Magic of Thieves Read online

  Under Brig’s care, Terrac’s health steadily improved. Soon the day came when, with assistance, he could drag himself out of the dark hut and into the sunshine. Brig and I propped his back against the sun-warmed rock at the cave’s entrance and he would sit there, face tilted toward the sky, for hours at a time. I couldn’t tell if he was engaged in some sort of priestly meditation or just resting.

  At first, he seemed uncomfortable when his fellow invalid, Dradac, began joining him. I couldn’t see what he had to be disturbed at. The giant would only sit quietly by his side, making feeble attempts at whittling one handed, while letting his bad shoulder soak up the sun’s rays. Javen assured the giant he would regain the use of his arm, but the healing process was going to be slow.

  Over the next few weeks, Terrac came to accept Dradac’s company and the giant became one of the few exceptions to Terrac’s general rule of contempt for the outlaws. Brig, too, earned a measure of respect, probably for having cared for him during his convalescence, and even I was tolerated in a condescending but not terribly hostile way. However, it quickly became apparent no one else would be fortunate enough to penetrate Terrac’s favored circle.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Springtime lengthened into summer and the nights grew warm, the days uncomfortably hot and sticky. As soon as Terrac had recovered enough I needn’t fear for him any longer, I moved back into the cave. I had my own semi-private space there, a cozy alcove with the waterfall sheeting down one side to form a thin screen between the outside world and me. I didn’t mind the dim light or the lack of space. At this time of year, the slight dampness on the walls and floor was pleasant and I could roll over and stretch my hand out to touch the splashing fountain as it cascaded downward. The cool water was refreshing on hot nights.

  But Terrac couldn’t be persuaded to move into the cave with the rest of us. Even when the brown needles fell away from his flimsy, pine bough shelter, leaving only a naked frame of bare branches, he remained outdoors. I think it was the company inside he objected to. I was discovering he had a definite sense of superiority over the rest of us and I teased him this was unbecoming in a boy destined for priestly vows. He only sniffed unapologetically and cajoled me into helping him contrive a sturdier hut beneath the trees.

  One morning, only a few days after the building of the new hut, Terrac and I were crouched together along the bank of the stream bordering camp. He was looking on with squeamish disgust as I gutted a rabbit for our breakfast when Rideon approached.

  The brigand captain glared down on Terrac and stated his object without preamble. “It has come to my notice that you are able to move about again, boy.”

  Terrac nodded cautiously. I could see he was nervous in the outlaw’s presence but striving to hide it.

  Rideon said, “If that’s the case, it appears the time has come for you to make a decision. I’m going to lay two choices before you. There is no third alternative, so don’t ask for one. Give an answer I don’t like and the question will be taken from your hands altogether. Understand?”

  Terrac swallowed. “I suppose so.”

  “Good. These are your options. Firstly, you can swear on your honor to forever make your home in Dimmingwood with us. You’ll earn your keep here with menial tasks around the camp, same as Ilan does, and never set foot beyond the borders of the forest again.”

  Terrac’s eyes widened in alarm and I could see him forming a refusal, but Rideon didn’t allow him time to get out the response. “Or,” the outlaw continued, “should that idea not appeal to you, you may choose the second alternative—refusing to take the oath and thus being put to a quick death. Priest boy or not, my generosity extends only so far and I won’t risk a large-mouthed brat wandering loose to tell my enemies exactly where to hunt down my band.”

  I held my breath waiting for Terrac to say something foolish and he didn’t disappoint me.

  “You don’t seem to care that the oath you’re asking of me will change my life’s plans,” he protested.

  Rideon shrugged. “I wasn’t aware I was advocating one option over the other. I’m merely here to accept the first choice or to execute the latter, should it be your preference.” He tapped the blade at his side for emphasis. “The ultimate decision is entirely yours.”

  Terrac flicked a frightened glance at the black blade, drew a deep breath, and appeared to startle even himself with the words that spilled from him. “I swear on my life and honor that I’ll never leave the boundaries of this wood as long as I breathe. Not without the express permission of the outlaw, Rideon the Red Hand.”

  Rideon was the only one of us who appeared unsurprised. “A reasonable decision, priest boy. If ever you should rethink it, my blade and I will be on hand.” He flashed his teeth in a grim smile and left us.

  Terrac immediately looked miserable and I suspected he was thinking of how, with a few short words, he destroyed his hopes of entering the priesthood. In an attempt to cheer him I said, “It isn’t so bad, you know. Maybe you’ll come to like it here. And at least you’re alive, which is more than anyone would’ve expected on the day you came.”

  He didn’t look much comforted.

  ***

  Later that day, I was kneeling beside Dradac, who was helping me repair an old knife that had lost its handle, when the heavy scuff of approaching boots alerted me to another arrival. Without looking up, I sensed it was Brig.

  In a moment, his voice confirmed it.

  “Is it true, Dradac?” Brig demanded angrily, ignoring my presence. “I’ve had my suspicions since the spring, but what I’ve heard from Nib today confirms it. Was Ilan with you when you confronted those travelers and nearly had yourself killed?”

  My stomach lurched. I’d always known it was only a matter of time before he discovered the extent of my involvement in the episode that brought Terrac to us and I had an idea there would be trouble when that information surfaced. I just hoped I wouldn’t be present for it. It was good my face was turned away from Brig then because I was sure my guilt was clearly written in my expression.

  Dradac affected innocence. “What’s this? Who said she was there?”

  “Did you imagine I’d need to be told?” Brig asked. “I run up to Molehill for a few days and return to find an injured boy priest encamped in our midst and Ilan fluttering around his sick bed. Who else would have spared him?”

  Dradac said, “What makes you so certain it wasn’t me? Do you think I would murder a helpless boy wearing the robe of an Honored One? Imagine how many years bad luck that’d bring me.”

  “Drop the pretense. You’re only making me angrier,” said Brig.

  The giant sighed. “All right, I confess. She was with me when we got the signal about the trespassers, so I let her come along to meet them. I wasn’t planning to expose her to any real danger. But they appeared a harmless group and I thought it would be an exciting experience for her. There. Are you happy now I’ve admitted to my miscalculation?”

  His easy smile faltered under Brig’s silent scowl. “Now don’t start growling at me, old bear. I didn’t let any harm come to her. If it makes you feel better, I promise, when I’m recovered, I’ll seek your approval before taking her out again.”

  “I’ve half a mind to see you never recover at all. What right did you think you had dragging a child into a situation where she might have been killed? It could easily have been her shot through with that bolt instead of you. How would you feel then?”

  “Probably a good deal better than I do now,” the giant joked. “Anyway, I just thought it was time Ilan had some practice dealing with these little situations. Part of the territory and all that. ”

  “From here on out, allow me to decide what lessons will be of use to her and when. Ilan knows she’s supposed to avoid strangers in the wood and keep out of trouble.”

  Here I felt his accusing eyes burning into the back of my head, but, annoyed at being spoken over as if I had no say in this matter, I bit my tongue and refused to apologize.


  “I’m sorry you don’t appreciate my input, friend,” Dradac was saying. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you on the point of what’s best for Ilan. She’s growing up faster than you realize and is learning to fend for herself. You’re doing her a disservice if you won’t allow her a little adventure once in awhile.”

  Brig sputtered, but I shot Dradac a grateful look.

  In the end, we settled the matter with a compromise. It was determined I was to be given more freedom in the future, but this hinged on the condition that Brig wished me to improve myself in certain areas. He had taken up a strange notion I needed what he called “scholarly learning,” although neither he nor anyone else in our band had ever possessed anything of the sort. I readily agreed to this, confident I was getting the best of the deal.

  However, when I discovered a few days later exactly what he had in mind, I was no longer so sure.

  I sat beneath a shady tree, a smooth plank of wood across my knees for a table. A yellowed sheet of parchment rested beneath the tip of my hovering quill. Terrac crouched behind me, leaning a little over my shoulder to observe my efforts. The quill’s ink skipped and spattered irregularly as I attempted to copy out the letters Terrac had set down across the upper half of the page. At Terrac’s direction, Brig had fashioned the writing implement from a quail feather and Brig and Terrac together had made the ink from the juice of wild berries. The parchment was a contribution from one of the outlaws. It had been confiscated from the hands of a reluctant scribe two seasons past and the thief had no use for it.

  I silently cursed that outlaw now and the scribe before him. For an hour of every day I was forced to practice my letters, under Terrac’s guidance. I knew Brig well enough to be sure he would see to it that I always had that hour to spare. He’d been pleased to learn Terrac had been taught to read and write by Honored Thilstain and quickly insisted the boy’s learning be passed on to me.

  “No, that’s not it,” Terrac said with a frown, snatching the pen from my fingers. “You’ve still got it wrong. Your lines should curve at the bottom—like this.” He demonstrated and returned the implement to me.

  As usual, he didn’t complain or scold me for my slow fingers and slower wits, but his patience only served to irritate me further. I didn’t know how Brig had threatened or cajoled him into tutoring me, but I was certain he could be enjoying the experience no more than I. I was well aware I made a sorry pupil. In fact, I wouldn’t have blamed Terrac if he beat his head against a tree, in frustration, by the end of our hour, but for some reason he never did. The fact that he never laughed at the pitiful results of my effort only served to aggravate me further. I was sure he knew that and derived a twisted satisfaction from it.

  After contemplating the untidy marks on the parchment before me, I threw my pen down in disgust. “Can’t we just forget this and tell Brig I did the work?” I asked.

  Terrac didn’t blink at my outburst. I decided he was growing used to them.

  “Of course not,” he responded absently. “That would be lying. Now look, I think your trouble is how you keep confusing the first and third letters. They look alike but are a little different.”

  “Oh, I forgot priests don’t lie,” I mocked, ignoring his direction. “A simple untruth would probably torment your conscience for all time.”

  He regarded me with puzzlement and I realized he had no idea what I was talking about. I sighed and asked myself how I was going to endure another million lessons like this one. My companion was so good and patient he grated unintentionally on my every nerve. Or at least most of the time I believed it was unintentional. I doubted he possessed an ounce of spite in him. His only character flaw was his habit of frowning down his nose at everyone who failed to meet his standards, but even this snobbery seemed unconscious. At times, I asked myself why I had saved him at all. Then I would grudgingly recall those rare occasions when we actually had a good time together, those days when we explored the forest, swam in Dancing Creek, or hunted stink snakes in Heeflin’s Marsh at Dimming’s edge.

  But today I was in no mood for such charitable memories. “Why do you even do this?” I demanded impatiently. “I’m hopeless at these letters! You can’t enjoy teaching me. Not unless you derive pleasure from laughing secretly at my mistakes. You shouldn’t allow Brig to force you into it. You always do whatever you’re told and no one respects you for it. No one but me even likes you.”

  “They don’t?” He sounded confused and slightly hurt, but I didn’t care.

  “No, they don’t. They laugh at you to your face and you take it like a dumb animal.”

  He looked thoughtful. “Honored Thilstain taught me it was a priestly duty to be humble, to seek peace and to serve all.”

  I snorted. “I can’t even imagine how little pride you must have,” I said.

  He looked wounded. I could see his mind working as he struggled to form the right reply, but I gave him no opportunity to voice it. I was in a difficult mood and I felt it wouldn’t require much provocation for me to take my frustration out on him. He was a slight figure, still frail after his recovery, and I was sure I could knock him into tomorrow without expending much effort. “I’m leaving now,” I said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You can tell Brig whatever you want.”

  “But your lesson!” he protested, dismayed. “Brig swore he would beat me senseless—”

  “So stand and take it,” I said unsympathetically. “I think you owe it to me. Have you forgotten how I nursed you back from the brink of death? And I pretty nearly saved your life again only the other day when you almost drowned in Dancing Creek. You were thrashing around, crying out for help, and no one else came running. But did I throw you a stone?”

  “No, but—”

  “No, indeed, I didn’t.” I answered my own question. “I leapt straight in and dragged you from the water at no small risk to my life and limb.”

  “Life and limb?” he cried incredulously. “You’re taller than I! The water scarcely reached to your neck!”

  I shrugged. “Can’t blame that on me. Maybe you should’ve been the girl.”

  His face reddened and he surprised me by kicking the wooden writing slab off my lap. “You want a fight?” he demanded, voice squeaking in fury. “Is that what you’re looking for?” He doubled his fists and took a fighting stance.

  I couldn’t hide my amusement. I’d never seen him in such a temper.

  “Think you can fight, do you, boy?” I looked up, startled, at the voice that belonged to none other than the Red Hand himself. Where had he come from? We were in an out of the way spot and I hadn’t heard his approach. I stirred uneasily, wondering what he wanted. I could see his presence unnerved Terrac.

  “We weren’t fighting,” I assured Rideon. “Just playing around.”

  “Ah, I see. Play-fighting.” Rideon’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He turned his calculating gaze on Terrac. “Wouldn’t you rather learn to fight for real?” he asked.

  Terrac looked uneasy and I found myself feeling unexpectedly protective of him, so I broke in with, “He’s a priest, Rideon. He cannot do violence.”

  The outlaw smirked, looking Terrac up and down. “A flimsy excuse,” he said. “I won’t have such a cowardly pup in my band. If he wants to live among us, let him learn to defend himself.”

  Terrac said, “With all due respect, I don’t consider myself a member of your criminal band.” There was a cold light in his eyes that, for a moment, drowned out the fear as he added, “But while I’m forced to live among you, I earn my way. I do my chores around camp and I work as hard as anyone.”

  I was surprised to find myself feeling a little proud of the boy. Grown men didn’t argue with Rideon. Even so, I rushed to put a stop to his foolhardiness before he could talk his way into a thrashing or worse.

  “He does work hard,” I said. “But if you’re of a mind to see him fight, Rideon, I’m sure he wouldn’t refuse. There’s never any harm in learning to defend oneself
.” I cast a warning glance Terrac’s way, willing him to keep silent. I could feel him burning to martyr himself, so it was a pleasant surprise when he held his peace.

  Rideon scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Wise words, hound. Now I’ve a mind to see some sport, so let me see you practice between yourselves a bit. And to add to the challenge, the winner gets to spar with me as his reward. How’s that?”

  Terrac and I exchanged uneasy glances, but neither of us dared argue. I was sure Brig wouldn’t approve of this, but he wasn’t here. “It will be just until one of us downs the other,” I reassured Terrac, who looked slightly ill. He appeared stunned by my acceptance.

  Rideon put in mockingly, “Come now, priest boy. You’re not afraid to fight a girl, are you?”

  That seemed to decide Terrac. “Very well, if I must.” He agreed, jutting his chin out defiantly and pushing up his sleeves. “What are the rules of this game?”

  “No rules, no game,” Rideon said. “Just pound one another until one of you can no longer stand.”

  Terrac’s eyes narrowed disapprovingly, but he offered no argument. “All right then. Let’s get this over with,” he said. Even crouching with fists drawn, he didn’t look very convincing. Every rigid line of his body betrayed his reluctance.

  I stepped in and doubled my own fists, feeling as unenthusiastic as he looked. It was hardly an even match. Despite the nearness of our ages, I had a good six inches on Terrac and I’d had years of outdoor labor to strengthen my muscles. It also wasn’t long ago that he’d been deathly ill. I resolved to go as easy on him as I could, but I wouldn’t let him win. Instinctively, I felt this was some sort of test of Rideon’s and that the outcome might make a difference in my future.

  I guess I allowed myself to be distracted by my thoughts for I was suddenly brought back to the moment by a hard fist jabbing me in the ribs. From a grown man, such a punch would have been painful. From Terrac it was more like a sharp poke. Still, it allowed me to fight back without feeling guilty. My answering swing fell wide as Terrac dodged with surprising dexterity, throwing me off balance. The next two punches caught me in the face. I bit my tongue and that hurt more than the actual blows. It also made me realize I needn’t concern myself so much with going easy on my opponent after all.