next?”
She considered their options in light of these newpossibilities. “Have you ever seen the Thorn?”
Delgar huffed. “Yes, the elves gladly lend it to mypeople whenever we can’t be bothered moving vast quantities ofstone around by hand.”
“Oddly enough, I’m in no mood for sarcasm.”
“Do you prefer irony? Because any dwarf I’ve ever metwould see plenty of that in this little rescue mission.”
She supposed he had a point. Most dwarves believedthe carmite in the Thorn had been stolen from one of their ancienttroves.
An idea began to take shape. “Can you work in glass?If you had to, could you create a credible glass weapon?”
He shot her a quick, insulted glance. “That’s thefirst crafting skill a Carmot learns, as well you know.”
“So if I drew the Thorn, you could make a copy. Areplica done in glass rather than crystal.”
The dwarf shifted to face her. “What are youthinking?”
“We get someone inside the adept’s manor to steal theThorn and replace it with a glass replica. Fox could do this?”
Delgar huffed a short laugh. “I doubt there’s astronghold in Sevrin that could keep him out. But Muldonny’s notlike Rhendish. He doesn’t take students and receives no tradesmen.Only his clockwork servants come and go, and a few invitedguests.”
“Then we shall have to intercept an invitation.”
“His guests are all alchemists.”
“We could send Avidan.”
“
“Why not? He’s an alchemist.”
“He’s. . less reliable than you apparentlybelieve,” Delgar said with careful diplomacy. “And he hasn’t leftthe tunnels once since we found him in the mirror room. That wasthree, maybe four years ago. There’s no telling how he’d react inthe outside world.”
“Is there anyone else among you who could pass as analchemist long enough to get the information we need?”
Delgar’s silence was sufficient answer.
“If you think it might help, someone can go with himto help keep him focused on the task at hand. The humans of Sevrinseem to take servants with them wherever they go.”
“That might work,” Delgar said. “Fox seldom works onStormwall Island. There are only a few people looking for himthere. Of course, there are fewer people in general. It’s harder toblend into a crowd.”
“Fairies are generally quite skilled at illusions.Perhaps Vishni-”
“No,” Delgar said emphatically.
“No?”
“Imagine the last person you’d want to take alongwhen you’re exploring an adept’s lair, then put that name on alist. Vishni’s name would be three lines south of it.”
His reaction confirmed Honor’s growing suspicionsabout the fairy. “So Vishni is not to be trusted.”
“Oh, you can trust Vishni,” he said. “The problem is,you can trust her to ‘improve the story.’ And I suspect you’veheard enough fairy tales to guess how that generally turnsout.”
“Then why do you keep her around?”
Delgar’s smile held a bitter twist. “Every storyneeds a hero. Fairy tales tend to be twisty, but the hero usuallywins. And Vishni sees Fox as an ‘archetype,’ the young tricksterhero who gets the better of wizards and lords with his nativecunning.”
“And if she changes her mind about Fox?”
“Then we’re all fuggled,” the dwarf said bluntly.“Sideways.”
Vishni and Fox strolled alongside the shores ofStormwall Island. The sun was warm, the day was summer- ripe, andthe cherry ice Fox had bought her from a street vendor tasted likestolen kisses. Best of all, the story unfolding around her promisedenough twists and corners to warrant inclusion in
All of this should have made the fairy giddy withdelight. Instead, her mood darkened with each step.
She still smarted from yesterday’s encounter with theelf, from the tips of her blistered fingers to the depths of herpride.
And Fox, night take him, could not stop chatteringabout the iron-clad wench!
When Vishni could take no more she wheeled around toface Fox and stomped on his foot. Not hard enough to break bones,but with enough force to earn her an incredulous stare and a fewmoments of blessed silence.
“Muldonny?” she said. “Remember him? The adept whorules Stormwall Island? Owner of the fortress we plan toinfiltrate? Looks like a fat, balding squirrel?”
That drew a snort of laughter from Fox. “He isvaguely squirrel-shaped, now that you mention it. And by allreports, he has a temperament to match. Honor says-”
“I don’t care.”
Truth be told, Vishni didn’t much care for any ofthis. Skulking around Stormwall Island, walking bridges with ironrails she couldn’t touch, watching people slaughter fish that werein no position to fight back.
At least their trip to the long pier where passengerships docked had proved fruitful.
She slipped one hand into a skirt pocket and gave thecontents an affectionate pat. Several visiting alchemists werelisted on the passenger manifests she’d stolen, but one presentedunusually promising storytelling potential.
The name Insa’amid was known in her homeland. If hersuspicions were correct, kidnapping this particular alchemist wouldmake Fox’s task easier. More importantly, it would add a poignanttouch and maybe even a bit of irony to the unfolding story.
But that was a game for another day. Her gaze skimmedthe wharfs in search of some immediate source of diversion.
Two men struggled to lift a huge, sword-nosed fishfrom a wooden boat. Both men were roughly clad, fair- haired, andstrong enough to put up an interesting fight. The older man lookedlike he’d had some practice at it. A scar meandered across hisforehead and his nose had that pleasantly bumpy, crooked look ofone that’d been broken a time or two. If there was more damage, itwas hidden by the man’s long blond beard.
Vishni liked long beards. Grabbing hold of themduring a fight was one of her favorite strategies. No one everseemed to expect it, which was half the fun.
“I don’t like the looks of that smile,” Fox said.
She adjusted her expression until she was certain nofluffy kitten had ever looked as innocent.
“See that woman by the nets? The pretty, young onewho’s sorting fish? She has an odd sort of ring.”
“You must have eyes like a hawk. I can’t see it fromhere.”
The fairy held up a little silver hoop set with chipsof green and blue sea glass. “Is this better?”
Fox’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing withthat?”
“Keeping it safe! She put it in her apron pocketbefore she started working. Taking it from her pocket when wewalked past was as easy as smiling. Anyone could have done it.”
The thief sighed. “We don’t steal from fisherfolk,Vishni. You know that. They have troubles enough.”
“Oh, the ring will turn up,” she said airily. “Maybein her pocket, or on the table, or inside a fish. .”
Angry voices rose from the dock, where two mencrouched beside a mixture of fish guts and treasure.
Fox squinted toward the pile of gold. Since each coinwas large enough to cover the palm of Vishni’s hand, it made quitea pile.
“Veldooni currency, Vishni? Seriously?”
The distant land of Veldoon had been on Vishni’s mindsince she’d picked an alchemist to charm and kidnap.
“Why not?”
“If I was going to create an illusion of treasurespilling out of a fish’s belly, my first choice wouldn’t be
