Then they shoved him in a cell. He had stood in a puddle onthe floor, and the wet was wicking up the hem of the rough uniform they’d made him wear. He was trying hard not to think of what that puddle might be. His entrance had interrupted a conversation among the cell’s occupants, and he stood in that puddle while three sets of narrowed eyes bored into him.
All men. The man with the fiercest glare had the kind of hair that went dull and colorless cooped inside but brightened to blond in the sun. He’d been punched one time too many, judging by the slant of his nose. In the middle was a handsome dark-skinned gent who smirked after he’d sized Kell up. The last was hardly old enough to shave.
In that dank cell in Wyrm’s Rock, he had dropped his chin to regard the water he stood in. Just water, and he let his relief sigh out of him before he raised one foot to rub on the other, washing off the dust.
The handsome man chuckled. That was good. “What’d you do, then?”
Kell shrugged. “Theft.”
“What’d you steal?” the broken-nosed one asked. He had that accent of the rough streets, those with rags stuffed in broken windowpanes and soup that had simmered on the stove, turning scraps into something to eat with the bread. They all watched him, deciding—was Kell fresh meat or a man worth respecting?
He knew the company of criminals when he was in it. And he knew exactly how to bait the line. “Hullhollyn’s Storm Harp.”
“Bullshit,” the handsome man said.
“Somebody did steal it,” the youngest objected. “The guards had their skirts all tangled about it last night. I heard them say Hullhollyn, and that the Silver Cat must’ve done it.”
Kell sprawled on an empty bench and fiddled with one of his braids while his cellmates argued. He knew that the handsome dark-skinned man did the talking, and he didn’t like that Broken Nose made the decisions. But the man with the broken nose had a sharp eye, and Kell wouldn’t forget it.
Handsome scoffed. “Him, though? Look at him. What did he do, sing them all to sleep and nearly knock over an urn on the way out?”
“Do you sing?” the youngest one asked.
“No.”
It was supposed to be a lie, but the moment Kell said it, he knew it was true. He didn’t sing. Not anymore.
“If Krent is right, then the guild wants that thief,” Broken Nose said, “so we’ll know for sure if Fist Ralthar comes to gloat. They’ve been paying him to spy for years.”
“Fist Ralthar’s not in today,” Handsome said. “Convenient that this one’s claiming to be some secret genius burglar even the guild doesn’t know on a day when Fist Ralthar’s out washing his feet.”
“Thank the gods for that,” Krent said. “The only thing that should smell that way is cheese.”
Kell laughed. So did Broken Nose, who jerked a thumb in his direction. “And how’s Rusty over there supposed to know who spies for them in here, anyway?”
Rusty? Kell shrugged. It was as good a name as any, and he wouldn’t need it for long.
“He’s not the Silver Cat.” Handsome waved the notion away like it was ridiculous. “He’s trying to impress us, and he thinks we’re stupid.”
Saeldian had always said the suspicious ones made it easier. He shoved down the storm that wanted to break things and scream every time he remembered Saeldian. Last night, they let Kell believe they had the whole world waiting for the two of them. Now he was waiting for the noose.
Unless he could save his own skin. He didn’t have time for feelings. He had to get out of here. And he needed these marks to fall in line.
“I never think anyone from the Zhentarim is stupid,” he said, and when they all stopped arguing to stare at him, he knew he’d reeled them right in.
“How did you know—”
Handsome shoved Krent. “Shut up.”
Kell shrugged. “You said Fist Ralthar spied for the guild. And then you called themthem.Notus.Therefore…”
“All right, smarty-pants,” Broken Nose said. “Why should we believe you?”
“Because I am the Silver Cat. I stole the contents of Lady Tressym’s secret vault, and theDeer’s Leap’s entire cargo before anyone realized those crates weren’t from the bank.”
“And how did you manage that?”
“I switched the manifests,” Kell said, “while everyone on guard thought they were still properly guarding. No one was paying attention to an annoying clerk arguing with an exciseman about every last bean.”
