Archer turned back to Jemma, who was still glowering at him across the fire. “I’ve brought you a new secret weapon.” He tried to usher the curse painter forward with a hand on her shoulder, but she shook him off. He raised his hands apologetically. “Briar, Jemma. Jemma, Briar.”
Briar studied the older woman closely. “You’re the one in charge?”
Jemma chuckled, her skin creasing around her mouth. “Oh, I like her already.”
“Didn’t you say—”
“She’s the brains, yes, but I’m the boss,” Archer said. “Jemma used to work in the castle where our fair maiden is being kept. She’s the reason we are going to succeed where other merry bands of outlaws have failed.”
“How many?” Briar asked.
“Beg pardon?”
“How many others have attempted this mission and failed?”
“Let’s just say, it won’t be as easy as it sounds.” Archer headed for the cookpot, seeking to fend off further challenges. “Hope you saved some stew for us.”
“Esteban almost finished it off,” Jemma said. “You shouldn’t have taken so long.”
“Oh, right, that’s Esteban.” Archer nodded at the shriveled figure dressed in black sitting at the very edge of the ring of light, giving no further explanation.
Esteban wouldn’t respond well to being labeled, even if Archer called him charming and brawny and as handsome as the king himself. In truth, Esteban was none of those things. Gaunt, gray haired, and surly, he had been with them almost since the beginning, but he hadn’t warmed up to anyone. Only Jemma—who was nicer than they all deserved—made much of an effort with him.
The six of them gathered around the campfire, sitting on fallen logs or sprawling in the dirt. Briar perched on a stump, watching the others closely, and Archer was reminded again of a petite owl. But owls had talons, and he couldn’t forget she had the power to hurl him across a room when she felt like it.
After scarfing down a few bites of Lew’s special squirrel stew, Archer explained the mission to rescue Lady Mae.
“The castle is a ten-day ride from here, deep within the boundaries of Lord Larke’s territory. It has a regular garrison of fifty retainers, and their commander is no fool. He won’t leave the lady unguarded, even during the most dramatic diversion. This will be a stealth mission. Jemma knows her way around the castle, so we should be able to sneak into the tower, break open the lady’s door, incapacitate her guards, and get her out again without anyone realizing we’re there. Lord Larke should be away on his annual tax-collecting jaunt, so that’ll make our job a little easier.”
Briar listened closely, her chin in her hand. “What are the magical protections on the place?”
“Esteban?”
The old man gave a dry cough. “A Nightshade Illusion at the border wall, a few hexed doorways in the tower, and likely a Marin’s Lock on her door.”
Briar raised an eyebrow. “Why do you need me? You already have a mage.”
Lew and Jemma exchanged glances, but Esteban didn’t seem surprised Briar had figured out what he was. He watched her sullenly. Truth be told, sullen was his resting state.
“Esteban’s power comes with limitations,” Archer said. “He’s licensed, you see.”
“Then why do you need him?”
Lew chortled, and Esteban muttered something about disrespectful children.
“Everyone has a part to play in this.” Archer thumped Nat on the not-quite-brawny shoulder. “Even him.”
Briar was still studying the mage. She was tense, a bird poised for flight. “You have the tattoos?”
Esteban pulled up his sleeve to reveal the faded black ink looping his wiry arms. The spelled marks meant every bit of magic he performed was catalogued in the mysterious Hall of Records in faraway High Lure, the king’s city.
“Where did you train?” Briar asked.
“I have studied at several of the best art mage schools in Lure,” Esteban said. “I won’t have my credentials questioned by an illegal—”
“I don’t doubt your credentials,” Briar said. “When were you last at court?”
Esteban’s mouth tightened irritably. “I have been my own man since before you were born, little girl. You ought to show your elders more respect.”
“Forgive me,” Briar said. “I meant no offense.” She adjusted her position on the tree stump, already seeming less nervous.
Interesting. Archer would have to see if Jemma had any theories about why Briar cared whether someone had recently been at court. Jemma was better at reading people than he was. Esteban was easier to figure out than Briar. The older mage begrudged the fact that they’d hired outside magical help for the job. The resentment was practically written on his face among the wrinkles. Archer hoped that wouldn’t become a problem.
“Back to business,” Archer said. “Can you paint curses that will break those three spells in addition to ones that will open normal doors and knock out guards?”
“With some planning, yes.” Briar looked around the campfire at the band of thieves, then her gaze flitted to the tunnel through the thicket, as if she were still thinking about running away. “But if I agree to help you, I’ll get a price on my head for my troubles.”
“Only if you’re seen and somehow recognized. I don’t expect that to be an issue, do you?”
Briar touched a lock of her frizzy hair. “Of course not.”
Had that been hesitation, a note of falseness? Archer couldn’t be certain. Lord Larke’s retainers were unlikely to recognize her, especially if Jemma and Archer himself didn’t know her. They were acquainted with most of the lawbreakers in Larke and Barden counties, even though they’d spent most of the past year farther afield. She couldn’t be that notorious. So who was she worried about?
“We shouldn’t discuss any more details until she gives us a straight answer,” Esteban muttered. “Are you in or not?”
Briar cast a swift look at the old mage then focused on Archer. She had turned him down flat before, but this time she might actually need the coin. It wouldn’t be cheap to restart
