Dragon's Reach Read online

  He flicked his fingers toward her, and the door of the cellar slammed closed, plunging her into darkness.

  Sable sank down, clinging to her sisters. Through the slats in the door, the battle wore on. Her sisters curled up against her, their bodies shaking. She pulled them close while the flames outside slowly burned themselves out and the cries dwindled down to silence.

  Sable stared at the door until there was nothing but darkness, choking smoke, and the haunting call of ravens.

  Part I

  “The origin of the Keepers is intrinsically connected to the creation of Queensland, and her very first queen.

  Back in the days when the land was peppered with loosely connected cities, a looming threat grew in the east. And those destined to shape nations came together, almost by chance.”

  -from The History of the Keepers, by Alaric, Court Keeper, in the 391st year of Queensland.

  Chapter One

  Ten years later

  The upstairs hall of the Broken Mast Tavern crowded around Sable like guards drawn up too close. She forced her breathing to stay slow, partly to take the edge off the stench of old fish, partly to keep the edge of loathing off her face.

  The huge form of Boone stood guard outside Kiva’s office, arms crossed over his massive chest, eyes devoid of emotion. Even though Sable was taller than the first time she’d been shoved down this hall ten years ago, her nose still barely came up to Boone’s elbow.

  “Lovely day,” she murmured. Knowing better than to expect an answer, she ducked around him and into the room.

  “It is a lovely day, Sable,” Kiva drawled, his voice smooth and almost charming.

  “I’m sure it is somewhere,” Sable answered.

  The gang boss of the Vayas leaned back comfortably behind a large desk, which filled most of his office. The two small windows were open, but the breeze did nothing more than stir the midday heat. Despite the warmth, he wore a brocade vest in such a rich blue it almost gave the impression she was speaking to a proper merchant. He motioned for her to sit in the cramped space across from him.

  Pete, Kiva’s second bodyguard, stood in his usual corner, crowding the room even more. The thick dwarf scowled behind his black beard and wooly brow.

  Sable pulled the chair out until it hit the wall. She sat and leaned back, straightening her legs in the small space between herself and the desk, as though spreading out might stretch the entire building and allow a little more freedom.

  Kiva looked the way Sable always imagined a goblin would. He was barely taller than she was. His hair, an unremarkable walnut color, hung down to his shoulders, curling wildly. His narrow face was sharpened by the pointed beard that ran along his jawline and jutted out from his chin. His thin-lipped mouth was wide enough to look like it was continually spread in a humorless smile.

  Sliding around his fingers were the bright green loops of his pet vayakadyn snake. The creature was no thicker than his thumb, but its bite held enough venom to kill a man Boone’s size in a few agonizing minutes.

  But it wasn’t Kiva’s goblin-like qualities or the horrid little snake that made these meetings so unpleasant. It was the sharp coldness Sable knew was coming.

  “Lord Renwen,” Kiva began in his placid drawl, “slimy little scab that he is, has increased the number of ships he’s docking in port and has not paid the additional fee.”

  Instead of the icy chill of lies, Kiva’s truthful words added an uncomfortable warmth to the summer afternoon. Sable hid her surprise behind a look of faint interest.

  “He’s increased the guards on his merchandise,” he continued, “so it’s too costly to confront him outright.” The words remained true. “He should know better than to cheat the Vayas.”

  Sable studied him. He was telling the truth? Kiva never told the truth.

  Pete stood next to her, oblivious to everything she felt.

  Sable focused on what Kiva had said, instead of how it had felt. “Renwen?” That was a bigger fish than he usually sent her after.

  Kiva nodded. “He’s wiggled his way into the graces of Lord Trelles himself.”

  Sable didn’t bother to hide her surprise at that. If Renwen was close to the head of the Merchant Guild, he’d become a very big fish indeed.

  “As well as into the graces of Trelles’ daughter,” Pete said, the smirk visible through his beard.

  Kiva’s face remained unamused. “A rumor I cannot use unless it is confirmed.” He focused on Sable. “I sent Pete and Boone to locate Renwen’s business ledger. But they couldn’t find it.”

  Pete’s smile faded. “It’s not in his office,” he said, a churlish edge to his voice.

  Kiva ignored him. “I need that ledger if I’m to prove what he owes me.”

  The change was stark. Kiva’s words slashed across the room, cold and sharp.

  Sable tried to keep her face bland. There were the lies she’d been expecting, although it made her wonder why he really wanted the ledger.

  “I should have sent you from the beginning, Sable.” Kiva fell back into his customary, mildly pleasant expression, and the room settled into the ordinary air of a conversation that carried neither deeply held truth, nor purposeful lies. “But you have a tendency to bend my rules. I need things done as I say this time.”

  She stayed leaned back in her chair, and laced her fingers together across her stomach. “I always do what you say.”

  “No. You always get what I want, so I overlook how often you don’t do what I say.”

  She smiled at him. “I only alter your plans when they need improving.”

  Pete gave an irritated grunt.

  Kiva fixed the dwarf with a quelling look. “I sent you to find a simple ledger, Pete, yet you brought me nothing. I sent Sable to find me a silver horseshoe, and what did she bring me?”

  Pete’s beard shifted as he clenched his jaw in irritation. “A horse,” he quipped.

  “Yes. A silver horse. She’s earned some leeway over the years.” Kiva leaned toward Sable, his gaze intense. “But this time, I want nothing touched.” His words pushed against her again, warm with truth. He felt so strongly about the words that he grew slightly brighter. The afternoon light caught on the curls of his hair, bringing out amber strands.

  It had been a long time since she’d seen someone who cared this deeply about something, and Sable tried not to react. Whatever Kiva wanted that ledger for, it was more important to him than any job he’d ever given her.

  She held up her hand. “I vow to not even touch my feet to the floor.”

  Pete snorted in annoyance, but Kiva let out a huff of amusement. “I can’t have this theft lead back to me. Your job is to merely find where the ledger is kept. I will do the rest.” The little green snake stretched its neck out toward Sable and fixed her with dead eyes. “Regardless of how many pretty things the man has, Sable, leave them be.”

  She pulled her eyes away from the reptilian gaze. “Even small things?”

  “You know Renwen’s brother is head constable, don’t you?” Pete grumbled.

  She glanced at the dwarf. The head constable? That would complicate whatever plan Kiva made for the actual theft. “Of course. Everyone knows that.” Her own lie felt as cold as Kiva’s, but neither man noticed.

  No one ever noticed.

  Kiva spread his fingers. The green snake curled around his wrist. “So you see why it’s such a delicate situation.”

  “Then why did you send these two?” Sable gestured to Pete in the corner and Boone outside the door.

  Kiva shrugged. “Everyone makes mistakes.” He fixed her with a piercing look. “Except you, Sable.”

  She forced a smile.

  Every step of her life for the past ten years had been a mistake.

  “Find me the ledger by tonight,” Kiva said. “I have an important meeting in the Sanctuary.” The seemingly innocuous words wrapped warmly around her with so much truth Sable clenched her hands together, and Kiva smiled at what must look to him like shock. “But I’ll be back by dusk. I expect your report when I return.”

  Everything about him looked as rich and bright as if he stood in full sunlight. The deep blue fabric of his vest revealed threads of rich sapphire. The scales of his snake glittered a brilliant emerald green as it stretched toward her.

  Sable stared at him. “The Sanctuary?” Whatever was going on there, it was as important to him as the ledger. Maybe more important. “I thought the priories had magical defenses to keep thieves out,” she said, hoping a wry smile covered her surprise.

  Kiva shrugged. “Hopefully not for thieves invited by Prioress Eugessa herself.”

  Sable’s eyebrows rose. “Congratulations.”

  The Sanctuary was the seat of the three Grand Priories that governed the city. An invitation was unheard of for a man as disreputable as Kiva. His efforts to portray himself as a legitimate businessman must be gaining ground.

  Kiva gave her his easy smile. “Thank you.” He leaned forward, and his charm cracked ever so slightly. An almost palpable threat shone through. “Go. Find me the ledger by tonight.”

  Sable stood. “Tonight,” she agreed, keeping her tone easy.

  He gave her his smooth, slippery smile. “Always a pleasure working with you, Sable.”

  She gave him a slight nod and left before the disgust showed on her face. No one worked with Kiva. They worked for him, under him, or were crushed beneath him, but they never worked with him.

  Sable pushed through the thin, crooked door to her room, the slimy feeling from Kiva clinging to her more than usual. She sank down onto her bed, aiming for the soft spot where the mattress stretched between the wooden slats.

  “How’d it go?” Talia asked, not turning away from the wall where she was focused on a set of thin, charcoal line
s.

  Sable closed her eyes and lay back. “As fun as a meeting with Kiva can be.”

  “All lies again?”

  “No. Actually, he told the truth a couple times, which was almost worse.”

  “If you were boring like the rest of us,” Talia said, leaning closer to her drawing, “talking to him would only be mildly unpleasant.”

  “No one thinks Kiva is only mildly unpleasant.”

  The small room felt lighter than the grim streets of Dockside. Charcoal sketches of rolling grasslands and smooth oceans covered every inch of the walls. They were captioned in swirling letters with snippets of songs or poems, and the fact that barely anyone besides herself and Talia could read them made them all the more precious.

  Two beds sat against opposite walls, on either side of one small table holding a hairbrush, a needle, and a ball of thread. The bits of color scattered around the room, the bright blue curtains and the yellow blooms of sandweed on the table, were all Talia. Sable had left everything bare until her sister had brought bits of life in.

  Sable breathed deeply. Even the dank smell of Dockside was held at bay by the scent of dough and woodsmoke hovering around her sister.

  Talia looked nothing like a goblin. She was light and effortless. Her dress was dingy and her cheeks eternally smudged with charcoal or flour, but her eyes were bright and she hummed softly while she drew.

  The gloom of Dockside never rubbed off on Talia.

  Sable pushed herself up. “Will you paint my face?”

  “For the festival?” Talia glanced over her shoulder. “Can I make you glamorous and daring? Beautiful and winsome?” Her face lit. “Can I make you into a monster?”

  Sable smiled, and the last of the unpleasantness that lingered from Kiva faded.

  A wide, eager smile spread across Talia’s face. “There will be so many monsters at the Red Shield Festival you’ll fit right in.”

  “I need washed-out and unmemorable.” Sable stood, picking up a black tunic. “A shop courier.”

  Talia frowned. “You have to work?”

  Sable pulled off her tunic and replaced it with the courier’s. Her pants were reasonably clean and dark grey enough that they’d work. “If we want Kiva to keep providing room and board,” And allow you to work somewhere as honest as the bakery, “I’m at his beck and call, even on festival days.”

  Talia set down her charcoal stick and wiped her hands on her dress. “Someday I’m going to paint you as a terrifying monster, or make you so stunning the entire world will fall over at your beauty.”

  Sable moved to the bed closer to the window. “The whole world falling over sounds like it would cause problems.”

  “What’s a problem is me having to constantly make you less interesting than you are.” Talia set her brushes and powder boxes next to her. “Stop smiling or the powder is going to stick in the crinkles around your eyes and you’ll get haggard and old instead of washed-out and unmemorable.”

  “That could work, too.” Sable bit her lip to chase away the smile and focused on the wall. The section Talia had been working on was wiped clean of its old drawing and marked with new, light lines of a building with tall spires. “The Dragon Priory?”

  Talia gave a little disgruntled hum. “I can’t make the spires weightless enough. They keep looking like pointy ears.”

  “It could be the lesser-known Bunny Priory.”

  Talia laughed. The hairs of the wide brush flitted across Sable’s forehead, dusting her with an earthy smell.

  “Are you a scurvy courier from the docks tonight?” Talia asked. “Or a proper courier from up the slope?”

  “Proper enough that I can walk on the slope without arousing suspicion.” She needed to be able to walk among the huge houses at the very top of the slope, but there was no point in worrying Talia with that.

  Talia held Sable’s chin with steady fingers, but a frown creased her face. “There was a trial today. Six thieves, all sentenced to the prison ship galleys.” Her brush paused for a moment. The darker parts of the city always sounded worse coming from Talia. “You’ll be careful, right?”

  “I’m just scouting,” Sable assured her. “I'll be done by dark, then we can go to the festival.”

  Talia’s brush started moving again. The drawings on the walls drew Sable’s gaze, past the stormy sunrise over the ocean and the jagged lines of cliffs, coming to rest, as always, on the coastal hills of the Eastern Reaches.

  Her gaze traced the hillsides, looking for the one valley that should be speckled with snug, wooden homes. As many times as Talia drew the hills by the sea, she never added the town, and Sable couldn’t bear to ask her to.

  Although maybe Talia didn’t draw it because all she had was a charcoal stick. The homes would only look like burned husks of wood. The way the three sisters had last seen them.

  Talia began talking about the bakery, and Sable focused on her voice, trying not to remember Ryah's little face. So many things had gone wrong over the last ten years. Sable had done so many things wrong. But at least one sister was still here, protected from the worst of it.

  Talia’s voice skipped along, telling Sable the latest in the battle of the head baker and a persistent cellar rat. The slight weight of the powder covered Sable like a second skin. Making her cheeks appear fuller, softening the sharp lines that years of too little food and too much worry had worked into her face. Shaping her face into someone’s whose life had gone how it should have.

  For the thousandth time, she turned herself into the person Kiva needed her to be, and locked all her worries and regrets inside, trying to somehow keep them from tainting her sister.

  Because the only thing that would make Dockside worse would be if it changed Talia.

  Chapter Two

  Lord Renwen looked like a dead fish. One of those pale, sickly ones that flopped around, trapped in a puddle at low tide.

  From Sable’s perch in the tree outside his window, she watched the District Manager of Ink Production and Delivery hunch over his desk. His skin was more pallid than his pale yellow shirt, and his sand-colored hair hung limp in the heat. His cheeks were clean shaven in the fashion of the wealthiest merchants, and he continually sucked them in as he smoked his pipe, pulling his face into a decidedly fishy shape.

  From the rumors of Renwen’s rise in the Merchant Guild, she’d expected someone more…engaging.

  Sable twirled a twig between her fingers, letting it dance across her knuckles. If Renwen were to glance out the window into the hot afternoon—which he hadn’t since opening his ledger book hours ago—the leaves should cover her, her dull clothes and dark hair blending with the shadows.

  She had the urge to jiggle the branch, just to see if there was anything that would break the monotony and make him look up.

  But thieving and scouting were never exciting. Not if done well. The new recruits came up with plans full of action and deception, and a week later were in the stocks.

  No. Proper thieving should always begin with proper scouting, which was exclusively made up of patient watching. Watching to find out where the prize was kept, how closely it was guarded, and most importantly, why it was treasured. Was it valuable? Rare? Sentimental?

  The first two were easy, but stealing something sentimental was always messy. People would spend their whole lives trying to get something like that back.

  Thankfully, Renwen’s ledger fell firmly into the “valuable” category.

  Although, in this case, the value was so high, Kiva was going to be hard-pressed to steal it cleanly.

  She leaned her head back against the trunk. The early summer air blustered past her in fits, smelling wild and clean, as though it came from a different part of the world. A part with more interesting things. Like gnomes or elves or green fields dotted with fairies.

  The breeze was edged with the soot of the city, with sharp veins of dredgeweed smoke from Renwen’s window cutting through it, but the body of the wind was different. Unrestrained. Free.