were so rare they were almost legends, and they could command the ransom of kings as payment, or so the stories went. And what was anyone doing going to those lengths if what was inside wasn’t worth a fortune? Our lad Eggy was an idiot only having the two bodyguards, even if he did have magic on his side. Not that it would have made much difference. They’d still have the chest; there’d just be more dead, or at least denuded, men.
Muffled exhortations to “Stand! Stand, you ruddy horse,” leaked out of the stable, followed by a massive thunk, a crack, and a puff of splinters exploding into the yard as the horse took exception to Kacha’s tone of voice or perhaps just the world being what it was, it was hard to tell.
Vocho finished his chores moodily and sloshed back across the yard to the house. To the chest. It sat on the table like the world’s biggest birthday present. He itched to get started on the locks, but Kacha had stropped and fretted and pulled the older sister trick, which made him even more determined to open the damned thing. She was the cautious one, comparatively, and she’d said that if a magician had guarded it then they had to make sure there was no magic on the thing before they opened it. Which was all very well, but Vocho was dreaming of the things they could do with whatever money or precious items were inside. It was heavy enough to hold a bloody fortune in gold. Maybe… maybe enough to buy a pardon, get their old lives back. Maybe. Enough money and the good folks of Reyes would forget everything. The prelate’s palace probably would, if he bribed the right person. Then perhaps Kacha would forgive him too. His life wasn’t the only one he’d buggered up. He had things to make up for.
She caught him just as he was about to try the first of the locks.
“What in the hells are you doing?”
He jumped back, red faced and ready with a lie. “Just looking. To see if I could find any magic on it.”
She snorted disbelief and came to the table, her recently cut ragged blonde hair bouncing indignantly. “And I’m the queen of the pig people. Honestly, Voch, do you think I can’t tell when you’re lying? Your left eye always twitches.”
“Does not!”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “See, it’s doing it again.”
He studied her for a moment and wondered how far he could push it. Not far – he never could. She always saw through his bullshit, and it was why he loved her and why she drove him insane too. Kacha the wonderful, Kacha the perfect, Kacha, who could see when he was lying. Kacha, who always believed in him anyway, when no one else would.
To look at them you’d be hard pressed to say they were related. She was fair-haired and paler-skinned like their mother, and he was dark everywhere. He was taller than most, hulking at the shoulders like their docker father. She only came up to his shoulder – southerner blood, his father always said, like it was a good thing. But there were things that made them the same – the brown eyes, the straight, sharp nose. A grace and speed that showed in every movement, and a quick and ready grin. Her grin had faded just lately though.
“Fine,” he said at last. “I was trying to open the lock.”
“Idiot. What if there’s magic on it?” She frowned at the chest. “What if he can trace it? I don’t want to deal with a magician. Who knows what they’re capable of?”
“You won’t have to deal with one. I got him right in the windpipe. I’d be surprised if he lasted the hour. And if a magician was guarding it, it has to be valuable.”
“We dump it,” Kacha said, weary from repeating herself.
Vocho stared out at the mud and shit in the yard, wishing she’d actually listen to him for once. “We dump it, we’re stuck here for… for… for ever. I’m not a fucking farmer. This could be our way back in. Back to what we were meant for, where we belong.”
“Voch, enough.”
“Please.” He screwed himself up to say it, because it didn’t come anywhere near naturally, but he owed her. A lot, more than she knew, and he was determined to pay the debt. “Look, I got us into this shitty situation. I admit it. I lost us