Chapter One The Pigeon Drop #4
Briona hadn’t really moved, but her shadow had leaned back in relief before it snapped back to what it should be. And Saeldian couldn’t look right at it to be sure, but Briona’s shadow was projecting on the wall wrong, as if it were taller than Briona was.
Jubilee reached for the deposit slip. Saeldian jerked it away without thinking and turned to study the muralist’s rendering of Deepwater Harbor, where the stars were tiny and familiar among the forest of masts they peeked through.
Mariel landed in the corner of their vision.
Did the bodyguard sparkle, or was that the Light spell on the wall sconce next to her?
Jubilee thumped the table with one palm. “Is it enough to fix the roof?”
Illusion. It had to be. Both of them were in disguise. They could be anyone. Why had the amulet beat? Were they really supposed to agree to this?
“Sheld!”
Was it enough to fix the roof? It was enough to replace the roof.
Pop the whole lid off, retimber it, and rebuild it with the fancy rain-collecting system Jubilee had admired on the way in.
It was enough to replace the roof and the leaky pipes in the bargain.
It was enough for all of that, with a decent start on new windows.
Damn them to the Nine Hells. “It’s enough to fix the roof.”
Jubilee darted in and stole the deposit slip from Saeldian’s hand. Saeldian didn’t even fight back this time.
Jubilee’s breath came out hitched in awed disbelief at the sum. “We’re in. We’ll retrieve your item.”
“Jubilee!”
“We will try to retrieve your item,” Jubilee amended. “If we can’t succeed without getting caught, we’re not going to be heroes.”
That wasn’t true. Jubilee would do dangerous things to get that money. “We don’t even know what the job is.”
“We want you to recover a stolen item,” Briona said. “We don’t expect you to kill anyone or do anything your conscience would balk at. The job is rushed, as I said, and it’s risky, as you guessed. And that’s all I will tell you before you agree.”
Saeldian looked at the paper again. A bearer vault’s worth of coins, meaning the coins weren’t registered in an account, and there was no reason to go telling anyone about them if you wanted clean money to spend.
It was too much to carry away in one trip.
And Jubilee wanted it so she could pour every clinking dragon into Righthoof Manor.
But Briona’s shadow didn’t match. It didn’t match. Saeldian’s tongue was dry and tasted of tannin from the wine, and if the amulet would just give them a sign—
“Sheld?” Jubilee asked, quiet as a prayer.
Fuck. There was no way to say no. Jubilee, who believed that lanceboard was life, would say that Saeldian had been pinned. Unable to move, not because their piece would be eliminated, but because their piece guarded Jubilee’s.
No way to say no, and this move just cost Saeldian everything.
“All right.” Saeldian let their shoulders fall under their sigh. “We’ll try. But we’re not getting caught, and we’re not taking the fall.”
“Fair enough.” Briona lifted her wine goblet in a toast. “It’s a bargain.”
Jubilee snatched hers up, raising it high. Her smile was wide enough to cover every gable and cupola on Righthoof Manor. Saeldian picked up their cup and raised it. They drank.
Something slid along the bottom of Saeldian’s goblet and bumped their lip.
Red wine dotted the tablecloth as Saeldian put the goblet down too quickly.
Their lip was cold where it touched, cold that seeped into their mouth, coated their tongue, and tingled in the back of their nose.
It was no use, but Saeldian shook their head to banish the feeling. The magic sank into their bones.
“Don’t drink that!”
Too late. Jubilee had caught whatever it was in her lips and let it fall into her palm. “What’s this?”
“Your promise,” Briona said. “Mariel.”
The burly woman slipped out the door faster than Saeldian expected.
“Our promise? What did you—” Jubilee let it fall to the tablecloth. “How did you even palm this? You’re on the other side of the table. This little rock wasn’t in there before.”
Briona couldn’t have put that rock into Jubilee’s and Saeldian’s goblets without them noticing. It was a rock, wasn’t it?
A pair of silver tongs rested on a small plate at Saeldian’s place setting.
They fished out a stone from the bottom of their own goblet, which knocked on the tablecloth as it landed.
Briona couldn’t have dropped the stone into their cup without them noticing.
But the goblets were real silver, so there was no way to see to the bottom.
And the wine had been poured before they’d settled in.
Simple. Elegant, even—or it would have been if Saeldian had done it.
“Prestidigitation cantrip,” Saeldian said. “An apprentice’s trick. You didn’t palm the stone a moment ago. It was in there all along.”
Red wine wicked along the tablecloth’s threads, spreading beyond the stone’s shadow. The stone itself was plain grayish-blue with a hole near one edge, smoothed and rounded by water, unpolished.
Jubilee bent to peer at it. “But what is it?”
Casters used all kinds of objects to channel their magic. Saeldian had never seen a spell that asked for a stone like this, but the sum of everything that had happened added up quickly.
“I have a guess,” Saeldian said.
“Do you?” Briona asked. “I’m curious. You’re doing an impressive job of identifying my technique so far.”
“There was a spell on that stone, wasn’t there? An enchantment. To make our toast a vow.”
“Clever.” Briona raised her goblet again. “You do know your enchantment spells.”
“But how did you do it?”
“Ah, ah. That’s a secret,” Briona chided. “It shouldn’t matter. You voiced your agreement already. This is just a way of putting it in writing.”
Jubilee set both her hands on the table. “I don’t appreciate being bound to a job we already agreed to do, friend.”
Jubilee was too good to cause trouble in a room with only one exit, but Saeldian had been in Waterdeep long enough to know that was a clear warning that there would be trouble if Briona didn’t back off.
They leaned back and tried to keep their tone just as mild.
“Can’t say I like it either. Why the insurance? ”
“Because I’m giving you an advance.” Briona slid a bearer envelope to Jubilee. Saeldian’s heart sank. They were bound, but Briona’s generosity was just more rope. “The other half of your team knows as much as you do at this point. You can hear the rest of it together.”
The other half of their team? The other two place settings. Saeldian had thought they were for the real employers, then forgot to wonder further when the meal carried on. A blunder. Saeldian’s wits addled by gold dragons.
The door opened for the same servers, laden with trays of more hard cheeses, gaspingly expensive southern fruit, and dozens of those fancy little cakes Waterdeep had loved all this year. They brought teapots and five cups, and as they walked out, Mariel entered.
She stood aside to admit a handsome orc even taller than she, and when he could raise his head from ducking under the doorjamb, Saeldian saw the braided ends of his hair held polished stones and glimmering silver oak leaves.
The torc around his neck was fashioned from engraved curving antlers.
His friendly smile showed off long, pointed teeth.
Everything about his clothing and jewelry felt handcrafted and carefully made.
A druid. Saeldian knew a spellcaster when they saw one, and everything about this orc declared that it was nature that supported his skills.
The orc smiled at everyone. “I worried we would be late. The rooms are so comfortable. But I left the window open, and something has the robins swapping tales. Terrible gossips, robins.”
“Saer Lorzok! You’re right on time, as it turns out. The bed was long enough, then?”
Lorzok stood aside as someone else stepped in, but the orc stood in the way of Saeldian’s seeing more than the worn tip of a fiddle case. “Perfectly! I couldn’t resist stretching out and reading for a bit.”
“What are you reading?” Jubilee asked. “I’m Jubilee, by the way.”
“Let me introduce you!” Briona said. “This is Jubilee Righthoof and Saeldian Charmhand.”
The orc looked at Saeldian and Jubilee. “Good to meet you—”
From behind him, the other man said, “Did you say Charmhand?”
That voice rang with shock. With anger. And Saeldian would know the voice anywhere, with any tone—laughing, singing, whispering, cursing. Ten years crumbled at the sound of it, and Kell Redsong emerged from behind the druid to stare needle-sharp fury at them.
Saeldian’s first sight of him made the floor drop three feet. Gray salted his chestnut hair. Lines traced across his brow and the corners of his eyes—not deep, not yet. But to see their best friend—ex–best friend—with the weight of three thousand days between them made Saeldian’s throat hurt.
“You.”
Briona had known about the Silver Cat of Baldur’s Gate, all right.
Saeldian smiled at their former best friend. “Hello, Kell. I see why Saer Briona wanted me to agree to the job before this reunion.”
Briona didn’t even have the grace to look abashed.
Saeldian clicked their tongue. Mariel shifted, aiming her attention at them, but Saeldian ignored her. “Is this part of your sense of humor, then?”
Kell interrupted. “It doesn’t matter, Charmhand. No deal, Saer Briona. I prefer my spine without a knife in it.”