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ten

Cal

Cal had forgotten how much more fun it was to have a partner along on jobs.

It had been like that with Kelsith, especially near the beginning: the two of them against Allaria.

But the longer they’d worked together, the less Kelsith had felt like a partner than a displeased boss barking orders.

Griff, though, continued to surprise him.

He’d expected the inspector to be stiff and exacting, and sure, there’d been a bit of that.

But if Cal wasn’t mistaken, Griff was actually starting to enjoy taking a walk on the dark side.

As they followed the attendant down a broad corridor lined with fanciful wood carvings of waves, Cal leaned in closer to Griff.

“It’s good to see you enjoying yourself.”

Griff frowned.

“I don’t enjoy committing crime,” he whispered back.

“But I admit, I am glad we’re getting closer to some answers.”

Nine times out of ten, Cal probably would’ve let the matter drop there.

But something about the earnest look on Griff’s face compelled him to add, “Me too. I had my doubts about this whole joint investigation thing. But it’s proven a nice change of pace.”

That was a bit of an understatement.

After the tedious monotony most of his jobs had begun to feel like recently, it was good to feel like he was actually doing something important—something that mattered.

It’s only temporary , he reminded himself.

You don’t actually have a higher purpose.

As soon as they unmasked whoever was behind this conspiracy, Griff would be on to his next case and Cal would be off to his next job…

preferably in a city far, far away from Derimay.

It was the same life he’d always had.

Though that prospect had never felt quite so lonely before…

He was grateful to be jarred from his unexpected brooding when they reached the attendant’s office.

She took a seat behind a cramped desk while Cal took the chair in front of it, leaving Griff to hover at his back.

Usually, having someone in his blind spot would keep him on edge, but he found he didn’t really mind it with Griff.

“So,” the attendant said with a practiced smile.

“How may I be of service today, Lord Heneford? I heard you wish to review your account?”

“Correct.” Cal made sure to lean into the role of pompous noble, lounging in his chair and making his voice imperious.

“I’m not convinced my holdings are in good hands here. Walk me through my current portfolio of investments. And be thorough about it!”

“Of course, Lord Heneford.” The attendant retrieved a folder of papers from her desk that some scribe must’ve retrieved for her before they arrived.

She flipped to the first page.

“Let’s begin by discussing your registered assets. I see here that you have a 12% stake in the Siren’s Call theater, along with your estate in the Garden District. Then, you have smaller investments in several other enterprises throughout the city…”

As the attendant droned on, Cal glazed over a little.

He’d learned all about managing wealth to better play his expected role, but that didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed it.

Usually, this was the sort of task he’d leave to a hired scribe on his alias’s payroll to handle.

But if a boring financial session was what it took to give them a pretense into the Treasury, then so be it.

After answering a few of the attendant’s questions, Cal decided the charade had gone on long enough.

“Excuse me,” he said, interrupting her.

“I need to relieve myself. My adviser here will stand in for me while I’m gone.”

The attendant hesitated while Cal rose, shuffling toward the door.

As he moved past Griff, he caught the inspector’s look of wide-eyed panic.

Cal muffled a grin. I hope he enjoys the finer points of banking.

Cal had one hand on the door when the attendant spoke.

“I’m sorry, Lord Heneford, but we aren’t really supposed to let anyone walk around unsupervised.”

Cal leveled the most disdainful look he could conjure at the attendant, delighted when she visibly shriveled.

“Oh? Do you expect me to soil myself in front of you then? If that is the kind of service you offer one of your most illustrious patrons, then perhaps I should look to invest my funds elsewhere. I’m sure the Pentarchy would love to hear about my concerns at the next show I attend with them. Tell me, what was your name again?”

The attendant paled, then gestured frantically at the door.

“A-apologies, Lord Heneford. Of course we can make an exception. Shall I call for someone to guide you?”

“No need,” Cal said, turning and striding out the door.

“I’m perfectly capable of finding the restroom myself.”

Chuckling quietly to himself at the thought of Griff attempting to parse Heneford’s portfolio, Cal quickly made his way to the communal toilets.

The instant he was alone, he channeled his duskflame, letting the shadowy magic warp his features.

There was no time to waste.

He only had a limited window before that attendant grew suspicious…

or Griff ran out of things to say.

When he stepped out of the restrooms, it was as a middle-aged man wearing the same bank uniform as the attendant.

He navigated his way down the hall, walking with purpose.

As he hoped, the few other people he passed didn’t give him a second glance.

He’d long ago learned that the best way to blend in was to act like he belonged.

He found the records room easily enough.

However, his stomach dropped when he realized it was bound by shimmering dawnflame.

The golden magic appeared much simpler than the complex array of wards protecting the back area: a mere lock rather than anything fancier.

Still, even a basic ward took time to dismantle, and he didn’t have Griff’s aura-sight with him this time to help.

Shaking away a mental image of the inspector’s warm brown eyes, he checked to ensure he was alone in the hall, then reached under his shirt and pressed a finger to the tattoo on the right side of his chest. His thief’s tools materialized in his grip an instant later.

Tools in hand, he studied the ward with a keen eye, then regarded his selection of lock rods.

Generally speaking, different materials worked better depending on the type of magic involved.

Living wood, for example, had a particular affinity for lifeflame while soulflame tended to respond well to jade.

A particular rod’s effectiveness versus a given ward might also be affected by other characteristics, such as its size or weight.

In this case, he selected a thin harmonite rod that pulsed with a dull white glow.

Song crystal was usually a good place to start when working with dawnflame.

Taking a deep breath to steady his hand, he pressed the rod against the ward and got to work.

Disabling magic was mostly done by feel, especially when working with magic you couldn’t cast yourself.

You had to learn how to read every slight vibration in the rod, every twitch in the spell you were attempting to unravel.

Then, you had to respond in kind, shifting the rod’s tip about in various patterns to align with the spell’s weave.

Kelsith had insisted he practice with every type of magic, even voidflame—though of course, that had been the hardest to come by given its rarity.

When his initial rod proved too narrow, he swapped to a larger size for a while before switching again to an obsidian rod.

Attuned to duskflame, it felt more natural in his grip, helping him untangle a particularly troublesome knot of magic.

He continued to alternate rods as he worked, falling into a practiced groove.

He was in the middle of a delicate maneuver with a thin rod forged from arcane silver when he noticed another figure step into the hallway.

Shadow and shade!

Moving quickly, he jerked the tools back from the door and hid them in his clothes, scrambling for an excuse that wouldn’t blow their cover.

When he realized the figure was Griff, he puffed out a breath.

“What the Void are you doing here? You’re supposed to be distracting that attendant.”

“I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending I had the slightest idea what she was talking about, so I invented a fake audit of your accounts.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Turns out you have quite a few investments all across Derimay, not just the Siren’s Call. There must be a fair number of business opportunities there for someone looking for honest work.”

Electing to ignore the poorly veiled implication, Cal shrugged.

“Good thinking. That should keep her distracted for a while. Now that you’re here, you can help spot for me. This ward’s trickier than it looks.”

Things went much smoother with Griff there.

What Cal had to intuit via feel, Griff could simply see as subtle shifts in the ward’s aura, calling them out so Cal could select the appropriate rod.

As he worked, he couldn’t help appreciating Griff’s calm voice and steadying presence beside him.

When Griff shifted closer to him to study the ward, Cal’s eyes were drawn to the light smattering of freckles along his stubbled cheek.

Eternal Dark, get ahold of yourself!

At last, Cal felt the ward give way beneath his fingers.

Checking the hall again to ensure they hadn’t been spotted, he returned his thief’s tools to his tattoo, eased the door open, and slipped inside.

Griff trailed after him, shutting the door behind them.

The records room was massive and dimly lit by enchanted glowstones.

Unlike the rest of the Treasury, little attention had been paid here to decoration.

Towering shelves dominated most of the space, filled with row upon row of thin stone tablets.

Frowning, Cal approached one and picked it up, examining it.

Why in the Void would the Treasury opt for these over simple scrolls or ledgers?

He almost dropped the slab in surprise when golden runes flared to life across its surface.

They quickly scrawled out an account number, along with other identifying information.

He hesitantly touched the runes with his fingers and found that he was able to scroll through the record like he was flipping pages, new information appearing to replace the old.

“Nifty,” he said.

Griff grunted his agreement.

He watched over Cal’s shoulder with a frown.

“I don’t think that’s the right account.”

“Nope,” Cal said.

He flicked through the tablet and discovered a meticulous record of every transaction this particular account had ever made.

He let out a low whistle.

“But look at all this information. I could do so much with this…”

“I’m sure you could,” Griff said with a slight edge to his voice.

He snatched the tablet from Cal’s grip.

The golden runes on its surface faded as he carefully slid it back into place on the shelf.

“But we’re only here for one account in particular. No snooping around.”

“Fine,” Cal sighed.

He cast one last glance toward the returned tablet, mourning the lost opportunity.

So many potential targets and blackmail opportunities…

His heart fell as he took in the endless rows of stone slabs.

“How the Void are we supposed to find the one we need in this labyrinth? There must be well over a thousand of them there to search through. We’d be caught long before we made it through a single shelf.”

A sudden flash of light emanated from behind them.

Cal whirled, starting to fall into a crouch to attack before recalling his current disguise as an attendant.

Rising, he straightened his uniform and cleared his throat.

“Apologies. Is someone…”

He trailed off, his words dying in his throat.

Instead of another attendant, he found himself staring at a ball of golden light hovering in midair near the center of the room like a miniature sun.

An archon, he realized.

That’s what it had to be—a magical construct forged from dawnflame.

Given its unshaped, amorphous form, this one was probably a lesser archon, for which Cal was grateful.

While he’d never had much cause to interact with the beings directly, what little he’d heard hadn’t made him eager to start.

They tended to be devoted to one of the five Dawn Virtues…

and not take kindly to anyone who violated it.

Cal glanced at Griff, who like him, was studying the archon uncertainly.

The little ball of light hadn’t attacked them yet.

Perhaps it worked here in the archive?

It seemed worth a shot.

He stepped forward, raising his voice.

“Excuse me. We’re looking for the file for a specific account.” He rattled off the account number.

“Can you help us?”

The archon bobbed in place for a moment before abruptly zipping across the room in a beam of light.

Cal stared after it, then shrugged and followed.

Griff fell into step beside him, his brow furrowed.

“It doesn’t feel right, duping a Celestial servant like this.”

“I’m pretty sure archons don’t actually serve the Celestials,” Cal said.

“Men created this particular servant. It would be a shame not to put their hard work to good use.”

Despite the archon’s speed, the bright halo of light it gave off made it easy enough to track.

They found it hovering in front of one of the stored tablets.

As soon as they approached, the archon raced off in another blaze of radiance.

Blinking away the afterimage, Cal reached up.

His fingers hesitated over the indicated tablet.

It couldn’t possibly be this easy…

could it?

He expected alarms to blare or for the tablet to refuse to activate.

Yet it came to life just like the last one, golden text appearing across its surface.

Griff leaned in, scanning the account number.

He flashed Cal a triumphant grin.

“This is it! Whoever owns this account paid Bald Locke to smuggle in that void orb.”

Griff’s grin opened up his stern face in a way Cal hadn’t seen before.

Finding it difficult to look away, he held the tablet out.

“Well, then—shall we do the honors together?”

Griff took the other side of the tablet to hold it between them as they browsed through the information.

“I don’t recognize the name registered to the account,” he said with a frown.

“Do you?”

Cal shook his head.

“Jumic Enterprises doesn’t ring any bells. Let’s see what else they’ve been up to.”

Browsing through the recent account history didn’t offer much help.

If anything, it only confused them further.

Cal recognized a few of the businesses listed, but they seemed to span everything from manufacturing to entertainment, spread across all sections of the city.

Whoever this was, they had deep, deep pockets, and their hand in a lot of different pots.

Griff glanced up from the tablet toward the closed door.

“We’ve been gone a long time. We should get back.”

“You’re right. But I’m taking this with us.”

Both his thief’s marks were full, one with his tools and the other with the void orb, so he settled for carrying the tablet the old-fashioned way.

Tucking it under his uniform as best he could, he started toward the door.

He’d barely taken a handful of steps from the shelf when the archon reappeared.

It zipped in front of him, barring his way.

He tried to step around it, but it shifted to block him, buzzing with obvious agitation.

“I don’t think it wants us to take the tablet,” Griff said.

“Oh, really? I couldn’t tell.” Cal crouched down, glaring at the archon.

“Well, I’m not about to be outdone by a little…ball…of gas…”

As he spoke, he tried to juke the archon and make a break for the door.

But the archon was too quick, flitting in front of him to thwart each attempt.

He clenched his jaw.

“Think one of your enchanted bullets can take this thing out?”

Griff shot him a horrified look.

“I’m not murdering a divine servant to help you steal something, Cal!”

Part of Cal relished hearing his real name on the inspector’s lips.

He was pretty sure it was the first time Griff had used it.

Focusing back on the archon, he reached beneath his shirt.

His grip tightened protectively around the tablet.

“In that case, I’m going to see how good a job my fists do.”

“Morality of slaying an archon aside, I suspect killing it would attract far too much attention.”

“Oh, yeah?” Cal pulled out the tablet and waggled it in Griff’s direction.

“Well, we need the information on this thing for your case, and I’m not leaving empty-handed. So unless you’ve got a better idea, I’ll take my chances.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Griff reached into his pocket and pulled out a pad of paper, along with a Vantoric pen.

Cal stared at the inspector, his cheeks heating.

He cleared his throat.

“Oh. Right. Well, er, carry on then.”

He held the tablet for Griff, flicking through the stored information while Griff jotted down what he could.

The tablet’s records were far too extensive for Griff to get everything—not without keeping them here way too long.

But he grabbed the most pertinent leads for them to follow up on.

At least, Cal assumed he did.

This sort of thing was more Griff’s area of expertise than Cal’s.

Breaking into a bank was more his speed.

Once they’d decided they’d pushed their luck as far as they dared, they returned the tablet to its spot and started toward the door.

Cal kept a wary eye on the archon, but the Void-cursed thing made no further move to block them.

Griff bowed his head to the archon as he passed.

“Thank you for your help, little one.”

Cal rolled his eyes.

“It’s a construct. It doesn’t care.”

Griff shrugged.

“That’s no reason not to be polite.”

Cal wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh, weep, or puke at the inspector’s ridiculous earnestness.

Either way, his traitorous heart stuttered.

Thankfully, the attendant assigned to Lord Heneford barely seemed to have registered their extended absence.

She was too wrapped up in the audit paperwork Griff had requested.

Cal couldn’t help feeling a touch proud.

It was the sort of underhanded trick he would have pulled.

They put in a token showing with the attendant before Cal had Lord Heneford graciously wrap up the meeting, declaring his concerns allayed and the matter resolved.

Thanking the frazzled attendant for her service, he departed with Griff, exiting out into the antechamber.

All in all, that had been much easier than Cal had assumed.

He’d long since dismissed the Treasury as a viable robbery target.

Granted, they hadn’t tried to approach any actual vaults, but if this was any sign of what their security could offer, perhaps he should reconsider.

It might be worth sacrificing an alias or two if it meant pulling off such a memorable heist.

They were almost to the steps when shouts rang out.

Cal tensed, but Griff motioned for him to relax as a group of protectors approached them.

The one in front offered Griff a half-hearted salute.

“Sir, we’ve completed our survey of the area and are ready to report our findings.”

Griff glanced at Cal and waved him on.

“Go ahead. I’ll catch up to you in a moment.”

Cal had to admire Griff’s commitment to the bit.

Then again, risking your reputation must be a good deal scarier when you couldn’t simply swap to a new identity if everything went south.

Nodding to Griff, Cal continued out the door and down the steps.

He maintained Lord Heneford’s waddling swagger until he’d passed down a side street.

The moment he was out of sight, he released his grip on duskflame, returning to his natural form.

He’d just settled in against the wall to wait for Griff when he heard a slow clap echoing down the alley.

He whirled, but before he could bolt, he recognized Kelsith’s familiar voice.

“Congratulations on a job well done, Faces. The National Treasury’s a big target, even for Blackjack.” Kelsith stepped into view at the far end of the alley, wearing his trademark mocking grin.

“More importantly, congratulations on the headway you’ve made with Griff. Corrupting an inspector? Who knew a gutter rat like you had it in you?”

Cal winced at the term.

He and Kelsith had jokingly called each other that and far worse during their time together.

He didn’t know much about where Kelsith had been before coming to Derimay—just enough not to ask.

From clues he’d picked up during their time together, he suspected that Kelsith had once been a slave in one of the Razakethi ‘Sin Cities.’ Not a pleasant way to live, by all accounts.

Still, even if Kelsith didn’t mean anything by it, Cal found he didn’t appreciate the term as much as he once had.

“You’ve grown so much since the old days,” Kelsith continued.

“Both with your duskflame, and with your prowess as a thief. There’s not much left I could teach you.” He halted a good ten paces from Cal and seemed to hesitate before opening his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.

“Still, I’d love to try. You asked me before why I decided to reveal myself after all this time. The truth is, it wasn’t just to check on you or to warn you about that inspector. I miss you, Faces. I know it’s five years too late, but I was hoping you might give me another chance. We could have a true partnership this time—not as mentor and student, but as equals.” He took another hesitant step forward, his tone imploring.

“What do you say?”

The kid in Cal—what remained of the boy he’d been all those years ago fighting to survive or find his next meal—rejoiced at the offer.

How many nights had he longed to hear those exact words coming from his impossible-to-please mentor?

The adult Cal, however, quickly tamped the impulse down.

He glanced back toward the courtyard, turning away from Kelsith.

“You should go. Griff will be along any moment.”

“Please, Faces. At least tell me you’ll think about it?”

Cal hesitated, the two parts of him inside warring as his stomach roiled.

Logically, he knew he should tell Kelsith to get lost. How could Cal ever trust him again after the way he’d left Cal high and dry versus those protectors and for all the years since?

Yet despite it all, there was still a part of him, buried deep, that longed for Kelsith’s approval more than anything.

He glanced up, meeting Kelsith’s hopeful eyes.

“All right,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll think about it.”

Kelsith beamed at him.

“Thank you, Faces. I knew I could count on you. That’s all I ask. See you around.”

The thief vanished back down the alleyway.

Cal stared after him, racked with indecision.

Today, Griff had offered him a taste of another world—another life.

But if he was honest with himself, he knew that Kelsith’s world was where he belonged.