A Thief in the Night: Book Two of the Ancient Blades Trilogy by David Chandler

By David Chandler

Condition made him a felony. future might make him a hero. As a thief, Malden is extraordinary within the loose urban of Ness, and chuffed there. yet by way of saving the lifetime of the knight Croy, Malden has certain himself to an historic, noble brotherhood . . . and he now possesses considered one of simply seven historic Blades in a position to destroying demons. Malden fears accompanying Croy and the barbarian M?rget on their quest to dispatch a nasty creature of nightmare . . . nor does he are looking to disturb the vengeful useless. yet with an murderer on his heels, the younger cutpurse is left with out selection. and there's the comely sorceress, Cythera, to contemplate— promised to Croy yet in love with Malden—not to say the incredible treasure rumored to be hidden within the depths of the demon’s lair . . .

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Malden turned a corner and walked into the ruin of an old inn. Three old men waited for him there, ancient graybeards who nodded and smiled as he approached. They were sitting on a coffin in the middle of an abandoned building, just as they did every night. The old grand masters of the guild of thieves. “Well met, Malden,” Loophole said, raising a hand in welcome. Malden took it warmly and smiled. ” “The wheel of the gods grinds slowly, but it grinds the barleycorn exceeding fine,” Malden said, making sure to use the night’s password.

The serving boy rushed to do as he was told. Croy opened his mouth again, intending to speak, and found he could not. His tongue would not lift from the floor of his mouth. For a moment the two of them just looked at each other. Croy tried to smile and felt his lips tremble, so he pressed them together tightly enough to still them. This served only to make a flat, grim line of his mouth, as if he dreaded what was to come next. Cythera’s face fell. “Give me a kind word, Croy,” Cythera begged. She reached forward to take his hands.

Ah,” Malden said. ” At that moment Croy felt his heart stop in his chest. He raced over to the window and peered down into the street, just in time to see Cythera step down into the mud. The footman of the hired carriage squawked and rushed to help her, but she had not waited for him. She could be headstrong, at times, and she would need some training before she could be presented at court, but— —but she was beautiful. Especially today. She wore a velvet gown, the finest he’d ever seen on her.

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