Elaine Cunningham: Honor Among Thieves

“Seems like a lot of work.”

“The tunnels were already here,” Fox said. “Rhendishbuilt a clockwork system similar to the Mule, with ropes andpulleys and buckets that carry a steady flow of water up to there.”He pointed to a water tower within the manor walls.

Fox uncapped the dragon tooth and poured a clearfluid, one careful drop at a time, onto the lid’s iron hinges.Better the hinges, he figured, than the padlock. The latter wasmore likely to be warded against intrusion with lethal shocks,small capsules that would release noxious fumes, or some othernasty little alchemical trick.

The metal melted away like sugar in hot tea.

Fox took a metal bar from his pack and pried the lidopen. He tied a rope to the chains holding the padlock in place.After he dropped the rope into the shaft, he stood and held out hisarms to Vishni.

The fairy jumped.

It didn’t occur to Fox until after he’d caught herthat Vishni didn’t need his help to keep from touching the ironfloor.

He walked over to the shaft and held her over theopening. “Ready?”

Before she could respond, he dropped her into theshaft.

She’d barely cleared the rim before rose-coloredwings unfurled to catch her and ease her fall. She dropped in acrouch. By the time she rose, the wings were gone.

Fox slid down the rope after her. “Someday you’regoing to explain how you do that. It’s a great trick.”

Vishni smirked. “You can pee standing up. Don’t begreedy.”

Their words echoed in the silent tunnel. Fox pointedto an antechamber, where a clockwork machine stood ready.

They stood, waiting, until the grinding crunch ofgears resumed. Ropes creaked and began to move. Vishni leaped ontothe rim of one wooden bucket, holding the ropes that attached it tothe main line. Fox followed. Their combined weight did not slow themachinery in the slightest.

Once the odd aqueduct reached the water tower shaft,they leaped clear. Fox took a blue robe from his bag and shook outthe wrinkles. He donned it and pulled a pale wig over his tell-talered locks. Most Sevrin natives were fair-haired, and the blue robemarked him as a student of alchemy. In this garb, he’d look likeone of dozens striding around the compound.

Vishni tried the lock and shook her head. A few dropsof alkahest burned straight through the door and the outer lock.Fox stepped out into sunlight, Vishni close on his heels.

He nodded toward a tent where servants to the manor’svisitors gathered to rest and wait.

“Keep an eye on the blue door toward the back of thewarehouse,” he murmured. “If Delgar and I walk out of there, justfall into step with us. If we’re running, do whatever comes tomind.”

An unholy gleam lit her eyes. “You come up with thebest plans.”

Fox arranged his face along arrogant lines and headedfor a long, low building hugging the seaward edge of the manor.

He stopped on the way to claim a broom and some ragsfrom a passing servant. Armed with cleaning supplies and a scowl,he foot-dragged his way toward Rhendish’s storehouse, the verypicture of a student condemned to menial labor for a crime ofcarelessness or stupidity. No one paid him much heed, and the onlyreaction he elicited was a quick, superior smirk from anotherblue-robed youth.

Once inside the building, Fox stood for a moment andlistened. The only sound was a faint, musical chiming. When heglanced in that direction, his jaw dropped in astonishment.

A macabre wind chime hung in a corner, nearlyobscured from view by a painted screen. It was a skeleton, narrowof frame and apparently fashioned of pale pink crystal. He’d neverseen anything so beautiful, or so disturbing, nor had he heard suchmusic. He had the strangest feeling that there was more to it thanhis ears could hear. For the first time, Avidan’s theory aboutsound seemed not only sane, but obvious.

Fox swiped a hand down the back of his neck, wherethe hair beneath his wig rose like the hackles of a spooked hound.It didn’t help.

He shook off the uncanny feeling and hurried throughthe crowded room.

The people of Sevrin loved curiosities-strangeobjects and plants and relics gathered from distant places and lostcenturies. The city housed two public museums and several fineprivate collections. Rhendish’s warehouse put them all toshame.

Tall, glass-fronted shelves held relics from “extinctraces” such as elves, griffons, and dragons. There were elvenweapons ranging from simple bows to intricate swords. Jewel-toneddragon scales had been polished to a high gleam, feathers as longas Fox’s arm displayed to advantage against sky-blue velvet.Mundane supplies were also plentiful: bins of dried plants, caskslabeled with words he’d never seen and could not begin topronounce, piles of rare woods and thinly hammered sheets ofmetal.

There was, however, no sign of Delgar.

It took Fox nearly an hour to find the cellar dooramid all the clutter. He took a small lantern from a nail, struck alight, and crept down the stairs.

As he suspected, the room housed the sort of suppliesSevrin’s people would find less palatable than metal and wood andoils.

Several large cats eyed Fox from their cages. Livinglights blinked weakly in a glass box. There was more, but Fox’sgaze skimmed over it and settled on the stocky young man sagging inchains bolted to the wall. A strip of linen bound one arm, and abeaker of blood stood on a nearby table.

Fox’s jaw clenched.

Delgar was a Carmot dwarf, a race distinguished bythe ability to change color to blend into their surroundings. Therewere few of his kind left, for the Carmot numbered among the “stoneraces,” dwarves whose blood was believed to amplify alchemicaltransmutations.

Fox hiked up his blue robe and took the flask ofrestorative from his pocket. The dwarf dragged his head up at thesound of Fox’s approach. Bruises darkened his face and his left eyewas swollen nearly shut, but one corner of his mouth lifted in ashadow of his cocky grin.

“That color does not suit you.”

Fox uncorked the potion and tipped it into hisfriend’s mouth. The dwarf swallowed and nodded his thanks. His goodeye widened when Fox produced the dragon tooth flask.

“So the crazy bugger did it, then?”

“Other than the dragon’s tooth, I haven’t foundanything it won’t dissolve.”

“Don’t be adding dwarf to the list,” Delgar mutteredas Fox tipped a drop onto one chain.

The metal fell away. Delgar grinned, a disconcertingsight to anyone not familiar with a Carmot dwaves’s nature. Thedwarves were pale silvery gray-hair, skin, even teeth-unless theychose to appear otherwise. At the moment, Delgar’s smile resembleda drawer full of knives.

Fox made short work of the chains. His friend gavehis shoulders an experimental roll and bounced on the balls of hisfeet like a fighter getting ready for a match.

“The way out?”

“We walk.”

He handed the dwarf a second robe. Delgar grimacedbut made no complaint. He pulled the robe over his head and tuggedit down, revealing blue-gray eyes, a thick shock of blond hair, anda skin tone a shade darker than Fox’s.

“Don’t forget the teeth,” Fox said.

The dwarf bared a dazzling white smile. “Pass forhuman?”

Oddly enough, Delgar could. He was tall for his kind,standing near the midpoint of five feet and six. Fox had no ideahow many years the dwarf could claim, but he and Delgar looked tobe about the same age. The dwarf was clean-shaven, with a squareface and impressive slabs of muscle. Women noticed him, which wasone more reason to disguise him with an alchemist’s robe.

“Let’s go.”

Delgar turned back toward the table holding thebeaker of his stolen blood. In one fluid motion he stooped, caughtup a length of chain, and swung.

The sound of shattering glass filled the dungeon.