“I’m fine,” Ōbhin growled, feeling eyes watching them from the manor house. Maids and others. “Who are you, boy?”
“Runty Ed,” he said. “Just out for a walk.”
“Out for a walk?” Ōbhin drew his sword, his palm throbbing against the leather handle. It felt strange to hold the weapon in a naked grip. “In Qoth, we skin thieves and throw them into the mountain snows.” He activated his weapon.
The blade hummed to life. The lad pissed himself. The acrid scent stung Ōbhin’s nose as the youth dissolved into blubbering tears. Snot poured from his nose, illuminated by the weapon’s glowing emerald.
“P-please don’t skin me with your magic blade!” He said. “We’re not thieves. Honest!”
He brought the blade closer to the boy.
A piglet-like squeal burst from the runt’s lips. “Please, please, guv’nor. We just heard there was a big gem here. Somethin’ unique. That’s all. You got to believe me.”
“Jewel?” The Recorder? No one outside of Ōbhin, Dualayn, and Avena know of its existence. And Pharon; he carried it in, didn’t he? “Who told you about it?”
“A man,” the boy said. “Likes to drink at the Sword Arm.”
A chill ran through him. Ōbhin knew that tavern, located in the Slops, a slum north of the lake. “Describe him.”
Smiles gave a questioning look but held his words.
“Tall man,” the boy spat out. “Big in the shoulders. His hair was greasy. Chews weed. His teeth were all stained worse than my pa’s.”
Ōbhin’s heart tightened. Ust. The man liked the Sword Arm. Ruvine, the bandit chief’s favorite tavern wench, worked there. “Anyone else with him?”
“This snivelin’ fellow. Had a hook for a hand.”
Was it Handsome Baill watching us, then? Is Ust working with Dje’awsa? Dig up Carstin’s body in exchange for what . . . Ōbhin’s skin crawled. He didn’t believe in magic, having never seen it, but that man exuded something unearthly. If sorcerers existed, working their dark arts, then they’d look like him.
“You tell your friends,” Ōbhin snarled, “next thief I catch gets skinned! And I will catch you.” He leaned down. “We don’t sleep in Qoth.”
The boy nodded.
“Smiles, drag him and his friend to Breezy Hills and dump them in an alley. They can wander free once the binds wear off.”
“Sure you don’t want to skin ‘em?” asked Smiles in a casual voice. “Wouldn’t mind seeing that.”
“Please, please!” the boy sobbed. “I won’t cause no problems.”
Ōbhin nodded and sheathed his blade. Ust was here and causing problems. Petty annoyances. Ōbhin rolled his shoulders. A part of him wanted to march to the Sword Arm and plant his blade in the man’s throat. Murder him outright. I’ve killed better men for less reason.
He stared down at his hands. They were bare of the gloves, but he could still see the sable. He’d never be free of it if he thought like that. Killing had a finality. He stared off into the dark. At the hill. He didn’t feel the eyes, but that didn’t mean Handsome Baill wasn’t up there, longbow in hand, watching.
*
Avena watched the commotion from the smoking room window, her housecoat wrapped around her body. Located on the eastern side of the third floor, this room had windows allowing her to see both in front of and to the east of the manor house. She leaned out the open window, listening to the maids below. Jilly cheered on her husband over the ear-splitting blare of the alarm.
“Ooh, knock him down, Phelep!” she cried as the second thief reversed course and rushed at Ōbhin.
Avena ached to go down there, but she wasn’t one of the guards. Besides, she wore only a thin nightgown beneath her robe. She didn’t fear a pair of sneak thieves. Dje’awsa was another matter. She chewed on her lower lip.
What foul blackness are you working on with Carstin’s body?
Anger burned inside of her. She had spent days nursing the man, keeping him alive for the chance of being saved, and now that disgusting man had his body. She didn’t think he was selling cadavers to surgeons for study. He had something else in mind.
Elohm, watch over Carstin’s earthly vessel. Do not let it be—
The maids and cooks below gasped in shocked delight. Avena glanced at the dark field to see the thief collapsed at Ōbhin’s feet. Smiles appeared a moment later, hitting the miscreant with the binder, ending the chase.
Avena sighed. It looked . . . exhilarating being out there, racing through the dark, pursuing villains. She leaned forward, elbows braced on her windowsill. She shook her head, her eyes flicking across the dark grounds, hoping that maybe, just maybe, a third slinked in the dark.
Movement drew her attention.
A figure slipped through the east gate which led to the small grove of trees on the Breezy Hills side of the estate. Her brow furrowed. The gate should be locked. Just like the postern that led west to the blackberry hill. Her eyes focused on the figure. She leaned out her window to track him and . . .
Pharon?
The butler rushed across the lawn, smoothing his dark jacket and patting at his hair. She tracked him as he hurried to the commotion. Questions danced through her mind. Why was he out in the small grove at night? By day, it was a pleasant place to take a walk, with a small clearing in the center holding a marble bench. A delightful place to read a book or relax and breathe in nature.
Out of sight.
Her eyes flicked up to Modesty shining through a large gap in the dark clouds. The purple moon glowed near full and was straight
