Vow of Thieves (Dance of Thieves 2) - Page 137

We looked out at the other witnesses who stood beyond the broken walls of the temple, still cheering, needing this celebration just as Vairlyn had said. I saw the butcher, the chandler, Beata, and Imara. And then I saw two other witnesses skirting the edge of the crowd, watching, witnesses I was sure no one else could see. The taller one pointed his bony finger at me and said, Not yet. Not today. He turned to the woman whose arm circled his. She wore a crown woven of prairie grass. She smiled, her own last good-bye. I memorized her face, the lines fanning from her amber eyes, her thick lashes, the warmth of her skin, the ease in her expression, rest, but mostly what I saw in her face was love. She nodded, and they both turned and were gone.

Good-bye, Mama.

Good-bye.

The celebration continued with mountains of feastcake, just as Jase had promised. Everyone brought some, all of them different, with their own taste surprises, none quite like Vendan feastcake, but maybe that made it better. We celebrated in a hundred different ways. And when the last cake was eaten and the last jig was danced, we each picked up a fallen stone and together began the work of rebuilding.

We pile rocks where my grandfather died. His bones are long gone, maybe carried away by a beast. But this is where he pressed the map into my hands and drew his last breath.

Tor’s Watch. It is up to you now. Protect them.

So far I have kept my promise to him.

I stand back and look at the memorial. We will make sure it always stands.

When Fujiko says a prayer to honor my grandfather and his last act as commander—giving up his life to save ours—Emi tries to repeat the prayer but cannot say the long word president, and twists it into something else. She squeezes my hand and says it again. Miandre nods approval, and thereafter, as leader of Tor’s Watch, I am known as Patrei.

—Greyson Ballenger, 23

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

JASE

One and a Half Years Later

The Candoran ambassador’s belly had grown, his red tunic rising over the table like a high tide. His buckles and jeweled chains shimmered in the flickering light of the bronze oil lamp and rattled every time he wheezed. His straza stood behind him, and ours behind us.

It seemed like nothing had changed—but everything had. The ambassador, in spite of evidence to the contrary, had just finished a long tirade complaining bitterly about the hard times that had come upon him because of our new business practices.

“It’s been a year and half. It’s hardly new, and you seem to be doing quite well.”

He was doing well. He never seemed to remember that we processed all the incoming and outgoing inventory.

Lukas toddled around the low table, fascinated with the ambassador and all his shiny buckles and chains. He pressed his tiny finger into the ambassador’s belly like it was a tempting jelly pastry.

The ambassador’s wiry brows twitched. “And what is this?” he grumbled, twirling his finger toward Lukas. “You bring a baby to a meeting?”

“My brother needs to learn the business.”

“He’s only a pup!”

“It’s never too early to learn.”

The ambassador pulled hard on his water pipe, his scowl deepening, even as he slipped a shiny bauble from his pocket and gave it to Lukas to play with.

“There are other places to trade, you know?”

Gunner tensed. I nudged him beneath the table to keep his mouth shut. Some things about Gunner would never change.

“I have important business elsewhere,” I said. “Take our offer or leave it. We’re breaking ground on a new addition to the settlement today, and we have special guests coming.”

“More special than a Candoran ambassador?”

“Very much.”

His thick fingers wove together across his belly. “Kazimyrah! You know that is a Candoran name. Maybe I should be negotiating with your wife!”

“You probably should be. She’d strike a harder deal than me. Lucky for you, she’s not here.” I stood and gathered Lukas into my arms. “Ready, brothers?”

Tags: Mary E. Pearson Dance of Thieves Fantasy
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