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secretly trailing her. When she looked back on those years, Brenna knew that’s what set her on the path to becoming a thief.

  The first thing she ever stole was a pastry. It was midwinter feast and Beldyn had described one of the tarts he’d eaten for lunch; a flaky, buttery pastry filled with plump raisins and rich nuts drizzled with a thick sweet cream. Brenna had never been allowed such treats but her younger self reasoned that if she took one for Beldyn, it would be all right if she took one for herself as well. From then on Brenna ate almost every treat made in the kitchen, although she was careful to take only what wouldn’t be missed. She had no wish to bring Thorold’s wrath down on any of the servants.

  As she got older chores and learning the healing craft from her mother took more of her time, so she and Beldyn had spent less and less time together. But she’d always thought of him as her little brother. Now he was a tool for his father. She wondered what Beldyn would say if he knew the Brotherhood had plans to put her on the throne instead of him. Did he want the throne? The boy she’d known would not have wanted it, but the past six years might have hardened him and made him cruel like his father.

  Brenna swallowed nervously as she peered out the window. She knew she had to go out eventually but truth to tell, she was afraid. Besides, it looked like Feiren had everything well in hand. The former Kingsguard captain had decided on a show of obvious authority and wore one of his old uniforms. He did look impressive. He’d retired more than two years ago but still looked trim in the dark blue jacket and breeches.

  Six young members of the Brotherhood fidgeted in the practice yard. Each of them had an old steel weapon and it looked like a few of them had never touched a weapon before in their lives. Even though Kane had said they were all fourteen or fifteen Brenna was surprised at the differences in them.

  One lad looked to have his full man’s height but his weight had some catching up to do - he was as tall as Feiren but Brenna thought his lanky frame would fit through spaces even she couldn’t squeeze through. Another boy had yet to see any type of growth spurt at all. Small with light brown hair and a slightly pinched look about him, his head didn’t quite reach Feiren’s shoulder. This boy reminded her of the lads in Eryl’s gang. A third boy already had the beginnings of a beard and the girth of one who spent too much time at table. The fourth boy was about her height with a crop of unruly blond curls that fell into his eyes. He looked the most comfortable with his weapon, a sword that he’d clearly been taught how to use. These boys weren’t very intimidating.

  It was the girls who scared her. Actually, it was just one girl. The small girl in breeches with the plain knife seemed unlikely to be a problem – but the one dressed in the fine clothes with the haughty attitude? She worried her.

  When she was young, women in the higher classes had teased Brenna because of her poor dress and station as a servant. With her rich clothing and elaborate hairstyle this girl looked much like the ones she’d served on Duke Thorold’s estate. She was dressed as though she was visiting nobility rather than being trained by a former Guard. She too had a knife, but she touched it as if it were a thing to be loathed, rather than a cherished family heirloom. With a sigh, Brenna stepped back from the window and headed to the door. She’d be better to just get it over with. She opened the door and stepped out into the yard.

  “Hello Feiren,” Brenna said. She reached out to the old steel and stopped it from reacting to her. The seven people in the yard all turned to face her.

  “Ah Brenna,” Feiren said. “You made it. I trust all is well and there will be no other delays? ”

  Brenna heard the dry tone in his voice and deliberately refused to meet Feiren’s gaze.

  “Yes, well. Here I am,” she said. The six youngsters stared at her wide-eyed. Well, five of them stared at her. The sixth, the well-dressed girl, looked everywhere except at her. No doubt to make sure Brenna knew that she wasn’t impressed.

  Brenna grinned. This could be fun after all. She’d dealt with many folk who thought they were above her, and in most cases she’d been able to get the better of them. They may not have known it was her, but they certainly missed the purse or scarf when they got home.

  “Lads, lasses,” Feiren said. “This is Brenna Lightfingers, the Caller.” Feiren bowed to her and she nodded back. “Brenna, this here is your training squad. Colm.” The blond boy bowed. “Owen.” This was the boy growing the beard. “Gram.” The tall lanky one. “Jemma.” The girl in breeches gave her a shy smile. “Martyn.” He was the smallest boy. “And this is Carolie.” The well dressed girl, Carolie, sniffed.

  “You don’t look like you carry the bloodline of Wolde,” Carolie said. “What makes you special?”

  Brenna eyed the girl thoughtfully for a few seconds and then she reached out to the old steel in the yard. With a quick mental nudge she let the weapons flare briefly, just enough to get their attention then snuffed them out.

  “I can do that,” Brenna said. Some of Carolie’s haughtiness was replaced with unease. “I think that’s special, don’t you?” Brenna looked at the others. She hadn’t wanted to frighten them, just let them know there was a reason she was here. Thankfully they seemed more excited than afraid. She paused, her gaze on the smallest boy. Martyn, his name was. There was something familiar about him and his knife. She reached with her mind and touched his knife.

  “You’re Pater’s nephew aren’t you?” Brenna stepped over to him and smiled.

  “You know my Uncle Pater?” He looked up at her in surprise.

  “That I do,” Brenna said. “I bet you’re the lad who hurt his foot. That was one of my poultices you used for it.”

  “You’re Brenna the healer?” At her nod he continued excitedly. “Uncle Pater says you likely know more about healin’ than anyone else in Kingsreach, not just the Quarter. He says you could set up shop and treat only nobles and such, but you prefer to stay in the Quarter treatin’ folks who really appreciate it.”

  Brenna laughed and squeezed Martyn’s shoulder. “It’s true; I do like the people of the Quarter.”

  “Huh,” Carolie said. “Who ever heard of the heir to the throne being a healer living in Thieves Quarter? If you really have royal blood why aren’t you living in the castle with the king?”

  The girl was annoying. Brenna ignored the comment and turned to Feiren. His shrug told her that he had yet to figure out a way to handle her.

  “Don’t be thick.” This was from Colm, the only one of the boys who looked to be Carolie’s social equal. “She’s the long lost heir. Makes sense she wouldn’t be living anywhere fancy, otherwise she wouldn’t be lost, would she? And why not a healer? If the old prophecy is true she’s partly descended from Aruntun and she was a healer.”

  Brenna caught Feiren’s wink as she turned to hide her smile. Carolie’s huff followed her as she walked over to Feiren, but the girl didn’t say anything more.

  “So Weapons Master,” Brenna said. “Please don’t let me interrupt the lesson any more than I already have. What were you working on before I joined you?”

  Brenna sighed as she wrapped both hands around the warm mug. She closed her eyes and breathed in the steam from her tea. It was only early afternoon, but she was already exhausted. They’d spent the morning running through some of the drills Feiren and she had been working on. This let Feiren get an idea of how experienced each student was in terms of their weapons training. After the noon meal, she’d worked with each one of them separately, trying to understand the individual songs. She frowned. Carolie’s knife was not a match for her. In addition to the girl’s haughty manner, she’d had to deal with mismatched old steel. Footsteps sounded in the hall and then the door creaked open. Feiren stood before her, face weary.

  “How did Carolie’s father take it?” she asked.

  Feiren ran a hand over his short hair. “I don’t think it was a surprise.” He grinned. “Carolie decided that her father was saving the better weapon for her younger brother and she made sure he knew sh
e wasn’t happy.”

  “I think that she’ll show up here tomorrow with whatever was promised to her brother,” Brenna said.

  “Aye, I think so too. When I explained that you could tell the knife wasn’t original to the family, aside from being embarrassed, her father was impressed so that was well done. Guild Master Brunger has been vocal in opposing you as the Caller and his position in the guild means his opinion carries weight. When I met his daughter this morning, I feared we’d not be able to make any headway, seeing that she was at least as hard headed as her father, but you’ve shown him that you do have special sense about old steel. He’ll not forget.”

  “I doubt Carolie will allow him to forget,” Brenna said.

  The next few weeks fell into a routine. Two days out of every seven, Brenna practiced with the young members of the Brotherhood. Carolie did indeed show up with a knife that was a better match for her. It was very plain, which explained why she’d been given the other one in the first place, but now that the girl knew it was more of a family treasure than her first knife, she made much of it.

  In very little time Brenna was able to stand outside a room and know who was in there, just by sensing the old steel. Once, Feiren had her six training mates trade weapons. Not only did