The Glowing Knight (4 page)

I TOOK TO
the shadows as soon as possible.

Until now, I'd never realized just how many places there were to hide in the King's Seat: in the shadow of the palace, between outbuildings, and behind statues of saints and long-dead Pierces. I darted from one black shadow to another, quickly heading out of the King's Seat and into Hawksbill.

I headed toward the Bome Boys' Academy, where Knight had an apartment like all the other professors. Maybe he hadn't left yet. Wherever he was going, he needed to be there at midnight. That was an hour from now.

Silence pushed around Hawksbill as I hurried on, trying to stay ahead of the guards. My biggest advantage, at least that I could guess, was that they'd assume I'd either go back to the palace to finish the job, or head straight for the wall to make an escape.

Then again, it turned out I knew much less about palace
security and servants than I'd previously thought.

Hopefully James was faring better.

Hawksbill was knots of streetlights and dark pockets between. I kept to yards and forced myself to pause—listen for voices or footfalls—whenever I came to an intersection I needed to cross. And every time I saw a lamp burning by the road or on a house, I was tempted to step into the sphere of light. But that was the prince in me, who'd never considered the need to hide in the darkness.

With the curtain pull growing heavier on my shoulder and the silver mask still hampering my vision, I sneaked past the Chuter home, the small but very ornate Roberts Chapel, and Manily Plaza, where I'd attended several outdoor plays. Lights shone in a few mansions, but many were already dark. Ahead, too, where the large box of a school rose above the wall and houses and trees, lights burned in the northern wing: the student dormitories. They must be up late studying. Jealousy simmered in me.

There were still several buildings between the school and me when I spotted him. Professor Knight was swathed in a large coat, in spite of the summer heat, and his heels thunked on the paving stones as he made his way down the road that led to the Hawksbill gate.

Which meant if I wanted to follow him once he got to Thornton, I needed to get out of Hawksbill first.

I adjusted my grip on the curtain pull and aimed myself for the nearest section of the wall.

“Good evening, Professor.”

I paused behind a tree, holding my breath as a guard
approached Knight, and the professor bobbed his head in greeting. He seemed amicable. Like himself. Not at all as though he were about to engage in some untoward activity.

Maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe everything he said had been honest and tonight he was simply running errands.

But what about Hensley?

“Watch yourself tonight,” said the guard. “There's a burglar on the loose.”

Knight straightened. “Who was robbed? Are they safe now?”

The guard shook his head. “The attempt was on the palace, but as far as we know nothing was taken. Everyone's safe.”

“The burglar got free?”

“We're doing everything we can to apprehend him. He trapped a few of our men in a storage building. They're itching to catch him now, as you can imagine.”

Great. They were out already, then. Now all of Hawksbill would be on alert.

Knight shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. “I'm sure they are. Well, if I see him, I'll be sure to tell someone. What does he look like?”

“Not sure. I heard he was wearing a mask. Saint Fade Christopher, maybe. A costume piece.”

“I'll keep my eyes open. Thanks for the warning.”

The guard bowed his head. “Good night, Professor.”

They parted ways, the guard continuing his search for the supposed burglar around a small monument of four obelisks, where I'd been hiding just a few minutes ago. Knight slouched his shoulders and seemed to sigh in relief.

Whatever he was doing, it was illegal, and he knew it.

I hurried on to the wall, anxious to get out of here. The space between the gate and me was clear of guards, and with the gentle hills and curve of the wall, there was no way they would see me. But now that I needed to climb it, the wall seemed more imposing than ever before.

This was definitely going to be more difficult than I'd anticipated, but I gave it my best shot. I threw the end with the door handle as high as I could.

It clanked against the stone maybe halfway up, then scraped as it fell back to the ground. Frantically, I gathered everything and scanned the area, but it was still quiet. No one had heard . . . this time.

One more time. I gave it a stronger windup and hurled the makeshift hook up in the air, letting go of the pull this time.

It flew higher, almost reaching the top of the wall, but it was obvious this wasn't going to work. The curtain pull was too short by an arm's length. Even if I could get the hook end up there, reaching it would be difficult. And what if it didn't hold my weight? What if the knot around the handle gave way?

I wished I'd thought of these things before, but I hadn't expected sneaking out to be
this
difficult. Maybe I should have let James come with me. Still, I needed
something
.

A quick glance around the area provided no answers . . . except a slender wrought-iron trellis lying flat on the ground, just a short jog along the wall. Like someone had left it there to put up later. It was two stories tall, meant for one of the smaller Hawksbill mansions, most likely.

I grabbed the trellis and dragged it toward the wall, prickly
iron scraping my palms. It was
heavy
, and while I wasn't weak, this was really a two-man job. I needed to lean it up against the wall.

After a few panicked minutes of checking my surroundings and trying to figure out the easiest way to move the trellis, I dragged the bottom against the wall and then moved around to the top. After a few deep breaths, I heaved the top up and over my head. My shoulders and arms strained as I walked forward, lifting the trellis as I went. The weight behind me grew and the bottom ahead began to lift—but it caught against the wall, providing a small measure of leverage as I heaved the trellis into an upright position and leaned it against the top of the wall.

My arms and shoulders and chest throbbed as I adjusted the trellis into a somewhat stable position. My palms, too, ached with the scrape of iron. My skin felt raw. I should have worn gloves.

Already regretting the decision to come out so unprepared, I hoisted myself onto the trellis and began climbing. The steps weren't evenly spaced like a ladder—not that I'd ever climbed a ladder—and the whole thing wobbled under my weight, but soon I was halfway up, and then all the way up.

I rolled onto the walkway at the top of the wall and groaned, staring up at the sky.

This business of sneaking out was much harder than I'd anticipated. But before I could really feel sorry for myself—for getting myself into this situation—I saw the city.

It stretched far beyond what I'd imagined, glowing with mirrors hung on every mansion and shop and tower. Streetlights in the nearby neighborhoods shone with a heady cheer, and people
chatted and moved about along all the main streets. At least, what looked like the main streets. It had been ages since I'd been out of Hawksbill, and even then I'd been confined to a carriage with the windows curtained.

There was so much I didn't know about my own city. The street names. Where the boundaries between districts lay. Where criminals liked to work.

One day I'd be king and I knew
nothing
about my own city. Because according to my father, it was unsafe.

This was unacceptable. I needed to learn. I needed Father to grant me some freedoms. Bringing down Hensley seemed like the surest way to prove my worth.

There was no more time to dally. I glanced over the Thornton side of the wall, briefly considering how much effort it would take to drag the trellis over the wall. A lot of effort. There had to be an easier way.

Then I saw it. A figure in the distance, hopping from rooftop to rooftop. A long braid whipped behind her as she moved stealthily around the peaked roofs and chimneys and mirrors. Another girl followed close behind. They paused on a nearby roof, crouched low, and the first girl pointed at something on the street.

After a moment, they angled toward an alley side of the roof and descended using brickwork and crates as stairs. Within heartbeats, they disappeared into the crowd.

They were probably thieves, but they had the right idea. I scanned the nearby rooftops and found some kind of shop close by. Close enough to jump to. At least, I hoped.

“Please, saints,” I muttered, “don't let me fall to my death.”
Or, more likely, fall to my shattered legs.

I checked along and below the wall as I came even with my target roof. No one. If I broke every bone in my legs and hips, I'd at least have some privacy.

After five deep breaths to steady my thoughts, I coiled my muscles and took a short running start before pushing off the ledge.

Empty air.

Empty air.

Roof.

I hit the shingles with a loud
thump
and tumble, and something slammed against the silver mask, pushing it askew. My raw hands scraped for something to hold on to as I slid toward the edge. The toes of my boots caught on a gutter. My fingers clenched around a thin pipe.

My breaths came fast and ragged, but I was alive, and all my bones were intact, as far as I could tell. Trying not to think too hard about my near death, I straightened the mask and vowed to get a better one for the next time I sneaked out. Mask. Gloves. Different clothes, too; already I could feel scrapes and bruises forming beneath my training clothes.

From the roof of the shop, I found some interesting brickwork, as the girls had, and made my way to the ground. There were no people in the narrow alley between the wall and Thornton shops, and all the lights were off in the buildings close by. That was something. Still, I didn't want to linger.

I jogged along the wall for a little ways, toward the gate where Knight should be coming through any minute. If I hadn't already missed him. Getting over the wall had taken much
longer than I'd thought it would.

But then I saw his shape, hunched against the crowd of people on the main street. He moved quickly, leaving me no choice but to plunge into the crowd after him.

A few people startled and gave me extra space as they noticed my mask and the sword on my back, but no one cried out. Apparently news of a saint-robber hadn't come out of Hawksbill yet. They'd remember the mask and sword, but I definitely couldn't risk anyone remembering my face. Most of these people had no idea what I looked like, but it only took one person for the news to get back to my father. If I could learn to hop rooftops like those girls, that would dramatically improve my sneaking.

The road was crowded. Tall, short, thin, fat, and everyone in between. I'd thought it was suspicious that Knight was running errands at night, but there were
so many
people out here, several clutching shopping bags or heading into the stores that lined the street, it seemed
I
was the one who didn't know what he was talking about.

There were several people between Knight and me, so I nearly missed him going into a shop. The sign above the door read Old Physicians' Apothecary.

Of course. Because he had a burn.

As I walked by the door, I took a quick glance inside. Knight was heading right for the counter, though I couldn't hear what he said over the din outside.

I paused on the other side of the door, my back to the wall. Maybe this was it. Just an errand. Maybe Father was right about what was going on and I was holding a grudge because I didn't like someone.

With a sigh, I turned my eyes toward the Hawksbill wall again. This was it, then. My big adventure. Now I'd have to figure out how to get back home and explain to James that I'd been wrong. I'd never live it down.

But at least Professor Knight was innocent. That, more than anything, made me smile.

As for Lord Hensley . . .

Beyond the wall, the clock tower chimed midnight, and just then, Professor Knight came rushing out of the apothecary, swearing as he stuffed his purchase into a coat pocket.

At first, I thought I'd follow him back into Hawksbill. Somehow. But instead, he walked right past me—deeper into Thornton. His steps were clipped. His shoulders hunched forward.

Midnight, Knight had promised. Now.

And he was late.

So late he hadn't taken the time to look around. So late he hadn't noticed someone standing there in a Saint Fade Christopher mask.

I followed as he turned a corner, moving farther into the market district.

There were fewer people here, most with their eyes straight ahead and their jaws set. This wasn't a bad neighborhood—as far as I knew—so I could only imagine the cold expressions everyone wore was because of me. Maybe I should have found my Indigo Order uniform.

I followed Professor Knight around a few more corners, always keeping a good space between us. When he glanced back, I stepped into an alley or ducked behind a trash bin. At the same
time as I tailed my professor, I tried to keep track of the streets and turns, because I couldn't count on following him out of here. There was always the wall to go by, and the buildings that rose above the rest of the city—the clock tower, cathedral, and palace—but by this time most of the local guard knew to look for my mask. It would be dangerous for me to wander around looking for the part of the wall where I'd crossed.

Finally, Professor Knight stopped and peered into an alleyway. “Shade?”

“You're late,” said a masculine voice.

“Security is tight because of a burglar.” Professor Knight reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a leather sack. Glass clinked inside, and a faint, acrid stench whispered on the air as he removed a small vial. Like proof it wasn't fake. Then he replaced it, carefully so the glass didn't crack. “Do you have the money?”