Dance of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 1) - Page 13

I looked in the direction he had walked. Alone.

He had wanted me to follow him. I was told that Karsen Ballenger had a large ego. It was obvious his son did, too—maybe bigger. He wasn’t going to let this humiliation go.

“Guard the end of the street,” I told Wren and Synové. “Don’t let his crew follow me,” and I went after him.

* * *

It was a quiet avenue, strangely void of anyone, lined with the back sides of shops, trash bins, and the trunks of giant trees. Shadows crisscrossed the buckled and rutted cobbled street. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was here. Somewhere. I felt the hot trail of rage he left behind. Yes, I wanted him angry but not so much that he would kill me—that was not part of the plan. It was eerily calm, and I pulled my sword halfway from its scabbard, scouring the shadows on either side. I listened for sounds, and a little farther down the road I heard a scuffling noise, a grunt, a soft clatter. A repeat of the same sounds. I turned my head, trying to pinpoint where it came from. I took another step and determined it came from an intersecting lane only a few yards ahead. I stepped forward, cautiously, and saw him, but not in the way I expected. He was bound and gagged, blood running from his temple, and he was in the grips of an enormous man almost the size of Griz. They both spotted me, and I stepped out into the middle of the lane.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I called. I didn’t think it could be a trick. The blood was real.

“No concern of yours, missy. Just cleaning up street trash. Go about your business.”

I pulled my sword free. “Let him go,” I ordered.

“Nah, I don’t think so. He’s a strong one. We’ll get a lot for him.”

And then I spotted a hay wagon not far behind them both, with tall sides and a heavy tarp thrown over the top. Labor hunters? A vision swirled before my eyes. A long-ago voice I couldn’t block out punched the air from my lungs. I blinked, trying to force the memories away.

“By order of the Queen of Venda, I demand that you release him now. He is in my custody for treaty violations.”

Jase Ballenger’s eyes grew wide, and he groaned and struggled beneath his gag but the man’s arm was a vise around him. For a moment, I regretted taking his knife. He might have avoided this quandary.

The man grinned. “You mean he’s under arrest? Well, if you put it that way…”

His voice was thick with sarcasm, and the memories clawed me again. You’ll bring a nice profit.

Jase groaned louder.

“Release him! Now!” I ordered.

It was then that I heard a sound behind me. I whirled but it was too late. Something hard and heavy struck my head, and my feet flew out beneath me. My cheek crashed into the muddy cobbles, and I caught a hazy glimpse of boots shuffling near me, stepping on the sword that was still in my hand. I felt him pull it from my grip, his boots scuffling closer, the toe of one nudging my shoulder, and then the cloudy haze darkened until it was black.

* * *

I thought it couldn’t get worse. I didn’t open my eyes when I first woke, trying to get my bearings, listening instead to the noises around me, feeling the rock and sway beneath my back, sweat trickling between my breasts, the throb of my head, something sharp cutting into my wrists. I slivered my eyes open. My wrists were chained, but worse, my boots were gone and my ankle was shackled to Jase Ballenger.

He sat across from me, his gag gone, swaying with the wagon, the side of his face crusted with dried blood, the rest shining with perspiration. He saw that I was awake. His expression was grim. He was probably far beyond angry now, and most certainly fantasizing about how slowly he would kill me if he ever got the chance. His scrutiny was smothering, and I turned my head. That was when I caught the view out the back of the wagon. There were no trees, no streets, no mountains or even hills. We were in the middle of a wide-open plain, with nowhere to hide, and nowhere to run. How long had I been unconscious?

This was more than an unexpected turn.

It was an unchecked slide into hell.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JASE

The last thing Gunner and the others would have expected was for me to disappear in a hay wagon. Keep the straza at your sides. My mother had said it a hundred times. Her order was as matter-of-fact as brushing the hair from our eyes every time we left Tor’s Watch. I had heard it since I was a child. These are uncertain times. She said it to my father too. It was her good-bye. We had become numb to it. The times were always uncertain, and our straza were always there, a presence at our sides like a knife or sword. They only had to be seen, not used. The main difference between straza and everyone else was their title, and maybe the severity of their scowls. My brothers and I were all capable of fighting our own battles, and we had one another’s backs. Usually.

But we didn’t see this battle coming. I was blind with rage when I signaled Mason. The faintest nod to the side that he read and understood. Go with the others or she won’t follow. Circle around and meet me at the livery. This Rahtan is going to cool her heels. I was still blind with rage as I walked down that alley. Boy. She didn’t know who I was, I figured that much, but I also knew it would be only a matter of seconds before the dawning came and she’d be trailing after me. Move along and I won’t cut your pretty neck. She said it with venom—and sincerity. She would have done it. There was no doubt that she was driven, by what I wasn’t sure. She didn’t even know me.

But I was driven too. This was my town, and she wasn’t going to spit out orders.

As soon as I started down the alley, I should have known. My father had always warned me, If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t. Trust your gut.

In those first steps, something seemed off, but my gut was woozy with a night of ale, and halfway down the alley my stomach caught up with my rage and I doubled over to vomit. As I wiped my mouth, an anvil pounded in my head and I blamed it on her—that was when the labor hunter hit me, knocking me to the ground. I hadn’t heard him approach and didn’t even understand who or what he was at first. As he gagged and bound me, I thought maybe he was Rahtan too, but then he called to another man farther down the alley, saying I’d bring a good price.

And then she appeared and demanded my release.

Tags: Mary E. Pearson Dance of Thieves Fantasy
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