Suddenly she was aware that it was morning. She glanced out the window and watched the final stages of the sun rising above the city. Her fingers closed over the locket in frustration. Krystin could not tell if the visions she had glimpsed had been inspired by the locket, or if she had imagined them all. She felt exhausted. Realizing that further examination of the locket would have to wait, she hid the item by carefully sewing it into the fabric of her sash.
For the first time she understood that she should have felt guilty for stealing from Myrmeen, but there was no emotion attached to the knowledge. The woman should have purchased the locket for Krystin in the first place. She had more gold in other caches in the city. The Harpers would not have starved.
Krystin no sooner had looked up after hiding her stolen sewing kit than the door swung open wide and Myrmeen entered the room. The older woman came to a sudden halt, obviously surprised to find Krystin awake and fully dressed.
"I didn't bother getting undressed last night," Krystin explained truthfully.
"Get your things. We're leaving here," Myrmeen said. "There are not only rats and spiders in these rooms, but vermin that walks on two legs, too."
Krystin shrugged as Myrmeen left the room, closing the door behind her. She had seen no trace of either spiders or rats during the night. Myrmeen's terrible dreams were returning, and, in Calimport, the line separating dreams from reality was as thin and sharp as the cutting edge of a sword. The claim note's theft obviously had been discovered, and the thief was closer than the woman ever would have expected. Krystin gathered her few belongings and left the room, pausing only to touch her sash and feel the locket's comforting weight.
The others were waiting for Krystin downstairs. They wasted little time after paying for their lodgings, and within the hour Krystin once again was standing before the Bloodstained Sword. Myrmeen emerged from the building, shaking her head.
"What are we going to do?" Krystin asked.
"What else can we do?" Reisz said in annoyance. "We'll have to go to the next cache, that's what."
Myrmeen held the claim note. "They have it in their logs that I came here last night and retrieved my property with this. Gonzmart, the gentleman who was on duty last night, was fired this morning. They say he was drunk."
Krystin ran her hand over her face. "Maybe he took your things," she said, careful not to mention that she knew that it was gold they had come to retrieve.
"I doubt that a drunkard could have slipped into our rooms last night," Myrmeen said.
"Unless he had an accomplice," Reisz said. "Go back in and tell the day manager, Myrmeen. We may never see your gold again, but the Harper in me wishes to see justice done."
"Does it matter?" Krystin said nervously. She had decided that intimating the guilt of the night guard would avert attention from herself, but she had not stopped to think of the consequences. If the man were caught, he would be able to identify her.
"He took what was mine," Myrmeen said. "If this were Arabel, he would see damned quick exactly how much that matters."
"I understand," Krystin said, "but wouldn't he have left Calimport by now? Or at least found a hideout that he knew was secure? We could spend days trying to find him-"
"She has a point," Erin Shandower said, breaking the long silence that had suffused the others.
"I agree," Ord said as he turned to look at Krystin. "Our mission is not to capture and punish common thieves. My mother and father did not give their lives so that we could waste the time they purchased for us with their blood."
For a time, no one spoke. Ord's words had struck deep within the hearts of Myrmeen, Shandower, and the Harpers. Krystin felt an elation that was difficult to hide when Myrmeen finally hung her head and whispered, "We shouldn't have made it so easy for the thief in the first place."
Reisz frowned and looked away. "Let's move on. We'll be more careful next time."
The group remained together in a tight formation as they made the journey back to the inn, where their mounts were tethered. The streets already were filled with people, and Krystin wondered if there ever was a time when Calimport truly slept. The people of the city seemed to maintain shifts to keep the busy trade streets bustling at all times. The Harpers merged with the crowds whenever possible. On a barren street they would have attracted attention, but here they were invisible.
They passed street performers who sang of sad, mournful times, then collected the guilt and sympathy of the crowds in the form of their loose change. A contortionist executed a bone-snapping arrangement of his limbs that had the two dozen men and women gathered about him clapping and shouting in approval. Krystin watched a dark-skinned young man place a series of towering obstacles in his way. He approached them with a running start and vaulted over them, one after another, without touching them with any part of his body. The display was impressive, and Krystin felt a slight flush in her cheeks as she watched the young man's sweaty body as he spiraled in midair and surmounted each obstacle with matchless grace. Moments later the boy walked past her and the musky scent of him made her weak for an instant.
She did not know why the sight of him had affected her so strongly. She had never felt much of an interest in boys; most of those she had met were not worth her time. Nevertheless, since Ord had been paying her such close attention, Krystin had found herself thinking about them with increasing regularity.
Krystin suddenly felt a sharp tug at her waist. She looked down in time to see a curved blade slicing at the golden threads of her waist sash with practiced ease.
"No!" she shouted, realizing that she was about to fall victim to one of the city's many thieves. Twisting away from the blade, not caring if she was cut by its razor-sharp edge, Krystin unwittingly helped the thief slice open her waist sash. There was a slight ripping noise that was absorbed by the sounds of the crowd in the marketplace, and the fistful of gold that she had sewn into the lining rained down to the paved street. With a cry of agony, Krystin dropped to her knees, searching desperately for the emerald locket, which might have fallen as well.
"Krystin!" Myrmeen shouted in genuine distress. All she had seen was Krystin doubling over, as if she had been stabbed. From the periphery of her vision Myrmeen thought she had seen the pale gray arc of a steel blade slicing through the air like a hawk closing in for the kill.
Then she saw the gold at Krystin's feet. A frenzy had already begun. Strangers coalesced on the spot, dropping to their hands and knees to snatch at the gold pieces that were scattered on the ground. Hanging from the girl's sash was the emerald locket that Myrmeen had refused to purchase the day before. Myrmeen snatched the locket from her daughter's waist. Krystin looked up and parted with a wail of sheer agony that brought the crowd to an abrupt, eerie silence.
"Come with me," Myrmeen said. Grabbing Krystin's limp body by the arm, she lifted the girl into the air and set her on her feet as if she were a child just learning to walk. The Harpers tried to hurry away from the pocket of rapidly swelling attention that they had caused. Only the intervention of the swarthy-skinned acrobat had kept the people from following them as if they were the newest attraction.
"Another show," he announced, his gaze following Krystin. She was too grief-stricken to respond with anything more than a tear-filled nod of gratitude. Within minutes the Harper group was far from the crowd, but Myrmeen had no interest in talking to the girl until she had her alone. They arrived at the stables and Myrmeen ordered the others to remain behind while she dragged Krystin inside and found a recently vacated stall. The stench of dung rose to Krystin's nose and made her cough.