Page 3 of The Thief's Mark

“You would sell your own mother out if it meant another gold gallant in your pocket!” the High Commander roared.

The High Merchant’s fists tightened at his sides, his mustache trembling as his lip quivered with rage. “Andyouwould lead this nation straight into the meat grinder just to satisfy your own bloodlust! These new trade deals with Nalax will enrichbothour nations.”

“The only thing those Nalaxian warlocks understand is violence!” High Commander Pern retorted. “I don’t crave war.But mark my words, if we don’t seek to prevent it now, itwillcome for us sooner or later whether we crave it or not!”

From beside Griff, High Scholar Vesalain released a billowing sigh. She shared a knowing look with High Judge Septima. “Looks like they’re at it again. If you’ll excuse me, I’d better go run interference. I hope you both enjoy the show.”

With a slight bow, she hurried toward the pair of arguing councilors. Griff watched her go, not sure whether to laugh or weep thatthesewere the glorious men and women their respective guilds had elected to the Pentarchy to represent the nation.

The Light help us all.

High Scholar Vesalain’s abrupt departure left him standing alone with the High Judge. Her strict expression softened a hair as she regarded him.

“I spoke with your father the other day. He misses you.”

Griff’s jaw tightened, a complex wave of emotion churning his stomach. “Then he knows where to find me. Excuse me.”

With a stiff bow, he strode through the crowd, heading toward the exit. He could feel the High Judge’s stare burning a hole in his back, but he didn’t care. What happened between him and his father was none of her Light-blinded business.

After more reluctant smiling and bowing to other dignitaries who all wanted to congratulate him or shake his hand, he finally made it to the door that led from the private balcony out into the hall encircling the theater’s upper level. He puffed out a breath, reaching up to tug at the collar of his shirt that suddenly felt too tight.

He definitely wasn’t cut out for this. If he hurried, he thought he should still have enough time before the curtains rose to sneak some fresh air. Maybe that would help him survive the rest of the night unscathed.

Some of the tension bled from him when he saw that it was Sasha standing watch by the door. The affable protector had been one of the first on the scene after his mother’s murder and had played a key role in bringing the perpetrator to justice. They’d advanced through the ranks of Derimay’s City Watch together, cooperating on more than one case over the years. But while Griff had stagnated as an inspector, Sasha had risen to become High Commander Pern’s personal aide.

Sasha greeted him with a slanted grin. “How’s it feel to be the man of the hour?” Griff grimaced, and Sasha gave a knowing chuckle. “Aye, that’s about what I expected. Honestly, Griff, you need to learn how to relax. I mean, look around!” He swept a hand out to indicate the intricately carved wood and fine silken banners that filled the extravagant space. “How often do you get to experience this sort of luxury?”

“I’ve arrested enough of the extravagantly wealthy to know that gallants don’t buy happiness,” Griff said.

“True,” Sasha conceded. He cast another longing gaze over the assembled members of the city’s elite before winking at Griff. “Still, it doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Griff gave a noncommittal grunt. Honestly, he’d never understood what drove some people to commit the kinds of crimes he investigated. In a way, the murderers made more sense to him than the thieves. For a moment, he flashed back to a distant night in his mother’s office, and his jaw tightened. Losing control in the heat of the moment for passion or revenge? That he could relate to on at least some level, no matter how heinous. But to risk all for mere greed? Some people just refused to ever be content.

Griff nodded toward Sasha’s leg. “How’s the knee?”

Sasha grimaced, reaching down to rub it. “Better. But it always hurts like the Void when it rains.”

Sasha didn’t like to talk about it, but from what Griff had heard, he’d acquired the wound some years back while fighting overseas in the Razakethi jungles. That had been before he’d retired his commission and joined the Watch. Griff admired his continued dedication to keeping Sanjarka safe.

“And Lucile?” Griff asked.

Sasha’s eyes lit up like they always did whenever he talked about his daughter. “Still running mental laps around her father. I swear to the Goddess, that girl reads books faster than I can buy them. With any luck, I’ll be able to hire a proper tutor for her soon.” He nodded toward the Vantoric relics on Griff’s belt with a grin. “Who knows? Maybe by the time she’s old enough, the Vantoric artificers will have relaxed their restrictions on accepting foreign apprentices.”

Recalling how protective Amelie had been of her inventions, Griff gave a quiet snort. “Perhaps.” He started past Sasha. “If anyone asks, important business required my immediate attention.”

“Understood,” Sasha said. “Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you.” He glanced toward where the High Commander and High Merchant were still arguing, his voice heavy with disapproval as he added, “Though right now, I doubt anyone will notice.”

Nodding his thanks, Griff went to slip past Sasha, only to pause when he felt a hand on his back. Turning, he found a silver-haired older gentleman standing there, leaning on a cane. Dressed in a traditional Sanjarkan tunic made of flowing silk and dyed a modest series of blues reminiscent of lapping ocean waves, the man fixed him with a polite smile.

“Excuse me. Inspector Denton, right? I was hoping I might steal a quick word.”

Griff cast a longing look toward the door. Then, muffling a sigh and ignoring Sasha’s smirk, he nodded at the man. “Of course…” The man looked vaguely familiar, and he searched his mind forwhy. He rarely forgot a face, and the name came to him after a moment from earlier introductions when he’d first arrived. “…Lord Heneford. This is a lovely theater you have.”

Lord Heneford rapped his cane lightly on the floor and gave a booming laugh. His voice was a low, honeyed drawl. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it mine, Inspector. I am but one of many kindred spirits who view the arts as a worthy investment. Now, the act we’re about to see:thatis another matter. I have a particular penchant for identifying diamonds in the rough and providing them with the opportunities and resources they need to truly shine!”

“Ah,” Griff said, relaxing. He’d learned to trust his intuition over the years, and something about the man put him immediately at ease. “So, I have you to thank for tonight’s show?”

“Indeed. Unless of course you dislike it. Then, I had absolutely nothing to do with it.”