Page 8 of Fateless

He grinned. “Dahveen and I are heading to Highmarket at sundown,” he said. “Come find us when you’re finished with the boss. If he can stomach his special little bird slumming it with the no-talent commoners, that is.”

I aimed a kick at him. He dodged smoothly and trotted away, laughing. Rolling my eyes, I headed to Vahn’s office and tapped on the door.

“Come in,” said Vahn’s calm voice. The Guildmaster stood in front of his bookshelf, reading from one of the many ledgers stored on the shelves. I always wondered why his office was so plainly decorated; no elegant pictures hung on the walls, no gold or onyx figurines littered his desk. He kept no gems, jewelry, or trophies of any kind, though I knew he had the means to acquire whatever he wanted. Perhaps he knew that as the Guildmaster in a den of thieves, having such glittery items lying around would just be asking for headaches. No one I knew of would dare steal from the Guildmaster—probably—but it was a good idea not to tempt that loyalty.

“You’re back.” Vahn placed the ledger back on the shelf with the others and came around to his desk. His dark eyes stared at me over the surface. “Were you able to acquire the item addressed in the letter?” he asked.

I nodded. Wordlessly, I removed my satchel and placed it on the desk between us. “It’s in there,” I told Vahn. “As much as I could get. It was too big to take the whole thing.”

His eyes narrowed. Leaning across the desk, he took the satchel and pulled it toward him. For a moment, he fumbled with the leather cords tying it shut, then flipped it open to peer inside.

The blood drained from his face. One trembling hand reached down and drew the strip of silken, shimmering cloth from inside the satchel. The piece of tapestry hissed as it came free, gold and silver strands winking in the gloom and throwing threads of light over the walls and floor.

“The Tapestry of the World,” he murmured, holding it up to the light. “You actually did it.”

I swallowed a flash of pride and nodded. “From the Temple of Fate itself,” I said, trying to keep the smugness from my voice. “Right under the high priestess’s nose.”

“Then, it is time.” Vahn’s voice was a whisper. His suddenly wild gaze rose to mine. “And no one saw you?” he demanded. “No one was aware of your presence? No one spotted you entering or leaving the temple?”

I remembered the iylvahn, the slight hesitation, the sudden panic in my gut when I thought he had sensed me. But he had moved on, and nothing had come of it. “No,” I told Vahn, shaking my head. “No one saw me.”

“You are certain?”

“Yes.”

He blew out a slow breath, then quickly stuffed the tapestry piece back into the satchel and flipped it shut. For a moment, he stood there, both hands on the satchel, holding it upright. His eyes were closed, and I saw that he was shaking.

“Sparrow,” he murmured, and I held my breath. “I...”

Abruptly, he straightened and opened his eyes, that blank mask falling over his expression once more. “You’ve done well,” he said almost absently, tucking the satchel under one arm. “TheCircle will be pleased. You are free to go until I call for you again.”

Disappointed, I watched him turn to leave, only the half-hearted acknowledgment of a supremely risky task hanging in the air between us. “That’s it?” I asked, frowning. “No reward for stealing the Tapestry of the World from the Temple of Fate? For basically thumbing my nose at Maederyss herself?”

For saving you from the wrath of the Circle? Both our hides were on the line, you know.

He paused, then turned to me. The lantern light reflected in his eyes, washing over his expression, which was suddenly weary and angry and resolved all at once. “You have no idea what you have set into motion,” he said in a quiet, almost sorrowful voice. “Soon, everything you know—your entire world—is going to change. I wish to the goddess that it wasn’t you, but we are far too close to turn back now. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Stunned, I watched him stride out, satchel tucked firmly under his arm, and shut the door behind him. For a moment, I could only stand there staring at the closed door, trying to understand.

What did he mean? What was the Circle planning?

And where did I fit into it?

Four

I spent the rest of the afternoon in my room, lying on my small bed with an arm across my face, my single window boarded and curtained against the sun. Thin rays of sunlight still filtered through the wood and cloth, glinting off an assortment of what most in the guild considered useless trinkets. Small mementoes I had taken from previous jobs—clunky old keys, shiny stones that were pretty but worthless, figurines of animals and mythical creatures, or anything else that caught my fancy. Vahn had once joked that he should have named me Sandmouse for all the shiny junk I hoarded. But I liked it. My room was my nest, my own little haven. And, more important, it kept prying eyes away from the real valuables beneath my floorboard; the things I’d collected that werenotworthless. True, Iwasa sandmouse; I was attracted to shiny objects. But I also knew the difference between a blue stone made of glass and a real sapphire.

The afternoon dragged on. I alternated between dozing—the heist in the middle of Demon Hour had robbed me of my normal nap time—and pondering everything that had happened, from the Circle’s mysterious orders to Vahn’s words when I’d returned with the tapestry.

You have no idea what you have set into motion. Soon, everything you know—your entire world—is going to change.

That wasn’t like Vahn at all. I’d never seen him react so intensely. I tried to ignore it, but the looming sense of unease, and the memory of everything that had happened in the Temple of Fate, continued to plague me as I drifted in and out of a restless sleep.

An hour before sundown, I emerged from my room and wandered down to the makeshift tavern on the ground floor of the warehouse. The tavern wasn’t anything fancy; just a scattering of barrels that served as tables and a long slab of limestone that acted as the bar. But Rala, the bartender, had a knack for acquiring rare, exotic, and sometimes illegal bottles from across the Dust Sea and beyond. They were, of course, for guild members only. I didn’t drink very often, but there was always an interesting selection to choose from when I did.

“Little dust sparrow, welcome.” Rala smiled at me as I ducked through the curtains that hung across the doorframe. Her dark eyes sparkled as I smiled back. She had a fondness for my namesake, the tiny brown-and-white birds that could be found throughout the city, flitting from perch to perch. She left scatterings of seeds and breadcrumbs on fence posts, and a shallow ceramic bowl filled with cool water for them to bathe in. “Sparrows are survivors,” she had told me once when I was curious enough to ask about it. “They’re on every rooftop, in every windowsill, on every branch, but no one pays them any attention. They’re preyed on by the bigger, stronger birds, like hawks and cliff raptors, but they always return. They’re small, but they thrive in the harshest environments.” She had placed a gentle,ring-encrusted hand atop my head; I had been around six years old at the time. “Much like you, my dear. Vahn did not choose your name by accident. You are small, clever, and very good at getting into places you are not supposed to be. Like my tavern. Now, shoo.” She’d removed her hand and made a fluttering motion with it, smiling to soften her words. “This is not a place for children, and Vahn will scold me if he finds you here again. Go on, now. Out.”

I had grinned and scuttled out beneath the curtain, only to return time and time again. Eventually, no one took any notice of me when I walked into the tavern. Just like Rala had said.

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