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

is going on that needs to be investigated further. Have you heard of Berenworth before?”

“They’ve an office on the east side, run a lot of ships down to Lirelei, and upriver as well. That’s all I really know. Are they your only lead?”

“So far. I’m not sure what else we’ll be able to learn. It’s possible Berenworth is not actually involved. We don’t yet have proof.”

“I see,” Bren says, his gaze moving to the horizon. Out over the rooftops and past the line of the palace wall, the sky has begun to lighten, from darkest blue to gray-blue, the distant stars losing their brightness. “The princess is keeping you out of the city from now on, though, correct?”

“She’ll send Sage to Artemian if we need to contact you.”

Bren grunts and pushes himself to his feet. “Good. If you need to get in touch with me more directly, use the page I’ve been sending you. Now come; it’s getting close to sunrise. We need to get you back.”

I rise, brushing out my skirts as he packs up the evidence of our picnic. He escorts me back to the service stairs, and then continues on down the hall just a step ahead. I follow him down the second set of stairs, pause on the last step.

“There’s something else,” I say.

Bren turns, brows lifted. When I don’t go on, he takes a step back to lean against the wall, arms crossed, as if to assure me I have all the time I need.

“I accidentally took one of the Black Scholar’s books,” I admit. “I’m not sure if he’ll notice, but there probably isn’t a way to return it, is there?”

“You what?” Bren breathes.

“It was an old journal he had in his library,” I say, trying to sound casual, reasonable, as if I’ve done nothing wrong. “I was reading it, and I stuck it in my pocket without thinking, and I ended up taking it with me.”

“The journal,” Bren says.

Of course he would have seen it among my belongings when I’d stayed in his safe house. After a moment he lets out a low chuckle. My eyes dart to him, and I’m relieved to see he truly is amused—because how bad can it be if he’s laughing?

“Stealing from a thief lord, Rae. I should be recruiting you instead of trying to get you off the streets. If for no other reason than to see what you do next.”

“I didn’t mean to steal it,” I fret.

“No,” Bren agrees. He rubs his mouth. “We’ll have to hope he doesn’t realize the book is gone until you’ve returned to your family. How much longer are you planning to stay here?”

“Through the summer.”

Bren looks at me as if I’ve lost all reason.

“My cousin invited me!” I say defensively.

“Try not to leave the palace, ever. He’ll be looking for you anyway; if he realizes you stole something from him in addition to humiliating him in front of Bardok, he will be looking for you with everything he has.”

“I know,” I admit. “Do you think it’s possible the Black Scholar—or Bardok—is involved with the snatchers?”

“It seems unlikely.”

“Artemian said the Scholar’s been gaining in power.”

“He has, but it’s more likely to do with other things than with this.”

“Why?”

“Thieves’ honor,” Bren says slowly. “That would be encroaching on others’ territory, at a minimum.”

What he doesn’t say is “wrong.” I shake my head. “Do they use networks of street children too? Would they even care if the street children in their territories disappeared?”

Bren shakes his head. “That’s mostly Red Hawk.”

“So how do we find who’s working on the streets? Even if Berenworth—or some other organization—is transporting the children, they might not be the ones doing the actual snatching.”

“I already told you,” Bren says quietly. “Get a quad and catch someone.”

It’s a dead end for inquiry, in other words. At least for me.

“Any other questions?” Bren asks. “I feel like you must have a dozen more you’re not asking.”

“You want them all?” I ask, irrationally irritated. “Fine. Why did the Black Scholar let you go but keep me?”

“I’m Red Hawk’s right-hand man. I’m a little too dangerous to take hostage unless he wants a bloodbath on the streets. Or his doorstep. That ransom was really for me, not you.”

Red Hawk’s right-hand man. I exhale softly. It does make sense, the danger of reprisal. The Scholar letting him go—all the power Bren clearly has—doesn’t have to mean that he is secretly Red Hawk. It wouldn’t make sense for a thief lord to spend so much time on me anyhow, taking me about the city and meeting me on rooftops. Bren is just what he’s said, even if he hasn’t given me his name. There’s a relief in that.

He straightens from the wall and lifts something up over his head. “It’s time to go. Take this, will you?”

I reach out my hand even as I ask, “What?”

His fingers close around mine, pressing a warm metal disk into my palm. “Wear it until you leave the city.”

“What is it?”

“Protection, or an attempt at it.”

I glance down at my palm to find I hold a thin gold pendant, a circle encompassing a cutout of a hawk in flight. It hangs from a worn leather cord. “This is yours?” I ask, that uncertainty creeping in again.

“It’s his sign, Rae. Keep it on you always.”

I nod.

With a faint smile that seems as regretful as it is amused, Bren dips his head to me and slips away, disappearing down the paths in a matter of moments.

Chapter

39

The wedding procession goes smoothly that afternoon, almost unbelievably so. By midmorning—after I’ve managed a short but direly needed nap—half the noblewomen of the palace depart along with the princess’s party in a mass exodus to a great tent village that has sprung up past the city gates. Traditionally, the groom’s party comes to fetch the bride from her home. In this case, a symbolic procession from the lands to the west of the city has been planned.

We spend the day with