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

I thank her, though I’m not sure what a tax clerk could do against slavers.

I update the princess on my visit to the brickyard in a quiet moment before the evening’s banquet. She listens silently, her expression grim.

“If everyone around this brickyard is complicit in keeping them there . . .” She shakes her head. “That’s going to make it that much harder to find such people, because no one will report them.”

I nod, steel myself for this next bit of news, for it still makes me sick. “My contact also said that there are brothels where snatched girls are kept by force. He said when guards go to investigate, they take—they visit the girls for their own pleasure, and leave the brothel owner alone.”

“No.” Alyrra’s expression is livid. “No. I’ll have every brothel in this city shut down!”

“Who will you send?”

That brings her up short, but not for long. “We’ll need a force of soldiers dedicated to stopping the snatchers—men and women who volunteer to do so. I’ll talk to Kestrin.” She pauses. “It will have to wait until after the wedding. I can’t make such a change yet. In fact, it will be better if Kestrin and I do it together, rather than me alone.”

“Then he knows you’re looking into the snatchers?”

She nods absently.

“Does anyone else?” At her look, I say, “I need to know whom I can trust with this. Who in the palace knows what you’re trying to do?”

“Kestrin,” Alyrra says at once. “I assume Filadon would be trustworthy, given how close he is to Kestrin, and that he recommended you specifically.”

Did he? “You mean, because he knew I would care about stopping the snatchers?”

“Yes.”

I thought so.

She laughs. “Such a bright, sharp look, Rae! I see he didn’t tell you.”

“He’s very good at keeping secrets.”

“That he is,” she agrees. “As we navigate the palace side of things, I expect we will include Garrin. He has . . . indicated a wish to support us, which I don’t mind taking advantage of. Kestrin says his cousin is unquestionably loyal.”

I nod. Garrin is too far above me to be much of an ally, but it’s good to know that Alyrra will be able to rely on more than just her husband.

“You’ve done well, Rae,” Alyrra says. “This is a definite start.”

“It’s where some of the children end up,” I point out. “We don’t know how they get there, or who actually does the snatching. Nor do we know where the rest are sent.”

“I know. But even this much is more than we had last week.”

More, but not enough. And I don’t have any further leads. If only I could have spoken to the boys in the brickyard. . . . “If we can rescue the boys I saw, they may be able to tell us how they were transported, who sold them to the brickmaker.”

Alyrra nods. “If we have a mode of transport, you think we’ll be able to start looking for that as well.”

“At least more effectively than we have up until now.”

“I’ll speak to Kestrin. I know the royal guards have different roles from those of the river wardens, or the soldiers who patrol the city. If we could just send one of his quads to collect the boys, it would be an easy thing, but I suspect it will have to go through the proper channels or we’ll risk alienating those we need on our side.”

“I understand,” I say, even though I cannot help thinking of the boys suffering days or weeks longer because of bureaucratic logistics.

In the next room, the connecting door opens and footsteps sound softly on the carpet. Alyrra says, brightly, “Our self-defense lessons will begin in the morning, before breakfast. I’ve asked all my attendants to take part.”

“Yes, zayyida,” I say as Jasmine steps in, glancing toward me. Alyrra nods to her, and sends me off to get ready for the evening banquet.

The meal is a long one, but the nobles I am seated beside are pleasant, and kindly include me in their small talk about the weather, the festivities, and everyone’s clothes. I smile and nod and do my best not to say anything to test their patience. The sheer opulence of this dinner seems a world away from the grim reality I glimpsed earlier today.

My sleep that night is plagued with haunting visions of the brickmaker’s boys, their eyes filled with darkness and their hands scarred and weeping blood. I dream of a labyrinth constructed of yellow bricks that walls them in, rising up between us as I race toward them. Finally, I find a break in the wall, but when I reach it, the foreign prince turns toward me, a smile on his lips and his pale eyes glistening with violence.

I wake with a jerk to the stillness of my room, the faint sound of Mina’s breathing. But there is no sleeping after such a dream. Dawn cannot be more than an hour or two off. At home, I would go out for a ride on Muddle, or just walk out into the plains and sit down to rest in the quiet. Neither is an option here. I lie in bed as long as I can, and then grab a shawl and slip out to the common room. And laugh at myself. Because here too I have nothing to do—no horses to check on, no mending, no cooking, not even a treasured book to read.

I make myself tea, hot water from the kettle kept upon a mage-made warming stone, a scoop of leaves dropped into the pot, and think about the boys I saw, about Seri and if she will ever be found, and the way Ani wept as I held her, as if her sorrow might break her open. I think about how little I actually know and whether I will be able to do anything to stop the snatchers.

I don’t have any answers. I lean my head against the sofa, and remember Bren’s face when I guessed his