Above them, over a city long asleep, the moon slid past its zenith. As Raomar helped Broderick back to his mattress, five figures slipped through a stone gate hidden in a garden wall. Avoiding the moonlight, they kept to the shadows and blended swiftly with the dark.

  The gate closed noiselessly in their wake, but none of them looked back. They moved quickly across the street and down an alley, following Ghost as she led them into the nobles’ quarter.

  “We’d be better off taking the tunnels,” Mika had argued, only to go silent when Alessia pointed to Grunwol.

  “Where d’you think he was to get himself in such a state?” she demanded, and the thief’s eyes had narrowed.

  “You don’t know that,” he began, but Alessia had arched an eyebrow.

  “Know that for a fact, do you?” she demanded, and Mika had flushed.

  It was one thing to argue with the wizardess, quite another to call her a liar to her face. He subsided, casting a contemplative glance at the sleeping Northman.

  “No, miss,” he admitted.

  Alessia studied him until he shook his head.

  “We’ll go your way to be sure.”

  Giving him a brisk nod, Alessia had turned to Aral.

  “And you?” she’d demanded, her voice harsh. “Any objections?”

  Aral shook his head.

  “No, ma’am. Street says you know what you’re about and that you take care of thems as takes care of you.” He met her eye. “I’m good with that.”

  Brianda waited for the wizardess to decide, relaxing when the woman didn’t demand an answer from her. When Alessia had run one final gimlet glance over them, and then signaled them to the door, she’d breathed a quiet sigh of relief and followed.

  She’d led them swiftly from her garden and had one of her apprentices close the gate behind them, before gesturing for Ghost to take the lead.

  “As quick as you can without us being observed,” she’d instructed the child, and Ghost had nodded.

  “Quickly now,” the girl instructed, “and quiet.”

  As if they needed to be told. No one pointed that out to the child, and Brianda stifled a smile as they hurried into the dark. It took them around a half turn of the hour glass to reach the solid stone wall surrounding Joseph Hartender’s garden.

  Mika trotted up to the wall’s edge, tilting his head as he scanned it for a way to reach the top. In the end, he turned to Aral.

  “You’ll need to boost me,” he said shortly, and Aral had nodded.

  “No,” Alessia said, her soft voice making them freeze. “I’ll teleport you in.”

  Mika gave her a disbelieving look.

  “Why? It’ll be simple enough to climb over, and you won’t tap your reserves for whatever’s waiting inside.”

  “Sophriel reveals all,” the wizardess replied, curling her hand in a short sweeping motion.

  Gold light shimmered, revealing sigils along the wall’s top.

  “And she shows us the dangers,” Alessia added, drawing her hand down in a straight line.

  Red light limned the symbols in scarlet and marred the gold.

  Mika arched an eyebrow.

  “So?”

  Alessia indicated the first ward.

  “That one will send a jolt of lightning through you that will sear your skin and turn your muscles to jelly.” She pointed to another. “And that one…”

  She shivered, her brow furrowing in puzzlement.

  “Why would a nobleman have with one of these?”

  “Your point?” Mika demanded.

  “Well, that one will melt whatever part of you is touching the wall, but it will set off the lightning to immobilize you as well…and that one will freeze your mind, and it’s linked to an alarm that will bring the house guards to your location.”

  She shrugged.

  “It makes sense they’d want to capture and question anyone trying to infiltrate their private grounds.”

  Mika paled.

  “When you say ‘melt’…” he began, and Alessia turned to him.

  “I mean your flesh will run like the wax of a candle before crisping like crackling on a roast.”

  He gulped.

  “So…you’ll teleport us?”

  Alessia nodded.

  “I knew he had some defenses,” she told the man. Her frown grew deeper. “But I didn’t know they were of this caliber until I saw them.”

  “Tell us what you need,” he said, and she gestured them back into the shadows.

  “I’ll take the new girl and Ghost, first,” the wizardess surprised Brianda by saying. “Once they’re in, they can wait in cover while I bring the rest of you.”

  Brianda swallowed hard. She didn’t tell the wizardess that magical transportation usually left her queasy…and Alessia didn’t ask. Instead, the wizardess grasped her and Ghost by the wrists and spoke three short syllables.

  The world wavered and the street disappeared. Brianda closed her eyes, and kept them closed until she felt solid ground beneath her feet, once more. She was surprised to find herself clear-headed and calm-stomached, and breathed a soft sigh of relief.

  Looking around, she saw they no longer stood in the street, but beside a white-marble fountain shaped like a unicorn. A walled pool surrounded it, and a half dozen tiny lamps left their reflections at the unicorn’s feet.

  Their shimmer gave the water a sense of movement, and made the fountain seem almost alive. The longer she looked at it, the more likely it seemed that the creature would leap from amongst the blooming lilies and gallop around the garden.

  Fish darted around its feet, drawing Brianda in…and with an effort she lifted her gaze and looked for somewhere to hide.

  “Wait here,” Alessia ordered, as Brianda’s gaze fell on the deep shadows cast by a cluster of tall ferns. “I’ll fetch the others.”

  Brianda nodded, moving swiftly to crouch among the ferns. She saw the wizardess glance toward her hiding place as though making sure she was out of sight, before turning to her spell. Her voice whispered in a few short syllables and her hands divided the air before her…and then she disappeared.

  When the garden was quiet again, Brianda looked for Ghost, but did not see her. Taking a long breath in, Brianda settled down to wait.

  The ground beneath her was soft and dry, and the scent of the crushed leaves reminded her of the bracken beds she and her master had made on their journey to Toramar and its capital, Deverath.

  The memory brought a lump to her throat, because it was swiftly followed by that of her master’s death. Dying when she’d found him, he’d taken the time to comfort her, before sending her away and buying her the time to escape. He hadn’t blamed her for his demise.

  He’d been kind, in his own way, and that kindness…

  Brianda pushed the thought away. Now, was not the time to grieve…and she didn’t know when she’d be safe enough for memory. Pushing the bare whisper of her master’s last words back to the shadows, she focused on the place from which she’d seen Alessia vanish.

  It remained empty for a few heartbeats longer, and then the air shimmered, the syllables of the wizardess’s spell easing through the garden. Mika and Aral reappeared with her, and Brianda noted the discomfort on the two thieves’ faces.

  Both looked unnerved, and Brianda guessed this was their first time working so closely with a mage. She moved to the edge of the ferns, her sudden appearance making them reach for their weapons.

  “We’ll go through, there,” Alessia said, ignoring the two men as they sank shakily to their haunches.

  Brianda lifted her head to follow the direction of her finger, and saw a solid wooden door tucked in the stonework of the mansion. A large window was set alongside it, criss-crossed with ironwork that was more functional than it appeared.

  “You sure?” Mika asked, warily eyeing the window and door.

  Alessia gave him a curious look.

  “Who would guard entrances to a private garden already kept safe by warded walls and guards?” she asked.

  “Rich men like the duke,” Mika pointed out. “They’re perpetually paranoid. Who knows what lengths they’ll go to?”

  “They say the duke knows a little magic,” Aral pointed out softly, moving to the edge of the path and into the shadows. “Maybe he has a more subtle means of protecting his gardens…”

  Brianda found herself nodding in agreement, but Alessia gave them an impatient look.

  “While I appreciate your caution,” she told them, “We don’t have time for nerves. Come.”

  And so saying, she strode quickly toward the door.

  “Could you at least check for wards?” Mika whined, and her lip curled with impatience.

  “Sophriel reveals all,” she murmured, flicking her fingers toward her goal.

  Brianda followed the motion, and glanced again at the entry. No gold gleamed on their surfaces. No spell reached out to attack the wizardess or halt her approach.

  It didn’t make any sense. Of all the mansions and palaces she’d infiltrated, this one didn’t seem to be anywhere near as well-defended as it should be. There had to be something they’d missed.

  She watched the wizardess advance a few more steps, then slowly rose to follow her. Mika and Aral did the same, and Brianda was sure she caught a flicker of movement that might have been Ghost. As she left the shadow of the ferns, Alessia came to an abrupt halt and raised her hand for silence.

  Brianda dropped back into a crouch and scuttled toward the fern.

  Alessia’s hands swirled softly, the wizardess’s chant a whisper on the breeze.

  Breeze? Brianda thought, registering the soft movement of air. She didn’t remember there being a breeze on the evening street… Was this what Aral had meant when he’d said ‘more subtle means?’

  The breeze picked up strength, ruffling leaves as it passed. It picked up small stones and flicked pieces of gravel from the path, not coming from outside the garden, but from within. Brianda looked toward its source.

  She found it as it coalesced and became a twisting funnel of air, the shimmer of it moving through the space Alessia had teleported to, and then to where the two male thieves were hiding.

  Brianda gave a short, sharp whistle of warning, making them turn. The funnel stopped, twisting on the spot as though seeking the whistle’s source.

  The edge of Alessia’s cloak fluttered, as the wizardess started casting in defense. The funnel caught the sound of her magic and pivoted toward her as Mika and Aral melted into the shadows and away.

  Brianda remained as still as stone, watching as the creature…the air elemental?—chose its target.

  The funnel picked up speed, brushing past the space Mika had hidden, its intent clear. Alessia sent the first spell through it, lighting it up with flickers of power, and the elemental hissed with irritation.

  Alessia’s hands moved swiftly into a second spell as it charged. As it lurched forward, Mika leapt toward it. The funnel pivoted and Alessia thrust her hand, fingers spread toward the elemental.

  Brianda shifted silently from her hiding place, circling to get behind it, as it spun to face Mika’s charge. Twin columns of air grew from the funnel’s core, lashing out to catch Mika as he closed. They passed right through his blade, solidifying to catch the thief across the gut.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Mika folded with a groan, and the air elemental punched him into one of the rose bushes lining the path. Alessia’s next spell slammed into it as it spun after the man.

  The creature drew back with a windy shriek of outraged pain, turning away from its intended target to flee. It spun toward Brianda, forcing her to leap from the path to avoid being run down. It struck out at her as it passed, but didn’t connect.

  Alessia raised her hands again, her voice rising in a second chant. The airy funnel twisted on the spot, reversing into a sudden charge. It kicked up a small storm of gravel as it passed, but Brianda didn’t let the sharp sting of the tiny flying shards stop her.

  She slipped out of the ferns and followed it. Across the path, Mika struggled to free himself from the roses, while of Aral and Ghost there was no sign. Brianda didn’t have time to wonder where they were. She was too intent on trying to protect the wizardess.

  The elemental had raised its arms and was about to strike the caster, by the time Brianda was able to reach it. She swung her sword in a short sharp arc, bringing the blade through its center and, with a hiss of annoyance, the funnel spun to face her.

  Brianda sidestepped its first clumsy blow, and ducked under the second. She swept out with her blade as she did, hearing a second angry hiss. Drawing the blade back, she thrust it forward into the center of the creature.

  This time it quivered at the touch of her blade. Encouraged, Brianda pivoted around the elemental and lashed out again. Behind her, she heard a shout, accompanied by scrabbling at the wall.

  She ignored it in order to focus on bringing her next strike up through the elemental at a diagonal. This time the creature’s arms dissipated into harmless brushes of air as it tried to retaliate. A second shout came from behind her, and someone seized her arm, yanking her to one side.

  Something whirred through the space she’d been occupying, ripping through the elemental to thud into the tree behind it. The airy being gave one final shriek and disappeared, and the garden air became still, once more.

  The grip on Brianda’s arm remained.

  “Come on,” Mika urged, dragging her toward the now-open door into the house.

  “Halt!” The shout came from the top of the wall. “Halt or I fire!”

  Mika swore and jerked Brianda to one side.

  “Persistent sonuvabitch!” Mika complained towing her into the shelter of what looked like a personal library.

  Brianda looked for Alessia, Ghost or Aral, but didn’t see them. Hoping they’d made it safely inside, she pulled free of Mika’s grip and leapt to one side of the door. Another arrow sang horrifyingly close to her ear, driving itself into the end of a book shelf with a vicious hum.

  Doubling back to the door, Brianda grabbed its edge and slammed it closed. Mika stopped and looked back.

  “That was close!” he stated, and Brianda nodded.

  “I owe you.”

  He shook his head in vehement denial. “Boss would have had my hide if I’d let you get killed on your first day out…no matter how badly you deserved it for facing off with an elemental on your own.”

  “Like I had a choice,” she snapped, inspecting the door for some way to lock it.

  There was a keyhole but no key…and no bolt to help secure it, either. Its main protections had been the walls, the guards, and the elemental in the garden. Noting the gap beneath it, Brianda looked around.

  “What?” Mika demanded.

  “We’re gonna need something to wedge it closed,” she said, hearing footsteps on the path outside, “and we need it now.”

  Slamming herself against the door, she pointed to a small writing desk set between two of the shelves.

  “That!” she said, pointing to it, as the handle started to turn. “We need…” The door jolted, only her shoulder keeping it closed. “…that,” Brianda finished. “Hurry!”

  Mika hurried, with Aral coming out of nowhere to help him move the little desk. Together, the two thieves jammed the desk against the door, Aral shifting a large pot plant to help keep it in place.

  Seeing they had it under control, Brianda ran to one of the nearby shelves. Eyeing the gap beneath the door, she ran her fingers along the spines of the volumes on the shelf before pulling four that looked about the right thickness.

  Running back to the door, she stooped beneath the table, wedging one book after another into the gap. Two slid in easily, but two jammed part way under and wedged tight.

  “That should hold them,” Brianda noted with satisfaction.

  The sound of more footsteps coming along the path caught their attention and Mika turned to her.

  “For how long?” he asked, and she shrugged.

  “That depends,” Brianda began, as something slammed into the door on the other side, “but we’d better hurry. Where’s the wizardess?”

  A shout of frustration came from outside, followed by another solid thump and then a curse. A third thump followed, along with more cursing and the trio relaxed…a little.

  Brianda turned to take a good look at the rest of the room. It was a private library. The door into the garden wouldn’t be its only entrance and who knew what alarms had been triggered by the guards trying to force their way in?

  As if to confirm her suspicions, she caught a glimpse of movement on the other side of the shelves.

  “There,” she murmured, and Mika moved swiftly alongside her. Aral merely glanced in the direction she was looking and melted back into the stacks. As he did, Mika darted forward drawing his blade as he went.

  The movement became the dark-garbed figure of a richly-dressed man. He raised a hand toward them, holding it up in command.

  “Stop,” he ordered, his voice strong and strangely compelling.

  Brianda heard the ring of magic lace its way through her head, and was grateful when she could shake it clear. Dropping her gaze to the floor, also helped in breaking the compulsion, but it wasn’t something she could maintain.

  She needed to see what he was doing…or look past him and see who else arrived. She quickly looked back, and was horrified to see Mika at a complete stand still, his blade slowly drifting down.

  “Mika!” she shrieked, not caring who heard his name. It was better than having him killed where he stood.

  Mika jerked in surprise, raising his blade with barely enough time to parry the newcomer’s attack. His clumsy riposte was quickly met with a counter strike as his opponent moved more swiftly than seemed possible.

  A glimmer of light was all the warning she had that a second blade had come into play.

  “What are the chances,” she muttered, hurrying forward even as Mika darted into the attack.

  His darkened blade was barely visible in the banked light of a fire standing in the hearth along one wall. The newcomer’s blades had no such subtlety. They gleamed steel-bright, whispering in a complicated counter move.

  Brianda counted two strikes and heard cloth tear. Mika hissed in pain. She waited for him to fall back so she could come around one side, and then shifted swiftly to take advantage of the opening.

  As she did, she caught sight of more movement, this time in the direction in which she was sure Aral had disappeared. Careful not to leave herself exposed to attack from their opponent, Brianda pivoted, letting out a short gasp of relief when she saw Alessia moving out from the shelves to the open space in front of the door.

  Aral and Ghost moved in the shadows behind the wizardess, dividing their attention between the door, the windows and the battle Mika was engaged in. Before Brianda turned back to the fight, she saw the wizardess’s lips move, but heard no sound.

  Another spell, she thought, noticing the fight had moved around the shelves and into the space in front of the fire.

  Realizing Mika might not have seen the wizardess’s return, Brianda moved after him. She maneuvered around one of the overstuffed armchairs set before the fire, hoping to draw the thief’s attention. As she did, she noticed the crimson tinge to the silvered light reflecting from his blade.

  And found her eyes snared by the pattern being woven in the air before him. Mika fought more warily, having lost the brashness of his first attack. His sword became a striking shadow against the silver shimmer before him.

  Each time he struck, the pattern broke and twin shafts of silver fell around the thief, forcing him to flinch away. His own movements lost their rhythm and his parries grew clumsier and less effective. One of the blades struck low and Brianda heard him hiss in pain.

  The blade moved upright and his opponent’s fist caught him a blow to the side of the head.

  Mika grunted and stumbled to one side. He gave a sudden cry of pain as the other blade vanished in a forward thrust.

  The nobleman laughed.

  “Had enough yet?” he challenged, the words sounding like they’d been bitten through clenched teeth.

  “Like hell, you velveteen bastard,” Mika managed, in pain-filled tones.

  “Original,” the other retorted, making it sound the exact opposite.

  He stepped back, slashing out twice more, and Brianda winced as Mika parried the first strike, but the second slid across the top of his arm. His blade dipped and he wrapped a hand around the injured arm’s shoulder.

  “Why don’t you try for something better?” the nobleman suggested. “Silk is much nicer than velveteen.”

  “Pompous prick,” Mika rasped, barely stumbling back in time to avoid his next strike.

  A soft breeze ruffled Brianda’s hair as she leapt forward to dash the nobleman’s next strike to one side.

  “Fall back to me,” Alessia ordered. “I have what I came for. Fall. Back.”

  Brianda risked a glance at Mika as the rogue tried for another thrust. This time both his opponent’s blades whipped forward. One raked across the man’s stomach; the other took the sword from his hand.

  A booted foot followed as Mika doubled over the first cut. It caught the rogue in the chest and pushed him back. Brianda saw the man stumble against a small side table, before he caught himself on the back of one of the armchairs.

  The nobleman gave her no more time than that. Having disarmed one threat, his blades began to weave their magic once more, and this time he pivoted to face her. Firelight glinted from his weapons, the blood marring their length doing little to diminish the pattern.

  As she moved to interpose herself between her injured colleague and the nobleman, Brianda felt the weave catching her eye. The pattern was more powerful this close, drawing the eye and mesmerizing the brain.

  She wondered how Mika had held against it for so long, and then if she could hope to do the same. Shaking her head to clear it, she darted forward, snaking her blade into an attack. The pattern parted, but lost none of its hypnotic grace as steel glided across her arm.

  She’d barely registered the injury before the blades had resumed their former rhythm…and then the sting made itself felt. It was accompanied by a burning sensation.

  Poison? she thought, glancing down at the wound, and earning a second cut across the bicep for her inattention.

  The initial burn turned cold, as she parried his next attack, moving to block Mika as the man started to move back into the fight.

  “Go,” she urged. “They’re waiting.”

  Mika stumbled, but shook his head, his blade wavering as if he was seeing more than one opponent. His words slurred as he answered her.

  “On…Only if you follow,” he gasped. “Elst I’ll hafta keep you company…”

  He wavered, again, only Brianda’s hasty push keeping him on his feet. It was also strong enough to make him stumble back several paces.

  “Go!” Brianda shouted. “She’s honor bound.”

  She fell silent as she parried another strike and avoided a third, timing her step back with an elbow to Mika’s chest that forced him to stagger back another three or four paces. It gave her enough room to block his return to the fray.

  “Go…”

  “But…” he protested.

  “Get moving,” Brianda ordered, trying to keep the pain from her voice. She didn’t dare look at the rogue, couldn’t afford to take her eyes from her opponent. “If I try, none of us will make it.”

  As if to add weight to her words the door to the garden shook under the force of something greater than fists, and booted footsteps raced through the house. Mika opened his mouth to argue, but Aral grabbed hold of him before he could.

  He seized his fellow guildsman by the shirt and belt and dragged him back to the wizardess. From the sound of the scuffle behind her, Mika didn’t go easily. That didn’t matter, though.

  What mattered was the deadly pattern of silver and scarlet being drawn through the air in front of her. Behind her, Alessia’s voice rose in volume, her chant reaching a crescendo that culminated in a crack of magic that made her spine tingle.

  “You wizard-mongering whore-son!” the swordsman spat, as she half-turned her head. “You’re not getting away that easily.”

  Cloth tore as Brianda jerked her attention back to the fight. She snapped her dagger out in a reflexive arc that diverted the second blade as the first sliced through her tunic and across her ribs.

  “I’m a girl, shit for brains,” she managed on a gasp of pain. It was definitely not her most original come-back, but it was the best she could do.

  Cold fire followed the heat of the cut, and the nobleman laughed.

  “Girl, boy, whatever. You’ll die just as easily as the rest.”

  “They’re…gone…” Brianda managed. “Beyond…beyond your reach.”

  Steel flashed in reply, and she stumbled back, weaving around an armchair to put its overstuffed mass between her and the nobleman’s attack. Taking advantage of the brief respite, she dove around the edge of the nearest book case and ran for the end.

  A wordless bellow followed, and she spun, lashing out at the books with her off-hand and using her dagger to sweep them to the floor. Footsteps raced into the room on the other side of the book case as the swordsman followed.

  At the same time, Brianda heard the sound of splintering wood and then the clatter of the small desk being kicked clear of the doorway as the guards broke through from the garden.

  “Whore-son’s cursed asses!” the nobleman shouted. “That is coming out of your wages!”

  Muttered curses followed and the surge of movement died behind him, the guards moving carefully into the room, before spreading out to search for the others. Brianda could have saved them the trouble, but didn’t bother. They’d learn the truth soon enough.

  She backed up two paces and turned to run, hoping to slip past the end of the book case and behind the guards coming around from the other side. To her horror, the aisle ended in a blank wall. Two strides into a sprint, and she dropped to a dead halt.

  Pivoting to face the swordsman, she found him waiting. His first thrust pierced her forearm, causing her grip to convulse around the hilt in her palm. The second stopped just short of opening her throat.

  “Drop the blade!” he commanded, as white heat swept up her arm, followed by a glacial cold.

  Brianda stared at him, not sure if she still held her sword or not. She watched his guards close in around him, and swallowed convulsively.

  Now the fight was over, she began to tremble.

  “Drop…” the nobleman began, but one of the guards stepped forward and took her blade from her hand, dangling it to one side where he could see it.

  With a savage grunt of frustration, the nobleman yanked his blade from her arm, removing the other from against her throat. Pain ripped through her, and Brianda dropped, lost to the dark before she hit the floor.

  * * *

  Breathing fast from the exertion of the fight, Duke Joseph Hartender watched the young woman fall. He’d meant what he’d said when he’d told her she’d die as easily as the rest. He just hadn’t said when, or how long it would take.

  The latter would depend on how long it took to get the answers he needed.

  Giving himself a moment to catch his breath, he sheathed his blades, then turned to his men.

  “Take her below,” he ordered, “and make sure she’s unarmed.”

  “Was that unharmed, your Grace?” his chief guard asked.

  Joseph heard the amusement in the man’s words, and quietly berated himself for the damage he’d done. Shrugging, he looked down at the girl.

  “Unharmed and unarmed,” he reiterated, nudging the crumpled form with the toe of his boot. “Bind her injuries and pour some of this down her throat and into her wounds. I want her ready to start singing when I get back tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Singing?” the man asked, and Joseph swore if Kale started laughing he’d kill the man himself—and his years of faithful service would mean nothing.

  He handed the veteran four vials from his belt pouch.

  “I don’t want her dying before I find out who sent her.”

  Kale took the proffered vials, and set about straightening the small figure on the floor. She was slightly built, the fine cast of her face and slightly pointed tips of her ears marking her elven heritage, while the copper tinge to her skin and her thick, dark hair linked her to the Plains folk.

  She didn’t stir as Kale set to work cleaning her injuries and dousing them with the antidote to the poison coating the duke’s blades. Joseph watched her through-out, nodding when the man pulled a needle and thread from the healer’s kit he carried at his belt.

  It was an old soldier’s habit, and one he had no intention of breaking the man of—Kale was his man, after all…and that meant the kit he carried would be used to his advantage if needed. He watched as the man stitched the long gash in the girl’s side and then did his best to close the wound in her arm.

  Good luck using that in a hurry, he thought, smiling vindictively. Maybe it would teach her not to play with such sharp objects…or take up arms against her betters.

  Somehow he doubted it. A girl from the Plains? And one with the kind of skill she’d shown, tonight? She wasn’t going to be the usual run-of-the-mill thief. Who had sent her? And for what purpose?

  He waited as Kale finished his work and gestured for another of the guards to lift the girl from the floor.

  “Go with him,” Joseph instructed. “Put her in with the boy and the cat. Maybe they’ll talk.”

  He shrugged.

  “Either way, it’ll keep them busy.”

  “Yes, your Grace.”

  As Kale signaled the guard to lead the way, Joseph turned to the others.

  “You, you, and you, rouse the maids and get them in here to clear this mess,” he snapped out, before turning to some of the others, “And you, you, and you…and you… I want that door repaired by morning.”

  He stared at the guards and through them as they set about their tasks, finally grabbing one as he passed.

  “Have the cook prepare me a light meal…and bring me some wine. I’ll be in the study.”

  The man muttered a hasty acknowledgement, and Joseph started to turn away. Halfway through, he stopped.

  “And someone tell the steward I need another writing table for the library.”

  He moved three paces before the books Brianda had wedged beneath the door caught his eye.

  “And get those titles to the scrivener. I want fresh copies made before they go to the book stitcher for repairs…and I want to be able to read them inside the week!”

  This time he did not stop as he strode into the room adjoining the library. His study. There, a quick search confirmed his worst fears come true: the Criochole parchment was gone.

  Dropping into his seat, he stared at the curtains covering the view into the garden, and drummed his fingers on the desk top. His mind raced like lightning, trying to salvage something of his plans.