The Empire's Ghost--A Novel by Isabelle Steiger

Author:Isabelle Steiger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Tom said every good thief had a sense for things, without ever having to be told. They could hear trouble coming from leagues away, or sniff out treasure in the deepest and dirtiest pit. Marceline had wanted proof she’d had such a talent all her life, but now for the first time she wished she didn’t. For if it were her thief’s sense that was to blame, the fact that she’d been driven to do nothing but practice knife-throwing for the past three days couldn’t be good.

She’d thought things had quieted down: the rumors flowing through Sheath had become a sight less fantastical, and even Tom seemed calmer, if as stubborn as ever. But all she had to do was take one look at Roger’s face and she felt her spirits sink again—if anyone had a thief’s sense, Roger did, and he looked as low as she’d ever seen him.

He’d taken to haunting the Dragon’s Head like it was his new home, but he never told her anything about when Morgan was coming back. There were rumors about that she and Braddock had run afoul of the law at last, and had to flee Sheath for good. Although Roger always scoffed at that, he never offered anything in its place. Marceline had to admit she found it unlikely—she’d scarcely ever seen someone more dedicated to the straight and narrow than Morgan. But she also knew Morgan loved the Dragon’s Head, no matter how she might complain. What could compel her to leave it for so long, if not just the kind of trouble everyone whispered about?

She hadn’t expected any enlightenment from Roger, and it was just as well—he wasn’t providing any. “Go away, monkey,” he said wearily, resting his chin atop his crossed hands, which in turn were resting on the bar. “There’s nothing here for you.”

Marceline scowled at him. “You look like a child.”

“And you look like something that crawled out of the gutter, but at least I’ve seen better days.”

She was about to snap out a retort when she caught sight of a scrap of parchment pinned beneath his elbow. “What’s that?” she asked, tilting her head to try for a better look at it. There wasn’t any writing on it, but she could just make out the edge of something—a drawing or symbol, perhaps?

Roger, naturally, started back, snatching up the parchment and shoving it into his pocket. “None of your business and none of your business, thank you. Have any other questions I can refrain from answering?”

Marceline gritted her teeth, trying to keep her voice from growing shrill. “What is wrong with you? I haven’t seen you in a sulk like this since … well, since ever.” She considered it. “Maybe since the last time you lost a bet with Tom.”

He groaned. “Monkey, that is not what I need to be thinking about right now.”

“Whatever you are thinking about, it’s clearly not helping your mood any better.”

“Can you blame me? Here I am, minding my own

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