Vow of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 2) - Page 53

“He didn’t tell you?”

“A drunk barber, he claimed.” She sighed. “Mason and I didn’t talk much—at least not the way you and Kazi did. It was more of a physical thing with us.”

I remembered Mason confessing his attraction to Synové, bu

t I was certain it was more than just superficial attraction. I remembered his voice, his eyes darting nervously to the side when he said she makes me laugh. It was a hard admission for him, caring about someone like that.

“If it was only a physical thing between you two, then why do you care how he got it?”

“A girl can be curious, can’t she?”

Synové might be my temporary wife, but Mason was my brother. I didn’t give away his secrets. “You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

She grumbled under her breath, mostly in Vendan, but the last word she said sounded a lot like toad.

Maybe she knew that when and if she met up with Mason again, he wasn’t likely to speak to her at all. Maybe it wasn’t just physical like she claimed. Maybe she knew him better than she let on. One thing about Mason, he had a long memory. Even if they didn’t talk a lot, Synové had figured out that much. He had lost both of his parents to betrayal. Synové was dead to Mason.

* * *

Wren walked on one side of me, her shoulder casually brushing mine, and Synové, good loving wife that she was, held my hand.

We drew stares. Not because I was Kbaaki walking with my two wives, but because we were here at all. Home was a long way north for us, and winter had descended. Our excuse for being this far south had to be told over and over, first at the stables where we were required to leave our horses. It was a rule the Ballengers had initiated years ago. We’d decided that it made for a better buying and trade experience, instead of having the narrow avenues of the arena clogged with horses, mules, and wagons. We had runners who would transport merchandise to the stables for customers. I regretted that rule right now. It made a quick getaway more difficult.

I knew it wasn’t just being here out of season that drew stares—part of it was that Kbaaki were always slightly intimidating. They were quiet, watchful sorts, which was what made them such good hunters. But their quiet ways and stares unnerved some people. They were a large people too, not Griz large, but tall and broad-shouldered—even the women. Synové was a large girl, almost as tall as me, and easily passed as Kbaaki. Wren was smaller, but her intimidating stare more than made up for her size. Mostly, though, I think people always thought there was something slightly unearthly about Kbaaki and their mysterious knowledge of potions and poisons.

“Keep your eyes straight ahead, husband,” Wren warned.

Synové squeezed my hand. “Remember, we’re just a family in search of spirit wood.”

My eyes had been sweeping every corner of the arena. It was hard not to. Impossible maybe. I was looking at the changes before we ever got inside the arena. Soldiers were positioned on the bridge over the entrance—launchers slung over their shoulders. My launchers. The ones I had paid for—dearly. More soldiers were stationed on the floor where we shopped, but they were only armed with halberds or swords. I searched the faces but hadn’t recognized anyone yet. Where did they all come from? And where were the Ballenger employees? Dead?

I had no doubt that more soldiers spied us from positions in the eight towers that looked over the arena floor. What had become of Garvin? Was he dead? Forced to work for them? Or maybe he had escaped. He was good at slipping away unnoticed. Somewhere up there, Paxton and Truko might even be eyeing me right now—maybe from the Ballenger apartments while they drank Ballenger wine and ate our food.

And somewhere in this arena maybe they were holding Kazi.

Knowing her ability to disappear, she had to be somewhere very secure. Or she was hurt. Or—

I couldn’t think of any more possibilities. “Over there,” I said, tilting my head at a man standing near one of the tower entrances. “Him.” I finally saw an employee I recognized—Sheridan. A squarely built man with bushy red brows to match his beard. He hadn’t worked for us for long. Titus had hired him, and I had only spoken briefly to him once. He was one of a dozen floor security, tasked with defusing squabbles before they could escalate. But they were also there to direct customers to the merchandise. The arena was large and like a city in itself, not to mention the rows of warehouses and paddocks that sprawled behind it.

“He’s a big one. You sure?” Wren asked.

“Looks like he could be loud too,” Synové added.

I was sure. He was either caught up in the takeover and forced to work the arena or he had willingly joined their ranks, and I was about to either make his day much better—or much worse.

“Sa dre foraza? Eh, eh—” I called to him, pretending I was struggling with the language. “Spe reet wud. We are looking for—”

“Spirit wood? You might be able to find that in warehouse eighteen. Late in the season to be carrying it, but they’re a specialty vendor who has a bit of everything. Through that tunnel. Just look for the numbers on the—”

I shook my head apologetically. “Your numbers. I do not—read.”

He tried to explain and even wrote the number in air, but I only creased my face with more confusion. He finally gave up and waved us forward. “This way. I’ll show you.”

The thing about spending half of your time in the arena as you were growing up was that you knew places, all the hidden places no one else knew—and didn’t want to know. Places every Ballenger parent had forbidden their children from going but we did anyway. It was a rite of passage, older cousins leading the younger down dangerous paths to frighten them. Most important, I knew places a security team couldn’t see from the towers—the only blind spots we had.

I walked next to Sheridan, heading for the short tunnel that led to the warehouses behind the arena. Wren and Synové followed close behind us. With their bulky fur cloaks, they provided a convenient shield. As we approached the tunnel, I saw that it was clear.

“The arena,” I said as we entered the tunnel, “eez different since I was here last.”

Tags: Mary E. Pearson Dance of Thieves Fantasy
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