Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
A Simple Job
The day after my adventure with Darion, Elena and I were eating our midday meal, consisting of flatbread, honey, cured meats, and cheeses.
We had befriended the cook, Tobias, who watched our expressions as we ate, smiling each time we voiced our approval.
This may have been because Tobias—who could be no more than sixteen—seemed to have taken a liking to Elena and was making clumsy attempts to flirt.
As her big brother, I kept a close eye on them to be sure Tobias never went too far.
He was serving us a dessert of sweet whipped cream and strawberries when a member of the Order entered the kitchens and approached us.
“Cassian Nightbrook, High Steward Averin requests your presence. Please follow me.”
I had not heard from Mireth Averin since the day she’d pronounced me a member of the Order. I was anxious to speak with her and learn more about the plans for relocating Elena, so I followed eagerly.
As I walked toward the exit, I told my sister, “I should be back soon. Stay out of trouble,” then turned to Tobias and said in my most threatening tone, “And I’ve got my eye on you.”
Tobias blanched. Elena glared at me as I left the room. Maybe I was overreacting, but the world felt so dangerous now, and Elena was one of the few bright things left in it.
Mireth Averin’s office was better furnished than most of the Order of Emberlight headquarters, which was to say that it approximated a normal room.
She sat behind a desk that was meticulously tidy.
Dozens of neatly ordered books sat on bookcases right behind her.
Rugs warmed the cold stone floors, and upholstered chairs surrounded a roaring fire.
As I approached, she looked up. “Cassian Nightbrook, thank you for coming. Please take a seat.” She gestured to the chair in front of her desk.
“You can call me Cas, Madam High Steward,” I said.
“And you can call me Mireth, if we’re being informal,” she said with a coy smile. “Darion told us about your experience yesterday. I trust you’ve fully recovered?”
“I have,” I said, although I shuddered at the memory. “Do you know what happened?”
“Our people are researching it. You’ve provided us with invaluable information. I wanted to thank you personally.”
I nodded. “Is that why you called me here?”
“That, yes, and two other things. First, I imagine you’re eager to talk about your sister’s future.”
“Very much so.”
“We’d hoped to move her soon, but the Royal Guard has stepped up its patrols.
However, we’ll have an opportunity in a week.
A caravan of traveling merchants is leaving the city, heading for the Northlands, which will give you excellent cover as you travel north.
We’ll keep the team small—you, your sister, and two of our finest fighters from the Order.
She should be well protected. I’ll go over more details with you in the next few days. Does that meet with your approval?”
“It does. I look forward to it,” I said. “What is the other thing?”
She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a parchment. “I think it’s high time we utilized those thieving skills I’ve heard so much about. How do you feel about stealing from a particularly nasty man?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. It’d been weeks since I’d done a simple heist, and I desperately missed it. I missed the challenge. I missed the chance to use my skills. Mostly I missed the feeling of doing something—making progress toward a goal, even if that goal seemed unattainable.
“I’d like that very much,” I said. “The nastier the better.”
“Oh, he’s plenty nasty. A corrupt merchant who helps fund Tarnasau’s war machine in exchange for looking the other way as people constantly die in his factories, which earn him exorbitant profits. Hopefully this will be the first step in bringing him to justice.”
She laid the parchment on her desk, and we pored over it. This job was as simple as it got. Get in, open the safe, steal a document, and get out. Almost too easy.
“If you come across any coin or other loot while you’re in there, that’ll be yours to keep. We prefer that you take some, actually, as it deflects suspicion. Looks more like a simple robbery rather than espionage.”
“I think I can manage that,” I said with a wry smile. This job sounded better by the moment.
“Very good. Oh, and have you met Sprocket?”
“Sprocket?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
“Our guild quartermaster. He will outfit you with everything you need.”
“The Gearhouse” was in the depths of the Order’s headquarters.
I’d thought Elena and I had explored every room, but I was wrong.
The entrance was in the very library I had borrowed the books from, behind a bookcase that slid away to reveal a winding staircase.
One hundred twenty-six stairs later, I found myself in a large room filled from floor to ceiling with supplies, weapons, alchemists’ tools, a blacksmith’s forge, and countless other items that could’ve supplied a small army.
A grizzled man in dirty overalls—Sprocket, I assumed—was deep in concentration, sitting at a table and working on a mechanical contraption.
He probed inside a mass of gears and levers with two delicate-looking instruments, his elbows poking out to the sides.
This, combined with his haphazard hair and the magnifying glass attached to his spectacles, made him look like some exotic insect.
I stood quietly, letting him concentrate. Besides picking locks, I hadn’t tinkered much with mechanical things, mostly because I had none around, and the intricacy fascinated me.
The man sighed. “Would you please stop looking at me so loudly?”
I looked around to see if there was someone else in the room. When I came up empty, I realized he must have been referring to me.
“Beg your pardon?” I asked.
“You’re practically screaming at me with those eyes.”
“You can hear my…eyes?”
“Yes, they are very loud,” he said, then let out a sigh as he set down his tools and looked my way.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” I said. “I can come back later.”
“No need. After all that racket, I’ve lost my concentration,” he said, not angrily or dismissively, just like he was stating a fact. “People call me Sprocket. From the look of you, I’d guess you are our new recruit. Cas, right?”
“That’s right,” I said.
“Rumor has it that you are quite the potion-maker.”
“Oh? Who did you hear that from?”
“Darion Thorne speaks very highly of you.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Is that so?”
“Really likes you, that one,” Sprocket said. “Never thought I’d see him that happy again after…” His eyes grew wide. Then he blinked and turned back to his device.
“After what?” I asked.
He said nothing, just continued to work. I was about to ask again when he said, “Feel free to use any of the herbs and reagents you need. Let me know if you need any help.”
It seemed that conversation was over, but Sprocket had successfully planted a seed of worry in my mind, as if I didn’t have enough to obsess about.
What had happened in Darion’s past to make him so unhappy?
It got me thinking about how I knew very little about Darion’s life before we met.
He rarely brought it up, and he’d mentioned his family only once.
Maybe now that I’d joined the Order, he might start opening up more. Time would tell.
I set to work, crafting a myriad of potions—smoke bombs, flash-bangs, scent cancelers, and other equipment essential for a typical job.
Halfway through, Sprocket came over, observing my work and occasionally interjecting with a question or comment.
He was a little odd, but he was smart, and I liked his enthusiasm.
He even gave me a tip or two about how to improve the efficacy of several of my potions.
But he never brought up Darion again, and I decided not to press him.
Once I had a full load and a few potions to spare, I said my goodbyes to Sprocket, headed upstairs, and prepared to leave. It felt a little odd doing a job without Garrick.
The Royal Guard and the Sentinels were everywhere.
The good news was that after my encounter with them yesterday, I knew that if I made my mind quiet enough, I could tune in to the thrumming they seemed to emit.
Because of this, I could map their positions and avoid them.
But I was also very careful not to overextend myself.
If the slightest tickle of that horrible darkness licked at my senses, I could quickly detach.
The job was as easy as advertised, almost laughably so.
The home was in a less dense part of the Garden District near the Old Grove—the last untouched bit of forest in Analon—and had its own yard and trees.
There were so many doors and windows, a thief could get dizzy from all the options.
Guards monitored the grounds so predictably that I could set a clock to it. I was in within seconds.
The only person inside was a portly man so drunk that even if he saw me, he’d likely think I was a symptom of too much ale.
The safe was inside his bedroom, hidden behind the dresser.
The only challenge was opening it, as it was so old that the hinges were nearly rusted shut.
But it was nothing that a bit of oil from one of my vials couldn’t fix.
Within the safe were the documents the Order had requested, along with a pile of gold and jewels. I swiped them and made a quick escape.
Despite the Royal Guard’s increased patrols, I still made my donation to Mrs. Yarrow’s orphanage. Since it had been so long, I left ten times the normal amount. But as I was sliding the envelope under the door, it opened a crack.
Standing before me was the closest thing I’d had to a mother after mine had been ripped away.
It had been six years since I’d left Mrs. Yarrow’s home with Elena, worried about the risk I posed to her, and I hadn’t seen her since.
Those years washed away in an instant. She was a bit grayer and had deeper wrinkles, but she was the same person I loved.
“Cassian, what a beautiful man you’ve turned into,” she said with a sad smile. “Thank you for all the gold you’ve left. I couldn’t have made it without you.”
“So you knew it was me?” I said, my voice breaking.
“Of course. No one else would have such a big heart. I’ve been wanting to thank you, but I also wanted to respect your wishes. I know why you’ve felt the need to keep away.”
A mix of happy and sad emotions welled up in me, and I reached for my locket. “Why now?” I asked.
“I need to give you something. Something I’ve held onto for a long time. But you have to make me a promise.”
Why did all the people in my life need me to make promises? Things had gotten so complicated. I longed for the simple days when my sister and I played in the forest and our only responsibility was getting home before sunset.
“What promise?”
“You can’t risk coming here anymore. It’s not safe for you or for me. Not until all of this is over.”
This wasn’t entirely unexpected, but my heart broke a little anyway. I nodded.
She reached into her skirt, pulled out an envelope that had yellowed with age, and handed it to me. “This is for you. I was to give it to you on your twenty-first birthday. Don’t open it now. Go somewhere safe.”
“Who is this from?”
“It’s from your parents,” she said tentatively, a tear streaking down her cheek.
That hit me like a punch in the gut. “You…you knew my parents?” I could barely get the words out as my throat constricted.
“Not personally. They arranged for me to take care of you and your sister in case something happened to them.”
How many fundamental truths about my life could change before I couldn’t take it anymore? I had never imagined I would receive a letter from beyond the grave.
“How…” I started to say, but I wasn’t even sure what question to ask. I stood there, dumbfounded.
A dog barked, and shouts came from down the street. The Royal Guards were everywhere.
“Go!” Mrs. Yarrow whispered fiercely. “You have to go now!”
She gave me one last look that spoke of all the love she had for me, then shut the door. I wanted desperately to bang on it again and have her tell me so much more, but the barks were rapidly getting louder.
With my heart in tatters, I climbed to the rooftops and disappeared into the night.