The cellar was cold and dark and Chris's body needed food.
The Erosion bill was still coming due from the Blood Face fight and his arm was stitched and his ribs were grinding and he needed an extra rations.
So he limped downstairs at midnight to steal what he could.
Someone was already there. A figure in black, filling a sack with bottles from the warlord's private reserve.
The Thief looked up and saw Chris. They both froze.
"I won't scream if you share that wine," Chris said. Neither of them could afford to expose the other.
That was the beginning and the end of their agreement. Mutual blackmail dressed up as mutual opportunity.
They sat on the cellar floor and drank warlord's wine from a bottle with no label. It tasted so good.
The Thief was Song Depth. Chris could feel it. A pressure in the air when he sat close, the same way standing near a fire.
"You're the jester?" the Thief said. "The one who mocked Voss,you are dead man."
"And you're the idiot stealing from the warlord. So we're both dead men."
The Thief laughed.
Chris felt a tiny pulse of warmth in his chest. Even one person laughing at his situation fed him. Barely.
'Song Depth. If I can get this one on my side, that's a real ally. Not just a scared kid with a Fear Face. A Song.'
He told Harsk about the Thief before dawn. The old man's face went pale. Paler than usual, which was an achievement for someone who lived in shadows.
"A Song Depth rogue inside the fortress." Harsk's voice was flat. "If Maren catches them, he'll wear their Face as a trophy. You should not have talked to this person."
"Too late."
"Do you know who they are?"
"No."
Harsk studied him. The shadows around his hands tightened. "I know what they steal. Not just wine. Information. The warlord's correspondence. Someone outside is paying them."
A spy. Not a random thief. A spy with Song Depth power operating inside the most dangerous fortress in five kingdoms.
'A spy. Of course it's a spy. Nothing in my life is simple.'
Morning. The great hall. Maren sat on his throne and the court stood and the slaves knelt and the warlord spoke. His voice was calm. That was the worst part.
"Something has been stolen from my private vault." He did not say what. He did not look at anyone in particular. He looked at everyone. "The thief has three days to return what was taken. If the item is not returned, every slave in the pens dies."
The hall went silent. Chris knelt with the other slaves and stared at the stone floor and did the arithmetic. Three days. Complicit now. He had sat in a cellar and shared wine with the person who did this. If the Thief did not return the documents, Chris would die with everyone else.
'Three days. Find the Thief, figure out what was stolen, return it , or die. Simple math.'
The pens were chaos. Slaves turning on each other, looking for the thief, trying to save their own skins.
Delk sat in his corner with his Fear aura pushing everyone back, which meant his corner was the only quiet place in the room. Chris pushed through the panic and found the Thief crouched behind the water barrels, sack of documents pressed against their chest.
"You need to give it back."
The Thief shook their head. "I can't. What I took proves Maren is planning to invade the Eastern Kingdom. If I return it, three countries go to war."
Chris stared. his problems just gone from personal survival to geopolitical.
'I am not qualified for this. Not even close.'
"Return the documents and everyone in the pens lives."
"And the Eastern Kingdom burns," the Thief said. "There are people outside these walls who need that information. People who will die if Maren invades unopposed."
"I'm not a hero."
"Neither am I." The Thief's voice was quiet. "But here we are."
Chris had no answer. He wanted to live. He also wanted to not be responsible for a war. Both things could not be true at the same time. He stood up and walked away from the water barrels without deciding.
Voss conducted the search personally. Iron Face fully activated, gray skin catching the torchlight as he moved through the slave quarters. Doors did not slow him down. Mattresses went flying. He grabbed a slave by the throat, asked a question, and was already moving to the next one before the answer came.
Chris watched from the jester's alcove.
Voss was working his way toward the water barrels. Chris had about ten seconds.
He stepped out of the alcove.
"Commander!" Chris kept his voice bright.
"I think the thief went toward the kitchens!"
Voss stopped then turned. His iron-gray eyes found Chris and stayed there for five long seconds.
Chris could feel the warmth draining because no one was laughing and he was alone with the most dangerous man in the fortress and he had just volunteered information that could get him killed. Voss turned toward the kitchens. Walked away. Behind the water barrels, Chris heard the Thief exhale.
'That was the stupidest thing I've ever done among all stupid things I've ever done.'
Night. The courtyard. Chris found the Thief where they had agreed to meet, crouched in the shadow of the outer wall.
"I bought you time," Chris said. "Use it. Get the documents out."
"Why are you helping me?"
"you aren't going to return it anyway."
The Thief was quiet for a moment. Then: "I can get you out too when I leave."
Chris looked back at the fortress.
"Not yet."
He was not ready to run. as he had nothing to run to.
The jester's balcony overlooked the east wall. Chris climbed up and started performing in the dark. For the night watch.
He told jokes. He did impressions. He made fun of the fortress, the food, the cold.
The guards started laughing. One, then two, then the whole east wall. The warmth hit and Chris pushed it. He projected his voice, his presence, making himself impossible to ignore. Every guard on the east wall was watching Chris.
On the west wall, the Thief climbed.
'This is the most useful my power has ever been. And I'm using it to help a spy escape. My life is a joke. Literally.'
The Thief made it over the wall. A flare went up from the west watchtower. Someone had seen movement. Chris saw the red light streak upward and did the only thing he could think of.
"THE STARS ARE ATTACKING!" He pointed at the sky with both hands. Screamed it. The guards on the east wall looked up. All of them. Every single one looked at the sky.
The flare died. The west wall was quiet and the Thief was gone. Chris slid off the balcony and stumbled behind the stage curtain. His hands were shaking.
He leaned against the cold stone wall and listened to the guards on the east wall laughing about the stars.
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A/N: I hope you enjoy this novel. Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. Thank you.