Except, it wasn't.

It was late morning by the time I'd been able to send word to Cyrus, who, at the behest of a small boy (who was now ten gold marks richer), had brought several knights and a cart with him to the wraith-kid's hideaway and found me sitting there, guarding the stash of valuables.

The items that I'd retrieved now lay spread out on the floor of my exercise hall, each sitting beside a piece of paper that contained written details of all the information I'd been able to glean from either the object itself, or from the marks of possession magically imprinted on their surface. I'd spent the past few hours going over them all, and it appeared as though I'd recovered most of the items that had been stolen these past few months . . .

But not all.

My father's journal, Blackstaag's ashes. A few other items were still missing as well.

Even when things looked like they were finally coming together, they seemed adept at finding just the right way to go sideways on me. Nothing had been going right lately.

There was an apologetic scraping of stone, and I saw Theodore appear from his usual spot near the hidden door at the other side of the room. He was still looking downcast, and the worry lines on his forehead had begun to stand out more prominently.

Okay, so perhaps something had actually gone right today. Not everything's about me, after all.

I hopped over to the couch where I had rested Theo's sword, picking it up carefully and holding it out in front of me with both hands. Ignoring the pain I still felt in my shins, I approached my friend as he shuffled towards me, head bowed and looking unhappy. Theo glanced up briefly, noted that I was walking towards him, noted what I was carrying, and stopped.

Ordinarily the two of us spend a lot of time engaged in gentle teasing and playing jokes on one another. Situations like this were often used as a setup for a gag or surprise – it would have taken no effort at all to chide him for leaving his things around my keep, or arrange for him to stumble upon his sword comically, and then just sit back and enjoy the expression of stunned disbelief that I knew would appear on his face.

I knew how much that sword meant to him though. There's some things that you simply don't do to your best friend, some emotions that you end up demeaning by treating too lightly.

He held his hands out in front of him slowly, eyes still fixed on the sword in my hands, as if he didn't dare believe that what he was seeing was real, like he might wake from a dream at any moment. I delivered it gently into his hands with a slight bow, and then turned away and gave him room for whatever it was he was feeling.

Sometimes, being there for someone means knowing exactly when they'll need to be alone.

I busied myself by idly combing through some of the items on the floor, occasionally checking one of the pieces of paper, making a written note every now and then. Theo joined me after a few minutes, clearing his throat and making occasional muted sniffing noises, eyes red and cheeks somewhat moist. Sword now at his hip, he regarded me seriously for a few moments.

“Ah, bugger it,” he said, striding forward and picking me up in a tremendous bear hug. “Thank you, Vince. Gods, I can't thank you enough.”

“Bah,” I said a half minute later, once I'd managed to extract myself, taking a moment to straighten my vest and pretending not to notice the new trickles of moisture that had appeared around my friend's eyes. “You'd do the same for me. At least, I'm hoping you'll do the same for me . . .”

His eyes narrowed, then widened.

“You mean . . . ?”

“Yeah. Most of it was there, but not Dad's journal. Or Blackstaag's abducted family member, for that matter. I'm still trying to sort everything out, as it were, but-”

“Who?” he practically growled, hand suddenly on the pommel of his sword. “Tell me who it was. I guarantee that within an hour's time it will be their fondest wish to tell me everything they know! I've got all kinds of ways of getting people to open up to me . . .”

“That's part of the problem, actually . . . the gem didn't lead me to anybody's keep. I don't know who it was, and I suspect more and more that this whole thing isn't being arranged by a Lord at all. The only thing I can tell you for certain is that our culprit ended up being a boy . . . skinny lad, long-ish hair. Not exactly rich either - I found him living in an abandoned tower of some sort, practically empty aside from some bedding, crockery, and the collection of items you see before you. He was dressed in the same rags that we saw him in that one night, out on the rooftops.”

“Not a Lord . . . all this was stolen by a kid? How is that even possible? You're not exactly inexperienced at protecting the things you don't want to part with. Neither are most of the Lords who own the rest of this stuff,” he said, gesturing to the collection of objects around us, “and for a mere kid to have done this . . .”

“I know, I'm still in the process of wrapping my head around it as well. We know nothing for certain, I can't even say if this kid was behind them all or if it's the work of several people. Seems a little insane to think that just one person could be responsible for all this, but . . . you had to see this kid move, Theo! He was casually doing the impossible, acting like it was second nature to him.”

“So we lie in wait, like we were trying before. Hang around this place you found and set up a few traps, wait for him to return.”

“I don't think it's going to be that easy . . . I scared him real bad, and there's probably nothing worth risking going back for anyways. He's probably not going anywhere near that place again. Besides, if he wasn't keeping the book there he's probably got another place where he's left it at. I have a feeling the only way we're going to get any sort of advantage is by out-thinking him. Things like planting the tracking gem on him.”

“Wait, why can't you just use the gem to find him again?”

“Fell off once he got to his hidey-hole,” I sighed.

“Well, we find his next target . . . wait around like you did last time until he tries to strike again, tag him with another gem!” Theo said, voice steadfastly optimistic. “You did it once before, we can do it again!”

“Afraid the circumstances were fairly unique that first time, very unlikely we'd be able to reproduce them. Hades, that first time was beyond lucky, and it wasn't even really my idea in the first place.”

Theo gave me a perplexed look.

“Who's idea was it then?”

I took a moment to walk over to the drinks cabinet, pouring us each a glass from the open bottle of Kaa-feau eighty-six that had been chilling since I got back, and then gesturing towards the leather chairs we'd become intimate with these past few weeks. We both sat down a moment later, Theo reaching forward to take his proffered drink.

“What,” I said, pausing to take a sip of the dry green wine I'd just poured, “do you know about Talia?”

Theo raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Really?”

“Didn't just come up with the idea, either. Knows a considerable amount about what's going on, planted the gem on the kid herself when he made his appearance at Forschell's last night.”

“Well, I knew she was fairly smart. She's got a reputation for brains, even outside of your own household. Friendly, doesn't go out of her way to antagonize people. Wait,” he furrowed his brow at me, “last night . . . she was on the rooftops with you?”

I nodded slowly.

“Did you kiss her?”

“What?” I said, genuinely startled by the question.

“Oh, for the love of . . . Vincent! What does she have to do? Paint a banner for your greeting room and hire a scholar to read it for you?!”

“It wasn't like that,” I stammered, “it's-”

“You were busy. It's complicated. You haven't had enough of a chance to think about it. It wasn't a good time. Vincent, listen to me; it's never a good time . . . and when you spend all of your time over-thinking a decision that's so obvious that it's hardly even a decision at all, it makes me wonder if you're really as smart as you think you are.”

“I'm not even half that smart. She laid things out for me that night, all the things she's been doing for me that I hadn't even known about until now. She says she's leaving.”

“Well stop her! Are you kidding me? What are you even doing sitting here talking to me?!”

I simply sat in my chair, not really knowing what to say. If anything, my silence caused Theo to become even more animated.

“What are you doing, Vince?” Theo put his glass down on a nearby table and leaned forward earnestly. “Seriously. You've been sweet on her since . . . well, I can't even remember when. She's been sweet on you for nearly as long, from what I've been able to gather. What's your problem?”

“I don't know,” I said, glumly.

“You don't know, or you haven't thought about it?” Theo pressed. “Look, you can tell me to shut up any time you like, but I'm tired of dancing around this. Answer me this – do you really hate yourself that much?”

“What?”

“Do you, Vincent Tucat, one of the most successful and talked-about Lords Harael, think so little of yourself that you believe there's nothing you can offer someone like Talia?”

“It's . . . no! That's not it.” I ran fingers through my hair, feeling exasperated. “I don't hate myself, or think poorly of what I've managed to do. You know that!”

“So ask yourself then – if that's not stopping you, then what is? Why have you, a Lord who routinely puts himself into extremely stressful situations and undertakes nearly impossible challenges, not taken it upon yourself to do anything about your feelings for her? And no, 'I don't know' isn't an answer.”

“I don't- . . . Theo, it's hard to explain. It's almost like it never really occurred to me before, actually getting to know her in that way.”

“And now that you know that's a possibility, what's preventing you from walking upstairs and asking her right this minute? What's the worst that could happen?”

I painted a long and elaborate scenario for him over the course of a minute or so . . . one that began with a shy, awkward proposal that Talia accompany me to a tea shop some evening, was followed by a stinging slap and laughing rejection, and that ended with me starving and penniless, lying in a barren field with buzzards feasting on my liver.

“Okay, so I will admit that's pretty bad . . . and you've got a good imagination. Point is, that's not going to happen, Vince. And you know it.” Theo looked at me and sighed softly. “Promise me that you'll at least take the time necessary to think about why having a relationship with her has never gotten more serious than an idle daydream. And stop her from leaving, obviously!”

“I will. Seriously,” I said, acknowledging Theo's pointed look, “I will. I'll talk to her, get her to hold off on leaving for the moment. Gods, but there's a lot of stuff going on right now . . . my thoughts haven't been able to settle since this whole thing began!”

“We're getting closer, Vincent. I mean, we know more than we did yesterday, and we'll find out more today, I'm sure of it. Cyrus told me he'd been following up some leads that might bear fruit this afternoon, investigating some of the high-end trinkets that might be capable of doing some of the things we've been seeing this kid do. That sounds like him now, as a matter of fact,” Theo said, thumbing a gesture at the main entrance to the exercise hall.

There was the sound of boots hopping their way over various traps and tripwires, followed by the sound of several locks being disarmed and clicking themselves open. A few moments later my Captain entered the room, cheeks flushed.

I felt hope and excitement bubble up in my chest. I knew that look – he had something important to share.

“Milord!” Cyrus walked up a little more stiff-backed than usual, an urgent look on his face. “A messenger! Prince Tenarreau requires your presence at the palace right away!”

There were a few seconds of disappointed silence.

Curling my lip, I threw my still-full glass of wine against a nearby wall, where it exploded with a musical tinkle.

“Of freaking course! It's only about the worst possible time for something like that. I should have been expecting an interruption,” I said, running a frustrated hand through my hair. “How long since the message arrived?”

“Not two minutes ago. The messenger is still upstairs, Milord, a rather pompous fellow who appeared to be out of breath, despite showing up in a carriage. He told me to pass along an additional message,” Cyrus looked uncomfortable for a moment, “that the Prince wishes you there with all possible haste, 'immediately, if not sooner,' and that he 'doesn't care if Lord Tucat is presently hanging upside-down from the ceiling of a tea shop' is what I believe he said.”

“Word travels fast, I guess,” I said, carefully getting to my feet.

“Milord, should I be worried about our little prank, or tell the other knights to refrain from talking about it? If you're in trouble, and Prince Tenarreau is wroth with you . . .”

“No, nothing like that Cyrus. He probably just wished to show off how well informed he is,” I said. My shins spent a few moments reminding me that they'd rather not be used for anything for at least a few days, and I ignored them. “See what else you can make of these items on the floor while I'm gone, will you? The sooner we get them into the hands of their rightful owners, the sooner we'll be able to relax our security around here a little. Don't actually arrange for anything to be returned just yet, we'll decide what we're doing once I return. Also, could you please tell Tarryl to get the faster of my two coaches ready?”

“Milord, one of the royal coaches is already waiting outside.”

“Even better. I'm going to head upstairs to change. Wait until about five minutes after I've left with Tarryl and then inform the messenger that I've left for the palace without him, would you? I feel like being a little passive-aggressive today.”

“You know,” Theo chuckled, “that messenger will probably get dressed down for not following orders if he's supposed to escort you.”

“It suits my mood. Besides, why should I be the only one that things aren't going right for today?”