Si glyph [https://i.imgur.com/mHhTdaF.png]

Simon frowned at the notebook. The information might be highly significant — if he only had a clue what it signified.

‘Simon,’ Jonas called quietly from the room behind the bookshelf. ‘Need your help here.’

Startled, Simon jerked to attention. In his concentration on the private account book, he’d almost forgotten he was sitting at Lord Oryche’s desk, in Lord Oryche’s study, in the middle of a burglary which might get him killed. ‘Coming.’

He stuffed the account book back in the secret drawer under the desk and closed it, leaving everything as he had found it.

When he squeezed into the hidden room, Vikki sat back on her heels. ‘I can’t unlock this.’

‘We need to hurry,’ Jonas said. ‘Simon, can you open the box?’

‘Of course. But it will be obvious an Adept has tampered with it.’

‘So? He’ll know he’s been robbed anyway.’

Vikki moved out of the way, allowing Simon to take her place on the floor beside the strongbox. The box was sturdy but old, made of welded iron plates, the brass lock a more recent addition — recent meaning any time in the last hundred years. Simon ran his hands over the metal.

His fine control wasn’t good enough to open the lock, but he could easily break it. Just as easily, he could convert the whole box into rust, or peel it apart at the seams. He preferred the minimum damage option, though.

He scratched a tiny sigil beside the keyhole, concentrated, and released the summoning. Brass felt different from steel: docile copper mixed with lively zinc, quick to warm and move. A simple twist and push popped the lock out of the box. He tossed it aside and opened the lid. Inside lay the book bound in red leather.

Jonas seized the codex. ‘Wonderful. Nice work.’

The light of the cold-lamp reflected warmly from gold: new-minted Athanor forints, Imperial dollars, and Windward Isles scutari piled on top of a stack of Numisma bank drafts, property deeds, and other papers.

‘Look at all that lovely money.’ Vikki leaned over Simon to grab a handful of coins.

‘It’s not what we came for,’ Simon said. Taking money felt uncomfortably close to theft. It was tempting though — life was difficult enough, and money made many things easier. And, now he thought about it, he was still owed the final payment for the Sark trip as well as for the draft that was stolen. Before he could talk himself out of it, he shoved a handful of coins into his pocket.

Jonas flipped the box lid shut and passed him the loose floorboards. They covered the hole and unrolled the rug over the top.

‘With luck, he may not realise he’s been robbed for a day or two,’ Jonas said. ‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’

Out on the first-floor gallery, all was quiet. They hurried down the stairs into the hall and headed back the way they had come, Jonas leading the way. The back corridors of the House were still silent and deserted.

As they passed the open doorway of a kitchen, Simon heard footsteps — the faint, regular tap of boots on the tiled floor. They stared at each other.

‘Don’t panic,’ Jonas said. ‘Keep moving.’

They walked on. The footsteps grew louder, approaching along a side corridor. Jonas beckoned them into another hallway. It was dark, lined with closed doors: probably servants quarters. They stopped, pressed into the shadows, listening to the footsteps grow nearer.

Whoever it was, they were in the main corridor now, and passing. The footsteps receded into the quietness of the sleeping House.

Jonas pantomimed wiping his brow. Treading softly, they returned to the main corridor. No one was in sight. They continued walking in the direction of the stairs that led to the lower stories and the Labyrinth below.

Ahead, a door swung open and a figure stepped into the corridor.

It was Riga.

For a moment they all stood frozen, too surprised to react.

Riga recovered first. Her mouth quirked in a slight smile, twisting her red and blistered face. ‘Well, well, well, fancy meeting you here.’

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

‘Riga,’ Jonas said. ‘Let us go.’

‘Go if you want, little cousin. I have unfinished business with Simon.’ She cracked her knuckles and drew a dagger.

Jonas stepped in front of Simon. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘Hurt me?’ She grimaced. Where the steam had scalded her face, blisters of yellow fluid had formed. It looked painful. ‘You were never much of a fighter, Sparky. Just because you have a girlfriend now, don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re a grown-up.’

‘Simon, take Vikki and go,’ Jonas said. ‘I’ll deal with her.’ He drew his own knife.

Simon put his hand on Vikki’s arm. The back corridors of the House were a maze, but one he knew. From here, there were several routes to the stairs, or to other exits. He and Vikki might escape — assuming Riga didn’t raise the alarm.

Riga snarled. Holding the dagger low, she lunged at Jonas. He dodged. His face was pale, his eyes wide. He backed away from her.

Simon remembered the two of them sparring in the House weapons yard. Jonas wasn’t a bad fighter, but he was no match for Riga, and injured though she was, the fight could only go one way. And then Riga would be after him.

He seized Vikki’s tool bag and wrenched it open: hammer, chisel, awl… a crowbar was the nearest thing to a weapon. The steel bar was longer than Riga’s knife, the metal solid and comforting in his grip.

Jonas and Riga slashed at each other, neither doing any damage. Then Riga feinted. Jonas dropped his guard. Riga seized the opening and stabbed him in the side. Jonas staggered and fell against the wall.

‘Jonas!’ Vikki cried.

Riga stepped past Jonas and advanced on Simon.

He flung the tool bag at her. She fended it off with her arm; the bag thumped to the floor. Simon retreated, pushing Vikki behind him. He raised the crowbar.

Riga smiled. ‘This is where your luck runs out, Simon. No one to rescue you, this time. Don’t worry, though. I’ll make it quick.’

‘Vikki,’ Simon said. ‘Run.’

‘I’m not leaving Jonas,’ Vikki said. ‘Or you.’

‘How sweet,’ Riga purred. ‘When I’m done with Simon, I’ll take your little slut apart, Jonas. Piece by piece. Consider it an object lesson.’

She darted at Simon, dagger slashing at his body. Simon swung the crowbar wildly. The weight of it pulled him off balance.

Behind her, Jonas struggled to sit up. He pulled a paper from his jacket.

‘Jonas,’ Simon said. ‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t bother trying to distract me with that old trick,’ Riga said.

‘I wasn’t,’ Simon said. He threw himself against Vikki, pushing her out of the line of fire.

The paper in Jonas’s hand burst into flame. A bolt seared through the air to hit Riga in the back. She crashed into the wall and collapsed in a loose-limbed tangle. Where she’d hit the wall, the wood panelling smouldered and charred.

Jonas sat frozen, his hand still raised in the air. Simon and Vikki ran to him. ‘You’re hurt,’ she exclaimed.

He pressed a hand to his side. ‘It’s not too bad.’ Blood oozed between his fingers.

In the distance doors slammed, footsteps and voices sounded. The fire-bolt had been loud; people would soon appear to investigate. ‘Jonas,’ Simon said. ‘We have to get out of here.’

Rousing from his shock, Jonas nodded. Simon helped him up.

Riga lay motionless on the floor. The unscalded half of her face was deathly pale, but she was breathing.

‘She’s alive,’ Simon said.

Jonas stared at Riga with a strange, serious intensity. ‘We should kill her.’ He had his knife in his hand.

‘What?’ Simon said. ‘Light’s sake, Jonas, we don’t have time for this. Let’s just go.’

‘She saw us.’ Jonas gestured with the dagger. ‘If she talks, they’ll know it was us.’

‘And you want to be a murderer as well as a thief?’ Simon considered wrenching the dagger from his hand. ‘Jonas, this isn’t you.’

For a moment, Jonas stared at him blankly. Hurrying footsteps and raised voices drew nearer. Then the madness passed; he shuddered and lowered the knife.

They ran. Simon’s bad leg cramped. He and Jonas leaned on each other. Vikki supported Jonas from the other side.

When they reached the Labyrinth entrance, they stopped. The noise of the House had faded, and no one, it seemed, was pursuing them — yet. Anyone who looked, though, would find a traces of blood all the way from Riga’s body to the cellars and down the stairs. They couldn’t rest for long.

Jonas was very pale.

‘We need to bandage this,’ Simon said. ‘Jonas, take off your cape.’

With Vikki’s help, Jonas shrugged off his black half-cape. Vikki cut it into strips.

The wound in his side was bloody, but Simon judged it not deep enough to be life-threatening. He bandaged it tightly.

‘What are we going to do?’ Vikki asked.

‘Get away from here quickly.’ Simon finished tying the bandage. ‘You need better doctoring than I can manage, Jonas. And Vikki, you should get back to your mother.’

Vikki took Jonas’s arm. ‘He can come with me. Mother will know what to do.’

‘It’s really not as bad as it looks,’ Jonas said. ‘Once I’m straightened out, I’ll take the codex to the Arcanum.’

Simon nodded. ‘All right.’

Jonas avoided meeting his eyes. Simon felt suddenly sorry for him. The young Fire Adept had probably never used magic to injure another human being, and now he’d all but killed his own cousin.

Simon patted his shoulder. ‘You had no choice, Jonas. Don’t blame yourself.’

Jonas nodded without looking at him, and walked away with his arm around Vikki.

Simon heard the dawn bell ringing as he made his slow way back through the undercity to Danta’s storeroom. The door was open on the latch, just as he’d left it. He entered and shut the door behind him.

Rows of metal tanks shone in the steady glow of the cold-lamp. Stepping softly, he peered in at his family, asleep in their beds. Nana snored. Lorie lay on her side, long hair tangled, head cushioned on her hand. Sam was curled in a snug ball beneath his blanket.

He stood listening to their quiet breathing, letting the tension and fear drain from his body. They were all together, all safe.

But for how long?

He rested his head against the cool smoothness of a gas tank. Already the madness of the last few hours felt unreal. Yet it had happened: they had invaded House Oryche, stolen the codex, and Jonas had blasted Riga, maybe killed her. If she wasn’t dead, she was badly injured.

Simon felt more sorry for Jonas than for her. Riga deserved death if anyone did, but she was still Jonas’s family. If she died, the young man would have to bear that guilt all his life. And was it worth it?

Perhaps they’d taken a huge risk and gotten away with it. Or perhaps there would be terrible consequences down the line…

At least the codex was in safe hands now. That was one less thing to worry about.