King's Man and Thief Read Online Free PDF Page A

around the side, heading for the back of his house, away from the room with the lighted candle. Quickly he climbed the fence and jumped down, landing as quietly as possible in the soft grass. Hidden in the shadows now, he hastened for the shelter of the building's walls, flattening himself against the cold stone, listening, his body taut as a bowstring. Perspiration dampened his face. There was no sound, no evidence that he had been noticed.
    The room to his immediate left was his library. It was dark, and far enough back from the lighted window so that even if he made sounds, he wouldn't be heard. But Deveren intended to make no noise. He crouched beneath the wooden sill and reached his hand up, pressing two fingers against the window. Deveren concentrated on stilling his racing thoughts, and visualized the window unlocking. He did not have to raise his head to know that his meager hand magic hadn't worked. Had he been able to lay even a single finger on the lock itself, he could have managed it. As it was, the additional barrier of the glass, frail as it was, was an obstacle that prevented him from opening the window.
    He dropped down again and pressed his back flat against the stone. Sometimes, Deveren thought with a hint of disgust, plain old burglary was more efficient than magic. He fumbled in his pouch. Deveren had a bad habit of never emptying his pouch from night to night or theft to theft. Had he not already been a thief, he would, contrary to what he had told the guards, have been a prime candidate for robbery; the deceptively simple pouch he wore at his side was crammed full of valuables.
    Now his bad habit had become an unexpected blessing. Fumbling blindly in the pouch, his questing fingers found a ring whose stone was not embedded in its golden circle but rather jutted up proudly. He closed his eyes in relief. Stones set in such a manner, Deveren knew, were most usually diamonds. He pulled the ring out, then turned to the window.
    Working by touch, he pressed back the soft gold prongs that held the gem in place and removed it. Cupping the diamond in his palm, he felt for its sharpest edge. He held the ring in his left hand and, holding the small jewel carefully between his right thumb and forefinger, reinserted the diamond into its setting so that the sharp edge faced out. Then he pressed closed the golden prongs. Grasping the ring, Deveren cut a small hole in the glass, just large enough to put his two fingers through. He pushed gently, and the small circle of cut glass dropped soundlessly to the rushes beneath.
    Deveren bent forward and placed his ear to the hole, listening. Silence. He smiled, his confidence returning. If he, a skilled thief, couldn't even break into his own house without being detected, he had no right to be leader. He reached in, unlocked the window in a totally nonmagical manner, and eased it open.
    He was halfway inside the room when the voice nearly stopped his heart.
     
    "If only our mother were here to see this."
     
    Deveren knew that voice. Relief flooded him, replaced almost immediately by a combination of delight and irritation.
     
    "Damn you, Damir," he growled, grinning, as he swung his other leg into the room, "I have cats that are noisier than you!"
    Damir had already lit a candle —the light that had “warned” Deveren about possible “assassins”-and by its flickering light Deveren saw that his older brother was laughing at the trick he'd played. The two embraced with real warmth, although Deveren did land a good-natured punch to Damir's thin arm.
    There was little about their appearances to alert the casual stranger that there was so intimate a bond between the two men. Deveren, boyish and well built, stood a good four inches taller than his "big" brother. His hair was a light brown, only slightly touched with gray, while Damir's thinning locks were a deep, rich mink color. Damir was slight and elegant; Deveren, slender, but athletic. Only their hands, with their