Hour of Mischief Read Online Free PDF Page A

all one day be suffering there.
    “Nice map,” I said flatly, taking a seat. “Guess it’s no secret who this place favors.”
    The vigilant sneered. “Death is the only thing prisoners have to look forward to here.”
    “Charming.” I twisted my necklace around my finger, nearly crushing it in my grip. If the Clockwork God really did exist, he had just screwed me over. “I’m going to attempt optimism and say I have plenty more to look forward to before death.”
    “Only if your trial goes well.” The smaller man stepped forward. “Which if I have my way, it won’t.”
    “Ah, so that’s the reason for the black and white get up.” I gestured to him. “I wondered why you weren’t more flamboyant. You’re from the courts.”
    “Yes.”
    “And you’re trying to get my team sentenced here.”
    “Yes.”
    “So, why am I talking to you?”
    “Because I want to know the extent of your crimes.”
    “So that you can use them as evidence against me.”
    “Yes.”
    “Then . . . why would I tell you any of my crimes?” I sat back in the chair, crossing my arms. “That just seems incredibly stupid.”
    The man’s shoulders hitched and his glasses slipped a bit down his nose. “We value honesty in the courts. It is my right to have the truth.”
    “Yes, but I’m a thief.” I glanced down at my necklace, pretending to be disinterested. “I think we have slightly conflicting values.”
    “If you don’t cooperate.” The vigilant stepped forward. “We can lock you in here in the complete dark for three days. No meals.” His gaze locked on my necklace. “And why do you still have that? All possessions should have been taken you before you entered the prison.”
    “It’s a religious token,” I said, unwinding the necklace from my finger. “They let you keep those. I know it’s not the awe-inspiring black flame of death, but it’s still religious.”
    “Which one is that?” The lawman squinted at the necklace, leaning close enough I could have punched him in the face. But that move was best used as a last resort. Solitary confinement didn’t seem like my cup of tea.
    “Is that Cheveyo’s tree?”
    “No.” I sighed. “It’s the Clockmaker’s Key.” I held up the tiny charm to the light. “Really, why would I have the symbol of the God of the Natural World when the only forests in Fortuna are outside the city?”
    “Well, why would a thief have a Clockmaker’s Key?” the vigilant asked. “Why not Itazura’s hand? That’s your patron god.”
    “Or one of those other lowly gods,” the lawman said. “Like Artifex. You slum dwellers favor him, don’t you?”
    My, his face was looking infinitely more punchable with every word he spoke.
    “I don’t keep symbols of any clockwork gods. I don’t worship them much,” I said flatly. “I’m not the reverent type. Maybe you noticed when you caught me stealing from the God of Snobbery’s temple.”
    “Amontillado is not to be trifled with,” the law man said stiffly.
    “He was pretty easily trifled with when I stole from his temples all those other times,” I muttered.
    “So you have stolen from him multiple times. I’ll make note of that.” The lawman looked pleased. I scowled.
    The vigilant, on the other hand, still seemed stuck on my necklace. “If you’re not reverent, then why keep a religious token at all?”
    “Because the Clockmaker hasn’t pissed me off yet.” I shrugged. “He’s mysterious enough to command some reverence. Besides, if the religious wackos are right, the Clockmaker created all of the gods. Saves time just worshiping him, you know?”
    “Mysterious and missing,” the vigilant said. “The Clockmaker has never been seen in the human realms. He’s likely just some story. He plays no part here. You’d have been better off wearing the Hand of your God of Mischief around your neck. Then you might not have botched this job.”
    “Or the Heart of Meroquio.” The lawman leered. “You’re a Redstone