Free Dragon Thief by S. Andrew Swann Page B

entitled to tax particular lords back. And, at one point in my outlaw career, I would have literally given my right arm to have been able to pull off something of the brazen magnitude of what this Snake guy had managed. Maybe I still would.
    But . . .
    There was a deep ugliness about it. I’d always said, as I had to Fearless Leader, that there were two types of thieves. Thug and pickpocket, brawn or stealth.
    Snake was something else. Yes, he seemed to slip in and out unseen, rather than beating people upside the head to swipe their purse. But when he left, chaos swirled in his wake. There was nothing subtle or low profile about his thefts, and they had deadly repercussions.
    Beyond the skill, beyond the riches, Snake had a talent for leaving behind something more than a rich dullard with a lighter purse or some arrogant priest short one golden icon. The thieves’ guilds he had conned had been left in a state just short of open war, and I couldn’t help but think that Prince Oliver’s thirst for blood, and his fear, were justified.
    I know that if I had contemplated some of the jobs Snake had done, the potential consequences would have given me pause.
    Even the snippets of other stories I heard about him from the feral girls’ club had a similar unpleasant feel to them. His callousness was worthy of some of the most arrogant nobles I’d heard of.
    It also raised the same question that Fearless Leader had raised to me when we had met: Snake had stolen a kingdom’s worth of treasure a few times over.
    Where was it?
    Why did he continue to leave wreckage in his wake? This wasn’t a line of work that encouraged longevity. If someone kept up the outlaw life after the kind of heists Snake had pulled, they’d have to be a special kind of insane.
    Or the proceeds were going somewhere else.
    I took a fork in the road and Grace quietly said, “Lendowyn is due south of here.”
    â€œI know, but so is Dermonica.”
    My dialogue with Prince Oliver had helped to determine the direction we needed to go. We were north and inland, while Lendowyn was south and on the coast. However, a straight-line course due south would cut right through the Kingdom of Dermonica, which didn’t seem the greatest idea if I was ostensibly responsible for an act of war against them.
    â€œSo where are you going?”
    The next worst option.
“The other kingdom between us and Lendowyn.”
    Grünwald.
    It was the last place I personally wanted to go, but I couldn’t really explain my history with Grünwald without revealing the fact I wasn’t quite the infamous Snake they thought I was. It didn’t seem politic to dissuade Grace and company from the impression Prince Oliver had made. Besides, while the current King Dudley of Grünwald might have a grudge against the Princess Frank Blackthorne—since I was directly responsible for the death of his mother the Evil Queen Fiona—as far as I knew he had nothing against Snake and no way to connect Snake with Frank. It was probably more concerning that it was a hotbed for worship of the Dark Lord Nâtlac, but we were probably okay if we avoided running into the royal family.
    So unless we wanted to go hundreds of miles out of the way, weaving our way to the coast, Grünwald it was.
    Like most other consequential mistakes in my life, it made sense at the time.
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    We stripped the Dermonica coat of arms from the carriage and kept to the wilderness, avoiding towns, sleeping under the stars. I would have preferred an inn. But even if Snake wasn’t a wanted man in Grünwald—and I had the sense not to just assume that—my traveling companions stood out for their salvaged armor and choice of jewelry, if nothing else. I was hoping to make it back within the borders of Lendowyn before I had to explain them to anyone.
    Of course, I had no idea what to do about them once we crossed into