Part 1: Better the Devil You Know

With the Gloom gone and Orion dead, it didn't take long for The City to return to business as usual. Baron Northcrest's men took back the streets and those sworn to the Graven's cause quickly disappeared. It wasn't the first time a revolution in The City had come to a fruitless end, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

For my part, business as usual meant checking up on contacts and seeing where I needed to rebuild ties. Some of the criminals sided with the Graven and a lot of good talent was lost in the riots. Others took their business elsewhere like rats leaving a sinking ship. Couldn't say that I blamed them. If I hadn't been a part of what brought this city back from the Gloom—if I hadn't found out who was in the middle of it—I might have left as well.

Erin... Where did you go?

"My goodness, Garrett, will you forget her, please? You are going from 'would-be big brother' to something far more disturbing."

Scribe was usually hard to get information from without a few coins in hand. She had an impressive knowledge of people's whereabouts in The City, to the point where she made enough money from espionage to give up pick-pocketing altogether. We sat on a rooftop in the Skinmarket, watching clients come and go from Ruby Rosewater's flat. Scribe was waiting for one client in particular. I was only there because she sent for me, and it was time for me to remind her of that. "I thought that you had information I could use."

"Yes, but not about her. I wager if Erin is smart, she got her cache together and left The City. There's nothing here for anyone who isn't corrupt and I don't know why you would encourage her to stay."

"Then why am I here?" She didn't have to look at me to tell that I was losing my patience.

"Rumor has it that you took care of the Thief-Taker General."

"You should teach your parrot to say real sentences instead of stringing nonsense together." I almost laughed, but the thought left me when she stared at me from behind her magnifying goggles. They made her eyes look exaggerated. It was.. unsettling.

"Hey. Rumor listens and learns, same as I do. She knows the good information from the bad. You took him out, didn't you, Garrett?"

"I just let nature take its course." That was much as I was willing to admit. "The ruins below the old cathedral are pretty dangerous. Someone with a crippled leg isn't very likely to return to the surface."

"Spoken like a true master of the shadows." Scribe did enough laughing for the both of us but stopped when the next client came to Rosewater's door: Tom Grayer, a well-known courier. No thief had ever stolen a package from him. I never bothered to try. He always seemed to be empty-handed when he was making his so-called deliveries, which meant he couldn't have been delivering them himself.

"Trying to divine the secret of Tom Grayer," I wondered.

Scribe chuckled quietly this time. "I already know it, and if you'd like to, you'll attend the auction like everyone else."

"So what did you want to tell me?"

Her face held onto a glimpse of amusement until she started talking again. "A lot of the lifters and fingersmiths see you as a hero, Garrett."

"Well they're wrong."

"I agree. You're not a hero. Killing the Thief-Taker General doesn't solve anything; it just paves the way for the next generation."

Her message was clear even before she finished speaking: A new Thief-Taker General had finally been chosen. I knew it was only a matter of time before Baron Northcrest found another right hand to help bleed this city dry.

"Has he arrived yet?"

"Yes, but I haven't had a chance to look at him. Rumor has it he is young and healthy, unlike the last sod that held the title. Hails from Illyria. Hasn't had a taste of alcohol, opium or snatch since he arrived." She took notes on a small pad, writing cryptic symbols with a stick of charcoal. No better way to protect your knowledge than keep it in a language of your own design. After that, she finally took her gaze away from Rosewater's flat and pulled her goggles down from her face. Now I could see the severity of the situation in her eyes.

"The air is bitter with caution, Garrett." She turned the rest of her body in my direction. "Rumor has it that he is doing away with the black tax. No immunity for anyone caught breaking the law."

I scoffed. "The Baron won't go for that. It'll cause another riot in the streets."

"I suspect that's what he wants. What better way to flush out the fences and markets..." Scribe had a lot more to say, but while my ears listened, my eyes caught a glimpse of something that glinted in the moonlight. I reacted in time to pull her out of the immediate path of the arrow but it still caught her in the shoulder. We rolled into a shadow together but that was no hiding place from the person who fired at us.

When he stepped out into the moonlight, I thought he was an assassin. Scribe and I both have had our share of being hunted for taking one precious secret too many. But the longer I studied him, the more I recognized the posture of authority he displayed. The crest of the Baron's Watch was pressed into the shoulder of his leather and should have been a dead giveaway, but for the rest of his armor, he could have been one of the mercenaries that lived in The City.

"I did not believe that tracking you down would end so quickly." That Illyrian accent... Scribe and I barely needed a moment to acknowledge each others' confirmation. The new Thief-Taker General was young, healthy and confident. He was unconcerned about being alone and outnumbered, which told me there was something about this meeting I wouldn't soon forget.

I reached for my blackjack and Scribe went for her dagger, but almost as soon as she drew it, the weapon slipped from her grasp. All of a sudden she dropped to one knee and started to lose control of the left side of her body. I looked at the arrow in her shoulder, then at the General.

"A paralytic agent," he confirmed. "She would not suffer so much if you had let it strike her where intended. Now, it will be a long night for her as she suffocates to death. Shall I make it a long night for you, too?"

I had his answer before he could aim his bow. A flash bomb was all I needed to disappear, but I couldn't leave Scribe to die at his hands. The bright flash bought us precious seconds and I scooped her up. Lucky for her that she's always been so short and light. I made a running leap for Rosewater's bedroom window and surprised her latest session by landing on their backs. There was no time for a smart remark. Scribe had already lost her mobility and each struggling breath told me how little time I had to act on her behalf.

I worked my way through the back alleys of the Skinmarket. Rhythmic tapping on a dusted window was a code I learned long ago, and an abandoned storefront opened to allow quick passage to Black Alley. There was a man I knew there who could cure poison just by seeing the symptoms. If he couldn't help Scribe, then The City would lose one of its best spies.

Maurus was home but he had unexpected company. Lately the Queen of Beggars always seemed to be conveniently having tea where I needed to be. She didn't even seem surprised when Maurus called out my name and got up to take Scribe from my arms.

"The new Thief-Taker leaves quiet the impression, doesn't he." The Queen threw the comment in the air but I knew it was aimed at me. Just like the cup of tea she held out in my direction. At first I didn't move or respond to either—I was too busy studying the way Maurus picked through unlabeled bottles for ingredients only he knew. Too busy watching Scribe fight for one breath of the air that was all around us.

"Don't worry about Scribe." The Queen of Beggars reminded me that she and her tea cup were still waiting for me. As I took hold of the saucer, I finally heard the rushing gasp of Scribe's lungs filling with air. The powder that Maurus blew into her nostrils worked fast enough to give her that much control.

"You see, Garrett? She breathes new life, much like this city, thanks to you."

"Even dying, Scribe would argue with you on that point," I said as I took Maurus' seat. "If Harlan were still alive, this new Thief-Taker wouldn't be out there lurking on the Thieves' Highway."

"When an alpha dog is killed, another always rises to restore the role. It is nature. Even when the Master Thief has picked his last lock, another will come and pick the next."

There was only one thief I thought might be there to pick the next lock once I'd picked my last. "Have any of your eyes seen Erin?"

The Queen of Beggars looked beyond me—No, inside me. Even though she was blind to the physical world, I always suspected that her dead eyes saw things that most other eyes couldn't.

"Though the sun rises over The City once more, its soul must heal from wounds both real and perceived. Until it is fully healed, you will not find what you are looking for."

"And just what is it that you think I'm looking for?"

"The small light within the shadows that you call home."

I was thankful for Maurus' disruptive approach, which put an end to my cryptic conversation with the Queen of Beggars. When I turned to look at him, I could also see that Scribe was doing much better than she was only minutes ago.

"She'll be fine here if you want to leave her," Maurus said. "Still gotta dig the arrow out of her shoulder."

I dropped a handful of coins into my untouched cup of tea and passed it onto him. "When she wakes up, tell her she owes me Grayer's secret." Scribe could also be made to sell information for favors. Saving someone's life was the most valuable favor you could spend.

On my way out, the Queen of Beggars had one last thing to say. "You will find your light, Garrett. It has already found you." I wasn't sure what she meant by it so I moved on without another word.