Page 26 of A Thief to Die For

‘Well, come in already,’ she grumbles.

I bite my lip and push inside. The room is dim and cold and lit with lanterns, thanks to the covered windows. The single cot along the wall is empty. In the middle is a table with formidable straps used for amputations and other procedures, like giving birth. Dried blood stains the plank floor.

‘And what’s wrong with you?’ Grendle stomps forward when I hesitate. ‘Okay, fine. Open your mouth.’

‘Oh, that’s not really nec–’ I squawk as she gets a hold of my tongue and pinches it. Hard.

I jerk back in disgust, freeing myself, and for good measure, wipe my tongue down my sleeve. What the hellfire? Usually, the woman only goes off about planets aligning and the vibrations of rocks.

‘Hmm … you’re stressed and your heart is cold. Which is bad for circulation.’

I still. Surprisingly accurate.

‘I have a question,’ I say, moving on before she tries anything else. ‘What was the name of that anti-parasitic the Lower Beaver Trading Post brings in? Black wal–?’

‘Black walroot. Why? Who needs it?’

I pause. The Dresden aren’t forbidden from seeing Grendle. Medic services are like everything Atlas offers his workers – it all comes at a price. One that’s intentionally too expensive for his miners, because it’s easier to replace them than to replenish stores of our precious medicine.

‘Go on,’ she snaps. ‘Your father will need a name before he’ll approve me to give it out.’

Of course Atlas would control that. I grit my teeth – if I say it’s for me, I won’t get enough. If I pay for the Dresden, Atlas will know. ‘It’s for no one,’ I answer. ‘I was just trying to remember what it’s called.’

Grendle purses her lips, accentuating her sagging jowls. ‘Well, good, because I’m all out – until tonight. We’re picking up a shipment from the Lower Beaver Trading Post later.’

A shipment tonight. I see.

In the afternoon, I find Atlas alone in the High Command, studying one of his ancient grimoires. It’s probably another book about mind-reading and how to tap into the unlimited power of the universe. Magic. A total sham. His eyes brighten, pleased to see me.

I can’t say the same as my insides squirm.

‘So, give me your report. What have you found out about our traveller?’

My hands grow damp. ‘Umm … his camp is meagre – basic supplies but in impressive condition. Old-world for sure. It doesn’t appear that he came with any large weapons, aside from his long-range bow, and if he brought anything with him to trade, it’d have to be small.’

He scowls. ‘I already know all that. What else?’

‘And …’ I pause, mouth open. I can’t stop thinking about how Ryland put his blade down last night when he could have retaliated. He wanted to talk. Yes, he later threatened me, but am I really going to falsely accuse him and get him killed? Risk war when his settlement comes for revenge? I swallow hard. ‘Last night he attempted to make friends with the Dresden.’

‘Of course he would. He’s camping next to them. What I want to know is if he’s made friends with you?’

I hesitate, calculating the risks of admitting that Ryland tracked me down.

‘We had a conversation, and he dug for information.’ Information about me and Brother Thomas, but that’s beside the point. ‘My assessment of him hasn’t changed. We can’t trust anything he says. We have no reason to believe he’s not scoping us out to raid. Think of last spring and that wool trader – Hawthorne.’ Maybe stoking Atlas’s fear is enough until I know Ryland’s next move.

Atlas balks, but then considers it. A concerning smirk curls on his lips. ‘No, I can sniff out an evil plot – that’s why Hawthorne’s no longer breathing. This is our new plan: get closer. Get more information out of him. I want the name and location of his settlement. Find out what they have for weapons and the size of their army. Then find out exactly what of the old world they’ve collected. Why do they want coal? Have they figured out how to make electricity from it? They could have the final pieces of equipment that we need.’

A cold wave of dread washes over me. The idea of raiding Ryland’s settlement is forming into a plan.

Ryland needs to be run off. Immediately. Not just so Atlas forgets about him and we avoid a pointless war, but for me – so Ryland can’t expose me. For the Dresden, so they won’t starve or be exiled because I’m not free to raid with him poking around. And for Notting, because we can’t assume Ryland’s intentions are good. He could be scouting us out the same way Atlas wants to do to him, all to wipe us from the map. ‘I’m not sure he’s going to just offer up that information,’ I say carefully.

‘Oh, he will.’ Atlas leans forward. ‘Because you’re going to make him fall in love with you.’

My lungs forget how to work.

Impossible. Anger surges as I shake my head. Atlas gets to set the rules, but he doesn’t control my heart.

‘Are you refusing to follow a direct order? In fact, I’m sensing a distinct lack of enthusiasm to serve me altogether.’