Page 15 of The Dagger and the Flame
‘So, he’s the one in charge of the Shade?’ said Sera.
‘Yeah,’ they chorused.
She thought again of those glimmering black vials. Of what she might do with one after all this time. When Theo met her gaze again, she smiled, just a little.
Chapter 5Seraphine
On a Sunday morning, come rain, hail or shine, the Rascalle was the busiest marketplace in Fantome. It welcomed all kinds of traders: jewellers and bakers, cobblers and hatmakers, weavers and millers, fishmongers and blacksmiths, and farmers who came all the way from the plains to sell their wares and make good coin. Nestled down by the harbour, the market looked out over the sea. When the tide was high, the wind cast the scent of seaweed and brine across the square, which added a questionable tang to the pastries.
When Sera arrived at the Rascalle, arm in arm with Bibi and Val, and with Pippin scurrying at her heels, the marketplace was so noisy she could hardly hear herself think. This was probably a good thing, because she was already having second thoughts about coming. Five days had passed since her arrivalat House Armand, and though the Cloaks had been more than welcoming, without Mama she felt like an unmoored vessel, lost at sea.
Even so, she had tried to use the days wisely, learning her way around the grand mansion like an explorer charting a new continent. She introduced herself to as many Cloaks as she could find, exchanging polite greetings in the halls and idle chit-chat in the common rooms. She even spent a morning with Blanche, the old custodian of the house library, who recommended to Sera so many of her favourite novels that by the time she was leaving, she had to crane her neck to see over the stack in her arms.
She had met Rupert and Bianca, the husband-and-wife team who ran the kitchens with expert precision, and Alaina, the temperamental pastry chef who somehow always managed to look beautiful – and vaguely furious – while covered in flour. On Sera’s third night, after a couple of glasses of wine, Bibi had confessed to her secret undying love for Alaina, only to staunchly deny the crush the following morning.
Sera noticed their lingering glances over breakfast, exchanging a knowing smirk with Val. In the afternoons, she walked in the gardens with Pippin, letting the mutt sniff out his own map of their new home. She was always nervous outside, even on the grounds of House Armand. She might have stopped running from the Daggers but she was still hiding from them.
Today’s outing to the Rascalle made Sera feel like she was walking a tightrope over a ravine, but she knew if she wanted the protection of the Order of Cloaks, she had to start acting like one. Even if the idea of stealing mildly horrified her.
‘Take a breath, rookie,’ said Val, clapping her on the shoulder. ‘You’re as stiff as a board.’
Sera blew out a breath. ‘I’m trying to look confident.’
‘Great work, thespian.’ Val’s voice rippled with sarcasm. ‘Try unclenching your jaw.’
‘You don’t have to steal anything today,’ Bibi reminded her. ‘Just watch and learn. Sleights are fun. You’ll see.’
It was not so much the Sleights as her imminent death that worried Sera now. She wasn’t expecting to see a Dagger perusing the Rascalle in the middle of the day but after what had happened to Mama, she couldn’t be too careful.
Still, the likelihood was low. The square was too bright. Too busy. And there were dayguards milling about, conspicuous in their cornflower-blue uniforms trimmed in gold, wide-brimmed black helmets and tall black boots, the royal insignia of Valterre proudly emblazoned on their chests and on the hilt of their longswords.
They came to the edge of the marketplace, which was overlooked by a bronze statue of Saint Oriel of Destiny – a tall, beautiful woman in a veil, measuring a spool of thread to cut. Oriel had died over a thousand years ago, but during her life she had sat at the right hand of kings and queens, looking far beyond the stone walls of their grand palaces, into the future. Warning them of unseen dangers, of wars brewing like storm clouds on the horizon, alliances that might crumble, others that could be found across the sea, and heirs, both worthy and troublesome, yet to come.
Legend said if you stood by her statue and curled your finger around the bronze thread, the strands of a great destiny wouldfind you and whisk you far from Fantome. Sera had done so many times as a child, often standing on Mama’s knee to reach the thread, but whenever she pictured the sprawling landscape of their future in her mind, she had never imagined herself alone in it.
There was a ring of children around Saint Oriel now, all clamouring for that bronze thread. Sera wanted to tell them not to bother. Oriel was long dead, and their destiny was their own to muddle out. There were smart decisions and poor decisions. Luck, good and bad. And then there were depraved murderers like Gaspard Dufort, waiting in the wings to destroy your entire life.
The three Cloaks meandered through the milling crowd. There were at least fifty stalls here, and ten times as many people. Bibi and Val hadn’t bothered to don their special cloaks, even though the magic-imbued material would make it easier to flit in and out of shadows and hide in plain sight. Instead, they were dressed entirely as themselves, a pair of wide-eyed innocents who had come down to the marketplace for a cream bun and a nose around.
They wandered down the sloping cobblestones, following the curve of the harbour, where the air was dusted with the scent of cinnamon sugar.
Val turned on Sera. ‘What do you fancy, farmgirl? A charm bracelet? A silk scarf? Rookie’s choice.’
‘I doubt I’ll have much use for a silk scarf.’ Idly, Sera imagined strangling Mama’s killer with it. ‘But thanks anyway.’ She looked for Pippin, and spotted him sniffing around a stall of fresh mackerel. ‘I’d better grab Pip beforehe blows your cover,’ she said, hurrying away from the girls. ‘Good luck!’
By the time she had jostled her way to Pippin, he had surrendered his interest in the mackerel and was sniffing the boots of a stern-faced dayguard. ‘Pardon me!’ said Sera, swooping down to grab him. He yipped and wriggled in her grasp. ‘You little troublemaker,’ she hissed, ferrying him away. ‘Can’t you at least try and behave yourself?’
Pippin cocked his head, as if to say,Define ‘behave’.
The mutt had a point. They had come here with a pair of thieves. Sera caught a glimpse of Val, giggling with a trader of fine gold jewellery. She leaned in, pointing to the furthest necklace with her right hand, while her left hand snatched a ring from the front of the stall, slipping it into the pocket of her coat. As the man turned to show Val the necklace, her fingers darted around, rearranging the other boxes to completely hide the empty space.
A few moments later, Val sauntered away, grinning from ear to ear.
Sera spun around, tracking the dayguards, but none of them seemed to have noticed anything. She moved on and found Bibi perusing a stall of trinkets at the other end of the marketplace. She was leaning over the wooden bench, as if to take a closer look at something, her long red hair making a perfect curtain to hide her free hand. A heartbeat later, the Sleight was over.
They made it look so easy.
Sera paced the edge of the marketplace, searching for a quiet spot amid the fray. There were people everywhere, children wandering about with funnel cakes and ice-cream cones.Traders shouted over each other as they haggled, while street musicians jangled copper-filled caps, hoping for silvers.
