There was no time to consider it further; the patrol going past failed to notice her crouching form at their backs. It turned the next corner, running to the now very distant sound of ringing in the streets behind and leaving the young thief a clearer path to her destination. She crossed the open street and passed out of the Baron’s district, with its plentiful Guards all in a stew in wintery midnight.
The transition into the Old Town was not immediate; many buildings she skittered past were well-built and fairly new, sturdy architecture bought by deep purses with an eye toward beauty as well as functionality. However, such art became less pronounced and more haggard as she progressed, showing more signs of age, neglect, and wear the closer she got to Belamy’s home. The Old Town was, after all, old, so the gradual dilapidation was a handy way to determine how far away she was from the more ascendant denizens of the Baron’s district.
It was only when the notably old and rundown buildings mixed with the new and rundown buildings that Skate began to get a clearer sense of her exact location in the sprawl of this part of the city. Belamy’s home was in such a place, sticking out as a finely made statue might when tossed into a pile of rubbish. She soon found the home, an aged and refined edifice among the new and sloppily thrown-together cabins and shacks.
The front door was unlocked as usual; the warm orange glow of the fireplace was a welcome change from the cold white of outside. She dropped the books and without preamble threw off the useless house shoes she’d taken from whatever unlucky servant happened to be close to her size. The boots that had been jabbing her every step of the way were dug out of her shirt and thrown next to the blanket-bag, which was wet from the melting snow. She handled the dress with more care, refolding it delicately and resting it on her shoulder.
Belamy wasn’t downstairs; he must have either been reading upstairs or working in the lab below.
Stretching out in front of the fire brought enormous relief from the lingering bite of the cold. Her tingling toes were giving renewed signs of life, previously muted by exposure to the hoary elements. Eventually, she got comfortable enough that she hooked one leg on the other and lay all the way down on the stone floor, which had been warmed by the crackling flames for hours before she’d gotten here.
Her mind wandered, still fluttering with the exhilaration of the heist well done. Three weeks of lessons. Three more weeks to find the goods. Three more weeks of warm meals, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Rattle should be ready to whip something up soon.
“Rattle!” Skate scrambled to her feet, scooping up her dress as she went, and bolted up the stairs, running as fast as she could into her own room. Sterile white light poured out of Belamy’s library, but she didn’t pause to greet him or make herself known as she passed; the rest of the load was stuck outside in the snow, and she had to let it in.
Sure enough, silhouetted in the dim light from the street below, Rattle bobbed back and forth in the night air, tapping against Skate’s window at regular intervals, bumping the bulk of its body against the glass to be let in. When she opened the window, it flew in calmly, setting the two books on her empty desk. It gave a great shake to remove any clinging snowflakes, then bobbed out of the room with bat wings on still air.
“Rattle.”
It turned toward her, single eye fixed squarely on her face.
“A snack?”
It clicked once, and moved off for the staircase.
Steps approached, and soon Barrison Belamy, the lich in disguise, poked his head into the room. “I take it the hunt went well, then?” he asked, nodding at the short stack on the desk.
Skate nodded, and pinched the blouse she was wearing. “You might want to get rid of this, though. If anyone finds the stuff I had to take from that place here, you’d be in trouble.”
“We’ll burn the clothes in the fire and drop a bag of helms by their door in a week. That should be enough.” He waved at the pair of books on Skate’s desk, and they floated off after Rattle. “Get changed and bring them down; we’ll destroy the evidence tonight. Well done!” He clapped her on the shoulder and left.
Alone again, Skate hustled to get the finer clothes on after throwing the servant’s uniform off. She was barefoot but didn’t mind; she’d have her feet by the fire again soon enough. She gathered the discarded clothes in a bundle and went to meet the wizard downstairs.
The sound of cupboards opening and closing reached her ears first, followed by the popping fire and the heavy thud of books landing on a desk. Belamy had taken all six books and placed them in one impressive stack on his desk. He was bent over reading the titles, chuckling and smiling as he went. When he noticed Skate, he turned toward her and said, “You were very productive this time! I thought the plan was to only take four.”
“I thought of a way to take more. Rattle helped.”
“Well and good.” He turned his attention back toward the books. “A fine haul indeed. I knew Gherun was holding out on me; every time I’ve asked for any new books, I’ve been rebuffed. ‘I’m sure your collection is more extensive than mine,’ or ‘My library’s a pale imitation of yours, Barrison,’ or a dozen other flattering lies. But I knew!” He laughed and slapped his knees. “I knew it, and I was right. He had more, didn’t he?”
“Had more that aren’t in your collection, you mean? Yeah, probably. This is just from two of the shelves, and they were the first two we looked at.”
“What a cad!” Belamy slapped his knees again. “Selfish, lying cad. Well, the truth will out, won’t it? That’s the wisdom, anyway.” He fell into muttering to himself as he scanned the titles again, as if to commit the names to memory. Rattle brought out a small plate of crisp bread and thin slices of cheese, which Skate took with a nod of thanks.
“I’m sure you’re happy, then,” Belamy continued. “Not a bad night’s work, with three more weeks of home and hearth at your disposal, and lessons alongside to boot.”
“Yeah.” Three more weeks to find what you’ve hidden. “So what did we get anyway?”
“Four that I’m familiar with, but two I’ve never even heard of. An Account of the War of Five Kings—that one’s a history of an ancient war between the elves and the dwarves by a dwarven scribe. There’s The Kiyilid, an epic poem from the ancient land of Jyone about a king off to war. Fire: Theory and Practice is a book on magic theory, specifically how to use fire in creative ways. The fourth is another history, The Reign of Kas Tomir, about the life and times of a dwarven king centuries ago.” Belamy moved each one into a second stack as he named them. “These next two are unfamiliar. One’s Elvish, and I don’t recognize the script of the second.” He picked the Elvish one up and examined the spine, where text was etched into the hard leather, flowing loops that crisscrossed one another, looking nothing like the twenty-six letters Skate was getting familiar with.
Belamy spoke slowly, translating as he read. “The Last…Days of the…Burithim? I don’t know what that means, ‘Burithim.’ It’s a plural noun, but that’s all I can draw from it. Reading the text will clarify that, I’m sure.” He set it on the pile with the rest, and picked up the final, unknown book. Its title was not on the spine but emblazoned on the cover. Unlike the Elvish script, this book’s language appeared more jagged, with hooks and sharp curves on almost every character. “How strange. This isn’t just stylized Elvish or Dwarvish; it doesn’t look like any language I’m familiar with. How intriguing. See?” He held out the book, the front facing Skate directly. “This,” he said, pointing to the first character, “could almost be an ‘A,’ if you squinted at it and used your imagination, but I don’t see anything else in the title that could be mistaken for a letter common to men, dwarves, orcs, goblins, or elves. How odd.” He moved around behind his desk and put the book down.