that would probably never be filled, Tennora thought grimly.
She started with a few cantrips-simple spells she learned when she first began attending the House of Wonder. A spell to make light seemed useful; a spell to transport something through the air doubly so. They were so ingrained in her memory that Tennora wondered if she could forget them if she tried.
'I should tell you something,' Nestrix suddenly said.
Tennora kept her eyes on the page. 'Hmmm?'
'I…' Nestrix started, then sighed heavily through her nose. 'I wanted to tell you that… this is a good thing you're doing.'
Tennora looked up from her book, puzzled. 'I beg your pardon? Breaking into a shop is a good thing?'
'No-that part's… irrelevant.' She seemed to collect her thoughts and said, 'Helping… with this… is… that is, I… appreciate what you're doing.'
Tennora smiled. 'Do you mean, 'Thank you, Tennora, for helping me'?'
Nestrix scowled. 'Yes. That. Although I could do it myself. I'd just rather not.'
'You're welcome,' Tennora said.
Tennora chose another spell, mentally going through the steps that would bring power along the broken paths of the Weave and into being as small bursts of acid. A trickier spell-when it worked, it knocked Tennora's thoughts so far off kilter that she couldn't find the path to casting it again. But it was powerful destruction magic.
She knew plenty of spells, of course, that could be used to hurt others-but to be honest, she had never had cause to use them for such a purpose. Dummies, targets, and the back of her door were one thing. A person was quite another.
'One thing at a time,' she muttered under her breath, and turned the page.
The antiquary's shop was deep in the Trades Ward, to the southwest of where the God Catcher slept. In the depth of the night, not a street or alley seemed to be in its right place. Every path seemed either to be too full of shadows and threats or too full of lights and watching eyes. Searching street signs and dodging meant it took the better part of an hour to find Jembril Street.
The Timehands rang the hour before deepnight.
Tennora's heart pounded as hard as the hammers on the bells, but thrice as fast, as she stood in the shadows across the street from Treasures of the Ages, a modest and neatly painted shop. A pair of enchanted lamps flickered heatlessly with a pattern that had nothing to do with the draft that blew down the way. The interior was faintly lit by the cool, unwavering light of a few glowballs.
'That's it?' Nestrix said almost reverently.
'Yes,' Tennora said. She rubbed a thumb over the lumpy silhouettes of the lockpicks in the pack strapped to her belt. No one came in or out of the shop. No one moved in the light of the glowballs. They had no reason to turn back, she thought.
Nestrix started to cross the street, but Tennora caught her arm.
'Wait. We have to do this quickly,' she said.
'What way is quicker than going now?'
Tennora scowled at her. 'I'll do the door. You watch the street. If someone comes…' She licked her lips. 'We can't be caught doing this.'
'I am not stupid either,' Nestrix said. 'I'll watch. If someone comes, I'll take care of it.'
They slipped through the light of the street lamp and into the shadows beside the door. Tennora let out a breath as she stepped back into the safety of the darkness.
I can still go back, she thought.
She stayed, pressed against the wall of the antiquary's shop, just out of the reach of the lamps. After this, she would be a criminal. Even if they never caught her, never suspected her, she would be a thief. If she didn't steal the mask, if she bolted and ran back to the God Catcher, she had a chance.
She glanced over at Nestrix.
Spells first, she thought, and slid into the light to face the door. The lock was heavy and brutally obvious-she hoped the spell was the same.
She reached out her senses and felt for the changes, the reorganization of the threads that would show her how the spell hung on the entry.
Nothing.
She waved her fingers over the doorway. Still nothing.
There was no ward on the door.
Tennora frowned and tried to feel for it again. The door was dead.
Anxiety trilled through her thoughts. A shop that sold antiques should have a ward or two in addition to the heavy lock. If Tennora couldn't sense one, perhaps the ward it had was stronger than she could detect… but detecting magic was something Tennora was actually quite good at. It would have to have been a massive, expensive spell. One the antiquary shouldn't have spent coin on.
So-which was more likely? The antiquary was wealthy and paranoid, or the antiquary was lax about the state of his or her wares?
She said a little prayer to the goddess of luck that it was the latter and slid the kit out from under her cloak.
Tennora slipped the turning tool out of its pocket and into the keyhole. Nothing tripped. Her hands shook and her fingers didn't want to keep hold of the pick. She gripped it in her fist and took a long slow breath.
Focus, she told herself, and slid the pick into the keyhole.
The lock was complicated. Eight pins, as far as she could feel, and they were set so straight that she worried there would be nothing to bind the tumblers. Tennora willed herself to relax, to stay steady as she lifted the pins one by one into their homes.
'Someone's coming,' Nestrix whispered, and a second later footsteps rang on the cobbles. Tennora cursed under her breath, and her hands started shaking.
'Get into the shadows,' Nestrix ordered.
'Just a moment,' Tennora whispered back, as another pin clicked into place. 'I'm so close.'
'Now!'
'Distract him!' Another pin clicked into place. If she stood, Tennora would have to let go of the tension and lose all her progress. She scraped along the top of the keyhole, hunting for the last two pins. The first one rose and fell easily. Tennora swore and went for the second.
Nestrix growled. From the second pouch around her neck, she pulled a packet of greased paper. She turned it over, shaking the contents into her cupped hand.
The footsteps were getting closer. Tennora risked a glance back. A young man in a heavily embroidered cloak of amethyst purple was walking down the street, still several buildings down.
Nestrix looked down at her. 'Appreciate this, dokaal,' she said, and stepped around Tennora.
She tossed the powder she had held in her hand into the air above her. As it drifted down, the silvery motes caught the light before settling on their skin. Tennora's skin prickled, and she nearly dropped the tools to scratch it.
'Don't speak,' Nestrix whispered. 'He can still hear you.'
Which was when Tennora realized she couldn't see Nestrix any longer. Where Nestrix had stood, there was no one and nothing but the cool night air. She was still there, however-her strong hand clasped Tennora's shoulder.
'Keep working.'
Tennora lifted the pick with a sudden jerk. The second pin locked. She hissed.
The sound of the young man's footsteps stopped. Nestrix's grip tightened on her shoulder.
Tennora dared not move, dared not breathe. He came a few steps toward them. Nestrix's grip relaxed, as if she meant to have her hand free, and the smell of storms billowed off her.
Please, Tennora thought, run away.
'Ahoy?' the man said. 'Coins bright? Is someone there?'
Neither woman spoke. The man stood there watching for what felt like an eternity. Tennora's hands cramped
