Thief (Brotherhood of the Throne Book 1) (12 page)

“That was incredibly beautiful,” he said. He came and stood beside her, his eyes on the weapons on the wall. “I’ve lived with most of these weapons all my life,” he caressed the hilt of the knife that she’d touched almost reverently, “and at no time did I ever think they were capable of this.” He smiled down at her. “My nephew, although eloquent, still was not able to capture the beauty. He also said he felt something when you both handled his sword. I’d very much like to try that, if you’d care to experiment later. For now,” he gestured to the chair she’d vacated and moved around the desk, “I’d like to discuss some other matters. For instance, what makes you believe that Duke Thorold is the amassing the old steel weapons?”

Distracted, Brenna sat down. What had just happened with the old weapons, the old steel, as Feiren called them? She’d been able to control them, just a little. With practice would she be able to do more? And what did this mean for the prophecy? She couldn’t really be the heir, could she?
That
she did not want. It would be far too dangerous, even with the Brotherhood on her side. No, she wanted to go back to her simple life.

“Brenna.”

She looked up, startled. Feiren Rowse met her gaze, his mouth quirked up in a smile.

“I’m sorry, Feiren,” she said. “I’m a little … Sorry, what did you ask?” She’d been about to tell him that she was a little unnerved. Now why would she do that? Even if it was true, she didn’t want him to know. Even that tiny piece of knowledge could potentially be used against her.

“No worries lass,” Feiren said. “I was simply asking why you think Duke Thorold is collecting old steel.”

“I have some contacts,” Brenna said. “In the Quarter. I’m a healer by training but it’s not something you want to make a full time living from in Thieves’ Quarter.”

“There’s not enough payment?” Feiren asked.

“Well there’s that,” Brenna said. “Folk have little to spare, that’s true. But the biggest risk is that you’ll be named a witch. Just like Sabine Werrett.” A woman who had done nothing except be mistaken for Brenna. She clamped down on her anger and guilt. The church was responsible, not her.

“I know,” Brenna continued. “That Kingsreach is not as bad as some of the other duchies - thanks in no small part to the Kingsguard - but the church seems to be targeting people they don’t like by calling them witches. It seems to me that calling someone a witch is a church-sanctioned opportunity for theft.”

“How so?”

“The church has been so outspoken that it’s easy to madden a crowd by accusing someone of being a witch,” Brenna said. She’d thought this scenario more likely than what had happened to poor Sabine. “While the so-called witch was running for his or her life someone can move in and take their possessions. Even if the
witch
escaped the crowd and came back for their belongings there would be no way to recover anything. And likely no help.”

Feiren nodded. “So by only occasionally healing you are able to deflect that kind of fear?”

“Yes,” Brenna said. “And I’ve been around the Quarter for a long time. Folk know me more as a thief than a healer. But the interesting thing about healers is that sooner or later everyone needs one. Including those who trade in information.”

“Ah, back to your contacts. You trade healing for information.” Feiren’s look held a glint of admiration. “As you said, everyone eventually needs a healer.”

“Yes.”

“So what do you do with all this information?” Feiren asked.

“I keep it,” she replied. “I piece it together in order to see which way the bigger pieces will fall. Then I make sure I’m not in the way. And I gain favors by tipping a few folk off.” She paused. “And sometimes I use the information to target specific items for my own personal gain.” Brenna nervously looked down. Feiren knew she was a thief, but still, with his ties to the Kingsguard, admitting it made her uneasy.

“And Duke Thorold, he is a particular target of yours?” asked Feiren. “Kane said you’d told him you make it your business to know what Duke Thorold of Comack is up to.”

Brenna nodded to him. “That’s right. He’s the most powerful man in Soule, even though he’s not king. I find it useful to know what he’s interested in. ” She was not going to tell the leader of the Brotherhood that she had a personal history with Thorold or that he was her grandfather. She could imagine how that would stoke the fires of their beliefs, what with her being of the line of Comack, one of Wolde’s sons. It wasn’t as though it was proof she was the one prophesied about.

“Useful. Yes, I can imagine it would be.” Feiren held her gaze for a second before he turned and focused on the weapons behind him. “How long has he been collecting the old steel weapons, do you think?”

Brenna ignored the question and instead leaned forward in her chair. There was some kind of affinity between Feiren Rowse and three of the weapons; a sword and two of the knives. She wasn’t sure what made her think that, but even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it was true.

“The sword at the bottom and the two knives at the top, they’re yours aren’t they?” she asked.

Surprised, Feiren turned to look at her. “Yes. Those have been in my family for many generations.” He turned back to the weapons. “These other two are recent acquisitions. I’d hoped to put the High Bishop’s knife beside them. Dasid has been trying to find out what families these belonged to so we might discover what caused them to fall into non-Brotherhood hands.” He shook his head. “But he’s had no luck. The Brotherhood’s records are very detailed when it comes to families, but records of the old steel weapons consist of simple descriptions such as, two handed long sword, or dagger with silver hilt. How did you know these were family pieces?”

“I’m not sure,” she paused. “They seem to fit you, somehow. Maybe I knew from when I touched them?” Brenna shook her head. She wasn’t sure she could explain it to him, wasn’t sure she actually knew anything, not really.

“Something else for Dasid to delve into,” Feiren said. “It seems there’s much to investigate. Now, back to my question. How long has Duke Thorold been hunting old steel?”

“I first heard about Thorold’s collecting over a year ago,” Brenna said. “But my sources say his interest goes back about five or six years, although he kept it all within Comack. Only in the last two years has he included the rest of Soule. Apparently he’s using the church to confiscate and deliver the weapons to him, both here and in Comack. Since the death of the old Duke in Fallad the church has had a pretty free hand in that duchy. I heard they’ve had no success in Aruntun. Does the Brotherhood have ties there?”

“That’s not an easy question to answer.” Feiren placed his hands flat on the table and studied them. “Our records show there should be a great many Brothers in Aruntun, and we do have a few contacts, but they are unwilling to share a lot of information with us. Some of what we do know suggests they’ve taken a slightly different path in the past few hundred years. We aren’t even sure they’ve stayed true to the prophecy.” He looked up at her sadly. “Aruntians don’t much trust those of us from the rest of Soule you know.”

“And with good reason,” Brenna said. “Look at what happened to Sabine Werrett. Besides, I’ve heard that in Comack anyone from Aruntun is automatically accused of witchcraft and indentured. And you know what they say about that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Indentured in Comack means you’re indentured for life.”

Feiren nodded grimly. “Yes, I’ve heard that too. That’s one of the things the Brotherhood wants you to correct once you’re declared ruler.”

Brenna looked up at that. Being the heir to the prophecy was too absurd for her to even consider it as a possibility. But what
could
that mean to Soule? If the Brotherhood could put someone else on the throne, oh not her, but someone better suited, they could right a lot of wrongs. She sighed. That was unlikely. Thorold had strengthened his grip on power in the last few years. Beldyn had been named the king’s heir and the High Bishop did his bidding. It would take more than the Brotherhood to topple Thorold. She’d like to see him fall, though.

A servant came with urgent business for Feiren and Brenna was left to her own devices for the rest for the morning and well into the afternoon. She wandered the house and grounds for a while, curious about the layout and furnishings.

It was an old house, with many quirky additions made over the years. Downstairs the rooms were open and she entered them at will, but upstairs many doors were closed. She respected that and forced herself to pass by them, despite her curiosity. Curiosity was a trait that made her a good thief. She always wondered what was behind that door or tucked away in that purse. And then she’d figure out how she could see for herself.

It would have been easy to look into each room, locked or not. But she reminded herself that she was a guest. Feiren Rowse had taken her in to keep her safe, never mind that he had his own reasons for doing so. 

The garden had a few plants she could dry and use in her healing, but she wasn’t sure when she’d use them. It looked like she’d simply traded one prison for another. And though Feiren Rowse’s home was much grander than her own two rooms she’d rather be back home in the Quarter.

By the time the spring day turned chill she’d found three secret passageways, besides the one Kane had brought her through last night. She’d also discovered a dusty, hard-to-open cubbyhole hidden in the dining room wall. A small notch carved into the wooden wall panel allowed a perfect view of the dining room table.

And that was just in the public areas of the house. She expected that behind the closed doors upstairs were even more mysteries. In all the nights she’d spent huddled over floor plans at the Collegium Library, she had never seen a house with as many secrets as this one. Brenna wondered if her hosts even knew all of them. Perhaps the records for the house were no more complete than the records of the old steel weapons.

Her inspection of the house finished, Brenna made her way back to Feiren’s study. She heard male voices and knocked before she stepped inside the open door.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said.

Feiren sat behind his desk and Kane, in his dark blue Kingsguard uniform, sat in one of the chairs in front. The uniform highlighted the blue of his eyes and Brenna’s breath caught when he turned to her. Startled by the intensity in his eyes, she quickly looked away. What was it about him that drew her? Was it the old steel? Even now she could feel the presence of his sword, and through it, him. She didn’t want this awareness, this
attraction
, to the Captain of the Kingsguard.

Her gaze settled on the occupant of the other chair. He was a wiry man with a serious look and blond hair cut so short it stood on end. A jagged scar that ran from the back of his neck up and over his left ear, left a thin furrow on his scalp. He too wore the uniform of the Kingsguard.

“Brenna, come in,” Feiren said. “We were just telling Dasid here a little about your situation, but now that you’re here he can hear it firsthand.”

“Here, sit down,” Kane said. He rose and stood aside while she seated herself.

“Brenna, meet Dasid Addems,” Feiren said and gestured to the man beside her. “Dasid was my second in command and now serves my nephew in the same capacity. He’s also a senior member of the Brotherhood. He serves on the council and as our historian.”

“Caller,” Dasid said. “It’s an honor.” He bowed his head to her.

“Please, call me Brenna and I’ll call you Dasid?” He nodded and she relaxed. She wasn’t used to the formality of Dasid Addems. She hoped the rest of the Brotherhood was less proper. And then she remembered that Pater was part of the Brotherhood and she almost smiled.

Brenna turned to her host “Feiren,” she said. “You have an impressive home. The Guard must be a profitable occupation.” From behind her she heard Kane’s deep-throated chuckle and she looked up and met his gaze.

“If it is no one has mentioned it to me,” Kane said.

“I don’t see how Master Rowse’s finances are any of your concern Brenna,” Dasid said.

Brenna glanced at him before crossing her arms and turning back to Feiren. How much would they trust her? If they really believed she was the one their Brotherhood had been waiting for they should have no objections to her questions.

Feiren tapped his fingers on the polished tabletop for a few beats before he nodded. “Actually it is Dasid,” he said. “At least the Brotherhood’s finances are. Correct?” Brenna nodded and he continued. “After all, we have declared that the Brotherhood believes Brenna to be the true heir to the prophecy. I think Brenna is simply trying to gauge what we are capable of.”

“That’s right.” All day she’d wondered; what
could
the Brotherhood do to enforce the prophecy? The throne would not just be handed over to them. Or if she needed to escape them, how far and how long would she need to run? Feiren and Kane Rowse, current and former captains of the Kingsguard, were part of the hierarchy. No doubt the Brotherhood was well managed. Add money and men and they would be a formidable foe, if it ever came to that. She’d vowed long ago that she would not be forced into anything, by anyone. Not even if it came with a fine house and more crowns than she’d ever expected to see in her lifetime. She wanted to know what she was up against.

“So far,” Brenna said. “I know very little about the Brotherhood. I want to know how far a reach you have in Soule, what kind of resources you have to support the prophecy. And especially what’s next for me. Does anything in the Brotherhood’s history mention what to do once the Call comes?”