The Theft of Sunlight by Intisar Khanani (story reading .TXT) 📕

the rumors reach us. The name, as unusual as it is, sounds vaguely familiar.

“Relatively. The Scholar came into power near on fifteen years ago. Red Hawk’s only got two or three years. But he’s a step better.”

“How?”

She shrugs. “He doesn’t kill indiscriminately. He pays the street children well enough to keep them. He stands by his honor.”

“Thieves’ honor?”

She nods, as if that should explain everything. Maybe it would if I were city bred, but it doesn’t mean a thing to me. Which means it’s best to just ask. “The rings don’t have anything to do with the snatchers, do they?”

“No,” Sage says sharply. “At least, not this one. They helped when—a young woman went missing.”

Sage’s voice ends on a rough note. That’s it, then: the history I don’t know. She’s lost someone as well. I almost tell her about Seri, but she’s not asking for empathy or acknowledgment, so I keep quiet. At least it’s a good sign if the thieves were helping to search for a girl who disappeared.

We round the corner to the Tattered Crow, a mosaic depicting a disheveled crow decorating the wall beside the carved door. It’s a distinctly grander building than those around it, though that merely means it’s been kept up, with a few small prosperous touches. The surrounding buildings, in contrast, are dilapidated, the door altogether missing from the building across the road.

Inside, the innkeeper directs us to a staircase with a jerk of his chin and the words, “First door on your right.”

I follow Sage up the stairs one step at a time, favoring my turned foot. Walking hurts, but stairs will be worse. It’s better to go gently.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I rejoin Sage at the top of the stairs.

She shakes her head and leads me to the door, rapping smartly upon its surface. A voice calls for us to enter. Sage pushes open the door to reveal a pair of men waiting for us. I don’t like this. I don’t like that our meeting location was changed, or that there are now two men where we only expected one. I touch Sage’s arm, as if to keep her from entering.

“Kelari Sage,” the elder of the two men says, rising to greet us. He must be about as old as Sage, his face weathered and his dark hair pulled back tightly. A scar traces its way down from the corner of his lip to his chin, giving him a perpetually grim look. His eyes are dark and sharp as two midnight jewels. I doubt he misses much.

“Kel Artemian.” Sage steps forward, out from under my hand, and dips her head in greeting. “Allow me to introduce Kelari Amraeya.”

I force a smile and nod, and make myself step as lightly as I can into the room. There’s no need for them to know that I can’t run even if I wanted to.

We seat ourselves in a pair of chairs across from the two thieves. Apparently, city folk emulate the palace folk; even here, in a humble inn on the west side, there are chairs instead of cushions on the floor. Just as well; I can hide my foot beneath the fall of my skirts and conceal my weakness that much longer.

Artemian sits up straight in his chair, but his companion lounges, one leg stretched out, long hair tied back, his seat set back just slightly from the circle. His face is young; he sports a smooth-shaved chin beneath a slender nose, his eyes deep set. His gaze flicks over us. He can’t be much older than I am, but he lazes in his seat with the benign ambivalence of a lion observing cubs at play. Wonderful. Some kind of shady character for sure.

Or am I merely pushing back at him because he is handsome in his own way? No, it’s there in the expression on his face, the way he sits: he considers himself powerful, and he’s amused by the secrets he’s keeping—including his identity, for Artemian makes no attempt to introduce this companion of his.

Instead, Artemian asks, “How is it we can help you?”

“The princess wishes to learn what she can of the snatchers,” I say, turning my focus to him. “She hopes you might be able to help her.”

Artemian nods. “How are you involved?”

“I am one of Zayyida Alyrra’s attendants. I serve as a go-between for her.”

He studies me. “You’re new, though, yes?”

“I’m from the town of Sheltershorn,” I say, meeting his gaze, “and will only be here through the summer.”

A smile hovers at the corners of his mouth, making it quirk slightly as the scar continues to pull down. “You don’t have the look of the city about you.”

“I shall consider that a compliment.”

He lets out his breath in a half laugh. “Of course. Now, why should we trust you?”

I blink, taken aback, and then realize he’s perfectly right. “You shouldn’t. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But I’ve given the princess my word, and I will hold by it. I want the snatchers stopped. I’ve seen in my own town the sorrow of the families whose children have gone missing, and I’ll do what I can to end such a tragedy. You can trust me in that, and trust that I won’t bring you harm if you’re helping us.”

His lips are still smiling, but his eyes are shrewd as ever. It’s hard to tell what he really thinks of me. “I see. What is it you need in particular?”

“To begin with, we need to understand how the snatchers operate.”

Artemian shakes his head. “There is not much to share. They are careful of their secrets, and brutal in protecting themselves. Right now, we leave them alone, and they do the same for us. We’ve no interest in changing that balance.”

Surely this isn’t all they can tell us. I didn’t agree to continue working for Alyrra just to be told, yet again, that the snatchers are dangerous. “Can you at least tell us who they are? How