Quill of Thieves

Chapter 1

"Seems highly enlightening, your studying."

He rolled his eyes. "To the man who knows what he's searching for—"

"Or woman, I hope you mean."

Sebastian inclined his head. "To the man, or woman, well versed in the art of navigation, the skies can teach a great deal about the position of—" he trailed off as Abel's grin became so smug that he was surprised she hadn't actually fallen into the town's latrine. "Oh, bugger off, Abel."

She laughed, her tawny eyes so bright that they seemed almost golden. Like the eyes of the rumored phoenixes he'd seen in a history scroll that had detailed the plants and animals of the western desert realm of Demue. Those beasts were known for their uncanny ability to sense a prey from twenty miles away and lure it in with uncanny precision.

An apt comparison, Sebastian thought.

"You know," Abel began with a sly, pointed look his way, "for all the talk of you being a dangerous heirloom of Soleita, you sure know how to be a complete bore. I'd expect more from you, to be honest."

Sebastian shoved at her, but she slid easily out of reach, tutting her tongue at him. "You're foul," he said.

His gaze snagged on her pink lips for a second before he turned his attention back to his hands and the color of them that had graced him with the village's rumor: An heirloom of Soleita. It referred to the bronze pallor of his skin--a color most often seen on the traitorous islands of Soleita--and growing up in Eilibir where the winters were harsh and the days short, he'd stuck out sharply among his fellow fisherman. Not to mention that, in a way, Abel's comment of him being a bore was spot-on—to the village folk anyways.

In fact, the joke that had been spread by other children throughout his school days claimed that Sebastian's birth parents must have found him such a bore that when they'd come to visit Eilibir, they'd left without him, forgetting about their newborn babe entirely. Even now, at eighteen years of age, it was the most reliable impression Sebastian knew he left on others. After all, he consistently was able to disappear from boats without any of the other fishermen knowing the wiser. He suspected they were more at ease with his absences, anyways. No one wanted the clumsy academic around to scare off the fish.

Anyhow, it explained how he'd gotten his name: Sebastian d'Aximos, the d' noting he had been brought into the Aximos family, not born of it.

Abel nudged his foot with her own. "Imogene will be disappointed if you have nothing to show for a whole day of fishing."

It was his turn to smirk at her. "No, she won't. As far as my ma's concerned--" he pitched his voice to mimic Imogene Aximos's favorite saying--"the sun and moon rise with you, Carissénas."

"You've always been such a humble man, Bash," Abel mocked. "Tossing out Scribal words like that would really be quite arrogant of you." She huffed at him but couldn't keep the grin from her face. "Fine. You've disappointed me, then. I'm so hungry I could scarf down a pile of fresh manure. I only came up here to slum it with you to get some much needed, very late lunch."

"Sorry to disappoint, mi'lady," he drawled in such a way that he knew would cause her pert nose to scrunch upwards in distaste. He grinned to himself when her face did just that. "However, to be fair, wasn't it you who wagered you could catch us some venison before I ever so much as saw a fish?"

She fingered the handle of her yew bow in a lustful gesture that Sebastian was sure half the men in the village wished she would touch them with. "Well, we both failed, it seems."

"So quick to jump to conclusions," Sebastian chided. He reached into the burlap sack at his feet and withdrew a short piece of paper. "I caught some trout with the nets earlier this morning and sold them to Bamber for half a copper each. So, pay up."