The Orphan King

2

Shoto didn't have magic. To him, he was no more a threat than the police. But to others...

I scanned the flat warehouse rooftops again to be sure were still alone up here, and then jumped down to the Lowe section of the roof. I landed in a crouch, my fingertips on the cool slate tiles for balance. A moment later, Shoto landed beside me with a quiet thump that was masked by the rush of the swollen river nearby.

The clock tower in Hawksbill chimed midnight. Kneeling before the warehouse's roof-access door, I drew a lockpick and tension wrench from my pocket. In a few seconds, I had the door open. Shoto and I slipped inside, silent as shadows. The warehouse was cool and still, with the dusty scent of neglect.

Moonlight fell through smeary windows, barely illuminating the stairs as we descended. Toe, ball, heel—careful so we wouldn't make a sound. There were no guards here, but one couldn't be too cautious.

We followed the spiral stairs down two flights. Sho went left and I headed right, to the southwest corner where crates from the Indigo Kingdom's famed paper mill hunched in the dark.

There were fifty or more crates, their labels mere outlines in the shadows. I slipped a match from my pocket and struck it against the floor. After I scuffed out any traces, I leaned toward the crate labels, searching for the one I wanted.

My match sputtered out, and I lit another, still edging down the rows of sealed crates. There. A faded page inked with a lion and Liadia's coat of arms. The crate was stashed in the corner, where other homeless stock had been shoved. Thankfully, the one I needed was still in the front— Liadia hadn't fallen very long ago— but it was too high for me to open and reach inside.

I checked over my shoulder. No Shoto.

What I needed to do was so small that it was insignificant, but still I hesitated. Magic was completely illegal. Unpardonable. Unforgivable. Not many people had magic anymore, as far as I knew, but those caught using it were never seen again.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I touched the crate. " Wake up. " It was an old command, from when I was little and I used magic without fear. From when I'd believed I brought things to life. " Do this silently: slide forward and float down to the floor. I will guide you. "

The crate shifted, loosening with a gasp of dust. With my fingertips resting on the wood. I stepped back to give it room. Slowly, as though it were as light as a leaf, the crate floated down and touched the floor without a sound.

" Unseal the lid, " I murmured. A faint, fleeting wave of dizziness clouded my head.

The lid popped up, loose now. I bade the crate sleep again before I opened it. I needed only a handful of pages.

" Find what we're looking for?" Shoto's whisper came from behind me, and I stiffened. He was quiet.

" It's right here." I pulled several pages from the top and handed them to my friend. " Hold this while I put the lid on. You got the ink?"

" Easily." She lifted the jar so the glass gleamed on the weak light, then shoved it into her bag. The papers followed. " Let's fetch the others and get back. "

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