The Ritual (16 page)

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My leg ached, and the skin stretched painfully whenever I put weight on it, but the scabs held and the bandage didn’t impede my movements. Mior had strapped my ankle during my five days of unconsciousness and it had healed well too, so there was nothing stopping me from keeping my date with Zash to relieve Count Mohander of a good part of his jewellery collection.

I was excited, if nervous too. We had not burgled anything since before arriving in Naylis – not counting the retrieval of the Heartstone – and I was looking forward to the opportunity to test my brand new lockpicks. The feel of my black velvet burglary outfit was familiar and reassuring, and Shani grinned at me as I tied my matching velvet tool belt into place.

“You look happy,” she commented.

“I
am
happy,” I replied. “I’ve missed the excitement of a good burglary.”

“So it’s nothing to do with the company?”

“It could be,” I admitted, thinking back over the past day and a half. I had not seen Zash much, but when I had he had been friendly, though he had kept a physical distance, and I was very much looking forward to going out and working with him again. I got out my boot grease and started to blacken my face, grinning at the fact that our idea of a date involved hiding our features rather than prettying ourselves up.

“A bit more over there,” Shani pointed, then she held out my black velvet cap. “Just be careful,
alright? The way things stand at the moment you two could easily get lost in each other and get caught.”

“Don’t be daft, Shani. I’m not stupid, and he’s unlikely to anyway.”

She sighed. “You still insist he doesn’t care about you? His eyes devour you whenever he looks at you.”

“Shani, he’s attracted to me,” I said irritably. “That doesn’t mean that he cares about me, or that he’s going to act on it. And speaking of attraction, I don’t want to have to kick Mior out of my bed when I get back,
hmm?”

She gave me a sharp look, but nodded. “Don’t worry, he’ll be gone. Have fun.”

“You too,” I muttered, and climbed out the window.

Zash was already waiting for me. “What kept you?” The question could have been impatient, but his voice was friendly, and I glanced back up at my window.

“Mother hen up there insisted on some last minute advice,” I grumbled, and he chuckled as he took my arm and pulled me with him.

“Advice about burglary? Surely not?”

“No, she was just making sure that my leg is definitely good to do this,” I lied.

He stopped short and whirled around. “Is it? You’re sure about this?” His expression was hard to read under the face-black, but his eyes glittered with concern. It was touching in a way, but I focused on the glimmer of annoyance it caused.

“Do you think I’d be here if I wasn’t sure I could do it? Do you think I’d risk getting caught just to show off? Do you
actually
think I’d be that unprofessional?”

He looked down. “No, of course not. Let’s go then.” He took my arm again, then let his hand slide down until it caught mine as he led me along the dark streets of Tizar. I had no idea why he didn’t let go of me, but it made my heartbeat flutte
r irregularly.

It took us around a quarter measure to reach Count Mohander’s estate. Like Duke Haster’s in Naylis it was outside the town, it being too large to fit within the confines of the town wall. Not that it mattered – this residence too had a wall of its own; a sturdy, tall enclosure made out of good Danzarian sandstone. I stood on Zash’s shoulders to check out the top and reported a half-decent attempt at covering it in glass shards, but it looked like it had been done a long time ago, and most of the shards had broken off. It wasn’t anything either of us hadn’t dealt with before, so we shimmied over without difficulty, though the wounds in my leg protested
when I jumped down on the other side.

The grounds inside were a classic example of elvish gardening. Meticulously kept lawns were alternated with artful plant beds and copses, and there were trellises, gazebos and pergolas strewn around everywhere. It was a burglar’s shadowy paradise, and we moved through it leaving nothing but a trail of night-flower scent dragging in our wake. Soon we reached the wall of the house itself, Zash behind me as he ensured that we weren’t seen or followed by any guards that might patrol the place.

I was still peering ahead into the darkness to determine where we needed to go next when I felt his fingers caress my neck and his breath against the shell of my ear. “You really need to learn to properly tuck away that fiery hair of yours,” he said in his quiet, out-on-the-job voice, and I let out the breath that had caught in my throat.

“Sorry,” I muttered, waiting for him to fix it and fighting very hard not to lean back and melt against him.

“There.” His hands slid down my shoulders and arms and left a tingling trail as they came to rest on my waist. “Go ahead, take the lead.”

I had been about to move, but at his words I froze. “Lead? You want me to lead this one?”

“Sure.” His lips were still brushing against my ear as he spoke into it, and I fixed my eyes on a point in the distance and concentrated on his words rather than his presence. “This place looks tricky, but I know you can do it. Besides, I’ll be right behind you.”

“
Right,” I said hoarsely, and moved away.
Concentrate, steady, stay relaxed
, I thought, remembering my mantra, and tried to use it to stay focused on what I was doing.

My first job was to find the best entry point. In an estate this large this didn’t just mean the easiest door or window, it also needed to be close to the living quarters, so that we wouldn’t need to sneak through half a mile of corridors to get to a dressing room with jewellery boxes.

I located the servant quarters and passed them by, half-smiling at the antics of a young couple canoodling in a dark corner of the kitchen yard. The girl’s breathless giggle sounded loud in the quiet of the night, and I used it to mask my own boot scuff as I leapt across a small gravel path.

In the shadows around the next corner I halted, scanning the windows above my head. “One of these, I think,” I said, then studied the ornamental stones set into the brickwork. Very pretty, but also very easy to climb.

“I agree,” Zash replied. “Which one has your preference?”

“That one,” I decided after a moment, pointing to the middle window. “It’s easiest to climb to, and they all look to have the same locks.”

“True, but I think that that one’s a bedroom,” Zash said. “Better take the next one over. See how worn the runners look on the one you picked? Bedroom windows are opened more often. The next one is much less battered, so that’s our better guess.”

I nodded and unrolled my new lockpick roll, selecting a thin but sturdy pick to wriggle loose the hook catch normally found on these types of windows. From the corner of my eye I saw Zash nod approvingly, and I stuck it between my teeth, put the rest of my picks away and began to climb up.

Twiddling the lock loose was painfully awkward. I had to hold myself up with one arm on the windowsill and with my toes keeping a precarious grip on one of the ornamental bricks, while I inserted the pick underneath the window frame and began to prise the hook away with my other hand. I had to leave off halfway through to climb down and give my limbs a rest – my wounded leg especially was throbbing under the strain – but soon after that I had the window open a crack, and Zash gave me a dazzling smile when he climbed up next to me, slid it further upwards and slipped inside.

“Well done,
Little Firelocks,” he said as I climbed in after him, and caught me when my trembling legs gave way for a moment. “You alright?”

“Yeah,
the strain’s wearing off, that’s all,” I replied, breathing in his heady scent. He held on for a heartbeat more before letting go, and I looked around at where we were.

Zash had been right – by the modesty screens, the tall wardrobes and the row of dressing gowns on the wall I could see that this was a dressing room rather than a
bedroom, and I spotted an ornately carved wooden box on top of a dresser against the wall. It wasn’t big, but the lock looked as intricate as they came, and I scratched my neck before bringing out my lockpicks again.

I decided to use two of them, the smallest ones I had, but after a tenth-measure I was ready to give up on the task. “I can’t feel it,” I said, frustrated, and Zash immediately stepped up close to me.

“Don’t move both at once,” he said, closing his hands over mine. “Let one hand feel a catch before you move the other, like this.” He used my fingers to manipulate the picks one at a time, and after a few heartbeats I finally felt something give. “There, now see if you can finish it,” he said, stepping away again.

Part of me marvelled at his skill, that he could feel the lock even through someone else’s fingers, but most of me was fighting the urge to throw myself at him and kiss him until he had no breath left. Shani’s words came back to haunt me, and with an effort I brought my attention back to the lock, before I screwed things up.

Three more tweaks and it gave, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I lifted the box’s lid. The contents were disappointing, especially considering the difficulty of the lock, but loot was loot, and I quickly stashed my picks away and opened my velvet bag full of little pockets.

“You really are a very rewarding pupil, you know,” Zash murmured as he opened his own bag and began to divide the pieces. “I never have to show you anything more than once.”

“Thanks,” I replied, not knowing what else to say. His compliment gave me a sense of professional pride, which was not something I’d ever felt before. Burglary had always been a means to an end, but Zash had given me a whole new view on the nightly arts. To him every burglary was a challenge, one that he met with relish and conquered with both glee and pride, and it had brought an excitement to the job that I’d not previously experienced.

It drove me to excel myself, despite the fact that this was the hardest burglary I’d ever done. The jewellery box had yielded precious little, so Zash suggested we investigate further into the house to see if we could find Mohander’s legendary wardrobe and steal the gems sewn into his outfits. This led to an excursion out of the locked room we were in, through two corridors and into another locked room, and both locks were as difficult as the one on the jewellery box had been. On top of that my leg was still throbbing painfully from opening the window – a fact which I neglected to mention to Zash – and it got harder and harder to walk as if nothing was wrong.

Despite all that, it was one of the most thrilling nights of my life. The new lockpicks were a dream, much more responsive than what I’d been used to, and under Zash’s tutelage the two extremely intricate locks yielded to them without too many problems. Every time I hesitated or got stuck he patiently showed me what to do, his mouth brushing my ear as he murmured his instructions and his body pressing against mine whenever he manipulated my hands to demonstrate. It was maddeningly erotic, and it took all I had to maintain a professional demeanour.

The loot was the only disappointing part of the night. Count Mohander clearly preferred to spend his money on clothes rather than jewellery, but it couldn’t dampen my mood. I felt triumphant when I climbed back over the estate wall, and exulted in the thought that yet again I was better at doing this than the time before. I almost wished it was tomorrow already, so we could do it all again.

We made our way back to the inn without trouble and stopped underneath our windows, facing each other. Zash reached out and pulled the cap from my head, then slowly ran his fingers through my hair to rearrange it.

“A good night,” he commented, watching his hand as he trailed it back up until it settled against my jaw, his fingers in my hair and his thumb caressing my earlobe and making me shiver.

“Apart from the loot,” I replied, keeping as still as I could, his touch burning on my skin. I was unsure of what he intended, what exactly he wanted of me, so left the initiative to him.

“There are other places,” he said with a shrug. “There’s always tomorrow.” His gaze drifted up, locked with mine, and sudden need slammed through me, a desire so sharp I could almost taste it. I took an involuntary step closer to him, and triumph flared into his eyes.

It drew me up short. Almost any other emotion and I would have been lost and thrown myself at him, allowing him to take me any way he wanted – right here against the wall if need be. This, however, made him look calculating, and it caused me to hesitate.

“Have I been nice enough tonight?” he asked quietly. “I can be even nicer…”

The invitation was evident, and now I could see my own desire mirrored in his black velvet gaze. Yes, he wanted me, and Gods did I want him back, but I knew now that he was manipulating me. He had driven me to this point, knowing full well how much I desired him, and if I gave in to him now I would lose whatever control I still held over my life. He did desire me, but until I knew his ulterior motives for seducing me tonight I could not afford to go ahead with this. He clouded my judgement enough as it was.

With a supreme effort I smiled, brushed my lips against his and moved away before he could take it further. “You’ve been brilliant,” I whispered. “Good night.” Then I turned and started to climb the wall.