RINGS (The Paladin's Thief Book 2) by Benjamin K Hewett

Author:Benjamin K Hewett [Hewett, Benjamin K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-05-25T05:00:00+00:00

I wait in bed for sleep to return, but it’s flown the coop. I’m still shaking, and think it best to get a bit of exercise. Time to prowl, my body says.

“Ok. Just don’t do anything foolish.”

I won’t, it tells me.

It’s probably true. I’ve always liked sneaking. Sounds say too much about a person. You can hide your soul by sneaking.

I used to sneak into the house and surprise Sara at her workbench when I first took her ring. It was fun the first few times, until she actually swung her mallet at me in fright. I should have saved the surprises for the washbasin, where getting wet is the primary concern.

Some ideas come far too late.

And climbing. Pan’s beard, I like climbing. When I was little—not that I ever really got big—I would climb the trees outside the city gates until the branches started bending. I could get higher and faster than any other kid in town. The city guards back then called me “Lookout” because of this, and because of my habit of getting underfoot.

I climb down and then back up my silk banner twice for fun, experimenting with different foot locks and drop rolls on the silk rope. Stalling. Curtain sliding. Swinging. I imagine the remaining poison beading out in my sweat, dripping on the planks below, and my thoughts wander.

What is Carmen working on? I would never do anything to hurt her, but it won’t hurt to take a little peek, will it?

Peek?

Hah.

The kitchen is pitch black now, but I don’t light a candle or anything. I know that Lucinda and Carmen have made up cots, and I know how to avoid them. Carmen’s box is on the opposite side of the room from where they’re sleeping, under the table.

The thought of knowing what secret thing she’s working on fills me with excitement and dread, and I can’t say why.

It’s probably some dress for the fat Duchess of Rose Row, or for the Lady Sterling, so bony and thin that the children say she has worms. This prospect is disheartening. Carmen can make the finest gowns. Why waste quality work on those sour faces, even if they do have deep pockets? I’ve seen the way they glide over the masses of Lower Ector.

Take money where you can, I guess.

Maybe this is why I struggle with paying taxes and buying bread. Picking a quality mark is hard. “You’re too soft,” Lucinda’s always telling me. “You could be the richest man in Ector!”

Whatever. I’m not interested in making life harder for those already suffering. Lucinda gets this, even if she won’t admit it: more than half of what she steals buys food for the less fortunate.

I decide against peeking, and climb halfway back up my silk banner. It’s none of my business what she’s working on.

My hands disagree. Quality is always their business. I drop-slip down two-thirds. If I know what it is, I might be able to find a matching accessory, or a complimentary fabric, something to make the perfect effect.

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