Free Steal the Sky by Megan E. O'Keefe

cubbies where we put our things? No locks!”
    â€œThis is a respectable place. Things don’t go missing.”
    He slapped the water with his open palm. It was a meaty, satisfying slap. Then he snagged up Tibs’s glass and downed that, too. The old fool was likely to get drunk and careless if Detan didn’t get the good stuff out of the way for him.
    â€œYou heard the man, he’s giving us a mark to have a look-see.”
    â€œHe’s giving us a mark for the soak.”
    â€œNonsense. Let’s go!”
    Detan moved to the steps, but Tibs grabbed his arm so hard and fast he slipped and flopped face-first into the water. He came up sputtering, and gave Tibs a shove. “What was that for?”
    â€œJust wanted to remind you, real clear, that the young Lord Honding is said to have lost his sel-sense in a tragic mining accident back in Hond Steading. Your freedom depends on that neat little rumor.”
    He flushed. “Oh, come off it. That overinflated sack deserved it.”
    â€œMight be, but Aransa isn’t a friendly town for your type. Watch yourself. Sirra.”
    Detan rolled his eyes and pulled himself out of the tub, sloshing water over the edge. An angry hiss issued from the vent far below, and he shuddered. It was one thing to work the firemounts for selium, there was just no other way to get it, but surely there were safer methods of taking a bath. He wrapped his towel round his hips and waited for Tibs to do likewise.
    He did not.
    â€œWhat’s the problem now, Tibs?”
    â€œI’m going to soak.”
    â€œHuh. Well. I suppose it will improve your aroma. Carry on, good man, and look for me to return before the mark burns down.”
    â€œTry not to get killed.”
    Detan sniffed and set off, wet feet slap-slapping on the warm rock walkway. The amenable steward had done him the favor of showing him the most direct route between the lush baths and the men’s cubby room, where the gentle guests left their outer shells for the duration of their luxury. Trusting lot, these bathgoers.
    The way was clear as far as the cubby room, and there Detan hovered at the entrance for a good long while with his ear pressed up against the door to make sure there wasn’t so much as a mouse-shuffle inside. Gauging the room empty, he slipped through the narrow door and shut it with a soft click behind him. He winced. The steward had been flapping his lips so much that Detan had missed that particular noise the first time through. Nothing for it, he decided. And anyway, there wasn’t a soul around to hear it so far as he could tell.
    He tiptoed down the row, peeking into the stuffed cubbies until he came across one that appeared more stuffed than most. Marking the spot, he doubled back to his own accoutrements and slipped his leather money pouch from the folds. It was his favorite pouch, it’d been the first thing he’d stolen when he returned to the Scorched, and he’d be sorry to lose it. But then, he was pretty sure he’d be seeing it again quite soon. He kissed the goatskin and tucked it in amongst the robust man’s vestments. Then he shoved Tibs's into the cubby of the big man’s friend for good measure.
    If he was going to stick his neck out, he’d be fried if he wasn’t going to invite ole Tibs along for the ride. It wasn’t right, leaving your friend out of things just because he was a mechanic. And anyway, Tibs’s clothes were reeking just as much as his own were.
    Doubling back to his cubby, he scooped up both his and Tibs’s clothes, then fled the scene.

Chapter 7
    T he warehouse district had always been dark, but now that Thratia’s compound loomed above the wide mud-brick buildings, the once familiar streets seemed to grow seedier in her shadow. Somewhere from within the compound the thready whisper of music struck up. Soft, but growing. Thratia’s entertainment getting ready for her guests