The Ritual (8 page)

He stated it casually, without sounding worried, but the admittance surprised me and gave me enough of a jolt of excitement – and a little fear – that my pulse went faster. I sat up straight, no longer inclined to interrupt or needle him.

Shani spoke instead. “If this will be challenging for you, then why do you think that we’ll be able to cope with it?”

Zashter smiled at her. “Considering the tasks ahead, we reckon it will actually make it easier for us to have you as support and backup. We’ll handle the really difficult stuff, but both of you are likely to be more than capable of handling any additional tasks, which leaves us able to concentrate on what
we’re
doing.”

Shani nodded, still a little dubious but placated. Zashter, meanwhile, exchanged a meaningful glance with Mior, who rose and moved next to him.

“Now, before I say anything more you will need to swear an oath,” Zashter said, his voice suddenly authoritative. “A Binding Oath. What I’m about to tell you cannot go further.” He looked first at Shani, then at me, and his eyes were cold obsidian. “No Oath, no information.”

His words frightened me. I didn’t really know all that much about Binding Oaths, but I did know that they were impossible to break except by the caster, and that they were used to protect extremely dangerous or secret information. But I could not deny that I was also excited – even with a Binding Oath, giving us this information was a sign of trust, and whatever this assignment of theirs was, it would push me and take me outside of the comfort zone that Naerev had cultivated in me. I decided that it was exactly what I needed.

Looking over to Shani I saw nothing but enthusiasm in her expression, and we both gave a single nod together. “Deal,” I said, my voice steady.

Zashter smiled. “Mior, over to you,” he said, stepping aside but placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Mior held out his hands to both of us and I rose to my feet with apprehension. Shani was the first to grasp his fingers, and she looked curious rather than alarmed, so with an inward curse I slapped my hand into his, determined not to be outdone by my sister.

He closed his eyes and muttered a few unintelligible syllables – magic-speak – and Shani’s interest deepened. I could see her lips move, and knew she was trying to memorise the sequence. Then I was distracted by a
tickling feeling on the back of my hand and looked down.

At f
irst I saw nothing, but the tickling intensified to a fierce itching and dark lines appeared on my skin, curled around my wrist and crept up to my fingers where they sweated in Mior’s clasp. The lines thickened, multiplied and started to heat, and before long I was gritting my teeth against the searing pain.

“All words said ‘till burning end, oath shall bind them in the heart,” Mior said in a singsong tone. “Tongue can’t speak what mind will send, thoughts will not pull lips apart.” He opened his eyes and nodded at his brother. “Go on.”

“I know this hurts, so I’ll be quick,” Zashter said. “I mentioned items. Specifically, what we’re after are items of power, items that represent the four basic Elements: Earth, Air, Fire and Water. These items are required by our employer for a ritual he intends to perform.”

“What kind of ritual?” Shani interrupted him through clenched teeth.

“He hasn’t deigned to inform us of that. All he has told us is what he needs: the Heartstone Diamond, a feather from a wind sprite, a dragon’s flame and a phial of healing water from the Monastery of Balance.”

With that, Mior spoke a few more syllables and the pain vanished, as did the dark lines entwining our hands.

I yanked my arm back, shook it and flexed my fingers gingerly. There wasn’t even a hint of any pain left, just a vague, unpleasant tingling which dissipated quickly as I thought back over what I had just heard.

“Wind sprite feathers? Dragon flame?” I said incredulously, then checked myself. “Hey, I thought I wasn’t supposed to be able to say that now?”

Mior chuckled. “To us you can talk freely – I spoke the Oath and Zash was touching me while I did it. Try it to anyone else and your tongue will twist into knots.”

I nodded, determined not to try out the sensation, and looked at Zashter again. “Too late to back out, I suppose?” I said, only half joking, but he gave me such a conspiratorial grin that I couldn’t help but grin back.

“Surely you’re not going to disappoint me by doing that, Little Firelocks?”

I shook my head and turned my attention to business, before that rakish smile could get to me too much. “So we’re in Naylis for the diamond, you said?”

Zashter nodded. “It was mined here, and has remained here ever since. It is the property of the Duke of Naylis.”

Shani chortled. “I guess there
is
a duchess after all then,” she said to me in an undertone, and I flashed her a grin.

“What?” Zashter asked, but I gave him a dismissive wave.

“Nothing, sorry. Continue.”

“Right, as you can imagine, the Heartstone is extremely well guarded. Or maybe I should say that it’s not so much guarded as said to be unreachable.”

“Unreachable?”

“We’ll spend
the next few days spying on the place to gain more information, but the duke’s residence is built up against the mountainside, and it is said to stretch into the mountain just as far as it juts out of it. All our sources indicate that the diamond is on display in the deepest chamber, furthest away from all exits. We expect it to be fully warded, guarded and otherwise protected to the best of the duke’s ability.”

“Sounds near impossible,” I muttered.

“Extremely complicated, certainly,” Zashter acknowledged, then flashed me another grin. “Remember, no defeatism.”

I swallowed, but pushed my doubts away. “Do you have a plan yet?”

“A few ideas, nothing more. That’s why we need to look at the place. The very first thing we need to do, however…” He paused dramatically and looked us both over, “…is go shopping.”

“
Shopping?
” Shani and I said in unison.

“Yes, you know, buying things with money? I know it’s a strange thought for a thief, but…”

I ignored the sarcasm. “Such as?”

Zashter sighed, shaking his head. “So soon they forget. Lockpicks, new shoes. Anything else you think you need, and a few other things
I
think you need besides. Ever heard of the midnight market?”

I exchanged a glance with Shani, who shrugged. “No.”

He tutted. “You know, I’d heard that Naerev was good, but I’m beginning to think that he taught you nothing useful apart from light burglary. Every town of a decent size has a midnight market, just as they all have a rogue tavern like this one, and one or two places to fence your loot. I do hope you know about the fences at least?” He added the last comment in a voice of exaggerated weariness that brought my hackles up again.

“Yes, we know about the fences,” I snapped.

“Great! In that case, let’s go!”

*   *   *   *   *

It was an education all in itself. The fence was like any other, and we rid ourselves of about a third of our acquired bounty, mostly small pieces. Zashter informed the man that there would be more to come, and was assured that there would be enough money to cover it. Our haul had been good during the week, and all of it would have been too much for the fence to handle in one go.

Before we’d even reached the midnight market Zashter had already pointed out seven thief signs to me, including the one on the lintel over the door to our tavern, and with increasing chagrin I realised that in seven years Naerev had all but stifled me rather than teaching me.

By now it was late, and although it was a balmy spring night, the streets were nearly empty. The windows on the houses were shuttered, and the few people we did encounter avoided our gaze and hurried past us. The peculiar, acrid smell had intensified, and I asked Zashter about it.

“It’s something they use in the mines,” he replied, scanning the houses we passed. “This is the east side of town, the mining district, so you’ll smell it strongest around here. Go to the southwest end, the elvish district, and you’ll barely notice it. Everything looks a lot prettier around there as well, of course.”

We walked on, and then another smell began to assault my nostrils, this one much more familiar. “There’s a slaughterhouse here somewhere,” I said, scrunching up my nose.

“Indeed, and we’re heading for it,” Zashter replied. Then he pointed. “There, see that sign?”

I looked, and saw a few seemingly innocuous lines scratched into a doorframe – one triangle with a tip pointing left, and two more straight lines paralleling the sides of the triangle leading away from that. “Is that what we’re looking for?”

Zashter nodded. “Look at which way the triangle is oriented. It’s pointing that way, so the entrance will be over there somewhere.”

It led us to a large hatch leading into a cellar, and inside the stench was so overwhelming that I knew it was the cellar of the slaughterhouse itself.

“Look for an upright triangle with the two extra lines superimposed in a V-shape,” Zashter said.

“It’s over here,” Mior said ahead of us. He was standing next to a hole in the wall, large enough to pass through but with a few wooden planks leaning over it. The mark Zashter had mentioned was scratched into one of them, and when we went through a completely new world opened up to me behind it.

The midnight market appeared to stretch out across several basements. It was dark and dank with smoky oil lamps affixed to the walls or ceilings, and the stench down here was even stronger, but it was mixed with other scents, some exotic, some equally distasteful, and some so otherworldly that I could only think of them as magic-smell. The variety of goods on offer mirrored that of an ordinary market, but the target audience was the underbelly
of society. Weaponry dominated: anything from slim boot knives and concealed sleeve daggers all the way up to eight-foot polearms. I saw a stall with a range of coshes that made me blink – surely there could not be
that
much variety in a thing to hit people over the head with – and even spotted a merchant selling razor-sharp throwing stars. There were other things on offer as well though, and Mior ambled over to a merchant displaying glass phials and wooden boxes and began a conversation.

“What knives do you both have?” Zashter asked as he beckoned us in the other direction, towards a booth with an assortment of general thief weaponry.

“Boot knife, eating knife, general purpose dagger,” Shani replied, drawing her gaze away from where Mior was standing.

Zashter raised a questioning eyebrow at me and I shrugged. “What she has, plus a second boot knife and two wrist daggers.”

“Know how to use them?”

“Wel
l enough.”

“Show me, both of you.”

“What, how to use them?”

“No!” He waved irritably. “Show me what you have.”

His lips thinned when I produced my everyday knife, and with every subsequent blade I drew out his expression darkened further. I tried to look at them objectively and had to concede that they were starting to look a bit battered, but when he ordered me to discard the whole lot I blinked at him in astonishment. “What, all of them?”

“Yes, all of them,” he repeated as if to a dullard. “Replace it all. We can afford to, and that… that garbage isn’t fit to clean your nails with. Also, don’t bother with two wrist daggers. Unless you’re ambidextrous, the second one won’t do you much good. You’re better off with a concealed dagger in the small of your back.”

Peevishly I decided that in that case I was going to force him to visit every dagger merchant at the market, but rather than it annoying him he seemed intent on scrutinising my every choice, not allowing me to purchase it unless he was content with the quality. By the time I was finished my only satisfaction lay in the fact that he had not disagreed with any of my choices.

We finished our purchases with a pair of sturdy but supple leather boots for Shani and a set of lockpicks that nearly had me drooling, but I arrived back at the inn ready to fall asleep in a chair, even though it was only one measure after midnight.

“I would have suggested we go out tonight, but it seems you lack the energy,” Zashter said, looking at me with a mocking smile.

Irritably I rubbed at my eyes. “I can do it.”

“And get us both caught? I don’t think so. Get some sleep, Little Firelocks, we can afford to skip a night.” His words were casual, but his tone was sneering and disdainful, and I went to bed seething.

CHAPTER FOUR

After breakfast the next day the four of us took a casual stroll past the duke’s residence to scope it out. It was outside of the town walls, though I wouldn’t have guessed it if we hadn’t passed through the southeastern gate to get to it – the place had its own walls, and they looked sturdier and better maintained than the walls of Naylis. The acrid smell was less pervasive here as well, overpowered by something more floral, and I understood why when I saw the fragrant tendrils of jasmine and honeysuckle that peeked over the duke’s wall.

The residence was undeniably impressive, built out of rough-hewn local rock so it blended in with the environment as far as colour went. As far as everything else went it was as in-your-face as a knife up the nostril. It had turrets, balconies, crenellations, pillars, statuary, gargoyles and frieze-work so intricate that you would need a full day to study all the tableaus depicted. Even if the security inside was as tight as Zashter had been told, climbing to a likely entry point would be a doddle.

A quick glance at Zashter told me that he had come to the same conclusion, and I could not stop myself from giving him a conspiratorial grin, which he answered with one that made my pulse flutter.

I thought back to the day before, to the Oath we had taken, which had gone a long way towards assuaging my mistrust of the brothers. Zashter’s explanation of using us as a backup made sense, and I was almost ready to accept it as the full truth.

Almost. There was still the issue of Zashter’s attitude, which bounced from friendly camaraderie through thinly-veiled impatience to sneering mockery, and
that
still was something I could not reconcile myself with, even if the friendliness had begun to pervade. Also, dealing with him would be a lot less complicated if he couldn’t fluster me simply by looking at me.

A wagon rattled past, so close that I had to lurch away, barely rescuing my feet from its steel-rimmed wheels. I watched it draw up by a small door in the wall around the duke’s
residence and cocked my head. I sauntered further along the road and pretended to inspect the wares offered up for sale by some grubby farmers too poor to be able to afford a stall in the town market.

The wagon began unloading crate upon crate of exotic fruit, their sweet smells wafting along the street and making me salivate. As I watched, a second cart drew up behind the first one, this one filled with sacks of flour, sugar and several padded egg-boxes. When my gaze slid past Shani she raised a questioning eyebrow at me, and I gave her a tiny nod.

She tugged at her tunic, pulling the fabric a little tighter around her curves, and opened up the laces at the top a bit more before sashaying over to the driver of the second cart, who was waiting for the first one to finish with an impatient look on his face. As soon as he spotted my sister his expression changed, and I bit my lip not to laugh when he sucked in his gut.

“What’s she doing?” Mior whispered, pretending to bump into me. He steadied me with a hand on my shoulder, and I thought I saw annoyance in his eyes.

“Gathering information, let her be,” I whispered back, moving on before he could ask any more questions and give away that we were here together.

I pondered over his expression as I pretended further interest in a pitiful heap of shrivelled potatoes. Was he annoyed at Shani flirting with someone else? If so, then why didn’t he take her up on her quite obvious invitations? I glanced over at him and saw him leaning against a building with arms crossed, shoulders hunched and his gaze fixed on Shani with a sullen expression.

I moved on to a turnip farmer and squeezed a few of his turnips before I dared to check on my sister again. By this point the driver had stepped down and was casually leaning against a wheel to talk to her, and Shani was in full airhead flirty mode, with arms clasped behind her back and bouncing lightly on her heels with her breasts shoved forward. The carter’s eyes drifted between her face and her assets, and I grinned to myself. When she got going, Shani was impossible to resist.

Except by Mior, of course. I glanced to him again and saw that Zashter was speaking to him. His posture was stiff and he had placed himself squarely in front of M
ior, blocking his view of Shani. It looked like he was giving his brother a telling-off, because Mior looked even more sullen than before. As I watched him he pushed away from the wall and brushed past Zashter, nearly unbalancing him, and stalked off back towards the town wall. Zashter rolled his eyes and followed, and I quickly went back to haggling with the turnip vendor.

It was nearly a quarter-measure later before Shani managed to extricate herself, walking away with that same bouncy, happy-go-lucky step, and I waited ten heartbeats before following her. As soon as I was out of sight of the carters and farmers I caught up with her and gave her a questioning look.

“Let’s find the boys,” she said quietly. “Saves me from having to repeat myself.”

“Might not be that easy,” I replied. “It looked like they were having an argument, and Mior stomped off.”

“Oh?”

“He didn’t seem happy that you were flirting with that carter.”

She blushed and a grin formed on her face. “Really?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure of course, but he looked pretty put out.”

Her face fell again. “If that’s the case, then why has he still not made a move?”

“Why wait for him? Just get him when Zashter isn’t around.”

“What’s Zash got to do with it?”

I shrugged. “It looked like he was telling him off.”

“What, for looking at me?”

“I don’t know!” I said, exasperated. “All I know is that Mior was glaring at you, and then Zashter was arguing with him.”

“Maybe he was telling him off for being so obvious about it,” Shani said pensively. “He knew we were not supposed to let on that we’re together.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, though I wasn’t at all sure. There was something fishy about the situation, and I wondered whether Mior’s reticence was because Zashter didn’t approve of
him courting Shani. If that was the case, then why? What was wrong with my sister? Wasn’t she good enough for his brother? The thought certainly didn’t improve my opinion of him.

A little ahead of us Zashter’s lean frame unfolded itself from a shadowy archway, and a few heartbeats later Mior fell into step. They kept to either side of us, and Mior made a point of not looking at his brother. I peered from one to the other, but when my gaze bounced off on Zashter’s hard stare I looked ahead of me again.

“Well?” Mior said, still sounding annoyed.

Shani took a deep breath, then said,
“Duke Haster So’naren of Naylis will be entertaining a large number of guests at a fete, day after tomorrow. He has apparently ordered enough food to feed a small township, and has hired twenty cooks to turn it into culinary masterpieces.”

“Interesting,” Zashter commented. “We could use that to scope out the inside.”

“What, dress up as cooks, or mingle in as servants?” I asked, already thinking of how I could make that work.

Zashter flashed another one of his sexy, rakish grins. “I had something more… ambitious in mind.”

“Oh?”

“We’ll go as guests.”

I froze in my tracks. “As guests? Are you insane?”

“No, I already said, ambitious.”

“But we have no invite! We’re not sophisticated! We’re the wrong damn race!”

He sighed. “Invites can be forged. Sophistication can be faked. Race…” He paused, seeking his brother’s eyes, and finished, “…can be glamoured.”

“A glamour!” Shani exclaimed. “I’ve never tried one of those yet.”

That finally brought a smile back to Mior’s face. “I’ll teach you. I’m sure you’ll pick it up as fast as you’ve done everything else.”

She blushed and lowered her eyes, but her smile was dazzling, and I saw the blazing look in Mior’s eyes before he swallowed hard, then set his jaw and looked away. It was interesting, and I was sure he
did
want her, in which case it must have been Zashter who was stopping him. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Let’s go back,” Zashter said, interrupting my thoughts. “We need to plan this properly.”

*   *   *   *   *

He got Tae to bring a table and some more chairs into their room, as well as lunch, and while we ate Zashter outlined his plan.

“What I have in mind is this,” he began. “Mior teaches Shani how to cast a glamour, and she glamours the both of you to look like elves. That
is
possible, right?”

Mior nodded. “Glamours are mostly about concentration. Once you have built the initial illusion it’s just a matter of keeping it up, and that takes very little effort. Rin would have to stay in range, but they’d have to be on opposite sides of the estate before she was too far away.”

“Good,” Zashter said, satisfied. “You can be sisters still, though I’d say try to emphasise your differences a bit, and don’t admit to being twins. They’re too rare, and we want you to blend in, not stand out.”

“
Right,” I said. “And Mior does the same for the two of you?”

“No. I’ll stay as I am, and I’ll be your slave and body servant.”

“And Mior?” Shani asked.

“There’s two options fo
r Mior. Either he’s another body servant, or he stays here and just the three of us go. Personally I think the latter is the better option.”

“Of course you would, m
aster know-it-all,” Mior commented. “Do elaborate.”

I looked at him in surprise – I had never heard him be sarcastic before, and his defiant look at his brother was new to me too. Zashter looked back at him with a warning in his eyes, but Mior seemed unperturbed, though he was the first to lower his gaze again.

“Firstly, we’re trying to smuggle two completely unknown elves into a big party,” Zashter snapped. “The only way they can explain the fact that no one’s heard of them is if they’re very minor nobility, in which case it’s unlikely that they’ll be rich enough that they can afford a slave each.”

“Unlikely, but not impossible,” Mior protested. “Surely we can–“

“Secondly, we look too alike,” Zashter interrupted him. “We’re too obviously twins. We don’t want to draw attention, remember?”

“
Then I’ll put a glamour on myself! You know I can look like anyone I want to!”

“Mior, please,” Zashter said with a sigh. “The basic fact is that we don’t
need
all four of us to be there. Do you trust Shani to be able to detect wards?”

“Well… yes.”

“So there’s no need for both sorcerers to be there. No benefit, whilst it would make it more dangerous.”

“Then
why do you and Rin both need to go?”

“Because she’ll be the guest and I’ll be the slave. She’ll have more freedom of movement. Besides, she has a good eye, and might see things that I miss.”

The off-handed compliment pleased me, but I held my breath as the two of them faced off. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats more, then Mior slumped, defeated. “Fine, I won’t go then.”

Shani and I had barely dared to move throughout the exchange, but although the argument had been uncomfortable, it had been interesting to see that they weren’t a united front, not always. It also made me wonder whether Zashter was deliberately trying to keep Shani and Mior apart, and whether all his other reasons were just excuses. I saw Shani stretch out a tentative hand and close it around Mior’s fingers, and he jolted a little before clasping hers back, though he let go again almost immediately.

“Right,” Zashter continued. “So Shani glamours you both. Since she’s not done it before and won’t have much time to practice, stick to your faces only. Shani’s hair is long enough that we can do something elvish with it, and we’ll get you a dress each. You know elves dress like peacocks, so the dress is at least half the effort. If you dress like an elf and talk like an elf, everyone will automatically expect you to look like one too.”

“
We’ll have to try and remember our elocution lessons,” Shani remarked with a half-smile at me. “It’s been a while.”

“You don’t talk like commoners now,” Mior said. “‘Proper’ speech is too ingrained in the orphanages. Just polish it up a bit.”

“So we get dresses, and Shani gets some silly hairdo,” I said. “What about me?”

Zashter cocked his head as he looked at me. “Your hair is too sh
ort for an elf, but if we hide it under a hat or a headdress that’s not a problem.”

“And it’ll hide your ears,” Mior said. “The glamour could incorporate your ears, but it’s easier to just hide them. For you too, Shani.”

“I’m thinking I’d rather have been a servant,” I grumbled. “You want me to wear an over-the-top dress and a hat and mingle with elves? You know I’m going to want to spit in their faces.”

“I’d have thought you’d welcome the opportunity to order me around,” Zashter said, grinning at me.

I peered at him, but this time there was no sarcasm, just good-natured humour, and I grinned back in spite of myself. “Well, I suppose I can do that, if I must.”