The Royal Thief

Chapter Eighteen: Clerks

I covered my hands with soap suds and yanked out the tangles in my hair, then scrubbed the city dust and grime from my body and under my nails. By the time I was rubbing soap between my toes, the water had gone scummy and lukewarm, and it felt like there was sand under my eyelids. Water dripped onto the cold tiled floor as I climbed out and wrapped myself in a towel, shivering in front of the cracked mirror. My own ordinary features stared back at me, hazel eyes glazed and barely awake, the golden Guardian Mark glinting dully on my shoulder. The same as Nemia's, the same as the Sages, the same as all the Guardians that had ever been or would ever be born: a single slender ring around twelve dots, arranged in turn around twelve tiny stars.

My mother had never liked to look at it. Always it was covered up quickly, never glanced at. Now, looking back, I know she was afraid. My father had thought that they were would never dare take his daughter, they would never dare offend a merchant with money and standing. Other people's children they may take in the name of the stars, but not from him. Never from him. He didn't believe they could. I'm sure that when the armed guards arrived at the house that night, he was the most surprised of all of us. Of all my confused, scattered memories of that night, what I remember best is how he held onto my hand as the big guard swung me into the saddle in front of him.

But she's my daughter, he said. He looked as though he'd been slapped. All this time he'd thought his money could keep me out of reach of the royalty. And they just ignored him.

I didn't dwell on those memories. I pulled a sleeping short over my head and crawled into bed. There was enough on my mind without the ghost-feel of my mother gently brushing my hair, the wide eyes of my father as he reached up and held onto the horse's reins.

Daddy! I'd bawled, stretching my arms down to him. The guard slapped my hands away. 

I'll come get you. I'll bring you home, Adina--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Morane. Wake up."

I pressed my face into the pillow and groaned. "What time is it?"

"Lunchtime."

"Lunchtime?" I shouted, scrambling up. Burning sunlight barely slanted through the open window; the sun was centered in the sky.

"Yes," Nemia said. "We didn't realize you were sleeping. We thought you must have gotten up and gone off somewhere and it wasn't until lunch when Nick asked where you were and everyone said they hadn't seen you that I thought to look."

I hadn't gotten into bed until very late, I guess. And I hadn't been getting much sleep before that either. I'd missed breakfast and... whatever else I usually did in the morning... what did I do again? Oh, wait... 

Caer.

"I need to go find someone." I tossed aside the blankets and started pulling on my clothes. Had Caer come? He came every morning, but if he had been here, he hadn't woken me up. Strange as it may have seemed, I didn't want to miss one of his lessons. But how to find him?

As Nemia wisely slipped away, I noticed the pistol tucked in a sort of sheath in her belt. Hopefully she was having more luck with that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Have you seen Caer?" I demanded of the first servant I saw. As I probably should have expected, he stared at me blankly. "Caer... I don't know his last name. The history teacher. I mean, the history teacher's son."

"No, Miss."

"Are you sure?"

"No, Miss."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.