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Fox’s tongue to offer it anyway,
but the scowl on Delgar’s face stopped him.
    “We should get off the street. There’s a safe place
nearby where we can talk.”
    “It’s safe,” the dwarf said, “because very few people
know how to find it. An enviable state of affairs, and one I would
like to preserve.”
    Fox shot him a dirty look and offered his arm to the
elf. She pulled up her hood and shook her head. “I do not want to
cause discord among friends. It’s only . . .”
    “What?”
    Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh. “I know
and trust no other human.”
    “To do what?” the dwarf asked.
    “A priceless elven artifact was stolen: a rose of
pale crystal that opens each morning with the dawn and closes at
sunset.”
    Delgar folded his arms. “So? Any garden rose can do
as much.”
    “This is more than a pretty toy,” she said. “This is
ancient and powerful magic. Such magic in human hands could bring
catastrophic destruction.”
    “Vague, yet ominous,” Delgar said. “I’ve known
two-penny fortune tellers who were more generous with
detail.”
The elf studied him for a moment. “You are a Carmot dwarf. You can
stoneshift?”
    “He’s very good,” Fox said.
    Delgar didn’t’ acknowledge the compliment. In fact,
neither elf nor dwarf seemed to notice that Fox had spoken.
    “You can do this because there are traces of carmite
in your blood and bone,” she said. “Imagine enough carmite to
fashion a rose, then place that rose within a dagger of amplifying
crystal. When you have that image firmly in mind, imagine what that
rose could do when fed a drop of a traitor’s blood.”
    All color drained from Delgar’s face. His normal pale
gray tone faded almost to while.
    “The Thorn,” he murmured.
    The elf nodded.
    Delgar passed a hand over his face and turned to Fox.
“I opened a new portal last moondark, under the back stairs of the
tavern in Halfpenny Wynd. We can be in the Fox Den within the
hour.”
    ***
    The Fox Den was hardly what Honor expected.
    She’d supposed a young thief might have a cellar room
in some rough part of the city, or perhaps a hidden chamber in the
manor of some wealthy patron. But this network of pristine stone
passages and ever-shifting hidden doors throughout the city was
beyond impressive.
    Strange carvings marked many of the tunnels, and the
large and somehow airy chamber in which they now gathered was
distinguished by elaborate carvings and a mirror that reflected not
what was in the room, but other places and, Honor suspected, other
times.
    For a while she watched as one scene after another
swam into focus, lingered for a few breaths, and faded. It was
oddly soothing.
    Even more surprising were the thieves themselves.
    While a fairy— a fairy !—regaled the others with
the story of Delgar’s rescue, Honor gathered her thoughts.
    Rhendish had told her the thief would not refuse her.
He had not told her why.
    It seemed incredible, but apparently Rhendish knew
she’d crossed paths with this human. How had he come by this
information? And what was this young man to Rhendish that the adept
would go to such extreme lengths to get him in hand?
    And what use would he make of these others?
    The fairy’s presence astonished Honor. Didn’t Fox and
his companions know what sort of crime resulted in banishment to
the mortal realm? Or didn’t that sort of thing matter to a band of
admitted thieves?
    Vishni was, admittedly, a fetching little thing, slim
as a pixie with big dark eyes and a short mop of dark curls. She
laughed often, but there was a flash in her eyes and a petulant
twist to her rosebud lips that warned of storms lurking behind the
sunshine.
    Honor suspected that might be part of her appeal.
    Delgar she understood a little better. Young dwarves
often travelled abroad to seek adventure or knowledge. Delgar’s
presence in Sevrin suggested he was more ambitious than most.
    Long before the seas rose and turned Sevrin into a
city of islands, in a time