Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(98)

“Allen, you’ll make me a poor man,” Tom was saying. I recognized the tone—amiable on the surface, irritated at its core. “We’ve already paid you far more than necessary.”

The other man crossed his arms. “That patrol’s run by the city’s high-and-mighties. We convinced them it was someone else who started that brawl, but they’re still on us to find who did. That’s a lot of dodging for us.”

“I don’t have extra coin to spare here. You’ll either have to wait or take something else in exchange.”

“What do you have?” asked the militiaman, interest piqued.

Tom thought for a moment. “We’ve still got some of the Belsian cheese. Brass candlesticks. Those bolts of silk. Three clocks left and—”

“Silk?” interrupted the man. “My woman’s always fancied a silk dress. What colors?”

“Come back around noon tomorrow, when it’s less crowded, and I’ll show you.”

“Are you still mending things with the militia after the Flower Fest?” I asked, once the man was gone.

“Yes. We had to grease a few—no, a lot—of palms, but in the end, gold—and silk, apparently—speaks louder to the militia than the governor’s directives. But don’t worry about that. Where have you been? We’ve all missed you.”

“I’ve been busy. But I’m ready to jump into the work again.” My words came out a bit too vehemently. The frustration I felt over the fallout with Grant made me crave an altercation.

I could just barely see an eyebrow rise behind the mask. “So it would seem. What’s stirred this fire?”

“I need more money.”

“Don’t we all. But something else has you worked up.” He put on an expression of mock astonishment. “Why, Lady Aviel, you aren’t letting some man play games with your heart, are you? Nothing but trouble there. Stick to your own path. You might even consider being a true angel and focus on a chaste life.”

I scowled. “Do you have a job tonight, or not?”

“We do,” he said, still with that mocking smile. “And I could use extra help. Jenks hasn’t returned from his last job, so we’re shorthanded. This is a good one too. Bad men to take down. If it’s a fight you want, you’ll get it.”

He was right about the fight. Our target was a wagon coming from the north, as so many were now that the roads had cleared and opened up trade. This wagon and its cargo had already been stolen, and its new owners had left none of the old ones alive. They apparently had a long and bloody history. Tom had received a tip of where they’d be tonight, and we waited along the sides of a north-south highway, leaping out when the wagon appeared.

Six men immediately jumped down, ringing the wagon with muskets and blades. A shot sounded right beside me, and one of the bandits on the wagons fell, clutching his leg.

“Wait for it,” Tom said from my left. Two more shots came from the wagon, missing my comrades in the trees. “There—on the end, while the others are reloading! He’s going for the reins!”

Dirk in hand, I raced toward the front of the wagon. One of the men had scrambled to the driver’s seat and was trying to flee, now that he’d assessed the odds. I jumped up to the seat and stabbed at the side of his torso. The blade drew blood, even though the worst of its blow was deflected by his ribs. He missed when he swung at me with his own knife, but his forearm managed to hit me and knock me back into the seat. He loomed over me, and I kicked as hard as I could. My boots slammed into his stomach. I charged forward with the dirk while he stumbled back to the wagon’s edge. I landed another sharp kick to the stomach, and he fell to the ground.

Behind me, in the wagon itself, Elijah and Lesser Tom were fighting other bandits. There were only three of them left up here now. Those on the ground had engaged with Tom and Anders. I moved to help Elijah and Lesser Tom, and then I spotted one of the fallen men rear up from the road and aim at Elijah. I leapt forward as the gun went off, knocking Elijah down.

“Go!” yelled Tom from the darkness.

Lesser Tom pushed the last man over the edge and moved to the driver’s seat. He seized the reins and urged the nervous horses on. I knelt in the rumbling wagon’s hold with Elijah and tried to help him sit up. The bullet had grazed his arm.

“I’ve had worse,” he told me, seeing my concern. He dabbed at the bloody sleeve with his cloak. “But you should’ve let me be and taken care of yourself. You could’ve been killed.”

“He was out of range. I probably wasn’t in that much danger.” I patted Elijah’s good arm. “Besides, we’re friends.”

He looked a little startled at that declaration and then began to smile. “I suppose we are.”

I grinned back and clung to the wagon’s side as we thundered forward. After about a mile, Lesser Tom drew to a halt, and we waited in the darkness. Minutes later, I heard more hooves pounding on the road, and Tom and Anders came riding up with our horses in tow. Tom immediately dismounted and climbed up into the wagon, his eyes fixed eagerly on the three sealed crates we sat around. Anders was right behind him, carrying a crowbar. He opened the crates while Lesser Tom lit a lantern. We all leaned in.

Elijah grunted in approval. “Balanquan trade goods. The north only just thawed out. Someone was eager to get these down here and get a jump on the sales.” He lifted an elegant sculpture of a woman riding a deer. At first, it looked like the stone was black, but then I could see a silver sheen on the smooth surface as he rotated it in the light.