Burning Bright Read online

  They stopped in front of a small teahouse, and Raz pushed the door open, leading the way across the crowded dining room to a large table in the back where Ivan and the rest of his men already sat decimating two pots of tea and a large tray of tea snacks. Raz slid into an empty space beside Gleb and stole his cup of tea. "Long time since I've visited your hearth, Wolves. How is business?"

  "Interesting," Ivan drawled, and his eyes went to something just past Raz's shoulder.

  Raz turned and whistled. "You're moving up in the world, Vanya. You're a White Beast," he added when the man reached him, more impressed than he would ever admit to actually see one of the nigh-legendary White Beasts of Verde. He really wanted to know what kind of Beast the man could become—and if he would demonstrate, because Raz had never actually seen anyone from Verde shift. But he knew it would be rude to ask, and he did not want to anger Ivan's client. Possibly his own client, since Ivan had a job for him.

  "I am," the man said, smiling in amusement. "Are you the talented thief Ivan has been trying to track down the last few days?"

  "I am," Raz replied, smirking. He poured more tea and swiped a bit of warm bread already smeared with fresh butter and honey. "Did you see what's happening at the Sword & Sorcerer?"

  Grunting, Ivan said, "We were there waiting for you when they arrived. Barely slipped out the back before they started grabbing people. The Minister of Magic is out for blood, I think, and he's not picky about who bleeds."

  Beside him, Isidor grimaced. "They'll have Misha fitted with a noose before the sun sets and word on the street is that the Minister isn't the only fancy coming into the city today. The priests have been aflame since the early mass bells rang."

  Raz nearly dropped his teacup as cold fear shot through him. "What do you mean, the priests? Why in the ashes are they upset?"

  It was Karp who replied, "Rumor has it the High Priest himself is coming into the Heart to visit Ashes. No one is saying why, exactly, but there's not many reasons for him to show up, are there? They think the latest Vessel is here in the Heart. I'd wager my last copper on it."

  Putting his biscuit and tea down, Raz balled his hands into fists, tamping down on his sudden panic. He could not show he was scared. He could not show anything. Everything was fine. Nothing would happen to Pechal. It had been his imagination. "What's the job, then?"

  Ivan lifted one brow at him in silent query, but let the matter drop when Raz gave a single, minute shake of his head. "Ailill is searching for this," Ivan said, and he placed a piece of paper on the table.

  Raz picked it up and whistled again as he examined the drawing. It was of an ornate comb made of Verde silver, the top portion decorated with jeweled flowers made from rubi, esmeralda, and pearls. "It's beautiful. How old is it?"

  "Nine hundred years," Ailill said, and Raz looked at him. "Possibly older, but records only go back to right around the Great Loss and what we call the Tragedy of the Oak."

  "A retirement piece, then," Raz said. "Fire and ash." Ailill frowned, puzzled, and Raz explained, "It's the kind of piece that would net enough of a profit we'd never have to steal again. Theoretically, but if it's that rare it would be hard to sell and clearly it already has an owner. But if I was working solo and came upon it, then it would definitely be a retirement job."

  Ailill smiled. "I see. I hope what I am paying is a sufficient retirement fund. Of course, we must first find it, which is proving to be remarkably difficult. We are still trying to find even a slight lead on it."

  Raz shrugged dismissively. "Only a matter of time. People remember a piece like this. I'll put Pechal on it; he's got connections to a few maids in the palace that might know something. May cost you more—"

  "Money is not a concern," Ailill said. "Time is a concern, but not yet a serious one."

  "Then I'll put Pechal to work and keep you informed," Raz said. "After that, it should be easy."

  Karp rolled his eyes. "He nicks a rubi necklace and suddenly he thinks he's unbeatable."

  "I'm the closest you'll get," Raz said lightly. "Sasha thinks I'm worth the money—what better recommendation will you find than that?"

  Ivan grunted. "Stay away from Sasha. He'll scorch you before you ever see the flames. No one knows anything about him, and he comes and goes like the wind."

  Raz shrugged the words off. "I can handle myself. Unless you've got anything else, I'm off."

  From the far end of the table, Maksim pulled away from his tea long enough to say, "Ran into your girls this morning. They asked if you were around."

  "What did Shio and Shinju want?" Raz asked, surprised. He hadn't seen them around for ages, had figured they were busy with their own work—not that he really knew what they did. He was never entirely certain why they were in Pozhar at all; they only said they could not return home yet.

  "Didn't say, but I told them that if I saw you, I'd send you after them."

  Raz nodded. "Fire warm and guide," he said in parting and took off even as they replied, slipping through the crowded streets, taking a long way back to avoid the worst of the market crowds and come out behind the cathedral.

  Unfortunately, he hadn't made it very far before everything suddenly went from busy to crazy, people scrambling and shoving to get out of the way—

  Then Raz saw them as he climbed onto the edge of a well, bracing himself again the post where buckets were attached to a rope for lowering so no one would knock him down into it. A dozen figures rode on horseback through the overcrowded square: ten soldiers escorting and protecting two other figures who could only be, to go by rumors, High Priest Dym and the Duke of Alkaev.

  He could not get a good view of the High Priest, but the Duke of Alkaev looked exactly as cold as the rumors said. Raz could easily believe he was never sorry about the Vessels he captured, that he had stood unmoved when his own sister was sacrificed.

  It wasn't until they were well past him that he realized he had been holding his breath. Shaking himself, Raz leapt back down into the crowd and began to shove his way through, desperate to get to the Cathedral. By the time he managed it, he was sweaty, irritable, and terrified he had arrived too late. Bolting down the alleyway and looping around the cathedral, he finally reached the section of wall that led up to their room and climbed it as quickly as he could possibly manage.

  Sliding through the window, Raz began to throw whatever supplies came easily to hand into a satchel. "Pechal! Wake up! Pechal!" When the pile of blankets did not so much as twitch, Raz finished stuffing things into the satchel and stomped over and yanked the blankets away. "Fire and ash, Pechal! It's time to go."

  Pechal groaned, looking so sleepy and rumpled and miserable that he looked fourteen rather than eighteen. More than once it was Pechal's ability to look young and helpless that had gotten them out of a fire; unfortunately, it also just made Raz more protective. Pechal was entirely too nice for a street rat most of the time. "I don't want to go anywhere," he whined and tried to fumble for the blankets.

  Raz slung the bag across his chest, settling it comfortably, and then bent and yanked Pechal to his feet. They'd find him new shoes later. There just wasn't time right then. "Fire and ash, Pechal, the High Priest is here, and if he finds you—" He broke the sentence off because he just couldn't stomach saying it.

  "What are you going on about?" Pechal asked, staring at him blankly. "I don't care about the scorching High Priest."

  "We have to go," Raz whispered and did not give Pechal a chance to argue, just dragged him to the window.

  But when they reached it, Pechal sank to the ground with a groan. "I can't do the wall, Raz. I can barely stand upright. What's wrong with me? I've never felt like this before, and it won't go away."

  Tears stung Raz's eyes. "It will never go away," he said, choking on the words. "It's happening because you're a Vessel, Pechal. It won't stop until they—they—" He couldn't say the words, he just couldn’t.

  Pechal's head snapped up, and Raz saw the horrified comprehension fill his eyes. Pechal
began to cry. "I'm not! I'm not! You can't let them—Raz—"

  "I won't," Raz said, and he bent to pull Pechal to his feet. He hugged Pechal tightly and drew back enough to press a quick, reassuring kiss to his mouth. "I won't let them kill you, Pechal, I promise." Pechal just trembled against him, and Raz bit back his frustration and despair. Panicking would not help anything; he needed to think.

  They definitely could not go down the wall, which meant they would have to find another way out of the cathedral. As much as he preferred the street rat method of 'hide!' that just would not work. Their only chance was to get out of the city, and quite possibly out of the country—but that would take more money than they had at present. He needed to get Pechal somewhere he could hide long enough for Raz to obtain the money. He would also have to arrange passage, which would be easier said than done since there weren't many passenger ships and even fewer trading vessels willing to take on passengers.

  Biting his lip, he put that worry aside for the far more immediate problem of getting them out of the cathedral. "You're supposed to be safe, you scorching pile of rocks," he muttered. "Come on, Pechal. If we can get down to the kitchens we can slip out that way. Just stay strong for a little while, all right? For me."

  "For you," Pechal whispered and pushed away to stand on his own.

  Slowly, far too slowly for Raz's peace of mind, they made their way through the attic levels and down to the bedrooms. It seemed to take three times as long to reach the mezzanine level, and Raz had to grit his teeth against an urge to scream, grab Pechal, and run.

  He let out a sigh when they finally reached the bottom of the back stairs and saw the door to the kitchen at the end of the hall. "Come on, Pechal," he said softly, taking Pechal's hand and holding it tightly.

  They'd made it halfway down the hall when their luck was finally snuffed, and the doors that led to the sanctuary burst open, the hall filling with four guards and the cold-looking Duke of Alkaev. His eyes glowed brilliant gold as he stared at them. "The Vessel," he said, eyes fastening on Pechal, and he motioned the guards forward.

  "No!" Raz bellowed and tried to make a run for it—but only wound up falling to his knees, suddenly too weak to move. "No!" he said again as the guards grabbed Pechal and carried him away. "Let him go!" he screamed and barely noticed when the guard abruptly released him.

  He ran, following the guards who had Pechal, barely noticing that the Duke of Alkaev stood motionless as Raz raced by him.

  Someone else tried to grab him, and Raz swung, fist slamming into the priest's nose. Shoving him aside, Raz kept running, knocking four more priests and a guard out of his way before he finally burst through the door that led to the altar.

  "Pechal!" he screamed, seeing him kneeling at the altar, right at the top of the steps that led down from it. Racing toward him, shoving and knocking aside anyone who got in his way, Raz ran up to Pechal, grabbed him, yanked him back—

  —And froze when someone abruptly appeared in front of him. Raz looked up into eyes the color of smoke that glowed ever so faintly with magic; they were set in a sharp, handsome face framed by close-cropped, wispy black hair. A face Raz would swear he had seen before. A face that, for no explicable reason, made him start crying.

  The man's face went white while he stared at Raz, and for some reason that just upset Raz more. He tried to speak, but realized he couldn't. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and licked his dry lips. He tried again to speak, and the words finally broke free. "Why?" he asked, voice trembling. "Who are you, and why does looking at you hurt?" His eyes blurred with more tears, and Raz wiped them away, and in that brief lull he was reminded of the trouble he was in.

  "Seize them!" the Duke of Alkaev called from behind Raz.

  In front of him, the man he suddenly realized was the High Priest lifted a hand, his eyes glowing brilliant, sunshine gold with magic.

  "No!" Raz screamed, the words crashing through the cathedral and followed immediately by the sound of shattering glass. Around him people screamed in panic, but Raz didn't wait to see who had done what, just turned, grabbed Pechal, and ran.

  Nobody stopped them as they ran back the way they'd come, and then down the hall to the kitchens. In the kitchens, Raz grabbed loaves of bread and a hunk of cheese as he saw them, but did not slow his steps. At the very back of the last room, he threw open the door and dragged Pechal out—

  —And nearly crashed into two women waiting just outside with their swords drawn. Clearly, they had been about to go inside. "Raz! Thank the dragons you're safe." Shoving her sword back into its sheath, the lavender-haired woman dragged him close to embrace him tightly.

  Raz let her for a moment, but then pushed away. "Shio! Shinju! What are you doing here?"

  "Looking for you," said Shinju, running a hand impatiently through her short green hair. "Come on, we have to get out of here."

  "You're telling me," Raz said. "Pechal is the Vessel; we have to get him out of here before they kill him. I can't let them do it, I just can't!"

  "Shh, little bird," Shinju said, stroking his cheek. "Let's go, we will sort everything out later." She led the way to where three horses were waiting and helped Raz get Pechal up on one. "I'll ride with Pechal."

  "Thanks," Raz said, relieved. He could barely stay on a horse, let alone keep someone else on it with him—especially Pechal, who passed out almost as soon as Shinju mounted behind him. Holding on tightly, Raz followed them out of the courtyard, focusing on nothing but them as they led the way out of the city.

  He kept waiting to hear the cries to halt, to feel pain as he was attacked by magic—something, anything. But no one came after them, and when they finally stopped in the woods outside the Heart several minutes later, he started shaking so hard he could barely stay in the saddle.

  Wiping his face, he looked over at Pechal still slumped back against Shinju. "What am I going to do?" he asked no one in particular. "I can't let them kill Pechal; I don't scorching care if he is a Vessel!"

  Shio and Shinju spoke to each other in words he didn't understand, but assumed were some Kundouin dialect. "We know a place to hide, rest for a bit," Shio finally said. "It's a few hours from here in a little village on the other side of the forest. We will figure out what to do once we are there." They shared a look again, and normally Raz would have been dead curious about the silent conversation they were having, but right then he was too tired and scared and confused to care.

  He urged his horse into motion when Shio and Shinju did, riding along numbly, trying to sort his thoughts out—but his thoughts were mostly comprised of questions that had no answers, which made sorting it all out impossible.

  How had they gotten away? How was he going to save Pechal?

  Why had seeing the High Priest like that shaken him so badly? Who was he that he looked familiar? Why did looking at him make every part of Raz ache with pain, with … something that felt a lot like loss. That made no sense. He had never met the High Priest in his life. Why would seeing him make Raz feel as if he had lost something?

  *~*~*

  It was midday when they finally left the forest behind and reached the promised village, but Raz was so exhausted that it felt as though it should have been late evening. He more fell off his horse than properly dismounted, and did not protest when Shinju ushered him into the tavern and to a table all the way in the back—and near a door so that it would be easy to flee if necessary.

  Slumping on the table, he slipped into a doze. The smell of food a few minutes later made his stomach growl, and he groaned in protest when a sharp-nailed finger poked him hard in the side. "Mrgh. Snuff it."

  "Sit up and eat," Shinju chided. "You need to replenish the energy you wasted on magic."

  Raz lifted his head just enough to scowl. "Magic? I can't use magic. What are you talking about?"

  "I know the signs of magical over-exertion when I see them," Shinju replied tartly. "I don't know what you did in the cathedral, but everyone in the city must have felt the reverb
erations."

  "Wasn't me," Raz muttered, but conceded defeat and obediently sat up, pulling the bowl of stew Shinju pushed toward him closer. "Where's Pechal?"

  Shinju sipped at her beer and said, "Shio took him upstairs. She'll stay with him, so stop fretting for a few minutes and eat. You'll be of no use to anyone if you can't even stand, little bird."

  Raz obediently wolfed down his food, consumed once more by his whirling thoughts. They flickered between worry for Pechal and confusion over the High Priest. Dym, he thought, the High Priest's name was Dym.

  Why did that sound so achingly familiar, like a name he'd never forgotten and yearned to say again? He'd heard the High Priest's name in the past and never marked it. Why now? What was going on? "I think I'm losing my mind," he whispered.

  Shinju moved closer, slid an arm across his shoulders, and lightly stroked his hair with her other hand. "Shh, little bird. All will be well."

  Raz laughed bitterly at that. Pechal was a Vessel, they were on the run, and if they could not get out of the country Pechal was going to die. The High Priest had done something to Raz, and every time he thought of the man he started crying again.

  Fire and ash, nothing was well, and he could not see how it ever would be.

  He stood up, shoving Shinju's hands away when she tried to stop him. "I'm going to see Pechal." Not waiting for her reply, he strode up the stairs and poked around until he found Pechal and Shio. "I'll sit with him," he said. "You should go eat with Shinju."

  Shio nodded, kissed his cheek, then slipped out of the room. Raz sat down on the side of the bed, and mustered a smile as Pechal slowly opened his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

  "Awful," Pechal said. "I'm a Vessel."

  Raz nodded, unable to speak. He gently combed through Pechal's hair. "I won't let them have you. We've been through too much, you and me, to let anything happen to us now. You're my family. We'll get our house and stop being thieves and everything will be fine."

  "Definitely," Pechal said, smiling at him, looking so young and fragile that it left Raz once more at a loss for words.