the dome, grabbed hold of the spire, tightly with my good hand and then gently with the burned one, swung my legs out into the void, questing with my feet. I found the rod and locked my knees around it, and oh-so-carefully contorted my shoulders through the window to grasp the rod beneath the dome with my hands. The metal was still warm from the lightning strike.

I thought the ascent up the rope was frightening. It didn’t compare to the descent down that pole into utter darkness. Fifty feet? Sixty? I have no idea how far down I slid, nursing my burned palm, the rushing of my blood and that awful whine the only thing I could hear.

Almost there.

I started at the words in my mind, lost my hold and fell the last few feet onto something fleshy, warm, wet, and alive. I felt rather than heard a low groan of pain, and screamed again. I scrabbled backward on all fours away from it, heedless of the agony in my hand. Suddenly the stone beneath me dropped off and I tumbled backward, bashing my head against unseen stone.

Be still, Amra. You hurt yourself needlessly.

I couldn’t take any more of this. No more. If only there were light—no, then I would see whatever it was that was speared on the end of that rod –

Be still. Breathe. No harm will come to you in this chamber. Be still, be calm, or I must cloud your mind. If I do so, you will never trust me, afterward. I need you to trust me, little thief.