The Silk Thief

By Claire Buss

Fourteen, heir to the Empire of Roshaven, must find a new name before Theo, Lord of neighbouring Fidelia, brings his schemes to fruition.

Not only has he stolen Roshaven’s trade, but he plans to make Fourteen his own and take her empire in the bargain.

Her protector, Ned Spinks, is plagued with supernatural nightmares whilst his assistant, Jenni the sprite, has lost her magic.

Somehow they must figure out how to thwart Theo’s dastardly plan before it’s too late for his city and her empire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Claire Buss
• Release date: Jun 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781913611026

Claire Buss

Claire Buss is a science fiction, fantasy & contemporary writer based in the UK. She wanted to be Lois Lane when she grew up but work experience at her local paper was eye-opening. Instead Claire went on to work in a variety of admin roles for over a decade but never felt quite at home. An avid reader, baker and pinterest addict Claire won second place in the Barking and Dagenham Pen to Print writing competition in 2015 setting her writing career in motion. The Gaia Effect was published in 2016 and Tales from Suburbia in 2017.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was Griff’s funeral. Ned Spinks, Roshaven’s Chief Thief-Catcher, watched from his elevated vantage point on the upper part of the shore as the crowd congregated by the water. He scanned the throng for any suspicious behaviour. A cool sea breeze carried some freshness his way, combating the aroma caused when you get lots of individuals gathering in one place. It gave him small comfort to see such a large turnout, his own grief was too raw.

'Yor not on the clock now, Boss,’ Jenni the sprite remarked as she nodded a greeting at the Gingerbread folk. Wary of the water, they stood as far from the damaging liquid as they could without removing themselves from the ceremony.

‘Yeah, well, you know, people,’ muttered Ned.

‘Fourteen’s over there.’

Jenni pointed and they both stared at the elegant Imperial gazebo erected upon the Dead Pier. This was the other reason such a great crowd had assembled, and why the air hummed with animated chatter and gossip. The Emperor of Roshaven had recently revealed she was a woman, and this was her first formal event since that announcement. Unfortunate that it was a state funeral.

‘Mhm.’ Ned’s reply was as nonchalant as he could make it. He hadn’t seen Fourteen since they returned from their quest to save love and defeat the Rose Thief. After their triumphant return to the city, Fourteen had been immediately swept up by her administrators, the High Left and High Right. Every time Ned tried to get in to see her, the Highs cited important imperial duties that couldn’t be disturbed. After several tries, Ned had resolved to leave it for a while. He wasn’t certain if it were the Highs or Fourteen that were keeping him away.

‘Sparkly dress,’ commented Jenni.

Ned knew she was trying to get a response from him and his gaze flicked over again to where Fourteen stood, slightly apart from her retinue. Her short black hair framed her face and her silver gown was shining in the sun.

It relieved him when the opportunity came to change the subject as Momma K, Queen of the Fae, glided past bestowing regal smiles upon individual members of the crowd. Ned noticed he didn’t receive one and Jenni had ignored hers.

‘Things not going smoothly at home?’ Ned inquired. Jenni was the eldest of Momma K’s children, but she stayed with him in the city more often than not.

‘S’complicated.’ She was looking over at people on the pier again. ‘Who’s that talking to Norris?’

Ned decided not to push it, families were complicated, and his was no exception. Despite himself, he glanced over again at the dignitaries assembled on the pier. Fourteen was busy greeting some bureaucrat or other. There were representatives from all of Roshaven’s trade partners and a few cities they had not yet connected with. He could make out Fat Norris, otherwise known as the Lower Circle, whose responsibility it was to maintain existing trade agreements and keep them running smoothly while working on establishing new ones. He was talking to a familiar looking man, dressed in blue. Ned squinted and then stiffened.

‘It’s Theo.’

‘Wot, yor bruvver? Wot the ‘ell is ‘e doing ‘ere? Murderous scumbag!’ Jenni took a couple of steps in the direction of the Dead Pier before Ned stopped her.

‘Not now. He’s probably here as a trading partner. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but we’ve got a job to do. We can find out what Theo’s up to later.’ Ned tried very pointedly not to look at the people on the pier.

They had been escaping from Theo’s clutches in Fidelia when Griff had helped them get away. That help had cost Griff his life. Both Ned and Jenni blamed Theo despite the fact the actual murderer was probably one of Theo’s henchmen. When Ned had tried to find out using his official catcher authority, he’d been told that Fidelia had dealt with and executed the individual involved. Ned wasn’t sure he believed it but he couldn’t put his own city at risk, rocking the boat. Especially when Fourteen had just revealed her gender. She was the first official female Emperor. The slow wheels of progress, hampered by the brakes of tradition had not yet sanctioned the use of Empress.

Centuries ago, Roshaven had been the epicentre of a vast empire that spanned from coast to coast. It was that imperial lineage that Fourteen’s forebears had clung to, downsizing yet keeping their Imperial Palace and fighting tooth and nail to keep their crucial trading position on the coastline of Efrana. Now Roshaven was a bustling commerce city. It might not be a centre of industry, but it facilitated the shipping of both essential and luxury items up and down the coast, in particular the fine silks that were coveted throughout Efrana. It also provided the perfect location for trading vessels to restock their supplies and gain additional crew. Many of Roshaven’s trade agreements had been meticulously negotiated and arm twisted into place by Griff. Ned hadn’t known that about his friend before he died, but it was the reason he was being honoured with a state funeral.

Ned winced. He had been trying not to think too much about the circumstances of Griff’s death.

‘It weren’t yor fault, Boss.’

‘Stay out of my head, Jenni.’

‘I ain’t reading yor fawts, I can’t do that. It’s plastered all over yor face.’

Ned sniffed and blinked. Damn sand was in his eye.

‘If it wasn’t my fault, then whose was it?’

Jenni hawked and spat.

‘I can’t ignore that Theo is my brother, no matter how much I want to. And if I don’t take responsibility for his actions, who will? I cannot call myself innocent of any wrongdoing. It was my idea to appeal to Griff for help when we needed it on our quest. And it cost him. It cost him everything.’

‘Family ain’t blood,’ replied Jenni.

‘No, but he is my brother, and it’s a debt I will never clear.’ Ned stopped speaking as the funeral rites commenced.

Pristine white wrappings concealed Griff’s body, and it lay upon a stack of firewood. There were blossoms and offerings of food pushed in-between the sticks and branches. Various runic symbols of protection and safe travels had been painted in gold around the decoratively carved canoe that held the pyre. Fourteen placed a single red rose on the torso and bowed her head in respect. She stepped backward and the many and various priests of Roshaven chanted a simple farewell prayer, each of them dedicating it to their own deity as well as chiming numerous bells.

Ned shivered as the chanting and chimes made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Several druids came forward to push the canoe into the water. Ned spotted Kendra, the High-Priestess among them. Their druidic incantation danced across the breeze, and he heard snatches of their melodic prayers. A sudden swirl forced them to hasten back, allowing the canoe to be taken by a gossip of mermaids. Pearl’s distinctive golden blond head bobbed above the water and Ned half-smiled to himself.

The harpies were next. They flew over the aquatic procession, scattering petals—a tender side to them Ned would never have expected. Fred, the young palace guard, led the Imperial Band in a farewell fanfare and Momma K sent a magnificent shower of silver stars shooting out across the harbour.

Ned took a deep breath. It was his turn now.

Dipping a pitch-tipped arrow into the bowl of flames nearby, it lit with a whoosh and, taking another steadying breath, he nocked and drew, mindful not to singe himself. He could sense all eyes on him with the heavy pressure of expectation, and his arms began quavering. Focusing on the body and canoe below, Ned shakily exhaled and released his flaming arrow. The crowd watched mesmerised as it arced high over the water before landing. The pyre had been doused with scented oils both to mask the stench of rotten flesh and also to serve as an accelerant.

For a long moment nothing happened and Ned half stretched out his hand to pick up a second arrow, but then the fire took and ran hungrily over the body. There was a collective stillness on the shore. Then the crowd began stirring, returning to their lives. Ned remained standing, watching the flames devour his friend as the canoe drifted further and further out to sea, his thoughts bleak.

‘It was a grand send off,’ said a gentle voice behind him.

Ned flinched in surprise as the spicy, warm perfume of Fourteen wafted to his nose. He had not expected to speak to her today.

‘Are you allowed to be here?’ The question came out harsher than he meant it to.

‘I wanted to see you. Before this, I mean. But there were so many pressing matters to attend to…’ She glanced back at her entourage before trailing off into silence.

Ned could tell Fourteen was attempting to reach out to him, to reconnect, but the fact that the Highs and other officials were so close meant she had to maintain her imperial persona. A quick check confirmed Theo was not among the retinue. He scuffed the ground with his smart boots, not caring if he dulled the patent leather. He could hear Fourteen breathing beside him, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t come out snippy. And he didn’t want to be like that. Not with her.

‘Have you ever fired a funeral pyre before?’ asked the Emperor.

‘No, Your Eminence, I haven’t.’

‘You did a superb job, I’m very impressed.’

Ned turned to look at his Emperor but misjudged his footing and knocked over the fire bowl. He and Jenni spent several tense moments frantically stamping out the flames. Somewhat out of breath, Ned attempted to reclaim his cool.

‘Perhaps I could visit soon. If you think it would be possible?’ He smiled to soften the words. He wasn’t trying to be argumentative, and he did want to spend some time with her.

A High cleared his throat and cast his eyes meaningfully towards the imperial coach that was waiting to take Fourteen back to the palace.

Fourteen didn’t reply, but she touched one of Ned’s hands briefly before returning to her retinue.

‘That went well,’ he murmured.

‘It weren’t that bad. At least she came and said allo. S’more than you’ve ‘ad in a while,’ Jenni said as she gathered up the bow, spare arrows and the now empty fire bowl which she handed to Ned. ‘It takes two to wotsit but you gotta keep trying I reckon.’

Ned threw her a half-smile as they headed back into the city together.

‘Thanks. Oh, and thanks for the assist by the way.’

‘For wot?’

‘The flaming arrow?’

‘Nah, Boss. That weren’t me and it weren’t Momma K neiver. All youse.’

Ned tucked his chin in, trying to suppress a grin. He’d done it, he’d given his friend the tribute he deserved. He waved a hand over the virtually empty shoreline they were leaving.

‘You don’t think all this was too much?’

‘For Griff?’ Jenni scoffed. ‘E would’ve wanted more, more, more, I reckon. You knew ‘im better than me, wot do you fink?’

‘I think you’re right. He would have wanted a bit more, more, more.’ They strolled on in silence for a few beats. ‘Good turnout though, wasn’t it?’

‘Not bad. Wot we gonna do about Theo then?’

‘We’ll keep our eyes open, check out anything suspicious that we hear of. Hopefully he’s already on his way out of Roshaven.’ Ned hoped his brother wasn’t planning to hang around.

‘We ain’t gonna arrest him?’

‘Not today, Jenni. He hasn’t committed a crime in Roshaven. Yet.’

‘Hmm, if you say so, Boss. I reckon we could arrest ‘im for summink if we looked ‘ard enough.’

‘You’re probably right.’ They had reached a crossroads. One way led to The Noose, Thief-Catcher HQ and disreputable tavern, the other towards Ned’s home.

‘Not going to the wake, Boss?’ asked Jenni as Ned took a step away from The Noose.

‘You can if you like. I’m gonna call it a day. Not been sleeping well.’

‘Rightyoucha Boss.’

‘Here, take this back to the office first with that other stuff.’ Ned handed Jenni the fire bowl to go with the bow and arrows she was carrying. They kept their thief-catcher weaponry locked up at HQ.

‘Awright Boss. Sees you later.’ With half a wave Jenni peeled off, heading for The Noose and what would be a raucous wake.

Ned trudged on home, hoping that his nightmare would let him sleep tonight.

Chapter 2

‘She wants payment upfront, Boss.’

Jenni was elbow deep in ocean and concentrating. Connecting to the entity that lived in the bay wasn’t straightforward. The two fae spoke a distinct language and worked in different magics.

‘And she ain’t waiting much longer. We gotta pay ‘er quick.’

Ned sighed. Payment for the Sea Witch. What would that be? He glanced around the wallowing skiff that carried him, Jenni and the rest of the catchers, tree nymph Willow and human Joe. Various bags and boxes were heaped in the centre. They were drifting neither forwards nor backwards and a pitiful wind tried ruffling Willow’s leaves but refused to move them in any forward direction. On the shore Theo’s men had now noticed the skiff, their spyglasses had confirmed the occupants, and heavily armed rowboats were being assembled. Desperate for a solution on how to evade his brother’s clutches, Ned stared at the others for inspiration. Joe looked like he was about to throw up and Willow was matching Joe’s greenness but as she was a tree nymph, Ned wouldn’t expect anything less. She was, however, holding her tendrils as far away from the seawater as she could. Some paper was dancing in the slight breeze. Hang on, paper? Ned leant over and eased the note out from under two boxes, his heart thumping harder as he recognised the scrawl.

You’ll have to pay the Witch. Look in the red bag, it’s no one you know, eh!

Griff. Bloody Griff, saving their lives, again. Ned spotted a red bag sitting off to one side from the others, its wet base a darker rusty colour. There was a fair amount of heft to it. Something heavy lay within. In trepidation, Ned undid the ties and opened the bag. A coppery tang wafted out, and he peered inside. The head of his good friend and charismatic smuggler, Griff, stared back at him. The dead man’s eyes snapped open, and the head began screaming.

Ned blinked. He sat bolt upright in his own bed, in his own house, in Roshaven. The screaming had been his. He wasn’t on a skiff, Griff had been dead for a month, and they’d just had his funeral.

‘Novver one, Boss?’ asked Jenni.

Ned blinked in the gloomy light of his bedroom. It wasn’t even morning yet. There was a lump at the foot of his bed. Was that Jenni or something else? He almost expected it to be Griff’s body.

‘Jenni? What are you doing here?’

Her hand thrust a glass of an unidentifiable liquid in front of Ned’s face. It weaved back and forth a little, accompanied with the distinct smell of imbibed spirits. Jenni must have returned from the wake and come to check on him.

‘Whatchoo lookin’ at, Boss?’ she asked.

Ned’s tired brain was struggling to untangle itself from the nightmare. He groped to his left, where a compact power well had been plumbed into the wall. Gathering his highly scattered wits, Ned muttered under his breath, Illumi. Nothing happened.

Seeing what he was trying to do, Jenni clicked her fingers and nothing happened. Again.

Frowning now at the absence of magic, but reasoning Jenni’s was down to her being drunk, Ned scrabbled for the book of matches he kept on the bedside table. A little further exploration unearthed a candle stub. The match flared and lit the wick, casting a small pool of candlelight. Blowing the match out, Ned regarded the lump at the foot of his bed. It was his coat. Nothing more. Jenni stood beside him. Ned let out a shaky breath. Griff was dead. Murdered for helping Ned and his team escape from Theo, Ned’s brother. His body was sunk in the ocean and most definitely not at the bottom of Ned’s bed.

‘Drink it, Boss. It’ll do you good,’ said Jenni, waving the glass in front of Ned again. ‘I got it from Kendra, in case.’

Relieved that the beverage was druidic and not one of Jenni’s concoction, Ned took the glass and downed it.

‘In case of what?’ he asked belatedly.

‘You know, stuffs.’

Ned silently thanked the Gods for Jenni. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve such a good second-in-command. She often waded far over the colleague line into guardian fae. And yes, there had been the potato incident, but that was a long time ago. That had been Ned’s first case as a thief-catcher. Now he was the chief, and potatoes were banned from the office.

As his faculties regrouped, Ned’s nose remembered Jenni stood very close to him. And she’d been drinking.

‘A little space, please?’ Her unique aroma was making Ned’s eyes water.

The sprite huffed a bit but moved backwards.

‘What time is it?’ he asked.

‘Two bells rang. S’not morning yet.’

Ned rubbed his eyes as tiredness washed over him again. His brain had finally caught up to the fact he was now awake, had just had a nightmare and Jenni was in his bedroom.

‘Well then, there are a few more hours ‘til we have to get up so why don’t you go back to your room and get a bit of sleep. Hmm?’ he said with a modicum of hope.

Jenni peered at him intently, as if she were attempting to look inside him.

‘Yeah, I reckon,’ she conceded. ‘But ‘ere. No more nightmares for you.’ Dipping her hand into her coat pocket, she threw a handful of golden, glittering dream sand in his face.

‘Jenni, nooooooooooo,’ but Ned trailed off and sank into a deep sleep before he could chastise her any further.

Chapter 3

Jenni hawked, spat and whistled through her teeth. A glowing firefly twinkled into view. It was Sparks, another member of the thief-catcher team.

‘Awright, Sparks. You watch ‘im. Sound the alarm if ‘e ‘as anovver nightmare but ‘e should be way under. No dreams down there. Nuffink to get ‘im.’

The firefly responded with a complicated light show which meant Yes, Sir–will do! Jenni nodded in satisfaction and popped out of the room. She had business elsewhere.

Two hours later and Jenni had a numb bum from perching on top of The Noose’s roof. She’d chosen Thief-Catcher headquarters for her vigil because of its proximity to the Black Narrows, and she figured that if there were any Nightmares galloping around, they would be here. So far, no luck. A light drizzle had decided to keep her company. Jenni sank lower into her red coat and contemplated her options.

Not getting hold of a Nightmare meant another day of a barely functional Ned, plus going into another night’s sleep filled with horror. Putting all her apprehensions for her boss aside, she was bloody knackered as well. Fae could go longer than humans without sleep, but not that much more. Shifting again, to find a less numb spot, Jenni spotted movement from the corner of her eye.

Holding her breath, she slowly turned her head to see what it was.

Nothing.

There was, however, a somewhat smug looking gargoyle two rooftops over with a plethora of pigeon feathers around its feet so someone had just caught dinner.

Thinking that some wasp honey on toast might not be a bad idea, Jenni was about to call it a night when she heard hooves nearby. A Nightmare was trotting out of a bedroom window and heading towards her. Jenni clicked her fingers intending to magically pop from the roof to the back of the Nightmare, but it didn’t work. A handful of blue stars fizzed from her fingertips, then disintegrated. The transparent Nightmare was almost level with her now, so she took a chance and jumped, landing on something solid.

Bouncing along like a rag doll and hanging upside down on one side, she had to swerve to avoid three chimney pots, but grabbing a fist full of insubstantial mane and pulling herself up got her in a better riding position on the beast. It was odd sitting astride smoke and shadow, but the gleaming teeth in the Nightmare’s mouth that snapped back in Jenni’s direction were nothing to be blasé about.

‘Awright, take it easy. I just need a chat wiv yor boss, that’s all. Will you take me to ‘im?’

Jenni watched the Nightmare consider the fact that a sprite was clinging on for dear life. With a sinuous shake of its mane and a bone-chilling whinny, the Nightmare changed direction and began climbing towards a dark patch of sky.

It was the home of Barbas, the demon of fear and owner of the Nightmares. Jenni shivered. She might appear tough to the other catchers but she had her own share of fears, ones she wasn’t keen on facing right now, but her worry for Ned had driven her here. She wanted to know why Barbas was attacking Ned and whether someone else was behind it. A powerful someone to get Barbas to do their bidding.

The temperature dipped as the Nightmare drew closer to the darkness, and once they were surrounded by pitch black, the horse stopped and whickered.

‘Guess that means get off then,’ muttered Jenni as she scrambled off the beast. She gave it a friendly pat on the rump. Just in case.

Looking around there wasn’t much to see so rather than blunder about in the dark, Jenni began speaking.

‘I’m ‘ere to talk wiv Barbas and I ain’t going ‘till ‘e listens to wot I gots to say.’

There was no response. Jenni changed tack. Muttering an incantation under her breath, she started poking her finger into bits of darkness, intending to create spots of light. Only one bright golden spot appeared, the others remained dark in various shades of black and grey. Jenni shook her finger, wondering why her magic was being so stubborn. It hadn’t worked properly all day.

‘I do wish you wouldn’t try to change the décor. True pitch is so hard to maintain.’

The voice came from behind the sprite and whilst she hadn’t jumped when it spoke, Jenni’s heart was now beating ten to the dozen. Without turning around, she replied.

‘You Barbas?’

‘And whom am I speaking with?’

The voice glided past Jenni’s shoulder and an ordinary looking man stood before her. She was disappointed. She’d expected something more nightmarish, bones or rotten flesh or snot or even just some horns at least. Instead it was a man in a pinstripe suit, white shirt, but no tie and salt and pepper hair that flopped to his shoulders.

‘I’m Jenni. Got business wiv Barbas ‘bout summink.’

The man inclined his head and waited for Jenni