In the low light, the challenge would be to figure out where he kept his valuables. I didn’t need much. Coins were best because they’d be the most valued by the thieves, the easiest to replace, and the least sentimental. If Harlowe had coins anywhere in the home, they were most likely here.
I had worked my way around a desk in his office and was fingering across shelves of books when I heard footsteps in the main hall. I froze, hoping it was only a passing servant.
But the footsteps were followed by voices, and the light of a candle flickered from beneath the office door. They were coming closer.
When it became obvious they were approaching the office, I hurried toward the window. The voices were of two men, though with the muffle of the door I couldn’t recognize them. I assumed one of them must be Harlowe.
The door opened before I was as far as the window, so I began to duck beneath the desk, but a voice commanded me to stop.
I didn’t draw my knife. There was no point in it. And turning around to face the two men who had entered the office was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
Both men gasped when they recognized me. Harlowe was the one holding the candle. The other man, who had ordered me to stop and who had withdrawn his knife, was none other than Mott.
None of us spoke for what seemed like an hour. Slowly Mott lowered his knife and finally Harlowe whispered, “You’re Jaron. But why —”
My heart pounding, I glanced at Mott for help, still unable to speak.
At almost the same time, I heard a sound behind me and Erick climbed through the window. “I saw the light,” he said. “I thought you needed help.”
“I don’t.” Now I withdrew my knife.
Mott put a hand on Harlowe’s arm. “This isn’t who you think it is,” he said. “This boy is one of the finest thieves of Avenia. I’ve seen him before and I know he’s capable of everything he says he is. You should give him whatever he wants. He’ll always get it anyway.”
Erick looked at me. “What are you capable of?”
I ignored Erick and looked at Harlowe. “Whatever coins you have here, I want them. Now.”
Harlowe remained frozen, unable to put together the various explanations of who he had thought I was when we first met, whatever Mott must have told him, and what he was now seeing unfold. Finally, Mott pushed him forward, and Harlowe said, “I don’t have much here.” He reached for a frame on his desk. “But this is made of gold. It’s worth a lot.”
A sketch of a young child was inside the frame. I wondered if it was Nila’s father, or the other child Harlowe’s servant had told me about. “I don’t want that picture,” I said. “But I’ll take the frame.”
Harlowe removed the sketch and set it carefully on the desk before Erick took the frame and dropped it in a bag he’d brought with him.
Next, Harlowe reached for something inside his vest and handed it to me. “You can take this too. It’s also gold.” It was the watch that had belonged to Nila’s father.
I tossed it back at him. “That’s imitator’s gold. It’s worthless.” Unable to avoid Mott’s eye, I added, “Surely you know that I can tell the difference between that and real gold.”
“Obviously you can’t.” Erick frowned at me while holding out his hand. “It’s real enough for my needs.”
“If anyone’s taking it, I will.” I reached for the watch, but Erick swatted my hand out of the way and flashed the blade of his knife. There was nothing to do but give in.
“This boy doesn’t mean anything more to us than imitator’s gold,” Mott said, staring at me. “Give him some coins and he’ll go.”
Harlowe padded to his bookshelf. He pulled out a box from an upper shelf, then walked over to me and said, “Hold out your hands.” I took the bag from Erick, and Harlowe widened the box, letting dozens of garlins fall inside it.
Behind me, Erick actually gasped with delight. Then his eyes fixed on Mott. “What about him?”
Mott looked at me. “You won’t get me, thief.” And he ran from the room.
I pointed to Harlowe and told Erick, “You watch him.” I stopped as I passed Harlowe. “Don’t move. Don’t give him a reason to do anything.” Then I left the room, chasing after Mott.
Mott was waiting for me as I rounded the corner into the main hall. He grabbed my arm and yanked me against the wall.
“What are you doing here?” Mott hissed.
“You should’ve heard the alternative.” Suddenly, there was so much to tell him. About the Avenian thieves who stole across our borders to attack our women and children. About the nobles in Carthya who covered it up. And about my father, who, worst of all, had ignored the pleas of his own people for help. But there was no time. “Why are you here?”
“Can’t you guess?”
“You should be helping Tobias at the castle.” A beat passed. “How’s he doing?”
“Amarinda and Kerwyn will protect him. But there’s talk everywhere of the regents’ vote against you. If you don’t come back now, there might not be anything to return to.”
I stepped back. “And if I don’t finish here, there’s no point in returning.”
“Killing Devlin won’t solve this problem.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I dreaded the words I’d be saying next, and even as I spoke I understood the impossibility of it all. “I have to destroy the pirates. All of them.”
Mott’s eyes flared. “What? This is madness! Not the plan of a king!”
Angrily, I hissed, “Then join those who vote for a steward and let me be!”
I started to march away, but Mott grabbed my arm. “I don’t want a steward in Carthya any more than you do. But your actions only give ammunition to those who think you lack the judgment to be king. You are helping them destroy you.”
Turning back to him, I said, “Why can’t you see this, Mott? Forget the steward and see the dangers for Carthya. This is our only hope not to be destroyed. Our troubles are far bigger than Gregor’s political ambitions.”
Mott wasn’t convinced. “You should’ve let Gregor in on your plans. Other than Kerwyn, there was nobody your father trusted more. Please, come back while you still can.”
“If I do that, how long until the pirates invade Carthya? Is it days, or will they give us a whole week to prepare? I don’t want to be here, Mott, so give me another option. Give me any way in which Carthya has a chance to survive and I’ll do it.”
But he couldn’t. In a voice thick with sadness he said, “Nobody comes back from the pirates, Jaron.”
“I’ve got to. Who else makes your life this interesting?” And I even offered a smile.
Mott breathed out a curse, then said, “If you need me, I’ll be at the church in Dichell. For your own safety, that’s as far as I dare follow you.” I started again to leave, but this time he added, “Give me your knife.”
“What?”
Mott held out his hand, palm upward. “You’ve been gone too long. So give me the knife.”
It was the second time Mott had injured himself to save my secrets. Watching him slice the blade across his arm hurt almost as much as if it had been my flesh. When I took the knife back from him I hesitated, hearing a small sound behind us.