Page 12 of Thief of Silver and Souls

Sometime before the cloth-makers took over the building, it must have housed a scholarly business. A business that didn’t bother taking much with it when the owners left.

Either they or the new residents simply shoved loads of books and barely bound papers up here to forget about. In my explorations over the years, I’ve found everything from historical records to philosophic texts to fanciful invented tales.

Stumbling on this bounty is one of the few bits of good luck I can point to in my life. The books keep me company about as well as the people I watch over do.

And every bit of information I can stuff into my head, every additional understanding I can absorb, puts me one more step ahead of ever needing to use my magic. Of making others pay for my power. Of going mad with it like the riven always do.

Of ending up on a wooden platform with a noose around my neck.

The image of the execution fills my mind, and my body tenses.

On a normal night, I might light a small candle in a sheltered spot where the glow won’t carry to the window and read a few more chapters of my latest tome, but I’m not in the mood to feed my imagination any more than my stomach right now.

Today I’ve seen two deaths more than I ever want to in a day. As different as the circumstances were, both memories gnaw at my gut.

I stretch my arms, set my favorite knife by the corner of the makeshift mattress, and wriggle under the covers of my bed. I’m not sure how easily I’ll get to sleep, but I should at least try.

I’ve got to be out of here before the workers show up in the morning.

The day’s events swim through my mind, as jumbled as the attic around me. Fresh threads of uneasiness wind through my nerves despite my best efforts to relax.

I’m about to push upright and see if a little reading will dull the lingering tension after all when a feminine voice speaks, as loud and clear as if it’s coming from right beside my ear.

“Thisis where you live?”

Four

Ijolt to my feet in an instant, my fingers closing around the hilt of my knife. I swing it toward the spot where I assumed the speaker was crouched… but the blade only slices through empty air.

My gaze jerks over the room around me. I can’t see any figure in the entire room, let alone right by my side.

My pulse bangs so loudly I can barely hear my own ragged whisper. “Who’s here? What do you want?”

A light chuckle fills my head… giving the impression that itisactually coming from within my head.

The firm but sultry voice I heard before reaches me the same way, seeming to echo inside my skull rather than coming from beyond my ears.I simply thought we should talk, seeing as I can’t get anything done any other way.

My grip tightens on the knife handle, but what am I going to do with it? Stab it into my own brain? That’s not going to help me.

There are people dedicated to Jurnus—the godlen who presides over communication—who sacrificed enough to request the gift of mind-to-mind speech. Could that be what this unseen woman is doing? She’s somewhere nearby though out of sight, projecting her thoughts into my head?

If so, I need to figure out just how close she is so I can track her down and bring the conversation face to face.

I adjust my position so I can quickly spring off the folds of woolen fabric. My voice dips low—so low no one not in the room with me could possibly hear. “If you want to talk so badly, why don’t you show yourself like a normal person would?”

Another brief laugh tinkles through my head.Believe me, I wish I could arrange that. Unfortunately it appears that all that’s left of me is terribly ephemeral.

She caught the question—she’s got to be somewhere in the attic. I push to my feet and prowl slowly through the shadows, watching for any sign of movement, any object I might recognize has been displaced.

What are you doing?the voice asks with a tinge of amusement that annoys me.You can’tfindme; I’m already right here.

“What do you mean?” I say through gritted teeth. “Whereare you?”

Inside you, as far as I can tell.

Even in my tense state, I can’t help rolling my eyes. “I can tell you’re projecting your voice there. Where’s the rest of you?”

This is pretty much all of me at this point. The body you’re looking for, you left in a pool of blood in that putrid alley.

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