Renegade Wizards (23 page)

Tythonnia rushed through the door, her fingers aching to encircle Ladonna’s throat. Ladonna, however, opened her palm to reveal a piece of wool. It was only in the dim recesses of Tythonnia’s mind that she recognized the reagent, though in her present state, she was hard pressed to remember what spell it accompanied.

“Capik,”
Ladonna said.

Ah, that one.

Tythonnia stumbled and froze, unable to move. She felt disconnected, severed from action. She was trapped in the coffin of her own flesh. She started falling to the floor, but Par-Salian caught her and lowered her gently.

“What are you doing?” he shouted with such rage Tythonnia almost forgot her own.

“Protecting myself,” Ladonna said. “I would have thought that obvious.”

The wall that jailed Tythonnia evaporated as quickly as it’d appeared. She suddenly bucked against a startled Par-Salian, who struggled to hold her down.

“I’m going to kill her,” Tythonnia shouted, struggling harder, but Par-Salian wouldn’t let go.

“You froze!” Ladonna shouted back. She strode to the door and slammed it shut, for the little good it did to muffle their voices. “You never, ever panic.”

“You betrayed me!” Tythonnia screamed. “You bitch!”

“Only to test you,” Ladonna shouted back. “Both of you,” she said to Par-Salian.

“It wasn’t your place to test us,” Par-Salian said.

“Really? If not me, then who, hmm?” Ladonna said then lowered her voice. “Maybe you White Robes can get by on well wishes and bunny rabbits, Par-Salian, but that’s not how the world works. It’s hard and bitter, and far too often there isn’t time to consider both sides of the argument.”

She paused, waiting to hear what either had to say. Tythonnia was too choked up on her own emotions to speak, however, and Par-Salian had his hands full with her.

“The mission is my concern, not your feelings,” Ladonna said and spread her arms open. “And I needed to see how you’d react to getting caught.”

“You endangered her,” Par-Salian said.

“I saw you moving to help her,” Ladonna said. “And if you hadn’t, I would have. I wasn’t going to let her get hurt.”

“And what do you call
this?”
Tythonnia said, pointing to her split lip.

“A trophy. Let her go, Par-Salian.”

Par-Salian hesitated but only for a moment. Tythonnia broke free of his grip and scrambled to her feet. She stood nose to nose with Ladonna. Ladonna stared back at her, a fierce expression that did nothing to cow Tythonnia.

“All thieves earn that at one time or another,” Ladonna said without a shred of mercy in her voice. “What they can do to you—the merchants, the guards, any of them—is far worse than a split lip and a bruised pride.” She pulled her long, black hair back and turned her head, revealing a burn scar behind the ear. It looked like an arrowhead. “Much worse,” she said. “I needed to know how you’d react. Before it really counted.”

Tythonnia’s fist connected with Ladonna’s jaw and sent her head snapping to the side. The blow was solid, a punch learned from her cousin who taught her how to deal with troublesome boys. Ladonna stumbled backward but did not fall. The wall caught her. Par-Salian grabbed Tythonnia about the shoulders, but she managed to shrug loose.

“Now you know how I’ll react,” Tythonnia said. She strode for the door.

“Fine,” Ladonna said, nursing her jaw. “You only get one of those.”

“Wrong. I’ll take as many as I want,” Tythonnia retorted.

Ladonna laughed, not her cold, mocking laughter, but a genuine guffaw that seemed blessed with something natural, the gritty, boisterous laugh of a rowdy commoner. “I’ll make a Black Robe of you yet, Tythonnia,” Ladonna said.

Tythonnia said nothing as she opened the door and stormed out. The innkeeper and his wife downstairs suddenly looked very busy.

They stood outside the courtyard of the Wanderer’s Welcome, in the shadow of an alley. The older of the pair was a man in his forties. He wore black leather pants and a mailed surcoat with the sleeves missing. A tapestry of tattoos stretched up his arms to gird both biceps and cover his shoulders. From the straps across his chest hung two curved daggers, while the scars that stitched his grizzled face and his hands said he’d been in a fair number of scrapes.

The younger of the pair was a boy with black, unruly hair and green eyes. His clothes weren’t rags just yet, but they were well on their way. His right hand was in his pocket, fidgeting with the toy soldier. He was nervous and jumped slightly when the man’s rough hands clamped down on his neck and held him there firmly. There was a threat in his fist, the ability to snap the boy’s neck. The boy knew that; all the children did.

“I’m getting tired of waiting,” the man said, his voice like rocks tumbling over each other.

The boy squirmed, trying to break free of the man’s grip, but he remained held firmly in place. “I seen her come here,”
the boy said. “I promi—there!” he said, almost shouting. He pointed at the black-garbed woman who emerged from the inn into the wagon-strewn courtyard.

The older man squeezed the boy’s neck even harder for his outburst and pulled him back into the shadowed alley.

“I told you I seen her, Sutler,” the boy said, trying to speak through the pain. “I told you—”

Sutler shook the boy hard like a rag doll before forcing him to face the woman. She didn’t notice either of them as she headed out of the courtyard.

“Her? You’re sure?” he demanded, shaking the boy again.

The boy nodded. He was struggling not to cry; that alone was enough to earn a beating from Sutler. “Yessir,” he said. “She asked for
Edoha
, but I told her nothing. I saw her running scams down by the Labyrinth with another girl.”

Sutler released the boy from his grip and ran his thick fingers over the rough stubble of his chin. The grating noise drove a shiver down the boy’s neck. He tried not to show it, especially since Sutler was thinking so hard about something.

“Nah … it can’t be,” Sutler said, staring at the woman. His eyes widened. “Paladine’s balls, it is her!”

“Who is she, Sutler?”

Sutler spun on the boy, making as though he was ready to backhand him. The boy cringed, but Sutler’s hand slapped down on his shoulder, instead, almost bringing him to a knee.

“What’s the first rule I taught you about the guild?”

“Blood for life?” the boy asked by way of an answer.

“Blood for life,” Sutler said, concurring. He walked out of the alley, forcing the boy to catch up. “Blood for life,” he repeated, a murderous smile inching its way across his face. “Just happens that some lives are shorter than others.” He followed the black-haired woman.

Par-Salian tried to make peace between the two women, but Tythonnia claimed it was no longer an issue. The punch settled the matter. Yet Tythonnia still felt betrayed, and Par-Salian knew that. He understood her anger, however, and likely shared it.

Tythonnia was still upset at Ladonna and felt incapable of trusting her. She approached every one of their thieving forays as another opportunity for betrayal and expected Ladonna to ambush them at every turn. For the remaining week, no treachery came and that, perhaps, was even more frustrating.

The next set of lessons proved difficult for Tythonnia and even more so for Par-Salian. It was a step up in daring, robbing a shop in the middle of the night. Par-Salian insisted on keeping a tally of what they stole, to reimburse the shopkeepers when their assignment ended. Ladonna wanted to argue the point, but Par-Salian insisted with a stiff jaw. He saw no reason not to make amends once the mission with Berthal was done.

In the span of four evenings, they robbed two stores of Ladonna’s choosing. One, a barter house, was in the Merchandising District, while the second was a jeweler in the more affluent Palanthas Trade Exchange. In both cases, Ladonna chose places protected with mystical wards. It was time to incorporate magic into their theft, she said, to attract Berthal’s lieutenant.

From the barter house, they stole what people would need to survive: equipment for traveling and monies. From the jeweler, they stole what greed dictated, though Ladonna took longer to pick out certain pieces to nick, all of them antiques. Tythonnia couldn’t be bothered to mention it, even to Par-Salian who decided it best if he served as lookout.

It was on their way back from the second job that Ladonna
broke the bad news. As they kept to the shadows and avoided the well-patrolled, main thoroughfares, she told them.

“I think it’s time we redouble our efforts. I say we rob shops in daylight, where people can see us use magic.”

Par-Salian’s jaw seemed to knot up; Tythonnia knew he was upset. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“If you insist,” Ladonna said, her voice equally low and dangerous. They continued on their way home.

The courtyard was dark and empty when they arrived. The Vagros had left the day before, much to Tythonnia’s regret. She’d wanted to spend more time with them, instead of engaging in such messy business. Par-Salian and Ladonna had barely given the Vagros a nod good-bye, but Tythonnia spent an hour speaking with Grandmother Yassa and Kandri in the privacy of their wagon. It was like talking with family.

Sebastian also told Tythonnia she’d be welcome among them if she ever needed shelter or traveling companions. She thanked him for his hospitality then watched him usher along five new kender as though they were his most beloved children.

Tythonnia looked around the courtyard and felt hollow for its emptiness. Ladonna stopped, however, and hissed at the others to freeze. Par-Salian complied and Tythonnia immediately noticed the exterior lanterns had been extinguished, heightening the darkness in the courtyard. Before any of them could react, however, several figures seemed to appear from the shadows. Tythonnia felt the blade against her throat before she even realized someone was behind her.

Four men and a woman emerged into view. All of them were lean and masked by black cloth hoods that covered their lower faces. One man held Tythonnia to absolute stillness with the edge of a short sword pressed to her throat.
The same held true for Par-Salian. The remaining three surrounded Ladonna, each ready to gut her. Only the man facing her, however, seemed confident and relaxed. Tattoos covered his arms, and he spun the two daggers expertly as he stood there.

“Little thief, little thief, welcome back home,” the man said.

“Sutler,” Ladonna replied. “You’re still alive? I’m surprised nobody’s crushed you under their boot yet.”

Sutler pulled his mask down, revealing a roadwork of scars. “They’ve tried,” he said. “Care to finish their work, little thief?”

Ladonna purred at the thought. She smiled. “In good time. What brings you here?” she asked casually.

“You left the guild. Nobody leaves the guild,” he replied. “You came back. Even dumber of you. But to rob guild-protected shops? You must be feeling downright suicidal. I came by to help you with that.”

Guild-protected shops? Tythonnia thought. Her strength fled; her stomach fluttered wildly. She could see it in Ladonna’s gaze, the guile, the machinations playing out. She was enjoying their situation; she felt in control. She’s out for revenge, Tythonnia realized. She used us to bring these people here so she could …