CHAPTER 35

Vax noticed two things when he approached Jorenn from the hills. First, even several hours after the attack, the town remained entirely focused on the main gate, leaving the northeastern side open to anyone who might wander down this mountain path, as though walkers couldn’t—or wouldn’t—find their way here. Two members of the Shadewatch, who patrolled the path toward the mine, kept their guard down, yawning and whispering worries between each other. They were young and well meaning, but completely oblivious to the world around them. They were lucky too; they’d be easy marks for any thief, if that had been his purpose tonight.

He circled the town and kept his eyes open for an easy way to slip past the palisades and into Jorenn. While the hills offered the town decent natural protection, embracing it with tall boulders and steep cliffs, the landscape was not so insurmountable that he couldn’t climb the ridges and edge past the back of buildings.

A whisper of movement a few hundred feet in front of him gave him pause. With the fingers of one hand clinging to a rocky ledge and the other hand pressed up against the back wall of a chapel, he froze. Another hint of movement, and this time he could make out the contour of a figure. A girl, perhaps, or a young woman, dashing along the rocks parallel to the mountain path. Judging by her nimble feet, Vax was certain she was trained in the finer arts of stealth and thievery. A Clasp member? Or simply a local petty thief? A part of Derowen’s scheme? Or just another poor fool, trying to get by?

She carried a small bag over her shoulder, and she passed by the two guards without them being any the wiser. When she slipped by the one closest to her, she brazenly slit his purse and deposited it in her sleeve. In the soft glow of the guards’ lanterns, the girl’s clothes appeared torn and oft mended, while dirt streaked her face and her eyes shone.

She dashed in Vax’s direction just as his grasp on the rocks began to slip.

Vax pressed his back against the stone, and she froze, as attuned to any hint of movement as he was. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight, and when she spotted him, she grinned, flipped him off, and let herself slide down the rocks, disappearing from view. He shook his head. Suspicion pushed at the back of his thoughts. With so much at stake, even the most mundane interactions seemed to hide sinister secrets. Vax took a deep breath and pushed aside his wariness. He needed to focus on the task at hand.

Vax curled his fingers around the jagged pieces of rock. The northeastern side of town was also entirely open to anyone who might wander down this mountain path, who did not wish to be noticed.

Vax let himself fall, but only far enough that he didn’t accidentally set any rocks tumbling. He followed the path she’d unwittingly laid out—in the opposite direction. When the guards turned away from the gate, he put his head down and darted from shadow to shadow, from the side of the path to the start of it—

And into Jorenn.

The town made more sense under the cover of night, as all towns did. Under the light of the moons, they all existed in shades of midnight gray and blue and all the streets and buildings were like the tumblers of a lock. All he had to do was figure out which path to follow to unlock the secrets before him.

He knew the way from the miners’ gate to the Shade Hall. He’d walked the streets earlier today—had it only been today? It felt like a lifetime ago—to clear his head and understand where Thorn was coming from. He backtracked and made certain to stay away from the square, where the silence of a town asleep rolled through the air.

The excitement of the nightly attack had long since passed, and morning did not hold off for undead sieges.

Vax followed the dusty streets and circled the square until he got to the back of the Shade Hall, where a long road wound along the old buildings he’d seen through the window. He’d given this part—the exact right approach—ample thought during his wait in the hills.

Finding irregular ways to leave the Shade Hall had been easy. It’d only involved leaping out of a window. Finding a way in unnoticed, however, was trickier. He couldn’t saunter in for fear of messing up his sister’s story. He couldn’t let her be seen with him at all. He didn’t have the time to scout out the place for any weaknesses.

So he did what he did best: gamble. He found what looked to be the most ramshackle of buildings and used the unevenness as purchase to scramble higher along the wall and onto the roof. He climbed to the highest point, which put him at eye level with the second floor where Derowen’s office was—and the room where he’d waited. It was hard to tell from this distance, but he was certain the window was still partially ajar, and that was all he needed.

He needed to get in.

He needed to keep his sister safe.

He needed a way to fix this mess.

If this was what Spireling Gideor had in mind when he’d told Vax it would only be a simple heist, then he might get his wish after all. Vax started at the farthest edge of the roof, used every inch of available space to run and gain momentum—and he leaped.

He fell. He saw the wall of the building rush to meet him and grabbed the window ledge with his fingertips as he slammed into the wall, all breath rushing out of him. His shoulders and hips ached with the impact, and he fought to keep his grip. He clung to the rough stone and crawled up, digging the toes of his boots against the wall. He managed to push himself up one step. Another. He cautiously let go of the ledge with one hand and before he lost his balance, he wrapped his fingers around the windowsill.

The window itself barely opened up past it. He pulled himself up farther and dug his fingernails into the soft wooden frame. He pulled. His arms trembled and he kept kicking up against the wall, scrambling for purchase and slipping down again. If anyone walked by and looked up, he would be in deep trouble. But if there was one lesson he’d learned on the rooftops of Syngorn, it was this: very few people ever looked up. Staying above other people’s line of sight was the easiest way to be invisible.

The night remained quiet, and the window edged open. Inch by painstaking inch. It slipped out of his grasp once and he nearly fell back. His hands started to sweat and he kept having to adjust his grip.

It swung wide, but close enough overhead that he felt his hair move. With the last remaining effort, Vax placed his feet as high as he could, gripped the frame as tight as he could, and hurled himself upward. His shoulder scraped along the frame and his foot tangled with the curtains, but he made his way through and landed silently in a dark and apparently sleeping Shade Hall.

He pulled the window nearly shut, leaving enough of a crack that he could easily push it open again if need be. He straightened the curtains and waited. Waited to see if he’d alerted any guards. Waited to listen to the sounds around him.

The hallway that had been busy during the day was empty now. Presumably, the doors were closed, the Shademaster was secure, and the guards were asleep. So he slipped out and, with quiet feet in these loud halls, made his way to the third floor.

Soft light burned from the Shademaster’s personal wing, and guards patrolled on a regular basis, but the floor above her office was empty. A long, practically decorated hallway with rows of closed doors on either side. Nothing here was lit, and no light shone from underneath any of the doors either. The deep slumber of darkness made stealing in easier.

Vax passed the doors with names or other signifiers on them. One door held a brass plate that marked it the quartermaster’s office. Another belonged to the sergeant at arms. Another plate simply read RECORDS.

Of the doors that were unmarked, three were unlocked and led to dusty rooms that held nothing more than tables and chairs, and in one case: boxes full of Shadewatch uniforms.

Three other offices remained and Vax set to work finding his way in, until he’d opened all the doors and only one of the offices was filled with a chaos of curiosities and clutter that reminded him rather of Spireling Gideor’s office back in Westruun. Gemstones of all colors. Weapons of all sorts. A sizable collection of figurines. The start of a letter, in a very familiar handwriting. A scratchy but neat scrawl. Vax had seen it before as a list of names, of people to be eliminated.

This had to be the right office.

He closed the door with a quiet snick behind him, and made himself comfortable sorting through all the clutter. Books and notebooks, though none of them as interesting as the notebook he’d found in Derowen’s office. Whetstones, oil, and cleaning cloths for blades. A child’s drawing of a horse with seven legs. Coins of all sorts and makes. Nothing that implied a connection to Westruun or the Clasp.

It was a risk, staying here. Until Vax spoke to Culwen, there was no way to ensure that he was the Clasp member Gideor had mentioned. It could simply be another person with the same name. And even if all the other details added up, he might not visit his office today—or at all.

There were a million ways in which their plan could fail. But it was his best chance to speak to the Shademaster’s brother privately, while Vex reasoned with Derowen herself. And a chance was just what they needed.

THE SOFT PINK LIGHT OF dawn blinked into the room. Vax opened his eyes and stretched, careful not to make a sound. He didn’t know how much time had passed, though the pale light indicated it was early. He’d found a sheltered space amidst a stack of boxes, out of immediate eyeline from the door, and he held his daggers in his lap. The Shade Hall and Jorenn Village woke up around him, and he picked at some of the tack and dried fruit, waiting. Thinking.

Vex and he had started running when they left Syngorn, and they hadn’t stopped until now. If this didn’t work they’d run again. She might not want to. He didn’t want to, but he would always place his sister’s welfare above anything else. Every other choice he made fell second to that.

Sunlight continued to filter into the room, and dust motes danced in its beams. Vax shifted his position and picked up a dagger, right when the handle of the door turned.

He changed to a low crouch, letting the clutter in front of him shield him, and held his breath.

The handle rattled again, and the door opened slowly, cautiously. A broad-shouldered man with wet curls and a scowl entered the room, one gloved hand on the hilt of a rapier. The elusive Shademaster’s brother and probable Clasp member. The man he’d only heard about through rumor and stories. He looked like Derowen. He shared her hair color and her frown. He carried himself with the same cautious arrogance.

The moment Culwen pushed the door shut behind him, Vax came up from his hiding place, his daggers out.

“Good morning. We should have a conversation.”

Culwen had his rapier out as soon as Vax moved, but instead of charging, he took a step back. “I thought someone had toyed with the lock. A burglar with manners. How quaint.” He took Vax in, and his scowl turned into a sly grin. His guard was up, but his gaze was calculating. “Ah, you must be the prodigal brother.”

“I must be,” Vax acknowledged. He walked closer, blocking the door and Culwen’s escape route, though it didn’t look like the man planned to make a run for it.

The ease with which Culwen held his weapon belied his mocking amusement. “Tell me then, what should we have a conversation about? I admit, I usually don’t talk business before I’ve had breakfast, and I rarely do so on the other end of a weapon”—he glanced at Vax’s daggers—“or two. But it’s clear you went through a lot of effort to ambush me here. I can’t say I’m not intrigued.”

“The Clasp sent me,” Vax said. He managed to keep his voice even.

“Did they now?” Culwen turned and walked to the desk. He sat down and leaned back, putting his dusty boots up on the desktop. The carelessness, the fact that he didn’t seem to care at all that Vax held two weapons ready to throw, rankled, but at the same time Vax couldn’t deny he admired the man’s gall.

Culwen pulled the collar of his tunic down far enough to show Vax the edges of his brand, confirming at least that theory. There was an edge to his voice. A warning. “I’m sure you have some way to prove your claim?”

Vax didn’t. And he knew that once he couldn’t identify himself, Culwen was far less likely to listen to him. Already the conversation was as impossible to control as the ash walkers up in the hills—and as intangible too. If his meeting with Shademaster Derowen had been an unpleasant sparring match of words, this was like the fight in the mines: full of sharp edges and dangers that lurked beneath the surface.

The only way not to fall too deep was to keep pushing forward. “Do you know why the Clasp sent me here?”

Culwen didn’t let himself be drawn out. He merely raised an eyebrow. He took a cloth and a small bottle of oil from a desk drawer and with casual focus he polished the blade of his rapier. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t concern myself with other members’ assignments, and I certainly don’t concern myself with … aspiring members.” He made the words sound like something dirty. “You should know the Clasp isn’t fond of people throwing their name around.”

Vax scoffed. In for a copper, in for a magic ring. “They asked me to steal the Shademaster’s ring. Fracture. It made no sense to me, when I heard the rumors that are buzzing around town and in the mines.”

Culwen stopped polishing his rapier. He carefully folded the piece of cloth and placed it on the desk. “Rumors, eh?”

“That Shademaster Derowen’s dealing with the Clasp herself. Everyone here knows that.” He put it on a bit thick, but the way the man’s eyes widened slightly and his hand flexed at his side, subtle tells that he bought the bluff, told him he hit a mark.

“Right. Who did you say it was who gave you that assignment?” Culwen asked. He put the bottle of oil away. He removed his gloves slowly, with that same air of nonchalance, as though they were discussing a favorite bar in another town, or the latest fashion from Emon.

Vax walked through the room, careful not to turn his back to Culwen, and he peeked out between the curtains in front of the tall window to give himself a chance to think. The town square was full of Shadewatch, bringing in the survivors from the mines in pairs. Other guards rode out to presumably go back into the hills to weed out any last survivors. Even the children were bound, and Thorn was nowhere to be seen. The sight opened up a void inside him.

Vex had to be successful. And so did he. If they were wrong, if the Clasp did know and set him the assignment regardless, giving up the spireling’s name would be a direct route to finding himself on the receiving end of that tongue staff and its witchery and Vex in the hands of whoever wanted her.

He ran his thumb over the hilt of one of his daggers and he did the same thing he had the night before. He leaped. “Spireling Gideor.”

“Ah, of course. He’s always been a fan of more circumspect confrontation.” Culwen didn’t sound shocked by the information.

Vax looked him up and down—

And froze.

Culwen wore the same signet ring on his finger as the one Vax had seen on Gideor’s. A broad silver band, with the Clasp’s symbols engraved into it. He turned it around and around, pensively. His rapier lay in his lap, and he slipped a parrying dagger with a triple blade from a sheath at his hip.

He stared straight at Vax.

“My esteemed colleague has been worried about my power for some time now. Ever since Kymal. I do believe he thinks it’s a threat to him.” Spireling Culwen smiled thinly. “He’s right, of course, but this is such an inelegant way of trying to solve the debate between the two of us.”

“I don’t particularly care about this debate between the two of you.” Vax pushed the words out and he fought to keep his shock from showing. He remembered the way the Clasp’s tavern had stilled when Spireling Gideor walked in. The mixture of reverence and fear on too many faces. If Culwen was as powerful as him, Vax had picked a formidable enemy—or ally. He tightened his fingers around the hilts of his daggers. He took a step back toward the door. “But he threatened my sister, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I do understand that,” Culwen said softly. He took up the rapier. “But you see my problem is, I don’t particularly care about your woes.”

“But you care about your business, don’t you?” Vax took another step back toward the door and while he rushed to keep talking, he managed to keep his voice steady. “You see, once I realized you’re a Clasp member too, my assignment only made sense to me when I realized the Clasp—or Spireling Gideor, specifically—wanted the ring not despite the Shademaster’s agreement, but because they weren’t actually a part of it. You were. And I have no intention of getting in the way of that, but every intention of protecting my sister. So I want to propose a trade.”

Culwen got to his feet and faced Vax. If he’d seemed confident with a rapier before, the casually lethal way he held the parrying dagger in his off hand displayed a level of skill that could only be honed by blood and resolve. He shrugged. “Seems to me you broke into my office, and there’s nothing that stops me from protecting myself and running you through. How’s that for a trade? It’ll make my day brighter.”

While every fiber in his body screamed at him to protect himself, Vax kept his daggers pointed down. He met Culwen’s gaze, lifted his chin, and smirked. “You can do that, but I have proof of what you and the Shademaster are doing. Should anything happen to me—or to my sister—I can assure you that proof will make its way to Spireling Gideor, and I can only imagine that it will make your debate quite a bit more complicated.”

Culwen regarded Vax, trying to gauge if the threat was a bluff or something to be worried about. “Perhaps it would, or perhaps getting rid of an early-morning know-it-all would make me feel better, and I’ll figure out what to do with that blasted dwarf myself.” He hesitated. His nostrils flared. “What kind of proof?”

“Your sister’s notebook. With a long list of transactions, contacts, and payments. Even the names of the people you decided to eliminate. It’s quite a work of art. And I imagine if one were to lay it next to a calendar of recent ash walker attacks, there might be some similarities that the people of Jorenn Village would find incredibly interesting, too.” The last was pure conjecture. A theory based on an escaping thief and a town whose northern defenses were far too easy to breach. On handwriting and coincidences. Vax grew cold when Culwen gnashed his teeth and didn’t deny it.

“What would you want in return?” the spireling asked. Any trace of nonchalance had made way for ice-cold fury.

“From your sister? The release of the prisoners from the mines. From you?” Vax saw the opportunities open up before him. The idea that they might pull this off after all. “I want to get out of my Clasp contract. It’s something that should be within your reach, if you’re as powerful as you claim.”

Culwen narrowed his eyes. “The Clasp isn’t in the habit of breaking contracts.”

Vax shrugged. “I don’t think it’s in the habit of letting members—even spirelings—skim off the profits either.” When Culwen drew breath to protest, he pressed on. “I don’t care about your business with Spireling Gideor or your business here in Jorenn any more than you care about my problems. I’m looking for a solution that benefits us both. It might be complicated, but it’s a fair deal. It wouldn’t break your cover or your trade. You can continue on as spireling and smuggler and whatever else it is that you desire. I’m sure you can even find someone to continue your debate with Spireling Gideor for you.” He didn’t believe for a second that that debate wouldn’t result in someone’s death sooner or later, but that was a Clasp problem. They played by their rules, now he’d play by his. “Like I said, my sister will make her own deal with yours, so we’ll see what your business is worth to her as well. Or if you can convince her to see reason. We simply want to find the best solution for all.”

Culwen considered it. He kept his eyes on Vax, and the only outward sign of his anger lay in how tightly his left hand wrapped around the hilt of the rapier. His fingers were skin and bones and rage. “And what’s to stop you from betraying me to Gideor after all? He’d pay you handsomely for it.”

Vax sighed and used his forearm to push stray strands of hair out of his face. Vex would disagree with what he was about to say, but, “Strange though it may sound to you, I’m not in it for the money. I’m in it to keep my sister safe. Once I’m out of my contract, I will keep on traveling and I’d be satisfied if our paths never cross again.”

“If that’s the case, you’re an even greater fool than Gideor is. That’s not how the world works, half-elf. If you do not have the guts to make the hard choices, it will eat you whole.” Culwen shook his head in disgust, but he folded the triple blades of his dagger together and sheathed the weapon. He used his rapier to point at Vax. “You play a dangerous game, and I can only hope our paths do cross again after this.”

Rage and revulsion rippled over Culwen’s face, and it took him a long time to speak the next words. “I’ll need a few days to get my affairs in order and find a way to work around my oh-so-esteemed colleague. By the sounds of it, I will also need to have a … conversation with my failure of a sister. Meet me here at sundown three days from now, and I’ll make sure you get what you asked for.”

“There’s a tavern in the attic of an abandoned chapel near the miners’ gate,” Vax countered. “We’ll meet there, tonight.”

Culwen started to laugh, cold and sharp. The sound cut through Vax like knives. For all that they might ally themselves for a shared cause, Vax knew he’d made an enemy here, and the knowledge settled like ash inside him. It’d been one of the upsides of always traveling on. They never stayed anywhere long enough to find comfort, but they also never stayed anywhere long enough to find real trouble. Angry shopkeepers. Broken contracts. Occasional broken hearts. Nothing beyond that.

But if he were to venture a guess, and based on Culwen’s hope that their paths would cross again, the spireling’s grudges were as deadly as his blades.

Still, that would be a problem for another time, after he’d escaped the Clasp’s grasp. When Vex and he would be far, far away from here. For now, all he had to do was see this negotiation through to its impossible solution.

They were close. So close.

“Tonight,” Vax pressed.

“I’ll see you in the chapel,” Culwen acknowledged, sheathing his rapier with a thud. “And what a pleasure doing business with you.”