Kingdom of Scourge and Shadow (The Sightstone Series #1)

Chapter Forty-Seven: Max

"It is my experience that every social class shows off prosperity in different ways. For the working classes, it the size of a farm or the number of animals in a herd. For the middle classes, it is the size of a house or the number of servants or employees. And for the nobility, it is art. The wealthier of nobles display their wealth in their art collections, and no collection is complete without at least one oil painting by a Rijkean master."

-The Rijkean Masters: A History, by Lady Van Dyne

***

Their plan worked almost too well.

Max awoke to the sound of the gallery door slamming open and the ringing of alarm bells. Reaching out with his work, he woke Jan, then stirred groggily, as if coming out of a deep stupor, as running footsteps approached.

A mage in the olive green jacket of a Healer bent over him, concern written across his face. He looked too young to be posted away from the royal palace, but what the hell did Max know about when Saroviyan mages were deemed ready to be sent into the field?

"This one's waking up!" the young Healer exclaimed, and moved on to the next figure. Natalie, Max realized. "Help me. We need to get them all to the infirmary."

Max dared to blink sleepily and peered up through his lashes at the gallery. The smoke had receded, and, to his relief, there was no sign of Zoya. Natalie and Aleksei both lay prone on the ground, as planned, but, when Max glanced at him, Jan met his gaze and winked.

The Healer was bent over an old woman who'd accompanied an older man, presumably her husband, who lay next to the case with the fake necklace in it, and Max prayed they wouldn't look too closely at it, not yet. Ideally, not ever. Guards rushed everywhere, taking stock of everything that was missing, and Max saw a young woman note that the necklace was still there before moving on to the next case.

Aided by a pair of guards, the Healer picked up the old woman, while two more guards followed with her husband. The remaining guards were clustered around where the Kozyrev landscapes had hung, lamenting their disappearance, their backs to the prone guests and guards. Jan nudged Max and jerked his head towards the door. Max nodded. Message received. It was time to get out of there.

Moving slowly so that the guards' attention wouldn't be attracted by a sudden movement, Max got gracefully to his feet, and, together, he and Jan strode out of the gallery, carrying themselves as though they had every right to be there.

The lobby was in chaos. The Inventor and guards had abandoned their posts, presumably after the discovery that the gallery had been robbed, but that wasn't the source of the chaos. Red-clad guards rushed this way and that, talking in raised voices, looking harried. As Jan and Max watched, a unit of soldiers raced out the doors, guns in hand.

Oh, shit. Please, please, please say they weren't going after Zoya.

"You two!" a man in a captain's uniform barked, and Jan and Max froze. "What the hell are you doing? A wanted criminal was just spotted on St. Roland Straat! Get your asses out there!"

What? What criminal? Not Zoya. Oh, Saints, please not Zoya.

"The one who robbed the gallery, sir?" Jan asked. "I didn't think they knew who did it."

"Someone robbed the gallery?" the captain squawked, the color draining from his face. "What? When? Who?"

"Wait, that's not who we're going after?" Max asked, baffled. What the hell was going on? Was this part of Jan's plan? No, going by the absolute bafflement on his face, he was as clueless as Max.