The Shadowhand Covenant Page 3

  “So what happened? You said you were a Shadowhand.” Then a thought occurred to me. “Or . . . or are you . . . ?”

  “No, son, I’m not still a Shadowhand. And, yes, I know that’s what I’d say if I were still a Shadowhand, but I give you my word that I’m not. I gave it up just after you were born. We settled down here in Vengekeep, and glamorous as the Shadowhand life was, it was far too dangerous for a new mother. So I walked away.”

  “And they let you?” I didn’t imagine that was easy. She knew the identities of her fellow Shadowhands and all their secrets. It didn’t seem like something you just walked away from.

  “They asked me to reconsider, but when I told them no . . . well, yes, I walked away. They knew I would keep quiet. I’d signed the Shadowhand Covenant, and breaking it would have meant placing my family in more danger than anything all the High Laird’s troops could’ve mustered. I’m bound to the Covenant. For the rest of my life.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that last bit.

  “Did you know that Mr. Oxter is a Shadowhand?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Hadn’t a clue. He must have joined after I left. But chances are he knew I was. He’d have seen my name on the Covenant.”

  I was about to ask Ma what being bound to the Covenant meant exactly, but we’d arrived at the Oxter house. Three stories high with copper trim around the windows, it put most other houses in town to shame. We slipped down the alley between the Oxter house and the pie shop next door. Ma and I waited near the back door until Maloch showed up, followed shortly by Da.

  Once inside, Maloch led us through to the dining room. A long table with ten chairs sat below a massive crystal chandelier. A light coat of dust covered everything. It looked like it had been some time since the room had been used.

  Maloch reached behind a large hutch containing colored glass plates and pulled a hidden lever. The whirring of gears filled the air as the hutch slid to the side, revealing a small room beyond. Maloch led us in, allowing the hutch to close behind us.

  Da lit an oil lamp atop an old, ornate desk at the center of the room. Piles of parchment camouflaged the desk’s surface. Ma looked around.

  “Maloch, I thought you were bringing us to see your father,” she said.

  Maloch didn’t say anything. He produced a key from his pocket, unlocked the middle drawer of the desk, and pulled out a green leather-bound book, which he handed to Ma. She squinted at the pages, then fluttered her eyes.

  “Oof!” Ma said with a bemused chuckle. “’S been a while since I’ve had to read shadowscript. Give me a mo.”

  I looked over her shoulder at the writing in the book. I didn’t recognize the language—it looked like a bunch of meaningless symbols—and guessed it was a special code used only by Shadowhands. On closer inspection, I saw that the writing was moving. I would focus on one character, and a moment later, it would squirm on the page and shift into a new symbol. In a blink, it would shift again to something entirely different. Each character transformed among three different shapes. I found it harder and harder to focus on the page, as every symbol wriggled and contorted. I finally had to look away.

  Ma ran her finger across the yellowed parchment. “You just have to know which symbols mean something and which are rubbish.” She sifted through the book slowly, her face growing more concerned with each page turn. She stopped on what looked like a list, where each line was crossed out. Ma looked up at Maloch with a mix of fear and astonishment in her eyes.

  “Maloch . . . ,” she said, her voice cracking. “Do you realize—?”

  “I can’t read it, but Da told me what it says,” Maloch said. “Now you know why he wanted you to see it.”

  I kept an eye on the sliding hutch, still expecting an ambush from Aronas and his men at any moment. “So why are you doing your father’s dirty work for him?” I asked. “Why didn’t he come to Ma himself?”

  “My father is missing!” Maloch whirled on me, clenching his fists. He was a head taller than me, with arms like fence posts. He was ready to tear me apart. But I could hear the concern and fear in his voice. “He’s been gone for two weeks now. And he told me that if he was ever gone for that long without checking in, I was to get your ma and bring her here.”

  “Why her?”

  “She’s a Shadowhand. Are you really that thick, Jaxter?” Maloch said as he turned and punched the wall.

  Da raised his hands. “All right, everyone. Calm down. What’s it say, Allia?” He pointed to the book.

  I stepped forward. “Yeah. You’re retired. Why not ask the other Shadowhands for help?”

  “Because,” Ma said, looking up from the book with sad eyes, “the Shadowhands are vanishing.”

  4

  Ambush

  “However long the vessapede, the tail will come.”

  —Sirilias Grimjinx, liaison to the par-Goblin Rogue Triumvirate

  “What do you mean . . . vanishing?” I asked.

  Ma snapped the book shut and stood. “This house isn’t safe anymore. Maloch, go upstairs and pack a bag. You’re staying with us until we can get things situated.”

  “And then we’re looking for my da?” Maloch asked.

  Ma ignored his question as she pillaged the desk drawers. “We won’t bother splitting up on the way home. Too risky. We need to stay close. Go, Maloch.” Scowling, Maloch obeyed.

  Da found a burlap sack and began filling it with whatever Ma pulled from the desk. “What is all this, Allia?”

  A lifetime of thieving had taught my parents to be cool in all situations. And in those moments when things got really rough and Da started to worry, Ma always stayed collected and unfazed. So, watching her scramble to get us out of the house, her eyes dark and distant, I couldn’t help but panic a little. I just had no idea what I was panicking about.

  Ma thumbed through the green book. “Yab Oxter first noticed that other Shadowhands were disappearing about a month ago. One by one, he lost contact, and he grew suspicious. He started to document what he knew about the disappearances.”

  She held out the book, showing the squirming shadowscript. “He left here two weeks ago to look for the last three Shadowhands: Alvar Oro, Bennis Carra, and Dylis Jareen.”

  “How many are missing?” I asked.

  Ma tucked the book into the sack. “There are only ever twelve active Shadowhands at a time. Makes it easier for everyone to trust each other. It sounds like Yab is gone now too. Who knows if the three listed here are still around?”

  She and Da both took the small dirks they kept strapped near their ankles and hid them up their sleeves for easier access. I’d seen them do this only a handful of times before. Always when the danger was very, very real.

  “Ma, I’ve never seen you this scared,” I said.

  Ma put her hands on my shoulders. “Jaxter, these are the Shadowhands. No one in the Five Provinces is better at moving in secret and staying hidden. If someone has been eliminating them . . . that’s someone you should be scared of.”

  Once Maloch returned with his things, we left for home. Ma made me walk ahead with Maloch while she and Da kept an eye on us from behind.

  “So,” I said, looking down at my feet as we walked, “you’re a thief.”

  Maloch could hardly keep from smiling. “Since the day I was born.”

  He sounded smug, and it made my chest burn.

  “And when we were kids, and I showed you how to pick a lock—”

  “I already knew how,” he said, grinning even wider. I hated that grin.

  “And all the times your da pushed to have our family arrested . . .”

  At this, Maloch laughed. “Best way to make sure no one suspected he was a Shadowhand.”

  And then I did the bravest thing I think I’ve ever done. Braver than facing down magma men. Braver than dodging hordes of killer balanx skeletons. I turned and slugged Maloch as hard as I could in the arm.

  It was like punching a fleshy wall. I probably did more damage to my knuckles
than to him. I’m not even sure he felt it. Still, he looked at me, annoyed. “What was that for?”

  “That,” I said, trying to sound intimidating, “was for treating me like a total garfluk these past few years. I can’t believe that all this time you’ve really been a thief in training.”

  His eyes lit up. “You gotta admit, Jaxter, I had everyone fooled. ‘The greatest role you’ll ever play is the role that others believe in.’”

  I hated that he was a better thief than me. I hated that he and his father had hoodwinked my family all these years. But more than anything, I hated that he was quoting par-Goblin proverbs to me. I wanted to hit him again . . . but the feeling hadn’t returned to my hand after the last blow. “You beat me up in the catacombs!”

  The memory, over six months old, was still fresh in my mind. Callie and I had been searching for a secret way out of the town-state when Maloch attacked, pretending to arrest me.

  He rolled his eyes. “Jaxter, if I’d wanted to hurt you in the catacombs, you’d never have left there on your own two feet. I was holding back.”

  “You could have said something,” I complained.

  “Whatever,” Maloch said. “Doesn’t really matter for you, does it? You’re not a thief anymore.”

  I wanted to retort but couldn’t. Instead, I just punched him in that meaty arm of his again. I heard something in my hand pop.

  “If you’d like,” he said softly, “I could teach you how to throw a punch.”

  I suspected that the offer was less about teaching me self-defense and more about demonstrating a real punch by using my face as his target, so I kept to myself the rest of the walk home.

  When we arrived at my parents’ house, the sun was setting and we found the Dowager’s carriage pulled up to the front door. The Dowager was waiting outside.

  “There you are!” she said in her singsong voice. “I was getting worried. And who’s your friend?”

  I coughed at the idea that Maloch was my friend. “This,” I said, looking her in the eyes, “is Maloch Oxter.”

  The Dowager’s nose wrinkled. “The Maloch Oxter?”

  Maloch frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The Dowager tilted her head, studying Maloch’s face. “He doesn’t look evil, Jaxter. I thought you said—”

  Before Maloch could reply, Da clamped his hand around Maloch’s mouth and ushered him toward the house. As Da fought to get Maloch through the door, Ma curtsied politely.

  “Lovely to see you again, Annestra. Forgive us, but we have an urgent matter to attend to. You know. Phydollotry shop business.” She then turned and helped Da pull Maloch into the house, closing the door behind them.

  The Dowager smiled sweetly after them. “For rogues, your parents are such nice people. We should visit them again. For now, it’s time we were getting back.”

  I started. “Really? So soon?”

  “I’m afraid so. My brother is expecting a response from me regarding those missing artifacts. I’m sorry we have to leave earlier than we’d planned.”

  My heart thumped in my chest. Going back meant working on the translation of The Kolohendriseenax Formulary. But it might also mean crawling around underground after vessapedes again. Or maybe tromping around the fireglades of Yonick Province, seeing if we could outrun a sanguibeast.

  I had a hunch we couldn’t.

  The one thing I knew for sure: my fear of dying overrode my love of learning. I wasn’t sure I could take much more. But I thought about what Maloch said: You’re not a thief anymore. And it made my brow burn to admit he was right. Studying science was the only thing that came naturally to me. If I didn’t go back with the Dowager, what would I do?

  “Right,” I said absently. “I, uh . . . I’ll just go get my things.”

  The Dowager climbed into the carriage as I entered the house. Ma and Da bent over the kitchen table, studying a map of the Five Provinces. Nanni and Aubrin sat nearby, Aubrin writing so quickly in one of her journals that I thought her hand might fall off. Maloch paced back and forth, yelling at them all.

  “I came to you to help find my father—,” he was saying.

  “We have no idea where he is, Maloch,” Da said patiently. “Right now, our best bet is to try to warn the remaining Shadowhands that someone is after them. Your da left us with enough information to go on. This is what he wanted. That’s why he kept records. Once the remaining Shadowhands have been warned, I’m sure they’ll launch an effort to find your da and everyone else who’s gone missing.”

  Ma pointed to the map. “We can be in Aldria in two days.”

  Da looked to Nanni. “Mind putting off your retirement just a mite? Watch Aubrin and Maloch until we get back?”

  Maloch stomped his foot. “I will not let her watch me.”

  “No problem, kid, I didn’t want to watch you anyway,” Nanni said, turning her nose up in the air.

  Ma went to the closet and pulled out two large backpacks. One of the perils of being a Grimjinx is that you have to be ready at a moment’s notice to flee, in case you’re ever chased by an angry mob. It’s happened more times than I can count. As a result, Ma and Da kept a stash of emergency supplies, already separated into packs. We could live off those packs for days.

  “If you’re going to find the Shadowhands, then I’m coming with you,” Maloch said firmly.

  “Maloch, we have no idea what we’re up against,” Ma said. “Ona and I are old hats at this. The search will go much faster if it’s just the two of us.”

  Maloch stood there, silently fuming. I didn’t know what to think. What Ma and Da said made sense, but if I were in Maloch’s shoes, I wouldn’t wait around, hoping someone would look for Da at some point. Instead of arguing, he turned and tromped upstairs.

  As Ma and Da checked their packs, I realized I couldn’t leave with the Dowager. I needed more time to decide if I wanted to continue my apprenticeship. I reached into the closet and helped myself to another pack. “If you wait just a few minutes, I can—”

  Da took the pack from my hands. “Hold hard, young man. Where are you going?”

  Ma shook her head. “You have an apprenticeship, mister. Responsibilities. Your place is in Redvalor Castle now. Your da and I will take care of this, and we’ll send you a letter when it’s all through. Don’t keep the Dowager waiting.”

  I opened my mouth to speak. Everything I wanted to say—how miserable I was, how the apprenticeship wasn’t what I thought it would be, how the Dowager and I had argued endlessly for the last two months—just sat there at the back of my throat. Ma and Da had been so supportive of me. If any other young thief had told his parents he wanted to leave the family business and study plants, he’d have been locked in his bedroom until he could pick the lock and get out himself. But Ma and Da wanted me to be happy and do whatever I wanted. How could I admit that maybe what I wanted wasn’t what I’d thought I wanted?

  My shoulders slumped. Ma and Da gave Nanni, Aubrin, and me quick hugs, then slipped out the back door.

  “Come on, Aubrin,” Nanni said, taking my sister’s hand. “We’ve got another mouth to feed.” She glanced up the stairs to where Maloch had gone. “And it looks like a big one. Time to go shopping.”

  “But you’re dead, remember?” Aubrin asked. “If you think you’ll go unnoticed, you don’t have a ghost of a chance.”

  Nanni shook her head at the joke. “I think I liked it better when you didn’t speak.” She threw a cowl over her head to disguise her face. “If anyone notices, you can tell them I’m your nanni’s evil twin sister. That should scare the nosy ones away.”

  And with that, they left. I glanced out the window at the Dowager’s carriage. An idea formed. Before I lost my nerve, I ran outside.

  “Oh, good,” the Dowager said as I crawled into the seat across from her, “we can leave. You know how much I hate traveling at night. The rogues who prey on night travelers aren’t nearly as nice as your parents.”

  “Listen,” I said slowly, avoidin
g her eyes, “Maloch’s father. He’s missing. My parents are going to look for him and I . . . I think I should go with them.”

  I figured that if I headed out now, I could catch up and talk them into letting me join them. Tell them I wanted one last adventure before returning to Redvalor. They’d buy that. I hoped.

  The Dowager’s eyes grew sad. “Is this . . . about our problems?”

  I stammered, “N-no, no . . . I just want to help my parents. Then I’ll come back to Redvalor so we can start translating the Formulary. Just give me a week. Maybe two.”

  The Dowager studied me. I felt sick lying. I didn’t know for sure that I would return to Redvalor.

  “If you must, you must,” she said, smiling as the singsong returned to her voice. “Oh, I will miss you, Jaxter. Arguments aside, we’ve had some good times these past few months.”

  If you don’t count vessapedes trying to eat our faces, I thought. But I said, “I’ve learned so much from you. Thank you.” The Dowager looked confused, and I realized it sounded like I was saying good-bye permanently. So I added, “We can talk more when I get back.”

  “Take as long as you need to help your parents. But I’ll expect you to go right to work on the translation when you return.”

  I held both hands over my heart. “Thief’s honor.”

  I bounded from the carriage and waved as it pulled away. Once it was out of sight, I ran into the house and took an emergency pack from the closet. Ma and Da could only have just left the town-state gates. Catching up would be easy. Convincing them to let me join the search . . . Well, I couldn’t let the fact that I’d failed once stop me. As my great-great-aunt Gola Grimjinx always said, “The thief who tries twice can only die once.”

  Come to think of it, that wasn’t a very good saying.

  I took the back door into the alley. I’d only made it halfway down the passage when something large and heavy fell on me from above.