Starsinger

Signal

Jace closed the door to the smithy with a nervous glance over his shoulder. He'd promised to close up hours ago, offering the other workers a chance to head home early. Instead he'd stayed, and there had been no one else around when Aaron came to fetch the iron wedges Jace had been working on in secret.

Even covered by his cloak, the pair of shortswords weighed heavily on his hips as Jace turned up his collar and hurried towards the manse. Near midnight, dark and quiet. Just as he planned. It had been hard enough to swipe the swords for him and Delia, but now after Aaron's visit he felt wildly underprepared. There was a fatemonger in Vivalta. The same fatemonger who'd created the black-eyed monstrosities that had nearly killed his friend.

Jace had no intention of being on the business end of one of those void spells. At least Malcolm and the fatemonger would both be busy inspecting the chest of obsidian the Bloodhound stole from the Drake. Jace had urged Aaron to be careful, but Aaron had only arched his eyebrows. They both knew he wasn't the reckless type. So why was Jace so nervous?

No time to dwell. In the shadow of the manse, Delia was waiting for him. He had to look up to meet her eyes. She was taller than him. He liked that.

He nodded sharply to say he was ready and Delia pushed inside. The kitchens were deserted but for a few serving maids curled up in front of the enormous brick oven, still warm from the day's exertions. A silver tea tray with two steaming cups sat on a table. Delia lifted it gingerly, careful not to spill. She stepped lightly, her feet making no noise on the swept thrushes. Jace followed.

Through another door and up the servant's stair. The stairwell was cramped and steep, not to mention dark, and Jace kept his hands pressed firmly against the walls as they climbed. Delia arrived at a door and felt around for the handle. She peeked out into a long marble hallway glowing with torches set in ornate glass sconces, then motioned for Jace to stay.

Jace tucked himself behind the door as Delia stepped through.

"Hey, fellas," he heard her say, her voice pitched an octave lower than normal. "Seems like you both could use an evening pick-me-up."

"What's this?" The guard's voice was gruff, but tinged with amusement.

"The lord called for tea and didn't finish the pot. Kitchen thought you boys could use something warm on such a cold night."

A gravelly chuckle. "Don't mind if I do."

Jace listened carefully to the muffled voices as the guards drank and flirted, Delia laughing and chiding in turn. The voices got softer, slurred, and Delia offered to help them down. Two distinct thumps announced the guards dropping off to sleep.

Jace slipped out of the stairwell to join Delia. "You're sure they won't wake?"

"Not till morning." She pulled a bushy sprig from her pocket and grinned. "Lunashade, steeped for nearly an hour. They'll sleep all night and shouldn't remember a thing."

"Then let's get to it." Jace sorted through the guard's belt until he found a heavy key. He tried it in the door they'd been stationed in front of and entered.

A richly appointed parlor. Raelyn popped her head in from one of the adjoining chambers. "Do you need a hand?"

"We're fine," Jace said. "Keep packing, we need as much of this finery as we can carry."

He and Delia heaved the sleeping bodies inside the parlor and shut the door hastily. "Just the cloaks. We'll look enough like guards from a distance."

Delia went to work on one guard and Jace started untying the cloak from the other's shoulders. Raelyn dragged a burlap bag clanking with rich metals into the parlor. Jace had nearly tugged it free when he heard voices in the hall.

All three of them froze. Jace motioned for them to stay silent, then silently stepped towards the door. He pulled a shortsword free of its sheath.

"Can't this gift wait until morning?" A man's bass, smooth and unfamiliar.

"Believe me, Ezra, you'll be glad I insisted."

Lord Malcolm. Jace's grip tightened on the sword. Here, with the fatemonger. Delia said they'd stashed the obsidian in the depths of the lower manse, so why were they here?

"I'll need my cloak," said the fatemonger.

"Your coat will suffice," said Malcolm. "It's only a quick jaunt to the menagerie, and I keep my study quite warm."

Ice shot through Jace's veins. Malcolm's study. They were going to the menagerie, where Aaron was supposed to be springing Sapphire from her bonds.

Jace waited a heart-stopping count of ten until the voices faded out of hearing before he dropped the sword and rushed to the window.

"What is it?" Raelyn asked.

"A signal, we need a signal." Jace grabbed the candle from the bedside table, removing the glass covering that muted its light. He thrust the candle close to the glass, frantically passing his hand in front of it so the light blinked repeatedly, a pattern every kyrsquad soldier knew by heart.

Abort. Abort. Abort.