A few moments later, Zane was back on the street, opening his door as though nothing unusual had just occurred.
Alena bit her lower lip. Zane had hidden something. Given his precautions, she had no doubt that whatever was hidden was particularly valuable. She wiped a bit of sweat from her palms.
Bayt would kill her.
But she would never have a better opportunity.
She could hear her heart thundering in her chest.
She had pulled some foolish tricks before.
But this, this was a whole different level of foolish.
She imagined the look on Bayt’s face.
Perhaps she could earn enough to buy her way into university. It was possible for some. The exam was the only way in for those who couldn’t afford better. Her father would be proud of her admission, even if he could never learn the method she’d used.
She wrung her hands. She wanted to pace, because pacing always helped her think.
Alena cursed. What could Zane have hidden?
Sure, Zane seemed frightening enough, but there was no connection for them to draw to her. No one besides Bayt even knew she had been here. The Arrowoods didn’t even know she existed.
She leaped from roof to roof, using all the lightness she possessed to land on the Arrowoods’ roof.
Alena stepped slowly, testing her weight on every step. Every soft sound echoed like thunder in her ears.
She loved this feeling. Every sense was sharp. Colors, sounds, and smells were all more vivid. When she reached the chimney, she had little difficulty seeing what brick had been removed.
Alena crouched down, listening for any sign her presence had been detected. Then she dug her fingers into the crack and began gently prying at the brick.
She forced herself to be patient. The brick moved, one hair’s width at a time.
Then it was out. Alena reached her hand in and found a small package, wrapped in hide. She pulled it out, then replaced the brick. Remaining close to the scene was a risk, but if it delayed the discovery of her theft, she figured it was worth it.
Then she reversed her path, leaping back onto safe rooftops. As soon as she was clear, she dropped back to the ground, pulling a hood over her head. She walked away, putting as much distance between her and the scene of the crime as she could.
9
Brandt paced outside the governor’s residence. He still felt the aches and bruises from the battle the day before, but he counted himself lucky for surviving a fight of such intensity with as few wounds as he did. None of the wounds hurt as much as his pride. In the whole history of his command, he’d never suffered a defeat.
The bandit would suffer for the humiliation he had caused. Brandt planned on ensuring it.
The rest of the wolfblades recuperated at the inn. Ryder, in particular, required quiet rest. Brandt couldn’t wait for answers, though. The governor had to know more than he was letting on. A bandit that powerful left traces of his existence. Powers that strong left a path to follow, like an army marching across a field.
A man dressed as a servant stepped out and motioned to Brandt. “The governor can see you now.”
Brandt took the stairs up to the house three at a time. He’d been politely but firmly rebuffed when he tried to force his way in earlier.
The building wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as some governor’s residences Brandt had seen in his travels. Landow wasn’t a frontier by any means, but it did rest within a week’s journey of the northern edge of the continent. Given the abundant wealth of natural resources and the booming trade, no doubt the governor could have afforded something more.
The house was large, but it was only a third the size of some closer to the interior, where the power and wealth of the empire were concentrated.
The servant led him through a long hallway to a single door. They walked past the main receiving room. Brandt took that as a promising sign. He hated the pretense of proper receptions.
The servant knocked lightly on the door. From the way the servant fussed about his tasks, Brandt guessed the man was privately paid help. No wage earner took his work so seriously.
At his master’s response, the servant opened the door and gestured for Brandt to enter. Brandt did, then stopped short, surprised by the room.
The servant had led him into what appeared to be the governor’s private study. Several shelves of scrolls, all labeled and neatly organized, stood on the wall to Brandt’s right. A window on Brandt’s left let in the afternoon sun. The room smelled like old paper.
He approved.
The governor’s desk also impressed him. Instead of the tall desk with a chair most preferred, the governor’s desk was designed for sitting on the floor, a traditional style in some parts of the country, but considered far out of date now.
Brandt’s previous interactions with the governor had been by appointment, at the government offices near the center of the city. There, the governor had been formal, almost condescending.
Brandt received a distinctly different impression now. As the governor stood to greet his guest, Brandt’s eyes tracked the smooth motion. The governor was young, as far as such positions went. He couldn’t be much more than thirty. But he stood in a single motion, rising to his feet in a manner that demonstrated a care for his body most government officials lacked.
This man was determined, and ambitious. He greeted Brandt politely, then motioned for him to sit. Brandt did, ashamed the governor made the motion look easier than he did. His body still ached from yesterday’s beating.
“Governor, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“Call me Kye, please. There is no need for formality here. The short letter you sent left me in disbelief. Had the words come from anyone other than a wolfblade, I’m not sure I would have taken
