Haman looked even more intrigued than before. “I’d be very interested…” he muttered to himself, apparently lost in thought. “Never mind,” he said, turning to the bookshelf beside him. He considered the collection for a moment before pulling a medium-sized tome from the shelf and handing it to her. “There. Your first stolen book for the old man.” He took another off and set it on his desk.
“How do you know if this is one he doesn’t already have? He told me he didn’t want copies of things he already has.”
“I don’t. But you don’t either. It’s a stalling tactic,” Haman explained, taking his seat again, “so you can find out what he knows. If he knows you’re Ink, then get back here immediately or try to skip town and disappear forever, because that means you’ve messed up. If he doesn’t, then you can worry about stealing what he wants to give you time to size the place up properly.”
Haman noticed that she winced when he mentioned failure. “Skate, listen to me,” he said, pulling his paperwork and the other book back toward him. “This could be a big break for you if you haven’t screwed everything up already. And for whatever it’s worth, I really hope you haven’t. I think you’re going to do well here, but we have rules. Order. Without rules, there’s no organization. No organization, no business. Do what you need to survive, but stay in the box. Got it?”
Skate stood and nodded. “I don’t think he knows.” She risked a glance at the cover of the tome. It told her nothing.
“I hope you’re right. We’ll be in the Old Town next, if you don’t get back here before the move. Close the door on your way out.”
She did so. While she was leaving, she might have seen a rather satisfied smile play across his lips as he opened his book.
Chapter 3
In which a book is delivered, a secret is revealed, and a backpack is brought downstairs.
Skate climbed up into the glare of cold sunlight. Book in hand, she turned down the street toward Belamy’s house and crinkled her nose at the fresh stench of the streets.
The walk felt longer on her own; Twitch was out getting Haman’s money. The rhythmic thumping of Kite’s knife had also been absent when she’d left, and that worried Skate more than a little. He wasn’t stupid enough to spill another Ink member’s blood, but he could hurt Twitch in other ways. She had told herself that it was a coincidence and hurried out of the room.
None of the eyes of the other thieves had followed her passing. Bart had only given her a cursory glance as he’d brought his bottle to his lips.
Skate wound her way through familiar back alleys, taking pains to avoid the few Guard patrols. She’d had run-ins with them before, especially during her pick-pocketing days a few years earlier, but she had never been caught—not yet. She was out of the docks when a familiar voice called out to her.
“Skate!”
She turned to look and smiled. It was Delly.
Skate waited for the younger girl to reach her. “Hey!” she said, wrapping her arms around her. “How’s pickings?”
“Bad,” Delly said, rolling her eyes. “None of these rubes keep anything worth having on them. All the rich ones are in the other districts, where the Guards are always walking around. I managed a few blades, though.” She reached into her pocket to reveal a handful of brown coins emblazoned with a pair of crossed swords. “So at least I’m not going back empty.”
“I had to,” Skate replied. She told the other girl the story as they walked. They passed an apple cart, and Delly nicked a couple of sour green ones.
“Y’know,” Delly said around a mouthful of half-chewed fruit after Skate had told the whole story, “that’s not a bad job, getting a roof and food for stealing a book. Who’d you take that from?” she asked, pointing to the tome in Skate’s hands.
“Haman gave it to me to get me started with Belamy.”
Delly perked up at the mention of the Ink wizard. “You talked with Haman?”
Skate smiled; Delly had long been enamored of Boss Marshall’s second-in-command.
“How is he? Did he mention transferring me?”
“No, you didn’t come up, and I didn’t wanna swerve the conversation your way, since I was trying to stay out of trouble and all. Did you really want your name brought up while we were talking about ‘dire consequences’ and ‘questions about future employment’?”
Delly looked disappointed. “No, I guess not.” They had reached the house. Delly looked it over. “Kinda old, huh?”
“Yeah. Listen, you better scram.”
“Yeah, okay. Good luck, Skate.” With that, Delly was off to find another crowd or a sleepy-looking mark with a coin purse hanging too loosely.
Skate took a deep breath and moved toward the door. Remember: He’s a wizard. He’s dangerous. He’s not easy to trick. She reminded herself of these truths over and over as she approached the door, putting her mind in the right place to deal with Barrison Belamy. She lifted the large brass ring on the door and knocked twice.
The door swung wide, and there stood Belamy, alert and robed. “What is it?” he said harshly. When he looked down and saw Skate carrying her prize, his eyes widened. “Already? Good, good, come in.” The room was as warm as it had been this morning; a couple of logs were still smoldering. Everything looked the same as before, with a few key differences. The blanket was gone, as was the small statue above the fireplace. There was also something on each of the three large windows around the long room: little brown boxes that twisted in place occasionally.
Belamy saw her stare and brightened up considerably, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Curious?” She nodded, and he approached the nearest one, beckoning her closer. “They’re locks. After your…intrusion, I determined it a good idea to keep these windows from opening to any old fool with a lockpick handy. They move, see?” He pointed at the twitching metallic brown lock. “The innards, the mechanisms—they move around, so that even if someone does manage to bring the right set of tools, they’ll have a devil of a time getting the window to unlock. They’re magic of course; just made them this morning. Pretty clever, eh?”
Skate thought they were impressive, so she nodded. She did see a glaring flaw in his plan, but was loath to point it out.
“Ah,” he said, apparently sensing her skepticism, “I know what you’re thinking: someone could just break the glass. Not likely. Here!” he said, taking a glass globe from a perch on the nearest bookshelf and putting it in her grasp. “Chuck that as hard as you can at the window. Don’t hold back; give it all you’ve got!”
The globe sat like a stone in her palm. It could easily break the window, she knew, but Belamy’s encouraging smile made her shrug and try it anyway. She threw it with more than enough force to shatter the pane, and braced for the crash of broken glass. She heard instead only a thump, and then Belamy extended his hand and prevented the ball from hitting the floor with his magic. He gently floated it toward its place on the shelf. “No one is breaking in that way again; that glass is hard as stone now. So is this ball, for that matter. But never mind all that,” he said, turning to face the girl with a hand outstretched, palm open. “You have something for me?”